This isn't so much a drunk story as it is an "old guys being jerks" story.

Before Christmas, I got together with about 9 of my buddies. Most of us being married with kids and getting old, it doesn't happen much anymore these days. Anyway we met up a packed sport pub on a Saturday night. My buddy and I spotted the digital jukebox and put in enough cash to play 10 tunes. Since it was digital, it had a much bigger database to pull music from, not just the typical pop crappola. When the first Megadeth song came on, you could have heard a pin drop from the rest of the patrons.

By song #3, '(Anesthesia) Pulling Teeth' ["BASS SOLO, TAKE ONE....BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR] everyone in the bar was looking over at that group of a$$holes in the corner, high-fiving each other and throwing the horns. Mid-way through song #4, 'Whiplash', the bartender pulled the plug on the jukebox, telling us the dj was about to begin, which didn't happen for another 20 minutes.

We had enough beers in us at that point that we didn't care and were actually quite proud that we got 4 and a half songs played and thoroughly annoyed the customers and bartenders alike. Afterall, whens the last time you heard a distorted bass solo instrumental track played at a crowded sports bar on a Saturday night?

Glad you appreciate it. My wife didn't find it nearly as amusing when I told her later that night when I got in. "You did what now? How is that funny?"

As a post script to that story, just to show you how old and out of touch with the bar scene we were, it took us a few minutes to realize that this new fangled digital jukebox didn't accept cash money. Credit/debit card only!!

We looked like a coupla drunken chimps trying to figure out where to stick our dollar bills into the "magical music box" before we finally caught on. Pfft. Kids today!! In my day, you could get 3 songs for a nickel. Or if Fonzie was around, he could hit the sweet spot.

BUMP

Well, I got home from holiday in Gran Canaria last week (Granny was payin', so I accepted the offer right away!), and I had an awesome time! I found this great Irish pub where I would be spending the rest of my evenings - one day, I was there as usual. The place was packed, due to some boxing match that was going on at the time - Well, that evening I managed to score a kiss from a fairly hot Irish girl, as well as sing karaoke (my extremely deep, operatic vocal style didn't seem to fit "Summer of 69", but what the hell!) - It was a great evening, I had lotsa' fun - then it got to the time where I was about to head on home - I went the rout I always went, but suddenley after a while I stopped and thought, "Wait a minute....this ain't the right place!" - I spent the next 2,5 hours trying to get home (I only realised after a coupla' hours that I just had to go towards the beach, which would eventually lead me to our bungalow) - When I finally got home, I met granny in the kitchen and she said, "Oh, you already up? You wanna go to the beach?", and I just said, in all my drunken glory, "Nah, I needa' sleep, just got home!" - That was a great night indeed!

BUMP!

I live in a rather famous part here in Germany, lots of movie and music stars, sports people and some high society losers who think wearing 10 tons of jewelry make them better people.
Anyway, i'm a strong supporter of 1860 Munich (foobtall/soccer club) the underdog in Munich against it's strong competitor FC Bayern Munich. So years ago i was stumbling home with a friend, drunk as smurf poo and one of our neighbours just got out of his car. It was Oliver Kahn (Goal Keeper for FC Bayern Munich and the German national team) and i just went on a ramble about how much he sucked, about how much FC Bayern sucked and how much i hate him and everything.
As my friend told me later, Kahn just stood there with a confused look, while i cursed on and on my friend dragged me away

My second fond drunk memory involves Steve Lukather, guitarrist from Toto. Met him after a concert in a Bar, went to him, went crazy (one of my guitar heroes, i own a Music Man Luke, it's my favourite guitar) and we spent the whole evening, drinking and drinking and talking about everything. It was awesome, he's such a nice and fun guy, experienced so much (his Michael Jackson stories are awesome) and later even gave me a lot of merchandise from his then-band 'El Grupo'

BUMP

Not me, but a couple of weeks ago my cousin drank eight shots of tequila in a row and vomited on a small child.

I was at one of the usual keggers in college & had drank an obscene amount of beer, eventually leading to me passing out while taking a piss in the back yard. This is the last I remember, what happened next I can only go by what I was told. Some friends found me laid out snoring & drooling, They were unable to wake me & got nothing more than slurred curses & feebly thrown punches for their troubles. But then one of them said the magic words: "The cops are here!"

Before anyone had a chance to react, I was up & running in blind, drunken panic. Thru a line of hedges, the neighbor's fence, a clothesline, said neighbors fence on the other side of his yard, rinse & repeat for four blocks. I was the f'n Juggernaut. My friends gave up the chase about two blocks in, fearing that the cops really were coming this time.

I woke up with the first rays of dawn in somebody's backyard, clothes torn to smurf poo, covered in twigs, leaves & other debris, & dozens of cuts & bruises. I rolled over, puked, and walked home with the mother of all hangovers. About halfway back I remembered to zip up my pants.