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I was visiting an old college buddy, and we spent our time catching up over several rounds of beer and tequila at the local watering hole. After last call, his wife, bless her heart, poured us into her new car and started for their apartment. Along the way, my stomach decided to reverse gears. Despite my sincere efforts to clear the window, I still splattered a bit of hurl on the upholstery of her new car. Upon reaching their apartment, my friend's irate wife handed me a rag and ordered me to clean up the mess. For reasons that are still a mystery, I felt compelled to strip down to my underwear before heading out to clean the car. The next thing I know, I'm lying flat on my back, in my underwear, on the back seat of the car with both doors open, still clutching the cleaning rag. It was broad daylight, and a group of people had gathered around while one brave man shook me out of my drunken slumber. I'll never forget the look of his face peering down at me as he asked if I was "Okay." I calmly explained that everything was fine and that I was just cleaning the car before walking all the ways back to my friend's apartment in my underwear on a sunny Sunday morning!
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