How I Met Your Mother
Some years back myself and three coworkers found ourselves at a loose end looking for a night's entertainment in Port Moresby, PNG. Then, as now, it was a SPS (South Pacific Shithole) and therefore we had low expectations of a good night out. We struggled with ideas for a good night out gathered in one of our hotel rooms.

I found inspiration via a bottle of duty free Kahlua we were using to make white and black Russians. Not a wise choice in the "drinks before dinner" department, but I digress. I recalled a visit years before to a Japanese teppanyaki restaurant called Daikoku. Notwithstanding the SPS status, it must be said that the seafood in Port Moresby is amazing. The others were convinced, and fuelled by our questionable cocktail choices we taxied off looking forward to some sharp knife and hot grill action.

Steak, fish, prawns, vegetables all fell to the might of our meagre Aussie dollar allowances. We were not disappointed, and the liberal consumption of hot sake helped things along.

I found myself spending a lot of time with one of my coworkers, and things got cosier as we nibbled and pecked at each other and our food. The memory becomes hazy now, and after dinner and a few more drinks at a bar - I know not where - the last thing I recall is being all over each other on the floor of her hotel room. I also recall the other co workers awkwardly stepping over our writhing bodies on the way out of the room.

The next thing I remember is waking up on carpet, face down, clutching a plastic bag in my hand. A dry mouth and a "what the f…?" feeling: we have all been there. The bag in my hand contained a large amount of vomit, obviously from last night's efforts. On closer inspection the bag appeared to be a small bin liner.

I stumbled to the bathroom to get rid of the bag. My toiletry kit was on the bench - so obviously I was back in my room. But the bin liner in my bathroom was intact. Hmmm…

At a muddle-headed meeting with my partner-in-crime later that morning, we figured that I had thrown up in HER bin at some stage (her bin liner was missing), and - ever the gentleman - I took said bag with me back to my room so that she wouldn't have to deal with the mess.

My display of up-chuck chivalry must have impressed her: we are still together 12 years later, happily married, best friends and madly in love.
(bulbus1 *whoop whoop* pull up, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 3:38, 3 replies)

classy
who says chivalry is dead!
(thebarkingdog, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 4:56, closed)

Excellent work!

( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Fri 8 Jan 2010, 5:06, closed)

aw, lovely!
have a click
(harrumph, Fri 8 Jan 2010, 18:10, closed)