From age 19-21, I lived in a motel behind a mexican restaurant. One day after my shift as grocery clerk, my best friend, a bagger at the same grocery store, and I bought a couple 40's of Mickey's. We got sloshed.

His mom called and asked him to pickup baby formula for his one-year-old daughter. He said he couldn't drive, and I didn't have a car or valid license¹, but I told him I could drive his ancient Volvo stationwagon² if he wanted.

After successfully dropping off the baby formula, we stopped at a light turning left onto the main road of our rural California farming town (population of 30k). The light turned green and I turned, neglecting an oncoming truck that slammed on its brakes and made contact with our front right bumper. I panicked, kept driving, and the truck pursued.

I turned off the main road, speeding down farm lined country roads all way back to my motel room, the truck pursuing us all the way. We parked, hopped out of the car, and ran into my motel room. We kept the lights off, hoping they'd lose interest, considering leaving through the bathroom window to make a run for it.

Then the cops showed up. I didn't want to come out. Then the cops started knocking. I still didn't want to come out. My friend pleaded, "it's my car, they know it's my car, I can't lose my license." He went out, hands in the air, and I followed. He told them everything. I confirmed his story, yelled "how convenient!" to the hit-and-run victim for some fucking reason, and was arrested.

After my photoshoot, I was taken to a lights-out cell with two guys sleeping in it. One of them looked up from his pillow, "first time?" I ate the leftovers of one of their dinners, drank a thimble of water from a broken fountain, and sat against a wall waiting to get let out.

They let me out the next morning and I walked home.

A friend's mom did a lot of entertaining and had a large wet bar. I was freshly fourteen and thought it'd be fun to show up drunk to school. I took 12 shots of Jose Cuervo before boarding our usual city bus to school. I puked twice on the way - once in the middle of the ride, and once just as we stopped at school, all over the rear stairs. ah, that's better.

My friend walked, and I stumbled, to our usual in-between-bells hangout spot where I showed off my drunkenness to our other friends.

The bell rang but I was feeling too sick to go, so I sat near a bush, waiting for the nausea to clear. A hall monitor woke me from my "nap" inside the bush, torso concealed, feet and legs sticking out.

I couldn't walk so they put me in wheelchair and took me into the principle's office. I lied and told them I had food poisoning. I puked in the middle of the principle's office. They called an ambulance.

The ER debated pumping my stomach but just gave me an IV IIRC. I wouldn't have a hangover to show for it.