It began innocently. Our tech lead made us leave work at 4:30 and took us out for a drink to celebrate the launch of the a site that we’d all slaved away night and day and weekend on. One drink became 2, 2 became 4, etc. With 8 drinking hours under my belt my friend walked me to the nearest subway stop and assumed I’d get home ok.

I walked down into the subway. As I waited on the platform for the next train I rested my head against one of the beams and thought to myself “Don’t pass out before the next train comes. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.” And finally the train came. I boarded, held on to a pole and thought “Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. You’ll end up in Harlem at 1 AM if you pass out. Don’t pass out.” Somewhere in the middle of Brooklyn I realized that I wasn’t on an uptown train.

I got out on the Jay Street stop. Yeh, I’ve never heard of it either! And this was only my second time to Brooklyn since last June. So, somehow I get to the uptown platform, I sit down on a bench and think to myself “My stomach hurts! Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke!” It seems like I’ve been waiting for this uptown train for hours. I look, longingly, across the platform at a newsstand that’s still open and selling candy, water, soda and other sundries. I wish that it was on my side of the platform. 10 minutes later I realize that there’s one exactly like it on my side of the platform next to me, on my right. I buy some Nutter Butters and eat them, hoping they’ll provide some substance and soak up some alcohol. After what seems like a 3 hour wait the uptown train finally comes and I get on.

The train is making express stops which is very confusing and the man on the intercom is very hard to hear. Especailly when you’re drunk and in Brooklyn and it’s now very, very late. The 42nd Street stop comes and goes, but it’s ok because the intercom man says that 50th will be the next stop. I can’t believe I’m almost home!! The intercom man was lying. I hate him! Columbus Circle was the next stop! I get out. Somehow I walk 11 blocks home in high heeled boots, hiccupping. A drunk girl being propped up by her two friends says “hi” to me. I say “hi” back. A stumbling cute boy walks past me and as he does I hiccup. He says “hiccup!” to me. I giggle. I get home. I’m home. Here’s my glorious bed. I love you, bed! It’s 3 am. I’m sleeping.