One would think that if I had a huge farewell bash and 75 or so people showed up, that one of the usual members of the crew would make the biggest ass of himself. But one would be wrong.
I'd like to thank my mild-mannered roommate for coming out. Sad thing is, the poor kid was planning to stay in and do work until we badgered him into coming to the club for at least a couple of drinks.
This picture above ends up being the last thing he remembers. Shortly afterwards he managed to break approximately four glasses, at which point I suggested he head home in a cab.
It's still unclear what happened after that, but he definitely woke up IN THE HOSPITAL the next morning with no recollection of how he got there. Don't worry, he had no injuries, it's okay to laugh. My favorite part of the story is that when he woke up, the first thing he thought to himself was "Shit, am I in New Jersey??" Because yes, being in New Jersey is clearly the worst thing that could have happened when you wake up in a hospital and have no idea how you ended up there. Awesome.
Otherwise, the party was awesome, or so I hear. I'd be lying if I said I remember much after the first few drinks, but if you really have the energy to look at almost 200 pictures of drunk people, you can go ahead and take a look yourself.
I had spent some time looking at this picture and trying to figure out who it was, but I now have witnesses who saw the guilty party stick the camera down her shirt, so at least that mystery is solved. I'll keep it to myself and spare her the embarrassment, cause I'm a sweetheart like that.
And so ends my week of farewell parties. I should probably start packing or something, huh?