Not the same, but similar.
I got food poisoning at work. I was in a manhole in San Francisco. Manholes are basically cement rooms, with a small, circular pit called a sump, to help pump water out.
When I got sick. I was doubled over the sump, puking my guts out, unable to climb the ladder to get out.
My worst hangover was a lot like that.

Slept at the base of the great white god, and still threw up all over the floor, the next morning thought I was going to die, then got real scared knowing I wasn’t,haven’t touched tequila since.

The worst scenario was the morning after a hellacious wedding and after party in San Francisco, I had to be in Santa Barbara in time for work at 3 p.m. That’s a six hour drive, and my eyes were bleeding they weer so red.

I had to down two large jars of gatorade to make it, even then I was in severe pain until the enxt day.

Me plus vodka, great night. Next morning we all get up and go to the swap meet. My buddy starts talking about breakfast, I say stop, he doesn’t and laughs. I say pull over, he does, I spend some time outside in the ditch.

I have a lot of good stories from my drinking days.

I’m 15 and my buddy takes a cut off every liquor bottle in his moms cabinet. He hands me about a pint of it and I chug it thinking “it takes a lot” I wake up in a pool of my own puke, have a “green skin tone” according to him and my mother is on her way to pick me up. So… she instantly can tell and puts me to work in the yard. I’m still dry heaving into almost lunchtime.

Then…fast forward to my early thirties. I’m at a motorcycle rally and we end the day passing moonshine around the fire pit. The real stuff, not that watered down shit they sell in Gatlinburg. It’ll make you crazy and do things you would never do “normal drunk.” I “decide” to ride my pit bike around the race track and of course I wipe out. I get up “I’m ok” and quietly walk in drunken pain to bed. The next morning my right side is black and blue, my knee is in serious pain and I’m almost as hung over as I was when I was 15. I still manage to roll out of bed and attempt to eat breakfast. Be careful with the real moonshine, that took next to nothing. Three shots was really equivalent to about eight in a very short period of time. Talk about a hard lesson.

@ARE_you_kidding_me – real moonshine is killer stuff. I knew some folks who lived in the hills of West Virginia – not far from Bexley – who had their own still, off the grid….

One sip was enough for me. Like rocket fuel.

My friends 30th birthday. Tequila until it ran out then Mescal and finally Pulque. Spent the early morning hours and most of the next day wrapped around and worshiping at the porcelain goddess,

Took me six months before I could even smell Tequila again. I had to begin with virgin Margaritas and slowly add Tequila over a couple of months.

We are good friends these days.

Partially drowning in the toilet where I just puked.