This happened pre-walk of shame.
So one time my friend John and I drove a couple hours to Boston for the birthday party of an old friend who we hadn't seen in awhile. It starts as a house party and after that sort of dies down, so we decided to go hit some bars. I hit it off with a girl, so we broke off from the group and stayed the night at her place. Next morning I wake up, get dressed, and head out into the kitchen. I almost freaked out because who is sitting at the table? Freakin' John. We, completely unknown to each other, went home with girls who happened to be roommates.
Today, I walked through my college campus, in the rain, wearing nothing but overalls cut off mid-shin and a Mario hat.
I went out to a Halloween party as Mario, ended up at a friends house throwing up in his sink. Woke up with no idea where the rest of my clothes went but knew I had to get to my dorm, a mile away, to get dressed for class. Unfortunately, I made this walk in between classes so plenty of students saw a very defeated Mario.
Met a girl on Halloween and her group of friends. She invited me back to her place as her friends left, but before we left we had a couple more drinks and she was really smashed. I took her home, took care of her while she puked, and we woke up together and cuddled. She thanked me and invited me to stay the day with her. I did, and stayed the night again, and then on November 2nd I had to walk home as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle through the financial district of our city.
A couple Halloweens ago, I went out with a lovely lady to a party. I went as Agent Venom from Spider-Man. We hooked up and she let me crash at her place, which actually was not supposed to happen, so morning rolls around and I realize that I have no change of clothes. Crap. So, I basically say "screw it," put my costume back on (sans the mask) and walk to my car.
On the way to my car, I see a dude around my age in a Spider-Man outfit walking towards me. He starts to say something and I just say, "Can it, Parker! I'm busy!" and we laughed, but I kept walking to my car. Got in, and drove home. The end.
This was in college. A typical (not frat) house party, with a gym bros and yoga-lovers theme. Things got predictably wild and my friends ripped my shirt off mid-party. Wearing nothing but gym shorts and joggers, I somehow managed to still get with a girl who was there. I wake up next morning and frantically look for clothing, didn't find my shirt.
This is when I remembered some cartoon I saw a while back of a woman getting locked out of her house in underwear. Her friend is jogging by and convinces her to jog along side to avoid embarrassment. I decide that that is a perfect solution and begin jogging back to my apartment on the other side of campus, pretending to be out for my normal morning routine. It's maybe -1c out, nips able to cut diamond. I jog past someone in long spandex, sweater, gloves, and ear muffs. Totally worth it.
Well, there was that one time I dressed as Catwoman for Halloween, which was a Friday, slept at a friend's, then had to walk of shame back to my dorm on a football Saturday. I went to a Big 10 school, so there were a LOT of people out and about.
In middle school I had khaki pants on. I thought I had to fart, but it was actually the beginnings of dia-you-know-what and it happened while walking between classes. I went in the bathroom and tried to clean up in the stall, but it was already too late - it had seeped through my undies and all on the back of my khakis.
Walked straight out of the bathroom (mid-period, so no one saw), out the door and walked home without telling a soul. I lived about 3/4 of a mile away from school and had to walk a main street to get home. Most shameful walk of my life. Can only imagine how many people drove by and saw me walking with my soiled pants along the main street.
Made great friends with a dude at this party the night before, we both separately take home girls on opposite sides of our college campus. The morning after I'm walking home about 8am and cross paths with my new best bud so I ask "walk of shame?" To which he responds: "It's not a walk of shame if we both enjoyed it, it's a walk of glory." Been using that term since.
During the beginning of my freshman year of college, I was sleeping with a guy for a couple of weeks, let's call him Matt. We weren't dating, just hooking up, but both realized that we weren't really compatible outside of the bed, so we moved on.
During finals week in the second semester, I hooked up with a great guy and was massively hungover, doing the walk of shame across the quad back to my room. It was a sunny, clear May morning. I had cigarettes, and was patting down my pockets looking for a lighter, when I stumbled across Matt, also doing the walk of shame and massively hungover, having a nice fit because he lost his cigarettes the night before when he hooked up with some girl at a party.
He had a lighter, I had cigarettes, we sat down and had a smoke, then completed the walk of shame back to our dorm, telling each other to have a good summer when he got off the elevator on his floor. What a carefree time of life my first year of college was.
I was at a party where everyone dressed up as elderly people. I had a white wig and everything. At one point I traded my pants for bathrobe because why not.
At the after-party someone had popped a big moving-box worth of popcorn. Because I'm never sensible enough to to stop partying, I was the last one to go to bed at that party and I slept in the box of popcorn.
It looked a little weird the next day on the bus ride home. A guy without pants dressed as a an old man, with popcorn everywhere, trying to survive a hangover.
In college I went to a Halloween party dressed as one of the Zoltan guys from 'Dude Where's my Car?' (basically shorts, undershirt and a bubble wrap jump suit). I ended up hooking up with a girl a couple blocks from my house.
Now, in order to get said hookup done we had to destroy the bubble wrap suit =(... I know. She also happened to be a terrible scratcher. So the next morning afternoon I'm walking down the main drag toward my house near campus in shorts, an undershirt LITERALLY covered in blood down the back, and carrying about 3 pounds of bubble wrap in 30 degree weather. I ended up getting a couple round of applauses from neighboring houses accompanied by some beers!
I'll start off by saying I'm a guy. It was my sophomore year during what is essentially a partying event week. Went to a party on a Tuesday night at one of our houses--we had parties every night that week since classes are a joke that first week. It was a fun party and naturally I got hammered as college students do. I bumped into a girl and she spilled some red juice on my white t shirt. I was too drunk to care. I was dancing and a girl started dancing with me. We hit it off, started making out, etc. She basically drags my drunk butt back to her place.
We get down to business, she starts taking off my clothes, and as she pulled down my shorts she ripped them clear down the front. I'm not taking like a small rip but one that basically ripped the fly in half and almost tore the pant leg clean off. They were kind of these hybrid board short chino things, which looked really cool but were not very durable to say the least. Yet I didn't care for obvious reasons.
So fast forward to the next morning. I get up start to say my goodbyes and get dressed. I start putting on my clothes. The white T with an ominous red stain down the front, the torn shorts, I look at my white vans and they look like they has spent 8 years in the forest from being stepped on. I'm a mess, like a total disaster, and I was still a little drunk. So I leave her apartment and realize I am on the opposite side of campus (2 miles away from my house). I start on my walk of shame. Got lots of looks, some questions, was asked if I needed help and the occasional high five. Made it about halfway to my destination when my housemate sees me while driving by, and breaks down hysterically laughing asking me what happened while taking a snapchat. He drove me the rest of the way home.
I was working at a cheap hotel a few years ago, and this dude arrived for his reservation and wasn't satisfied with the room. (Housekeeping was terrible at this location, we had this happen a couple times a night honestly.) The dude was furious and yelled at my manager in the lobby for a while before packing up his family and taking them to the motel next door, which unbeknownst to him and his family was even crappier than ours.
A few minutes later I see him walking back over to us with his head down. He comes up to the front desk and quietly asks me if he could check back into the room.
Hooked up with this guy in college. Realllyyy wasn't attracted to him and wanted to leave, but didn't have my car with me and it was 5am, so I laid there. He woke up and went to the bathroom, and for some reason even though he was a nice enough guy I decided to just peace out. So, I decided to climb down from his balcony and walk 2 hours home with my dress on, and bra and underwear in my hands... And I was barefoot... Because I forgot my freakin' shoes. Got a lot of looks during that long walk.
Getting the bus back home on a Sunday morning wearing a tiny skirt and a corset top, having lost my nice large coat sometime during the evening. The girl I'd hooked up with didn't even offer me a jumper to wear. And obviously the bus was full of judge-y older people.
Sitting on the curb looking like a hot mess waiting for my Uber, when the guy I had just hooked up with strolled by with his friend to go play an early game of tennis.
I woke up in dude's apartment, immediately realized I was 1 hour late for my campus gynecologist appointment. I walked to the campus clinic and went to appointment in last night's clothes. The nurse gave me a year's worth of birth control in a bag and said, "you need this."
I said, "thanks," and then I walked back to my apartment with my loot.
Strap in for this one, because this night helped shape who I am.
Sophomore year of college at a big state school in the American Midwest. Fraternity toga party.
I should preface this by saying I had nothing under my toga besides a pair of boxers. I gave my wallet and my phone to a friend (who smartly wore shorts under his toga).
I don't remember much of the party. I pre-gamed with 10+ natty lights (Natural Ice for the uninitiated) through playing the drinking game Irish Poker. The last thing I remember is being handed a beer and having to shotgun it as soon as I walked up to the party.
Fast forward to about 3:30am. I wake up on the floor of a dorm room (!!!). Not only was I naked, but I was still extremely hammered. I got up and saw a girl passed out on the twin-sized bed (uh oh). But that explains why I was on the floor; a twin is way too small for two people.
But that doesn't matter. After standing up I go in full panic mode. Where the hell was I? What happened? Who is this girl?? I never do anything like this, at that point I had only ever slept with with two people in my life. I assumed that we hooked up, but who knows? I had never done anything like this. I was totally shaken.
I start to rummage for my toga (a dirty bedsheet), my underwear, and my shoes. I mentally slap myself for not having a phone or wallet. After I found all of my things scattered on the floor around me, I start the process of figuring out where I am. Can't just open up my phone and look at the GPS? No sir. That would have been too smart.
I quietly walk out of her door. To my left, a long hallway, lined with more dorm rooms, that veers off to god knows where. To my right, the door to a stairwell. Thank Christ.
Oh, I should also mention that at the beginning of the night, my friend wrapped my toga for me. I had no idea how to wrap a toga. So I'm essentially holding it around my waist like a bath towel.
In the stairwell, I found out I'm on the seventh floor. I descend seven flights of stairs. At one point I walk past a group of 3-4 drunk girls heading up. Hey, ladies. I'm doing great, how are you?
At the bottom, there's a door that leads outside. I walk out the door and realize I'm in a dorm on the southeast side of campus. I live in the northwest. I'm 2 and a half miles from home. With no phone or wallet (crap!!!).
Then begins the longest walk of shame I have ever had. A dirty bed sheet wrapped around my waist, at around four o clock in the morning, in January in the Midwest (it gets pretty damn cold). I did a lot of self-reflection on that walk.
Eventually, I got home though. Microwaved a frozen burrito and slept like a baby.
When I decided to stay the night with a "Friend With Benefits," I wasn't thinking about the fact that the Chicago Marathon route went right in front of my apartment building. I found myself on the opposite side of the street from my building unable to cross due to the constant runners. I asked an officer how I could get across. He said, "You're going to have to wait for a small break and run with them until you can get to the other side."
So, I waited until there was a slight clearing in the number of runners and ran out into the street. There I was, running with them in my high-heeled boots and skirt that I had on the night before. I only had to run with them for a few feet to make it across, but it was as embarrassing as anything. Luckily the section of street I lived on in the south side wasn't a popular place for people to watch the race from.
After a night of drinking at the bar, one of my friends decided that she was gonna make everyone perogies. I was upstairs and had no idea she was cooking until I heard a scream. I ran downstairs and there she was, with a wok on the stove and flames rising from it steadily, licking the ceiling. I yelled for another buddy to open the Juliette balcony we had next to the kitchen. I grabbed the flaming oily mess by the pan handle, trying not to spill the flaming oils as I carried it to the balcony and tossed that thing right out onto the paved alleyway bellow. I burnt my hand doing so. A few burn marks were formed around our kitchen. Our house had come very close to being a fire scene because of drunken perogies.
Anyway the next morning she want out and collected this misshapen, now-destroyed wok from the alleyway. I always refer to this as her wok of shame.
In college, woke up the next day after a party across campus. Walked back to my house. Voting was a thing that day, lots of students out encouraging to vote. I walked into a campus building, interacted with lots of people, voted and left.
Got home and looked into a mirror. There was a large penis drawn in sharpie on my forehead.
I was wondering why people were looking at me funny.
Our school was notorious for seagulls.
Thousands of kids littering all day must've seemed like paradise for them. They pretty much took over the entire school.
Somebody being crapped on by a seagull was an everyday occurrence, and in the end people were just so used to it that people didn't really bat an eyelid, unless it was comical in some way.
I was walking to class with my buddy. I felt something hit my back, it felt like a friend had come up and slapped me on the back to say hi or whatever. I turned around and there's nobody there, I turn to my buddy and his face is in shock. He's pointing at my back and I can see him charging up to let out an almighty laugh.
I take my jacket off and see what's up. At this point my friend can barely breathe, he's causing a huge scene, everybody is looking over or crowding round to see what's up.
This bird crap on my back was this size of a fucking dinner plate, to this day I'm still convinced that it must of been an eagle or an albatross or something that did this to me.
I had to walk to my next lesson with my jacket at arms length, with people following me and laughing their head off.
Screw that bird.
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