Year 2000. A shady dive bar in Ithaca. They have a rule: if you make two bull’s eyes in a row while playing darts, you are too sober, and you have to buy yourself and someone else in the bar a shot. I was pretty hammered, but I somehow managed to pull off this feat. Bartender makes me buy two shots. I take them. Worst. Mistake. Ever. I have to puke. I run into this crappy dive bar bathroom, fling open a stall door, and spray projectile chunks marinated in bile, beer, whiskey and a midori sour all over the decrepit place. I finally open my eyes after all the puking and see that I have barfed all over a very large man who happened to be taking a dump in the very stall I have just decorated. I had to puke so bad I had no idea he was in there. I guess the stall door lock must’ve been broken. Anyway, he is covered in my stomach lining plus some dirty nacho bits. He. Looks. Furious. I am about to crap my pants. Literally. The guy opens his mouth to say something. Before he gets a word out, I panic, and ball up my fist, and punch him right in the nose. He falls back. I bolt out of the bathroom and get the hell outta the bar. I still don’t know why I did that. I am sorry…HOLYHANGOVER