5a/100: I Can't Believe I Just Said That

This is a hard one.  Though, not because I'm unwilling to divulge some story of how I've embarrassed myself in one way or another, but by all accounts, I have way too many to share. Those that know me understand that I've said and done many-an-embarrassing things in my day...so many, in fact, it's a hard pool to choose from.  Do I tell how I learned (on multiple occasions) that I can never drink Jägermeister again? Or, how about that time I found myself streaking through the midnight streets of Downtown Chicago while broadcasting to passers-by (with a rancid Scottish accent, for extra effect) that I was running to Michigan?

I think the majority of people go through a time in their lives where parties and recreational drinking is a priority, real-life responsibilities take a backseat and the momentum gathered to embarrass oneself approaches terminal velocity.  Following a few failed relationships and a general disconcertment towards myself, this period in my late-twenties maybe lasted little longer than it should have.  I wish I could take a lot of it back, but it was a learning experience for me and in retrospect, necessary for my path in life. This provides ample material for stories of embarrassment. Ample. But, I'm going to pull a special one out of this bag.  This tale is about the time I got wasted at a funeral.

Day 5: Write about a moment when you said or did something extremely embarrassing or accidentally insulting. Go into detail about the feeling of mortification, and how you felt after you said it.

Does this help exorcise the guilt/embarrassment at all? Can you imagine a fictional character going through the same process? Length: 350 words

 I Can't Believe I Just Said (Did) That:

Growing up, our next door neighbors Chip and Sue had an annual party called The Big Chill. They made t-shirts, screened movies, brought in beer from all over the world, and partied unapologetically for a full 48 hours straight with friends from all walks of life. In December of 2003, Chip died from cancer. Without hesitation, his family decided to turn his funeral into the Final "Big Chill."

We danced and laughed long into the evening. We were all drinking heavily, but I remember a particular moment when Chip's youngest son handed me a glass of milk mixed with Jäger he had smuggled over from Europe. It was the most delicious concoction I had ever tasted. Of course I drank three of them. I later discovered that this particular variation of Jäger had been infused with opiates...and that's when I took off to Neptune. Let me break it down for you:

1. I tried to climb the outside of the house like Spiderman, claiming I was, yes, Spiderman. 
2. I drunk dialed my parents. They were still at the party. 
3. I hid silently under a table for 45 minutes. 
4. I crawled into the fireplace and shouted, "Look, I'm a gnome!" repeatedly.
5. I accidentally broke into the neighbor's house, thinking I was returning to the party. For ten minutes, I walked from room to room, wondering where everyone went. Said neighbor came downstairs in his bathrobe and politely asked me to leave, baseball bat in hand. 
6. I danced like an absolute maniac. 
7. As I was leaving, my friend's mom asked me if I broke into her neighbor's house. I had almost completely forgotten about it by that point and just responded, "Yeah, I think so." She laughed and hugged me. 

It wasn't my proudest moment, but we've all had plenty of laughs about it since, considering the events that surrounded that night. It was a hell of a way for Chip to go out and I'd be honored for my friends to celebrate my life with half that enthusiasm.  ...maybe just without the Jäger.