...but sometimes the story is more interesting

So. The question was asked. And the answer shall be given.

I was that girl. Who could only have disgraced herself more if she had pissed herself at the same time. But you know what, it was so worth it.

I'm going to say that on a 9/10 scale she made a complete fool of herself in front of one of the guys she has a crush on at work, then managed to fall over in public and thanks to way too much free grog the comments of her stomach decided to eject themselves, but at least it was memorable.

Am I close?

Well Kez, yes you were. But you had inside help there. Even though I don't remember texting you, the evidence remains in my phone.

We had a celebration at work. The free champagne flowed. And flowed. And flowed. And then got split, before flowing again. I wouldn't say I made a complete fool of myself. But I was dancing with my hands in the air. I was stumbling around a fair bit. And I did fall over. That I remember quite clearly. I was trying to be all sexy and wiggle around and show off. And I bobbed down... and down... and then fell over. Much laughter was had and I attempted to pass it off as a deliberate move. I failed. But quite happily. One of the guys at work helped me off the ground and we all had a good laugh at me.

The party started to die down and the hottie had left, though I suspect he saw me fall over. So we decided to head to the train station. I staggered, and stumbled all the way. Giggles abounded.

I staggered onto the train. Found myself a seat. And promptly passed out. I blearily opened my eyes as two girls sat opposite me. I shut my eyes and passed out again.

I awoke next, with the feeling of upchuck in progress. I clamped a hand over my mouth and tried to bite back. I failed. Epically. Hand still over my mouth I began to kick the girl sitting opposite me. I indicated that she should move, and she did. The guy sitting next to her fled. Chivalry is dead. Another guy in the carriage handed me a pack of tissues with which I attempted to clean myself up. The window was opened and I was grateful for the fresh air.

I passed out again.

I next awoke to the same feeling. Upchuck. Massive upchuck. Epic upchuck. Nothing was going to stop this. Helplessly I just let it out. All.Over.Myself.

EWWWWWW!!!!!

Repeat.

EWWWWWW!!!!!!

I fled this time. With utter mortification. And apologising profusely, promising to get off at the next stop. I flicked open my phone to call a mate to come pick me up from wherever I was (I had no idea) and the fucker died. I kept trying to turn it on, but kept dropping it, exploding the back cover off and sending the battery flying. I did this at least three times.

So all I could do was stand near the door, and wait for my stop. Luckily it was only two stations away. I wrapped my cardi around me to try to conceal the gunk, though the stench probably gave it away.

I got off at the appropriate station, and stumbled home. As I stood on the corner waiting for the lights to change, random dude asked if my phone was working. I assured him I was fine and disappeared.

I woke two hours later on the bathroom floor, jumped into the shower fully clothed, and headed to bed. With bucket.

The next day was... interesting. I felt ok, but my stomach was a tad sore. I couldn't keep down fluids. They came right up. I spent morning tea stretched out on the floor of the change room. It was quiet and dark and I needed a nap. I kept getting interesting looks from people. I managed to keep down fluids (flat lemonade) by morning tea and solids (chips and gravy) by lunch. Though was still quite tender.

General consensus is that I enjoyed the party immensely. Possibly the most out of everyone there. They didn't see the disgrace of the train. And I'll never see the randoms from the train again.

All in all, the night was quite enjoyable. I'd do it again. Though, maybe next time, I wouldn't have the last glass of champagne.