“The day that I couldn’t recover from a hangover with a liter of Gatorade and three McDonalds cheeseburgers was the day I realized that I was getting very, very old. I woke up in my own bed, naked, with a stranger. My head was going to explode. My mouth felt like a sand-covered cat had slept there. I had bruises on my knees, abrasions on the heels of my palms, blisters on the back of my ankles, twigs in my hair, and my shoes I later discovered were missing…
The stranger in my bed, a white man of questionable taste, was also naked and had left what I can only describe as “Forest Floor Debris” in the bed. This was similar in nature to the twigs and dried leaf pieces in my hair. He had mud on his knees and dirt under his fingernails and seemed as confused as I was to be where he was. He described what he was feeling as “Like A Bag of Shit” and began to search the room for his underwear. They were actual tighty-whities and I laughed. He grimaced at the sound and I laid back down because my head felt too heavy for my neck to support. He found his ginch and I gave him directions to the bathroom.”