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This is a question Nights Out Gone Wrong

In celebration of the woman who went out for a quiet drink with friends after work, and ended up half naked, kicking a copper in the nads and threatening to smear her own shit over hospital staff, how have your best-laid plans ended in woe?

(, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 16:02)
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Pretty women, buses, taxis and suits
A few from my time as a student here in Edinburgh:

For those of you who aren't familiar with the words "Vodka revolution", it is a nationwide string of rather good (and largely inexpensive) cocktail bars. Those of you who are already familiar will probably see where this is going. It so happens that I have a promotional card that allows me to get cocktails from a certain part of the menu cheaper than they would otherwise be. Being a student, I decided to take on the challenge of drinking my way through the entire 'cheap' menu - 15 different cocktails, each containing at least 2.5 shots. I started at 7pm and finally wound up, nearly unconscious but successful, at 1am.

Throughout this prolonged session of liver abuse, I had been chatting to the rather attractive barmaid as the ever-increasing number of cocktails inside me increased my levels of charm and suavity to near James Bond levels. I didn't get her number, but I asked her to put her name into my phone before I slumped out into the night and homewards. The next day was something I hadn't experienced before and never want to again - full blown, throwing up every 20 minutes for six hours alcohol poisoning. When the throwing up finally came to a halt and I felt well enough to climb into the shower and get dressed, I remembered the barmaid and, deciding to see what her name had been (thinking I might go back sometime soon), I picked up my phone and opened my saved messages to find... "Xghsjetsdh".

I haven't been back.

Or the time I went on a Physics society pub crawl (I know, I know) with a collection of the people on my course. We had a really good night staggering our way around the old town before ending up at a place that served cocktails (I'm seeing a theme here) in motherfucking GOLDFISH BOWLS. I don't remember much of the next two hours except for a sense of tremendous happiness and relaxation, which evaporated like the morning dew when it dawned on me that I was in a godforsaken industrial estate miles from any useful landmarks, and I had no idea which way my flat was. I picked a direction at random and started walking. The wrong way. By the time I realised where I was, I was about six miles North of my flat* and still hideously drunk. I finally managed to find a taxi while trying to hitchike my way down the side of the Edinburgh bypass.

*For those that know Edinburgh or can be bothered to look it up, I thought I was near asda chesser, and realised I wasn't when I looked up at a sign that said "RBS gogarburn".

The most recent incident was when I had been out for a friend's birthday party. She had seen me in a suit a couple of weeks previously for a university function, and insisted I wear one out in the town. This was in February, and the night we were out got down to about -3. All went well for the first part of the evening until the time came to leave the hellhole of a club we were in at the top of the royal mile, near the castle. All I had to do was get to prince's street - keep the castle on your left and it's impossible not to get there. Unless you're so drunk you stagger the whole length of the royal mile - one of the most easily recognisable streets in the country, if not the world - without realising you're on it. I got a nasty shock when I saw the Scottish parliament building looming in front of me.

My flatmates got home about half an hour before I did, despite leaving 45 minutes later than me...
(, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 18:07, 9 replies)

It should have been a clue when you went past/smelled the biscuit factory at Sighthill.
(, Thu 24 Mar 2011, 21:11, closed)
It would have been if I had been downwind
I meant to get the N25 from Princes street then get off and walk. However in my drunken state, when an N22 pulled up I thought "fuck it, that'll do" and got on. I realised it was going to be a long walk when I was somewhere south of the gyle centre - I spent 2-3 hours wandering around the industrial estates near there with no idea which direction was which before stumbling out onto the bypass.
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 0:12, closed)
Its just called REVOLUTION.
Not Vodka Revolution. I get annoyed by this idiotic misake.
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 9:12, closed)
more importantly
It's fucking horrible. Calling Vodka Revs good utterly incorrect. Actually the OP's whole opinion of cocktails is painful. A cocktail is a quality drink which is made with skill/care of attention; not fruit juice and shit vodka in a bowl.
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 14:17, closed)
For those who can afford it I'm sure it's very nice
But I can't afford the £6+ for one cocktail at a proper cocktail bar when it's not possible to tell the difference after three or four anyway.
(, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 17:34, closed)
serves you right for going to espionage

(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 15:09, closed)
is that
the gaff spread over 5 or 6 floors? Good times.
(, Fri 25 Mar 2011, 19:20, closed)
Yes it is
Free entry, horrific clientele, awful music and £7.20 for a double rum and coke. My protest upon stepping inside of "this is a fucking hellhole, let's leave" fell on deaf ears.
(, Sat 26 Mar 2011, 17:33, closed)
Hate the thought of the place
but when pissed me and a few mates have been in there and never had a bad night.

Please note, we are epicly pissed before entering
(, Mon 28 Mar 2011, 9:52, closed)

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