When I was in university, I visited Oxford on vacation.
The owner of the hotel where I stayed invited me to the 21st birthday party being held for her son the night I arrived. I went and got along, shall we say, very well with the son. So well that we ended up in his room, which was two floors above mine at the hotel. Some time in the middle of the night I woke up a great deal more sober than I'd fallen asleep, realized with horror what I'd done and decided I needed to flee to my room immediately. A quick look around didn't reveal the whereabouts of my clothes, so in my less-drunk-than-before-but-still-pretty-damn-drunk state, I decided to walk to my room without them. Off I went, stark naked, down the only stairway. On the way, I ran into two couples walking up to their rooms and, feeling that in the absence of clothes my composure was all I had, I nodded courteously as if this were the most normal thing in the world. I've returned to England many times since then, but have avoided Oxford ...
(Cheril, Fri 19 Mar 2004, 3:22, Reply)