T Nation

Worst Hangover Ever


Just since mine occurred last night, was just wondering if you guys had any horror or hilarious stories of hangovers or the like.

So basically I still still feel like crap from last night, I stopped throwing up probably about 2 hours ago. I can finally put down crackers. Had a great time from what I remember though, but I'm really not sure why I woke up on my deck face smashed against the floor boards just wearing my boxers. Totally not worth whatever happened that I dont remember last night.


I woke up, went to bathroom and saw a fucking tiger, then lost my friend, and found a baby in the closet...oh wait, that wasn't me....



Ok ... seriously ... I think I was 21 or 22 ... went to a New Years party at an alcoholics house. Kept up with him, me and my girlfriend. The next day I just sat in a chair and wallowed in my stench watching a movie marathon. I don't know what movies were playing. My eyes were open but they hurt too much to see anything. I couldn't hear anything besides a loud, high pitch squeel. My girlfriend wanted to have sex but it hurt whenever she tried to touch me. I drank 6 bottles of gatorade and ate some shrimp lo mein. I didn't feel better until the 3rd. It takes a lot of alcohol to make a 21 year old male to feel like that. I might have had alcohol poisoning now that I think about it. That was the worst I've ever felt in my life.


When I was twenty I played baseball at Chico State. The night before an 11:00 am intrasquad game, I drank a fifth of Bacardi 151 to my face. I was creating serious havoc everywhere I went that night and woke up at 6am passed out in a church parking lot in the bushes. I ran home in a frenzy, still shitfaced, showered, puked about ten times (I couldn't even keep water in my stomach for more than a few minutes), took a couple bong rips, which was a bad idea, and I was on the verge of complete collapse (way past it actually).

I got to the field early so I could change and get on the field before my teammates started showing up to give me a hard time about the previous night. Turns out that one of the other pitchers hurt his shoulder in a freak accident at his house the night before. Since the game was just an intrasquad, all the pitchers were assigned an inning, starters got two innings, just to get a little work in. I was supposed to throw the 3rd and 4th, but the guy who hurt his arm was throwing the top of the 1st and 2nd, so the coach gave me his innings too. I passed out for about ten minutes in the middle of centerfield during team stretching drills.

I puked a few times in the bullpen, staggered out to the mound in a daze, and promptly walked the first three batters on twelve pitches that weren't even close. I puked on the back of the mound (actually I just kind of dry-heaved and managed to spit up an ounce or two of stomach bile) and the pitching coach and catcher came out to see if I was alright. After mumbling something about the extreme heat (it was the middle of February) I insisted that I was okay, but they wanted me to throw a couple of warmup pitches, so I hurled the first warmup about halfway up the backstop as hard as I could and said I was ready to go (I threw about 92 mph back then).

The next hitter was watching all of this and knew I was a) hammered b) having trouble seeing the plate c) a flamethrower who currently had little clue as to where the ball was going that day and d) just kooky enough to be capable of anything at that point. He stood in the back of the batter's box and watched the first two pitches sail under his chin, then for some reason he swang at a ball about ankle high and tapped into a double play (3-2-3) and I struck out the next batter on three pitches. I went three up, three down the next three innings, and only puked once more the whole time (outside of the dugout).

When my innings were through, I threw a big Copenhagen into my lip, lurched on down to the bullpen, passed out again until one of the other pitchers woke me up, and puked again. I had to run from foulpole to foulpole twenty times before the end of practice so I started in on that and started to get so dizzy and nauseous that I collapsed and fell over about 30 feet from the right field foul pole, while the intrasquad was still going on. The entire team saw and it stopped the game. It probably looked like I just tripped and fell, but when I didn't move (I was perfectly fine with sleeping facedown in the dirt for the next couple of hours at that point) the trainer came running out. He asked if I was okay, then said I reeked of booze. I told him someone must have spilled some liquor on the warning track and smiled at him. When he said I didn't look too good, I realized I wasn't smiling but grimacing heavily, and I told him I hit my head during my fall. He took me to the trainer's room where I caused a scene when they refused to hook me up to an IV with saline (they didn't have one). I got my arm iced down and my neck muscles rubbed out, which I fell asleep during and didn't wake up from for more than 30 minutes.

The next day at practice, my pitching coach asked me why I was all over the place for the first three batters I faced and I grinned at him, showing lots of teeth, and said I just needed to work a few kinks out that I didn't quite get fixed in the bullpen.


Long story short. I lived in Costa Rica for a year and while there went to this huge house music festival. Drank my weight in booze, smoked a bunch of weed and topped it off with taking E...Bad idea all around. Had the best time of my life before waking up in the bathroom 9 hours later covered in my own vomit and not remembering a thing complete with a sickness that I can only describe as "worse than death." Never felt any worse in my life. So my recommendation...Yeah, don't do what I did.


The last time I ever drank or did any drugs was the worst. I woke up in my car on my neighbor's lawn at four am in my boxers with my shotgun in the back seat, an empty fifth of scotch in my lap and dried blood (mine) all over my nose and mouth. There was about two grams of coke smeared all over my mouth, chest, and lap. I didn't remember anything, there was a spent shotgun shell in the passenger seat, and I was barely ambulatory. I managed to roll the car off the lawn and into my driveway so as not to alert the neighbors, stashed the shotgun in the backyard and then puked about as violently as I ever have in my life for the next several minutes. There was a lot of blood in my puke, which made me even more nauseous and dizzy.

I found a half gram of coke in my glove box, railed the whole thing up in one line, yakked it to my face in one pull, gagged, puked again after I used some old-ass whisky to wash the drip down, and then got so dizzy I fell over and hit my head on the kitchen counter and got knocked out. When I came to, I was slumped over against the refrigerator and my heart was going into severe palpitations. I thought I was going into cardiac arrest, but my body was so wasted from all the scotch and whisky and coke the night before that I couldn't move.

I finally managed to crawl into the shower and passed out with the water on until my roommate woke up at seven. I had a quarter ounce of weed in my room and I crawled into bed with it and a pack of Swishers and smoked the whole thing in three fat-ass blunts in about four hours. I sprinkled some coke I had found on my dashboard into them and remained completely still, except to hit the blunt or light a cigarette for the next day and a half. I've been sober ever since.


My Hard-Won Opinion: Hangovers are absolutely not worth whatever fun was had the night before.


Reading this while still sick is making me even sicker. I should probably stop.


wow man, please stay sober.


Last wednesday, there was a garden party, me n my mate played drinking games with a bottle of vodka finished the whole large bottle between the two of us, with in the first 10 mins of getting there I already had 10 units. I passed out in a bush and was woken up at 4 in the morning by someone playing music out there car. Got up at 5 and passed out in a pile with everyone else. Then had to take some tents down, that were held up with duck tape.

I walked back to my girlfreinds an passed out with her to the italian job, whilest having her nagging me about shit. Got up 7pm ish ate and when out again to my mates house party, can't even remember what happened thursday night, and this morning I woke up in a double bed and had shit writen all over my face. Then I finally draged my self home and passed out on the floor, it was a good couple of days in my opinion just not at the moment!


Damn dude, that's one hell of a story. And I thought I had some stories.


i never had a hangover and im a month from going on 27..

be glad you're not me.


lol. I read on the Charlie Francis site that one night of excessive drinking can set you back 2 weeks of training.


ya.. fuck that shit.



Okay, one more. Labor Day Weekend, 2002. I had just moved back to San Jose from Chico (I got kicked out of Chico State-apparently they prefer if you show up to class) and my buddies Pete and Mike were partying with me at my new apartment. I began drinking whisky at about noon and by evening, I was belligerent, surly, aggressive and borderline psychotic. Pete and Mike, in a brilliant moment of decision-making, decided that the best way to calm me down was to get me to drink more and take in as many drugs as I could in the hopes that I would quickly pass out since it was only nine pm and I was showing no signs of slowing down. Going out in public with me at that point was out of the question.

They ended up getting me to take a bunch of beer bongs that they secretly had dumped a bunch of Jim Beam into with the beer. By three am, I had taken three tabs of ecstasy (it was decided later on that it was pretty weak shit), eaten about a half eighth of mushrooms (I'd eaten a shitload in the past and built up an alarming tolerance, along with a general psyche pre-disposed to handling hallucinogens ably), I had about twelve Vicodines, I was chewing prescription muscle-relaxers like Flintstones vitamins, I was smoking weed at a prodigious rate, and I was chasing all this down with Sierra Nevada Pale Ales.

By 3am, I was finally calmed down, heavily slurring my words and still able to walk, but sluggish and docile. Somewhere along the line, we had decided to drive up to Chico to float down the Sacramento River on Labor Day (a long, debaucherous tradition-anyone from California reading this probably knows what I mean)the next morning.

We left at 7am for the three hour drive after finally passing out at 3am. I had a splitting headache, felt weak all over, needed food, and I suspected the shrooms were still running strong due to my questionable vision. Pete drove and nearly had a nervous breakdown while Mike and I openly drank beer and threw the bottles out the window on the freeway. On Highway 80, we ran out of beer and I insisted we pull over so I could get this huge jug of chopped fruit I had mixed with rum out of the trunk. Pete, in his infinite wisdom, pulled over ON THE FREEWAY. I got out, had a severe bout of lightheadedness and fell over. When I got up, my hangover disappeared when I realized a Highway Patrolman on his motorcycle was pulling up behind us. We were fucked, given that all of us were shitfaced again, I had a bunch of weed in my backpack, there were pills all over the car, and I was pretty sure there was still some ecstasy around somewhere.

The cop got off his bike and started walking toward us and then out of nowhere, he stops, says something into his radio, then turns around, runs back to his bike and takes off with the sirens going. We got the fuck out of there and jammed up to Chico. When we got there, it dawned on us that there was barely any room for inner tubes in the car. I decided to swim down the river without one. Here I am, beyond shitfaced, going into severe detox from all the drugs, I'm not in touch with reality at all, and I'm swimming down a rushing river with one hand held above the water the whole time to keep my cigarettes and weed dry and I'm using my other hand to alternately paddle and keep a two-liter bottle of Coke and rum with me. The cops kept coming up to me on their Waverunners and telling me to ditch the cigarettes and save myself. I kept telling them to fuck off and that I had once swam all the way to Hawaii. When we finally got to the end, I went into a blackout and woke up in Pete's car hours later in the middle of Sacramento. He and Mike had decided to stop at a friend's house for the night because they were too twisted to drive and I was babbling incoherently about some chick who refused to suck my dick while a bunch of dudes from Girls Gone Wild filmed. I found out later that I was the life of the party on the river, but the tone of voice they used when telling me this made me suspect otherwise.

I had no clue where they were or where I was so I staggered down to 7-11 (it's now about 3am) and demanded that the cashier tell me what city I was in. When he told me Sacramento, I flipped out and the cops got called and I got arrested. The hangover the next morning in the drunk tank was monumental...


I'm 21. I'm still young enough that regardless of how much I drink, I don't get hung over. I'm not even sure what it's supposed to feel like.

On my biggest night of drinking, it was the 3rd night of my spring break cruise (Royal Caribbean, Liberty of the Seas) and all in all, I drank a fifth of Crown, 6 Heineken, and several mixed drinks, and yet I still woke up at 9am the next day feeling great.


Blacked out at a Halloween party, puked everywhere when I got home, I haven't consumed anywhere near those quantities since then.

Sometimes when you say I'm never drinking like that again, you actually mean it.

I felt like shit all day and didn't really feel "good" again for a few more.


You must have a funny concept of "feeling great". You'll have massive hangovers eventually, and when you do, you'll be ultra-sensitive to light, sounds, probably have a headache, slightly blurry vision, and a serious aversion to oily foods.

But I've got the remedy. I call it a "Keith Richards". Two shots of vodka, 8oz. of Clamato, 8oz. of milk, a cup of frozen strawberries, a 1/4 cup of coffee beans, 10 200mg ibuprofens, 4 Alkaseltzers, two shots of Pepto Bismol, four raw eggs, four multivitamins, three shots of DayQuil and a scoop of protein powder all mixed together in a blender. It tastes like shit, but take as hot a shower as you can handle for as long as you can (feel free to take a little nap in there) and then slam this shake and you'll be ready for some more action in no time!


Sounds like a badass concoction! I'm cutting so I won't get a chance to try out that cocktail anytime soon, but I'll keep in mind. I've never experienced any of those symptoms after drinking, but hey, I should have plenty of chances in the future.