My sisters and my worst hang over, ever.

Last night, I went to see Sister Act with Nathan and Sam. It wasn't the best Broadway show I have ever seen, but it was entertaining. It really irked me that there was no music from the movie though. I really wanted to sing along to "I will follow him...follow him to where ever he may go.."

I do believe the funniest part was the comment Nathan made to me as the nuns first paraded on the stage. "Does that look familiar to you?" We all busted out laughing. For those who don't know the story, let me share it with you. It's a treat.

It has been 3 years since what I like to call the worst hangover in history. This story has taken on a life of it's own among my Chicago friends. Heather Reed adds something new each time she tells it. The real version, however, is an amazing story. No embellishment needed.

March 17, 2008. It is a Saturday. And for those who are a bit slow, it's also St. Patty's Day. Now, St Patrick's Day in Chicago is like no other. You need to train your liver for about a month prior. The week leading up to this black out fest, I was sick. I had a horrible sinus infection. I barely ate all week. I think I managed to get down some saltines and chicken broth, yum. I think God must have been smiling down on me because I woke up on St. Patty's day feeling like a million bucks. It was on.

The river dying in Chitown. 

I went down to my friend Michelle's boyfriend's condo. It overlooked Michigan Ave and the River. It was perfect because it was cold outside. We were inside, drinking like Charlie Sheen and watching the shenanigans below. I couldn't have been happier. We then went from bar to bar, drinking whatever I could get my hands on. I believe the whole day I had half a bagel, a handful a fries and a case of beer. I was in prime form. I went into what I like to call "auto-pilot" and just kind of charged on in a hazy state. St. Patty's eventually got the best of me and I put myself to bed.

I woke up the next morning to my phone going off to a frenzy of text messages. The boys were all getting together for brunch. Since I had only consumed about 500 calories the entire week (minus the 5,000 in beer the day before), I knew I needed to eat. I started getting ready and was just not feeling it. I had to sit down in the shower. I couldn't blow dry my hair. Putting on makeup was a task. Picking out my outfit proved to be a struggle. I knew I had probably bit off more than I could chew by agreeing to brunch, but I was determined to make it.

The "incident" scene. 

I lived about a 10 minute walk from the place. I couldn't make the hike. I walked up my street and had to take a break halfway. My street wasn't very big mind you. I eventually hailed a cab and paid him $5 to drive me 6 blocks. I walked into Melrose. I sat down at the end of the table and ordered my usual: ice tea, chicken and rice soup, club sandwich and fries. I was really struggling. I felt really hot. My ice tea came and I could barely choke it down. The soup came and that's when I knew I was done. I could not do it. Brunch was too much too soon for me. I told them I was sorry but I have to go home. I can't even remember if I threw down money.

I quickly get up to leave and as I walk towards the door, my hearing starts to go out. It was like a 4-alarm going off in my ears. I sit down on a stack of new papers, sweating like Pamela Anderson in church. I took a deep breath and knew I only had a few feet to go until I was outside to get fresh air. As I stand up, my hearing is completely gone, my vision becomes blurred. I see the outline of the door, but can't see all the people in the way. My vision was gone. I was like large marge and forced my way to the door. I push through the innocent patrons and all I feel is coats and hair. Coats and hair. I manage to get outside and that's when I fall down. Face first, on the sidewalk. I did catch my cheek with my arm. I fainted for a hot minute. When I finally came to and my hearing came back, the first thing I heard was, "OH MY GOD, SHE IS HAVING A SEIZURE, CALL 911". Great. Just fucking great. I am not having a seizure, but rather just puking on the sidewalk. Relax. Yes, I am a mess, but no need to cause a scene.

The Sisters. 

A nice person helps me up. I am sitting in their arms and puking in my lap. Yes, I was the epitome of a hot mess. There I sat, in this stranger's arm, barfing all over my myself. Someone else asked if I had friends inside. I said, "Nathan, Sam and Frank." There were about 12 of us there, but I couldn't find the energy to say anymore. They went inside to try to find my friends. There, I sat, puking in my lap. I was shaking. I puked more, on myself. Then, I took notice to this plant in my face. I batted it away. I puked again. I was drawing a crowd. I then finally took notice to the person holding me up. It was a nun. The plant I was batting away was a palm. Her sisters were behind her, also holding palms. It was Palm Sunday. I hit a new low.

One of the sisters, much to my disapproval, took the liberty to call 9-1-1. How am I going to explain this? That's when the boys come outside. I am sure the site of seeing their friend in the arms of a nun with vomit in her lap was a lot to take in. That's when I heard the sirens. I told them that my ride was coming. The police show up. Now, I have caused a real scene. Everyone has made a small semi circle around me. I didn't want to talk to the cop, so Sam took it upon himself to give me my complete information. He somehow knew my address too. I am surprised he didn't tell him my blood type. And then the ambulance shows up. Fantastic. I was forced to go inside - thanks Sister Mary. They take my vitals and tell me they need to take me to the hospital. No way I tell them. I tried to explain it was just a really bad hangover. They were not buying it, but they told me if I didn't puke and could walk out without falling down, they would let me leave. I told them I needed a minute to muster up some energy. That was a big task to undertake, but I was up for the challenge. No way in hell was I spending the afternoon in a hospital. I had some real Housewives to catch up on. I made it out, unscathed.

Heather just got a new car and drove to brunch. I walk over to her car to catch a ride. She told me I couldn't ride in her car with pukey pants. Sam gave me his sweaty pair of gym pants. I just dropped my vomit covered pants on the sidewalk. As if I didn't have enough embarrassment for one day. I put on the sweaty pants and off we were. We stopped to get some much needed Gatorade and Advil. Eventually, we started laughing. Real hard.

My favorite addition that Heather adds is that the nuns were fanning me with their Palms. That didn't happen; however, it took about 3 days to fully recover. But never in my life, will I ever recover from this story.