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This is a question Shame

Some people get off on the exhibitionism, but this was pure lust. I'm not proud, but I did once have sex on Portsmouth beach at 2am in the fog. I got a nasty cold, shingle _everywhere_ and have never, ever gone back to Portsmouth. The shame.

There are things you boast about, and then there's Portsmouth beach... what are you ashamed of having done?

(, Thu 24 Nov 2005, 17:16)
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The one when I effectively ended my career...
I went on a high powered conference earlier this year with my boss to a small private college in the US. Behaved impeccably all week, spoke to all the right people and showed a keen interest in furthering my career. Until…

On the last night I got drunk. Monumentally, phenomenally drunk. On rum. Finally got to bed at about 6am, set my alarm for 8 as I had to catch the bus to the airport. I was awoken from my coma like state at 8.55am by my boss shrieking “What the f**king hell are you doing, the bus is leaving now. I mean now, this second.” A quick glance round my room was enough to tell me that while I’d tried to pack, all I’d done was throw clothes all over the floor. Chucked stuff in a bag while my boss went to go and tell the driver to wait. No such luck, I got outside and they’d gone. Leaving me 2 hours from the airport, still plastered. Managed to persuade a guy to give me a lift to the airport, remember very little of the dribbling conversation I must have had with the poor sod. Got there in time, checked in and found my boss. We had a good laugh over how wrong it had all nearly gone. And then…

As I queued for passport control, the hangover started to kick in. I’d drunk a bottle of coke and a coffee, but that was it. And my stomach wanted revenge. Feeling worse and worse I edged towards the desk, mentally willing myself through security so I could go and barf to my tum’s content. Handed my passport to the woman behind the counter, smiled sweetly and fainted. When I came to, I’d been propped against a wall and was being shaken by airport security. The panic in my eyes must have articulated what was coming next and the guy silently handed me a bin. Which I was promptly exorcist level sick into. In front of my boss and about 150 people queuing for passport control. Once the vomit-fest had subsided, I was asked would I like to go through security in order to board my flight. (Seriously, they were actually going to let me on the plane. Ah, these small provincial airports…). Except I couldn’t stand up.

So * takes deep breath * they put me in a wheelchair and pushed me through. And on the other side? All the people from the conference who’d had the good sense to stop drinking at a reasonable time and get the goddamn bus to the airport. Thus my humiliation was complete. I was sat in a wheelchair, covered in sick with one contact lens missing in front of a group of people who’d I’d tried to spend a week convincing they wanted to employ me. (*) I spent the 40 minute flight being sick in a bag. I then spent the 5 hour stopover at Newark on the floor in the toilets crying in shame at what I’d done. I still wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat thinking about it.

On the plus side, it’s a great story and one that’s caused much hilarity, especially as my boss reckons it’s the funniest thing she’d ever seen. Did somebody say schedenfraude? I think I just did…

(*) They didn’t. I’m still looking for a job. Oh god…
(, Tue 29 Nov 2005, 13:18, Reply)

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