Designated driver
It's never fun being the sober one when everyone else is getting pissed. As one of only two people in our "pub crawl" circle with a driving licence, I suffer more than most. Especially last night, as the other guy was getting pissed too. I ended up carrying a guy called Ant (unconscious, covered in vomit and still throwing up) out of the pub and to my car with the help (ha!) of another almost-as-drunk friend (Nick). The third guy I was driving home (Ian) then erupted from the pub (also paralytic), shouting that his brother had hit him.

This was like a red rag to a bull to Nick. He dropped Ant (I caught him before he hit the ground, getting more vomit on my shirt in the process) and tried to run into the pub to "do over" Ian's brother. Notwithstanding the fact that Nick is not very big and that Ian's brother is 6'5" and built like a tank. After a hell of a lot of shouting on my part I got him to come back.

By this point, Ian had decided that he wasn't waiting around for me to get back from taking Ant home, he was going to run back to his house. He lived 4 miles away, uphill, and was having difficulty walking. I wasn't in a position to stop him as I had to hold Ant up while convincing Nick that if he got knocked unconscious, there would be no way I'd take him home too. Ian disappeared into the night. Eventually I got Nick back and Ant into the car. After an uneventful drive to his house, we searched him, found his keys, bodily dragged him into his house (think "mental patient being dragged off by the orderlies" style) and installed him in the toilet.

Nick went to find him a glass of water. Unknown to us, Ant's psychopathic dog was in the kitchen, and didn't take kindly to this. The barking, snarling and yelping woke up Ant's mother who had to come down, restrain the dog and look after Ant (now passed out again, but at least in his own toilet this time).

Ant dealt with, I now had to go and find Ian. Along with Nick I went back into town. By the time we got there, the pub was shut. The rest of the guys (including Ian's brother) were in subway across the street. We knew that Ian was somewhere on the road to his house, but he wasn't answering his phone other than to say he wanted Emily to pick him up instead of me, so off we went to find him. After half an hour of driving up and down the same stretch of road, we decided that we weren't going to find him. We called him (for the seventh time). He still refused to tell us where he was.

By this point I was knackered, smelling of vomit and really not in the mood for this. I decided I'd had enough and drove home, stopping only to drop off Nick. I got home at 2.30am covered in sick and with my lifespan considerably shorter. (I later found out that it took five people a further hour to find Ian and get him home).

What's happened to you when you've been the only sober one?
( MatJ LOOK, Sun 27 Apr 2008, 15:45, 1 reply, 17 years ago)

here's a lesson for you
never be the sober one.

if my mates managed to get that cuntishly drunk I'd be fucked if I'd let them anywhere near my car, let alone drive them home and look after the fuckers.
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Thu 1 May 2008, 8:21, Reply)