My best accident story involves, of course, foa the drunkard. For my 22nd birthday friends took me to a really big pub-style bar and proceeded to tell everyone they could that it was my birthday. It was a fairly busy night, being a Saturday, and a huuuuuge street party had just ended. People were actually lining up to buy me drinks. I don't remember how many shots I had, but I know I killed 5 or 6 bottled beers, an Irish Car Bomb, a Gorilla Fart, a Four Horseman and a couple of SoCo and Colas. We left about 2:30 and I remember not really knowing where I was going. The next thing I know I couldn't move forward anymore. The reason being is the fact I had just fallen on my face and couldn't very well dig through concrete and asphalt to keep walking. The next thing I remember is one of the guys I was with just dying with laughter going "Get her hahahahahahahaha get her up hahahahahahahahahahaha."
I tried to roll over a couple of times but couldn't figure out how. Then I was standing up again and had a man on each side, arms linked in mine. "What happened?" I asked. "Just don't think about it. You'll feel it tomorrow, honey," is what my best friend's brother told me.
Luckily enough I wasn't hung over OR scraped up.