We were sincerely concerned for his safety

One night in the winter of my freshman year at Syracuse, four of my friends and I went out to a frat party. We pre-gamed beforehand and we were all definitely feeling it by the time we got there. One of my friends, Jared, is a major lightweight, and after a few more drinks at the party, he was decidedly bombed. He also tends to get a bit sketchy when he's drunk, and after he'd freaked out some girls at the party, we decided we should probably leave.

So the five of us left and began walking back to the dorm—it was a total disaster. Jared is running all over the place (on a busy street) talking to random people, making a fool of himself, and even insists on sticking his tongue on every telephone pole we pass trying to see whether it would stick. Eventually he just runs off and we can't catch him. We looked for him for about an hour because we know how he gets when he's bombed and we were all legitimately scared for his life. This kid also doesn't have a cell phone—don’t ask me why.

Eventually, we all reluctantly go back to the dorm hoping he'll find his way back on his own. My friend Kirin is particularly worried and stays outside his room all night waiting for him. Jared doesn't come back, and by the next day at lunch, we're all wondering what to do. I know it's hard to understand, but Jared is just a complete shit show, granted usually a hilarious shit show; when he drinks, it is simply unsafe for him to be alone. So we're contemplating calling the police and are really scared for him.

At 3 that afternoon however, my friend Lisa gets a knock on her door. She opens it to find Jared - still drunk, and with a goofy grin and dicks drawn all over his face. He also is not wearing shoes and his socks are soaking wet. He knows absolutely nothing about what happened that night, except that he woke up in a dorm he'd never been in before, on a couch in one of the lounges in a puddle of his piss, and there was a guy sitting next to him studying. He's missing his shoes and his wallet.

Still wasted, Jared then runs the mile or so to his own dorm, in his socks in about a foot of snow, with dicks all over his face, and a pee stain on the front of his jeans.

Reading what I just wrote I now realize it's actually kind of a sad story, but it's still one of my favorite drunken college memories.