When worlds collide

One of the fundamental ground rules of this blog is that all posts must in some way be related to winging. Due to some interesting circumstances that I will explain in a moment, I have a story related to wings that, although incredibly embarrassing and ridiculous, just cannot be kept from the public.



I spent my weekend up in Green Bay WI to see my friends Daniel and Kristin get married, and let me start by saying congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Fuhrmann.

I attended the rehearsal dinner on Friday night, and after the dinner and some celebration at the home of the bride's family I returned to the Howard Johnson to continue the celebration at the hotel bar Hanrahan's. Now, this bar is an Irish themed bar that apparently has a "ladies night" every Friday. Being that this bar is at a random hotel in the outskirts of GB, and that this area is known for some interesting inhabitants, "ladies night" was a bit of a half truth. There were in fact many people who were biologically female, however the term lady is not necessarily one I would use to describe the clientele of this establishment. I was the designated driver this evening so I hadn't gotten to celebrate properly this point, and I was in the mood to really tie one on (shocking) so I begin ordering glasses of vodka on ice. I do have to include a few details, mainly that drink prices at Hanrahan's are insanely cheap, and that being able to "put it on the room's tab" meant that I went from completely sober to unable to walk in under an hour.

It is now about 11:30 and I can have some serious hangovers so I decide to figure out how to get some food. Remember, I have a wedding to get to the next day and I don't want to be dry heaving and sweating all morning. This is what happens if I get too drunk and don't eat anything before passing out. Needless to say, there are no room service options at this particular HoJo. The bartender, affectionately nicknamed Tit-too (she had some really trashy ink on one of her breasts) tells me that Pizza Hut is the only place she can think of that delivers this late. I call said establishment, and order $15 worth of chicken wings ($10 minimum order policy). The person taking the order asks what room to have the food sent to, and I tell her to just send the delivery guy to the bar. I continue drinking, yelling about nothing and having some really interesting conversations with Tit-too. Here is how one priceless conversation went:

Tit-too: "So what do you do?"

Me: "I'm in graduate school to become a doctor!" (I may or may not have been trying to be slightly deceptive with this answer, she didn't look so bad at this point)

Tit-too: "What kind of doctor?"

Me: "An academic doctor, I study economics" (For those reading this who don't know me personally, this is actually true, really)

Tit-too: "What is that? What can you do for my son?"

Me: "Nothing!!!!"

After a few more minutes, and shots of whiskey, my order of wings arrives. I hand the delivery guy a $20 and I announce that I will be retiring to my room. Now, keep in mind that I am sharing this hotel room with my roommate Martin. He has definitely seen me at some of my lower points before, but what I'm about to tell you was able to shock even him. I make my way back to our room, sit down on the bed and start enjoying my order of wings. After maybe two or three wings I have a bit of an epiphany. I realize that I had made a crucial error when packing for this trip, and that the only pair of underwear I had was the pair that I was wearing. Martin is still at the bar, and I figure that I will be done with the wings, and passed out before he gets back. Keep in mind that the wings were delivered at about 12:45. Given my underwear situation, and the fact that I am severely intoxicated, I decide to enjoy these wings naked. Now the rationale for this is as follows; I figure that I can just sleep naked and save 8 hours of underwear use. Then I'll just wear them the next day and get to a wal-mart between the ceremony and reception to deal with this undergarment situation.

So, here I am completely hammered eating some chicken wings naked in a hotel room bed. I am under the covers at least. Well, being that my dexterity is a bit compromised, the eating of said wings is a bit more difficult than expected. Essentially, they are a bit slippery. I end up making an absolute mess of my self dropping wings on the bed repeatedly, and getting red buffalo sauce all over the white sheets on this hotel room bed. I also have wing sauce on my hands, face, and chest. Yes, I even managed to drop a wing on my chest while trying to eat.
I eat half of the order of wings, and decide its about time to get to sleep.

Here is where it really gets terrible. After making an absolute mess of myself, and getting wing sauce all over the sheets I get up to de-sauce myself before I inevitably pass out. Before I continue I do need to remind you of a couple of things;

1) I was completely naked while eating most of these wings
2) I am in front of the sink washing myself in a small hotel room that I am sharing with Martin (he is sleeping on the pull-out couch)
3) I am still naked while getting myself cleaned up
4) Martin is not back from the Honrahan's yet

As I am sure you can imagine, this is quite the recipe for disaster. I am just finishing
the job of getting myself cleaned up and I hear Martin fumbling with the lock. Since he is pretty hammered at this point as well, the fumbling bought me an extra half second or so. Just as Martin is entering the hotel room I make a mad dash for the bed. Martin walks in the room just in time to witness me butt naked, in mid-air diving back into the bed. His first question is why the fuck I am naked, at which point I have to explain my underwear situation, and at that point I have explain the series of events that have led up to this very embarrassing display.


The moral of this story: when drunk and naked, please don't wing and dive.