Where were we? Oh year. Partying like it was 1999.

Let’s jump ahead a decade back to December 18th and 19th 2010. This is where it started.

And it started where it often did. With a few drinks with friends in honour of my friend Josh’s birthday. Let’s call it “the usual”. Drinking games. Shots. Doubles. Black out.

Cut to me waking up the morning of the 19th trying to figure out where I was.

What is this place? This magical room. A bedroom with a couch in it? And a TV? AND A FIREPLACE? My god. It’s Zanadu. It’s some sort of Holy Land. I’m starting to think I’ve died. This is heaven. A bedroom you never have to leave. And there’s always a baseball game on TV! The Cubs win again!?!? I don’t believe it!! I need to figure out where I am though so I can get home. That chair looks familiar. And I’ve definitely seen that picture hanging on the wall before. Where am I? My fucking head hurts so much. *dryheave* *dryheave* My head hurts. *dryheave some more*. Seriously Michael, get it together. Figure out where you are.

5 minutes later it became clear that I was in my room. It also became clear that I drank away the part of my brain that remembered my bedroom and that I needed to reconsider how I was doing life. When the fog lifted a little I realized I wasn’t even in the room I had thought I was in. I guess I had been dreaming I was back in my early-teen years bedroom in my parents house. Wishful thinking perhaps?

I was experiencing emotions that I had most definitely experienced before. Overwhelmingly it was this one: Figure out your life, Michael.

It wasn’t a new thought. It wasn’t a rare thought. Unfortunately it wasn’t a thought that was ever given much attention. Until the morning of December 19th 2010 when I got a handle on being in my own room (and which room I was actually in!!) I had no knowledge whatsoever of how I got there. And after a night of blackout drinking the worst possible thing you could ever see? A light blinking on your phone. Missed calls, texts, tweets, or maybe something worse?

That’s not good. My phone never blinks. I never get messages.

My stomach dropped. Not like a hungover stomach drop that precedes hurling. No. This was different. This was a part of my brain knowing what was going on before I did. A part of my brain that I couldn’t access yet realizing what was going down before I could consciously come to grips with the situation.

Blink……blink……blink. I was struggling to bring myself to look at the phone.

I’ve definitely done something stupid.

Blink……blink……blink…..blink…..blink……

What have I done?!?!?

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