My messiest...
Was in my final year of University. Everything was done. Exams over, coursework complete, all that remained was to wait for term to 'officially' finish, so cleaning and leaving could commence.

One of my housemates had helped organise a student night out for medics, and as a reward, he was allowed to take home a box of white wine that had remained at the end of the evening (surprising, I know.) He kindly offered it to the house, allowing us to dive in and drink as we wished. It was free, after all, and besides he much preferred the taste of proper blokey beer to the fine, sophisiticated taste of cheap white.

Hence, me and one of my flatmates started at it - from 6pm to 9pm we drank about 2.5 bottles each, and were quite merry. My speech was slurred, but laying down most of the evening had masked how inebriated I was. Alas, I felt good enough, and had an early night at 10pm or so.

4.00am. I awake feeling most... unwell. "It's only a hangover" I thought, thereby keeping everything inside. And I did.

4.30am. I feel increasingly nauseous and dizzy, but just about hold on.

5.00am. "Maybe I should go to the bathroom, feel like I might throw up any minute... No, David! Stay strong! It's all in your mind!" I assured myself, and so I stayed in bed.

5.15am. The heavens open. Without even a chance of making it to the bathroom - or even out of my room - I lean over from my bed and throw up all over the floor, fortunately avoiding my trainers.

5.16am. I throw up over the floor again, and in my trainers.

5.17am. I let my bed covers know how I feel.

5.18am. I see a patch of carpet! No longer...

5.19am. Take that, bedside table!

And so on.

Come 8.00am, I was feeling much better - and headed downstairs to see how my flatmate was.

His room was pristine! I couldn't believe it. He'd maintained his dignity. Not a drop of vomit anywhere. How did he contain 2.5 bottles of cheap wine? Did he throw up at all? Or did he make it to the bathroom in time?

"How did you keep it all in?"

"I didn't", he said, pointing to the washbasin in his room, which was filled to the brim with vomit, the plughole blocked by it. "Is your washbasin full too?"

Of course, the washbasin in my room - why didn't I think of that?!

"Not at all - it's pristine!", I replied (much to his amazement), before heading back to my room, sponge in hand, ready to spend the next 4 hours removing vomit from carpet, clothes, shoes, electronics, bed covers, sheets... everything within splashing distance.

I no longer class white wine as 'sophisticated' and make a mental note of all available sinks and washbasins prior to drinking the stuff.
( johnsto, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 12:49, Reply)