The evening of 11/11/11 turned out to be a not so lucky day. I don't know if the magic genie who grants wishes was really upset at me for being so selfish when I mentally demanded my Christmas list of future expectations (at both 11:11 AM and PM), but I was punished.

It was the perfect girls' night out gone wrong. Four shots of apple flavored vodka quickly turned into $20 shots of Patron XO which transformed into endless cranberry cocktails and overflowing champagne. How the girls and I came to receive free drinks was entirely D's doing, she was awesome at working her magic and we thankfully reaped the benefits. Dancing like Mick Jagger to Adam Levine's goddamn sexy voice soon became sloppy, as I realized I was dancing in the bathroom. I wandered the Dream Hotel dance floor alone, wondering where all my friends had disappeared to. C was no where in sight. V was swaying like a sexy candle. I soon found A and stuck to her like Elmer's, her sea foam colored top a swimming blur.

Let's just say that after some vomit, I abandoned A on the streets of New York because I assumed she knew where she was going. I shouldn't have left her like that, especially with no phone. I hated myself the next morning.

I ended up losing my red Coach bag with cash, a credit card, a newly bought monthly Metrocard, a key, and my driver's license at the very end of the night, outside my apartment.

Don't know how I stumbled into the apartment without a key, and I don't quite remember taking off my pants and crawling into bed. I was home, but completely lost.

The next morning I woke up to a wet bed and a completely fuzzy memory of the previous night's events.

I suppose it is clear to say that I am never drinking that much again. The damage done far outweighed the good times of that night, and in my old age, a hangover is not really all that glamorous.

I need to regain control and stop losing things that are so dear to me.



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