It all started off good enough. We were in a bar, drinking, eating, having a great time. The trouble was that a gallon (Canadian gallon that is) of there draft was only $20. And that's Canadian dollars too. So we continued getting pitcher after pitcher of beer. Then, when I had most likely had enough, some of my friends decide that they hadn't; they started to order shots. Now what was I supposed to do? - not join my friends in a few shots? :)

The next thing I know is that I'm finishing off one last glass of beer while my friends are saying lets get to the strip clubs. Hey it sounded like a good idea to me, so I went with them. I think the fresh air sobered me up a bit, because I felt fine when we first got there. But of course I had to drink while I was there, so maybe two or three beers (this is a total guess, things got really hazy by this point, I just know that I was drinking beer there) latter I had to go to washroom.

The rest is a complete blank except for a few tiny details and snapshot visions.

Finding the washroom, now this was a much more difficult task than I thought it was going to be. First of all I had no idea where it was and the music was so loud that I couldn't seem to be able to ask anyone. When I started walking (if you can call it walking) around looking for it I think I walked into tabels, chairs, people, and just about anything that wasn't above my head. However I'm sure that I did find the washroom because I know that I didn't p**s my pants.

I also remember a long, steep, narrow staircase. And I remember having dificulty getting up it. But I have no idea where it was.

The next thing that I remember is being out side and yelling at a couple that were trying to help me somehow.

The next thing I remember after that is walking down the middle of a street yelling at cars.

I must have found some sense somewhere, because the next thing I remember is being in the back of a cab pulling up to the hotel that we were staying at.

The only other thing I remember is banging on the door to my room.

Now, you have to realize that all these memories amount to about ten seconds of memory.

I think that I took a few good falls too. My elbow had a huge bruise on it* and my knees were pretty banged up too.

The next day I went to pay for the room and found that I didn't have a wallet. This was no good, no good at all. However, to my surprise, it didn't bother me. The whole experience didn't bother me at all. I knew that I should care, but I didn't. I just canceled my cards and went out drinking again that night. Thanks to a very good friend that lent me money for the rest of our trip.

The only conclusion that my friends could come up with for me getting separated from them is that I got kicked out of the strip club. To this day I can honestly say that I don't remember getting kicked out and I don't think that I did. But it is the only thing that makes sense. I mean, why would I just leave? But then again, why would I walk down the middle of a street yelling at cars?

One of my friends says that the last thing that he remembers of me that night is that I handed him my beer and said 'here, finish this'. That was the last he saw of me that night.

I later learned that when I got back to the hotel room it was about five in the morning, which meant that I was wondering the streets for about three hours.

* one of my friends has a great picture of this and hopefully it will be up on the IPDF (international power drinking federation) web page this weekend. http://ipdf.webjump.com