The apartment building was of two wings, 8 apartments on each wing. There were four upstairs, four below. We lived in the west wing, upstairs. Our neighbors were similar, all in the middle twenties, recently married, no kids. We had a good time, often partying together or separate on weekends. One summer day we got the bright idea we would have a floor party. One couple was moving out, so we had the perfect excuse. All of the apartments would be open, there would be food, fun and alcohol.
The big Saturday rolled around and I began to get ready for the party in my typical fashion -- drinking beer hours before the party was set to begin. I helped my wife fix some food, I helped myself to a beer. She ran to the grocery to get last minute snack items, I had a beer. You get the picture. After a while my buddy came over from across the hall. I am sure we had a couple of beers.
The party started rolling early, as we were setting up card tables in the hall with food and snacks, the coolers were filled. The music was turned up on the stereo. We were drinking as we set up the party, so it had sort of a rolling start. Cigars were lit and smoked. Beer was consumed. The ladies had mixed drinks, wine coolers, whatever. Soon the tequila was brought out. We started doing tequila shots and upsidedown margaritas. The party was in full swing. As the hours went by more people showed up. A good time was being had by all until we realized we were out of tequila. One of the party goers went for more.
While he was gone several people started doing slammers. Half a shot of whiskey, half of coke. You place your hand over the top and slam it down then drink the fizzy shot. That drink was not for me, I hate whiskey (a tale for another time). I had a few more beers. The guy came back with a new bottle of hooch. We all cheered until he fell coming up the stairs and broke the bottle. We decided to head back to the liquor store. I agreed to go along to navigate. By the time we got to the liquor store I became convinced the bottle had been defective. I presented my case to the clerk that the bottle "just exploded", we needed a replacement. I am pretty sure I was really belligerent. Finally she gave us a bottle (I am sure just to get us to leave). On the way back home we got lost. I had lived in this same little Hoosier town my whole life, I knew every street, every alley. It seemed we were in a new part of town. Finally we made it back to the apartment from the liquor store 1/2 mile away. "Dude, I got lost", I told everyone. It was decided we needed a few more tequila shooters.
After a while I headed outside for some air. Man, what a party. I had been drinking half the night. My wife came out to sit with me. I remember laying my head in her lap. A little while later I apparently puked on her. She and my friends put me to bed. I had not been sick since my 21st birthday, but hey, I had been drinking since about noon. What do you expect when you drink into the wee hours of the morning.
Sunday dawned early, I was hungover and had the shakes. I vaguely remembered getting sick the previous night. I appologized to my lovely bride. "Whoa, what a party", I asked. "What time did we go to bed?" She said she had gone to bed around 1:00 am. I stated that I thought it was later than that. She said, no SHE went to bed around one, I was in bed by 8:30.
I hate fucking tequila.