There are two ways of dealing with it
1) Hide away in shame, promise never to drink to excess again and never visit the pub in question - partly out of fear of being slapped in the face and partly because you know it'll jolt your memory into unleashing a particularly gruesome flashback. I find that the self-loathing phase ususally disappears by the following Friday when your promise never to touch the evil brew is forgotten.

2) Go on the offensive, phone your friends and start the conversation with "My god you were plastered last night! How on Earth did you get home?". Note: Bluffing can occasionally backfire.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Wed 2 Jan 2008, 17:14, Reply)