An email I sent to Brian Costello earlier today:
Sorry I missed the gig. Hope it went well.
We had a work party for a couple of promotions. It was 5 hours of free drinks at the bar downstairs of our bldg. I think I had 11 gray goose and cranberrys. I passed out on the train coming home around 9:30. I woke up at some stop and ran off the train for some reason thinking I'd arrived at my stop. It wasn't. I'm still not sure which stop it was. But I am sure that I puked all over the stairs of that train stop. Perhaps I was just marking it so I could find it again.
Wandered the streets until I found my way home an hour and a half later. Total zombie walk. Dead drunk.
I have the distinct impression that I was saying all kinds of crazy shit to my coworkers, including the bigshot head of my division. I am positive that one of those crazy things was claiming that I had a 275 bowling average. What the fuck???