There’s nothing quite like getting blacked out drunk in college and making an ass of yourself so you can look back at yourself 5-10 years down the road and be like “Wow I haven’t changed as a person whatsoever.” But which drunk memories are more valuable: the ones where you got hammered for the homecoming game with your Bros or the ones where you threw up in the middle of lecture and realized that pregaming class was an awful idea? Not all drunk escapades are made equal, which means that Redditor Choppiii will never forget (or never be allowed to forget) the time that she got blacked-out drunk and broke into her professor’s house.
As a second semester senior in college I thought I was past my days of horrible drunken mistakes, but this past Friday I truly outdid myself. After leaving my friend’s house where I’d had 5 too many glasses of wine, I walked with the intention of reaching my long term boyfriend’s place where I basically live part time. Somehow in my semi-black out state, I lost both my shorts and my way, leaving me in my underwear in an unfamiliar part of the neighborhood.
For some reason or another, I walked into a house that looks nothing like his, assuming he would be there, and ran up the stairs presumably to his room. However, instead of my boyfriend, I found my art professor’s daughter and knew something was wrong. I walked downstairs and was greeted by this professor, who told me I was in entirely the wrong location and directed me to where I needed to go.
The next day I woke up, unsure of whether this experience was or was not a dream. Though I’ve known this professor and had somewhat of a close relationship with her for two years, I had never been to her house, so this blurry coincidence seemed to ridiculous to be true. However, as the weekend went on, and I began to put the pieces of the puzzle together, I realized that there was a good possibility I had actually stumbled into my professors house with no pants on and little ability to be coherent.
My worst fears were confirmed today when I got to class and she asked with a giggle, “are you alright?” I apologized profusely, but instead of being angry she just gave me a hug and said, “I knew you’d be mortified! It’s completely fine, trust me if you knew how many times I’d done something like that you would just DIE!”
Though this experience was basically my drunk worst nightmare, it couldn’t have turned out any better. I think she may even be endeared to me.
As far as drunk stories go, this one ended with a rainbow and a pot of gold instead of a puddle of vomit and a hungover trip to Waffle House in the morning. But can you top it? Tell us your story in the comments!