Strap yourself in, because this is a long one.

Sorry, but I got stories to tell.

It all started when I was on Facebook I saw this map (thanks to Terrible Maps) pointing out the drunkest city in every state...

And so...

I was going through this map trying to check off all the cities in states I've been drunk in: Pullman, Boise, Corvallis, Las Vegas, Park City, Dallas, New Orleans, ALL OF WISCONSIN, Nashville, Lexington, Cincinnati, Savannah, Virginia Beach, Atlantic City, Boston, New York City, and Lewiston.

That's 17.

Out of 50.

So a full one third of them. Which I'd like to chalk up to my having traveled a lot... but is more likely a consequence of my having drank a lot.

And because I am up with a gippy tummy and cant sleep, I present to you all 17 times I was drunk in the drunkest city of these states...

• Pullman, Washington: AKA that time I got drunk up the Wazzu. Pullman is home to Washington State University, AKA WSU, AKA Wazzu. It's a city in the middle of nowhere (an hour-and-a-half south of Spokane, ten minutes from the Idaho border, which tells you everything you need to know). I was there for training on a subject I didn't want, didn't need, and felt was a total waste of my valuable time. Remarkably, I found out that all I had to do was pick up my badge, sign in, and I was marked as having taken the class. You have no idea how quickly I bailed and ended up at The Coug, a nearby bar that absolutely did not believe in over-serving once I had too many. But I ran across a loophole whereas I volunteered to buy a round for the table next to me if one of the beers could be for me. Something I did twice. Now beyond sobriety, I told the table that I was going to walk back to The Hampton Inn and asked if somebody could point me in the right direction. At which point they told me that it would be a 40 minute walk. I had gotten a ride to class, and didn't realize it was so far away. One of the guys from the table said he'd run me there because it would only take a couple minutes by car. I took him up on it because I had bought him two beers. On the way to his car he introduced himself. Turns out I knew his older brother. Small world.
• Boise, Idaho: AKA that time I got drunk because I was in Boise. Come on. What else is there to do in Boise frickin' Idaho? This was a stop on a drive with my girlfriend at the time, who wanted to visit her parents in EASTERN MONTANA But didn't want to fly, so I had to drive. 12-1/2 hours. It was one of the worst things I ever did and our relationship didn't survive it. On the way back we were dumb enough to take an EIGHT HOUR DETOUR so we could pay a quick visit to Yellowstone and "experience" Southern Idaho. It was the only good thing about the trip... until we actually made it to Boise to stay the night. I was so frickin' done at that point that I got just drunk enough not to lose my mind. She ended up having to drive the 3-1/2 hours to Pendleton the next morning so I could sleep off my hangover. I then drove the remaining 3-1/2 hours home. Which was almost entirely in silence. My biggest regret (other than taking the trip in the first place) was that I didn't get drunk when we passed through Butte as well. That would have been another city for this list, and probably would have made the journey a bit less awful.
• Corvallis, Oregon: AKA that time I got drunk with a cats. The title says it all. I went to a house party. There was a cat named Rover. I spent all night drinking and petting Rover. Eventually Rover left and I was very drunk. Apparently you lose track of your alcohol consumption when a cat is around. Fortunately I was a guest of the house so I didn't have far to go to get to my bed. The next morning I stumbled out of the guest room with a hangover to find something for breakfast. That's when I found out from my host that I hadn't been petting a cat, I had been petting cats... plural. As in three of them. In my defense, they did look a lot alike. Rover, Chuck, and Tom. All were girl cats. The situation was just as confusing to me as when I was (mostly) sober as it had apparently been while I was drunk.
• Las Vegas, Nevada: AKA that time I got drunk on power... but mostly alcohol. It would be easier to count the times I went to Vegas and didn't get drunk than it would to find a story that's suitable to tell where I was drunk. Let's go with the time that I got drunk barhopping in The Wynn (a hotel I ended up in often from work). I had just got off work and wasn't flying back until the day after next because it was cheaper to pay for a night at the hotel than it was to fly back home after I was off. When you're there alone, Las Vegas is one of the loneliest places on earth (despite being surrounded by tons of people) so I decided to drink. And drink I did. First I drank for free while playing slots... got tired of watered down drinks... then decided to drink everywhere else you could drink. While exiting the lobby bar, a guy covered in a bunch of electronics asked if I could help him out, as his phone charger had come unplugged. I went to plug it back in and... ended up getting electrocuted. It was so shocking (pun intended) in my inebriated state that I passed out for a second. Next thing I know there's a bunch of people trying to sit me upright while the guy I was helping was asking if he should call an ambulance. Instead of going to the hospital I went back into the bar and had another drink.
• Park City, Utah: AKA that time I got drunk at the wrong hotel. I got stuck in Park City when I missed my ride back to SLC. So I decided to just grab a cheap hotel since I was too tired to figure out a way back. After checking in, I went to a bar down the street and drank. A lot. So much that I didn't remember which way I came and left going the wrong way. Ended up at an entirely different hotel. Not knowing what to do, I explained the situation to the front desk. They called the first hotel in the opposite direction, confirmed that this was the hotel I was at, THEN TOOK ME IN THEIR SHUTTLE BACK TO MY HOTEL BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T TRUST ME TO GET BACK ON MY OWN! Boy do I have a lot of stories like that. Too many.
• Dallas, Texas: AKA that time I got drunk waiting for fries that never came. After having been in L.A., I stopped in Dallas on my way to Atlanta to visit the new Hard Rock Cafe there. The property was a disappointment, so I said good bye to a friend that met me there and ran to Reunion Tower so I could see the city at dusk from the observation deck. Closed for renovation. I went back to my hotel, blogged about my visit, then decided to call it an early night and get some sleep before my early flight. Instead I went downstairs for a nightcap. Or several. Eventually I was told that if I wanted another drink I had to order some food. I wasn't drunk (yet), but food sounded great, so I ordered fries. While I waited for my fries to arrive, the guy who told me to order food left, and I ended up ordering more drinks from the woman who took over because I had food coming. Except my fries never came, so I asked where they were. Turns out the order was never turned in and the kitchen was closing. Now I was absolutely drunk and had no fries to absorb all that alcohol. The woman took pity on me and brought out numerous tiny bags of pretzels. I was still drunk when I got on the plane the next morning... where I was served yet another tiny bag of pretzels.
• New Orleans, Louisiana: AKA that time I got drunk for the first time. Look, I have gotten drunk ever single time I've been lucky enough to visit my favorite American city. And I've blogged many of them. My first time getting drunk was in New Orleans after winning a state DECA competition. My supervisor couldn't make it, so I was in the city alone and unsupervised two weeks before my senior year of high school... at the young age of 17. Drinking age was 18, but absolutely nobody asked for my ID so I ended up drinking way more than I should have. Unaccustomed to being drunk, I was a bit of a mess and left my new Kodak Disc camera in a taxi. But don't feel too bad, I may have lost my camera but I also ended up losing my virginity. Ah New Orleans. I've been to The Big Easy dozens of times, but that first time was pure magic.
• ALL OF WISCONSIN: AKA that time I got drunk on cheese and gave a guy constipation. I've been drunk in cities all over the state, so I guess I just pick one? But which one? Lots of good Milwaukee stories. HA! And that one time in Madison. But let's go for something less obvious, shall we? One of my work sites was 15 minutes south of Fond du Lac. Most of the times I was put into campus housing, but one time I wasn't. So I ended up at a hotel in Fond du Lac (French for "the foot of the lake" or something). It was a real shithole that looked nothing like the pictures, so I decided to celebrate my misfortune after my last day of work by heading to a bar down the street. But before I left the hotel, I cruised by the lobby where they had a big plate of snacks out. I asked if I could take some cheese with me as a snack for when I walked to the bar. The woman said she'd "hook me up" and came back with a massive bag of cheese cubes. She said she had loads of cheese that was expiring, so I might as well have it. And when I say it was a massive bag, I mean massive. Take a gallon Ziploc bag and triple that. And so I walked over to the tavern that was 10 minutes away eating cubes of cheese. When I got to the bar I asked if it was okay to bring my cheese in with me if I left a good tip. I was expecting to get the "NO OUTSIDE FOOD ALLOWED!" drama, but the barkeep said he didn't care what I did. So I sat at the bar and ordered drink after drink while eating tons of cheese out of my big bag on the bar. A guy took the seat next to me and asked "So you're just going to sit there drinking and eating cheese?" I told him this was my life now, and he shouldn't knock it until he tried it. At which point I was sharing my pile of cheese cubes with him. He then informed me that he was going to end up constipated and it was all my fault. The barkeep, however, din't blame me for anything because I did indeed give him a great tip.
• Nashville, Tennessee: AKA that time I got drunk waiting for somebody who never showed up. Because of this blog, I end up "knowing" a great many people wherever I go. One time I was in Nashville for work and had a Blogography reader from the city ask if I wanted to meet up for a drink. I said sure, then went to the restaurant to wait for him. After he was 15 minutes late, I had a drink. Then another. Then another. Then another. Pretty soon an hour had flown by so I went ahead and ordered dinner without him. And more drinks. I finally gave up and took a taxi back to my hotel. Miffed, I emailed the guy telling him that I was at the restaurant for nearly three hours and finally left. Then I passed out. When I woke up I had an email from the guy I was supposed to meet. He apologized profusely and said he had an emergency pop up, then asked if we could meet up that night instead. I said sure again. This time he showed up before I did. That's when he apologized again and said that he had to take his daughter to the hospital. I said "The hospital? Holy cow, what are you doing here then?" Turns out that she works there. He had to drive across the city to take her to work, then get her car fixed. This was pre-mobile-phone days, so he had the valid excuse that he "couldn't contact me." Except he could have called the restaurant and saved me from a hangover, so it wasn't much of an excuse. I was going to mention it, but he paid for dinner... which excuses a great many things.
• Lexington, Kentucky: AKA that time I got drunk with a bunch of bloggers. Hollywood Nights, baby.
• Cincinnati, Ohio: AKA that time I got drunk for Jesus. Like you wouldn't get drunk after visiting The Creation Museum.
• Savannah, Georgia: AKA that time I got drunk from too much Paula Deen. Oh boy. I went to Savannah for a work conference about web sales. One of the activities was a visit to the Paula Deen warehouse where all her cooking stuff is distributed. This was before her controversy involving using racial slurs (in the worst way possible), so she was everywhere in that warehouse. She slapped her face on every product, and there were a lot of products. I was so fucking sick of Paula Deen's face that I headed straight to a bar after the conference was over so I could drink to forget. Four years and two months later, I'm betting it was Paula Deen who was drinking to forget as she lost everything.
• Virginia Beach, Virginia: AKA that time I got drunk in drag. Many years before drag queens were being wrongfully vilified by a bunch of weird assholes trying to deflect from their own bullshit, I attended my first drag show in Virginia Beach. It was such a great time. So great that I can't even remember why I was in the city. I only remember that incredible night where I got incredibly drunk while being fully entertained. And while I didn't end up in drag makeup, a queen did wrap her boa around my neck, put her hat on me, and sing to me during her number after she found out it was my first time at a drag show. It was everything you could hope for. Except RuPaul wasn't in attendance, and she was the only drag queen I knew. It was a couple years before the first episode of RuPaul's Drag Race would air.
• Atlantic City, New Jersey: AKA that time I got drunk because John F. Kennedy Jr. died. I was in New York the day after John F. Kennedy passed and it felt like the whole city was mourning. The vibe was sad and hopeless. So I decided to head to Atlantic City to get away. My seat-mate on the bus was also escaping the city, and we spent nine hours together talking about our lives as we rode the bus, gambled, visited the Hard Rock Cafe, then rode back to NYC (which I wrote about in this blog entry). I was drinking the whole time, of course, and ended up pretty lit. I am not an emotional person, but when I got back to NYC and bid my new friend adieu, I went straight to a restaurant with a full bar so I could continue on drinking and keep from having a mental breakdown. It was either that or join in on the despair that fell over the city and burst into tears.
• Boston, Massachusetts: AKA that time I got drunk because the Red Sox won... or lost... or something. One of life's greatest joys is getting drunk at Fenway while watching a Red Sox game. A veggie dog. A beer. The Green Monster. A blue sky. And the Red Sox. Then more beer and more beer and more beer. You kinda have to get drunk because if the BoSox win, you're already in a party mood. If they lose, you're inebriated and it doesn't hurt as much. The drunkest I ever got at a game was courtesy of the guys seated behind me who had money and kept buying everybody drinks. "Yah wann-ah nuh-dah bee-ah der bud-eh? Well fuck yeah I wanna beer if you're buying! And I had many, many beers on a flawless Summer day. I think we won. Either way, I left happy. It's impossible not to be happy at a Red Sox game. Have no idea who we were playing.
• New York City, New York: AKA that time I got drunk in The Big Apple's then bought an Apple. I was in NYC for work. I closed a massive deal for the charity I worked with. To celebrate, I met up with my colleagues at a pub in Midtown Manhattan. The rest of the night is a blur. And when I woke up the next morning I had upgraded my iPhone to the latest model. I have zero recollection of how, when, or where I bought it. Though I had a bag from The Apple Store, so at least I didn't steal it. Though I wouldn't know for sure until I got my credit card bill a couple weeks later. Drunk shopping is the best shopping, isn't it? Sure. Until you have to pay the price...
• Lewiston, Maine: AKA that time I got drunk across the river in both Mexico and Ireland then went to work. For over a decade I had work that took me to Maine twice a year. And every time I would stay at the Hilton Garden Inn Riverwatch in Auburn. There were not a lot of restaurants within walking distance, and so I asked at the front desk if there was anything I could try instead of the same old places. I was recommended a Mexican-Irish(!) restaurant across the river in the city of Lewiston. Named "Pedro O'Hara's" they had a menu and atmosphere I liked. Plus a full bar. My work was often at odd hours with a schedule that could change on a dime. On one such incident, my work was pushed an entire day, after which I went for dinner at Pedro O'Hara's and drank. A lot. Because there was nothing else to do. I could walk back to my hotel, so no biggie, right? But what can be pushed can also be un-pushed, something I found out the hard way. Not able to drive, I had to take a pricey taxi ride to work (which I had to pay for). Then try to work while under the influence (which came surprisingly easy to me). Fortunately, the people at my worksite drove me back to my hotel so I didn't have to pay for another taxi. Unfortunately, I had to be back at my worksite at 3am. I had sobered up just fine, but was in no mood to work. But who is at 3:00 in the morning?

Interesting to note that I've been to a lot of these cities, I just didn't get drunk in them. Which is to say that the damage could have been so much worse. I could have gotten drunk in Tallahassee instead of Destin, just 2-1/2 hours away. I could have gotten drunk in Iowa City after visiting The Field of Dreams. I SHOULD have gotten drunk in Boulder. And Tempe! Oh well. Maybe when I retire I can make a run though all 50 states and get this figured out.