They asked me if I knew what building I was in, to which I responded "Connecticut".

I go to Boston College, but this story takes place when I was visiting two of my good friends at Trinity College in lovely Hartford, Connecticut.

I took the bus down after classes on Friday and got to Trinity at around 8 pm. The first night was kind of low key, with the exception of me and my friend Juan winning 8 straight games of jungle juice Beirut (and losing the 9th by one cup).

The next day was not so low-key. We got up around noon and killed most of the day watching football until dinner. Around 10 pm, we started drinking. There were about 15 people in my friends' room and several handles of rum and vodka, plus some beers left over from the night before. This would soon prove to be my downfall.

We drank, and drank, and drank some more. Next thing I knew, I woke up in a strange bed in a really bright room with some sort of plastic contraption around my neck and needles sticking in the top of both of my hands. I violently ripped these foreign objects from my body, tossed them aside, and went back to sleep.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, I got up and began to look for the bathroom, barely making it out of my room before being scolded by an angry strange woman in a green outfit and told that I had to use the large jug that was on a table next to my bed. I pissed, attempting to get it in the jug but mostly failing, and went back to sleep.

Finally, another indeterminate amount of time later, I woke up again to see a man standing in my room who introduced himself as a doctor.

Finally, being somewhat sober and realizing that I was in a hospital but having no idea why, the man talked to me for a few minutes and then told me I was free to go. I asked him what time it was and he replied that it was 8 in the morning.

Having no idea where I was, I called for a cab, which charged me $10 for the 2-minute ride back to campus at which point I stood outside in the cold for 20 minutes before a cleaning lady let me into my friends' building. I walked into the room and proceeded to go back to sleep on their couch--but not before I woke my friends up and they recounted the events of the night before.

Turns out that I had had a little bit to drink the night before. By "a little bit", I mean an absolute shitload.

According to my friend, my final count for the night was "well over 20" shots, plus 2 or 3 beers for good measure. All in the space of about 2 hours. Around midnight, we left my friends' room in search of a frat party. While Ron and Juan made a side trip to the dining hall to get food, I decided to go straight to the party because I was trying to hook up with some girl (who, it later transpired, was not remotely good-looking).

However, I soon encountered a flight of stairs, which proved to be my nemesis. I tumbled down the stairs and, upon reaching the bottom, hit my head, out cold. The girl began shrieking that I had split my head open, which was not the case; nevertheless, her shrieking caused someone to call an ambulance.

Luckily, my friends passed by just as the ambulance was arriving and discovered that I was the one to be whisked away. My friend Ron got into the ambulance with me and watched as the paramedics asked me a series of questions, none of which I was able to answer.

Upon arriving at the hospital, they asked me if I knew what building I was in, to which I responded "Connecticut". They also took my BAC, which registered as an impressive .36--a solid half-hour after I had stopped drinking.

They gave me an IV to combat dehydration (which explained why I had blood all over my hands the next day after I'd ripped the IV needles out while still trashed) and a neck brace because I'd hit my head on the pavement.

The best part was, because I had the IV in for several hours, I wasn't even hung over the next day!!