Day of my friend's wedding.

Earlier this week a good buddy of mine got married. I was one of his groomsmen. We're in the Army, so we both wore our dress blue uniforms, lookin' real good.

So the night before the wedding, me, the groom, the best man and the two other groomsmen all kicked it at the bride's grandpa's place in the country. Drank a little whiskey, had a little conversation. I didn't have much because I had to drive back. I had had a few beers before too.

That night my girlfriend and I were crashing at my friend Ian's house because his baby and his baby-mama were gone for the week. My buddy Charlie was there too, with his brother, and two other guys. So we all had a bunch of beer, and then went to sleep.

Woke up, not feeling too hot. Not awful, but I was not a hundred percent. Went to the toilet to clear out a few things, pulled the trigger a little, but definitely not the main event. Got dressed, joking with my buddies, took a little shower, hoping that that was that. Left a little early so that I could walk around and catch some air.

I walk around Annapolis and things are starting to look up. The winter chill is having a sobering effect, I feel ready for this, and start to head back to the church.

Then it hits. A little sweat, suddenly I feel way hot and my brain is like; "You are going to vom." I'm on a pretty main street, there's cars and pedestrians, this is no place to be vomiting in my Army uniform. I know I have maximum thirty seconds. A little quick-thinking: duck down onto a less prominent street. Its about to go down. I take a knee, take my hat off, and basically look like I'm tying my shoe.

Except I am puking my stomach out right into some snow. After one round, I get up, walk ten feet, then drop again and let it all out. Down low, the cars driving by can't even see me. Hell yeah. I let myself cool off, straighten up, head to the church and rock the wedding. We partied all day.