In New Zealand, one of the best places to be on New Years Eve is Mount Maunganui. On this particular year (2008) I was working until 8'o'clock, and I was supposed to meet my boyfriend at my friends' house once I knocked off - the plan is that we would all catch the bus to the Mount in time for the countdown.
So, I finish work at 8, slap on some makeup, and rush over to my mate's house. When I arrive, everyone is there bar my boyfriend - and they're all very drunk. I call my boyfriend repeatedly - no answer. The bus leaves at 9'o'clock, and I haven't even started drinking. Still no reply from the boyfriend, and by this stage I'm getting a bit upset - clearly he's flaked on me to spend NYE with the boys. Fuck him. I start downing drinks like my life depends on it. I also take some "party-pills" that were still legal here back then - the ones with BZP.
At 8.45 I had already consumed around six 8% vodka energy drinks, and we HAD to leave at that point. I didn't feel as though I had pre-loaded enough to make it through the entire night, so I pour half and half tequila and mixer into a water bottle and take it along with me to catch the bus.
Things get blurry in my memory at this stage. I don't remember getting on the bus, but I remember the bus breaking down right outside my highschool. Now, I can be a cunt when I'm drunk, and back then I used to smoke. Picture this: an old school bus packed full of drunk teenagers (this happened at the peak of NZ binge-drinking culture). I remember seeing people smoking out the windows at the front of the bus, and take this as my queue to light up (I no longer smoke). The girls sitting behind me tell me to stop smoking, but in my drunken state it took me a while to figure out that smoking in a bus was a terrible idea. At this stage it must be 9.30, and the bus has been sitting outside my school for about 10mins as the bus driver is trying to figure out what's wrong. I desperately need to pee, and I know that there's a toilet at my school, so I leave my drink on the floor under my seat, and I run across to my school.
When I get back, I resume my seat on the bus and look for my drink - it's gone, that's odd. Then, the girl behind me hands me my drink, okay then. They erupt into laughter behind me, but I don't think anything of it.
I don't remember the bus starting back up, and my next memory is of waking up at sunrise in a very damp tent - next to some random.
The details of my night were revealed to me as a series of unfortunate events.
The first thing I did when we got off the bus was start to scream my boyfriend's name. LOUDLY, and repetitively - I was determined to find him, I was heartbroken. But here's the thing, there would have been 50,000 people walking around on this tiny peninsular. But you can't tell drunk awwwyisss anything. According to my poor burdened friends, I spent the entire night asking strangers if they had seen my boyfriend - crying, and wailing. Like proper WAAAAAIIILLLIIINNGGG, face like Alice Cooper, vomiting on myself and others.
At one stage, I realised that I had lost my packet of cigarettes that I had kept in my bra (I have big boobs - my bra is like my handbag.) At this point now, I am obsessed with finding my boyfriend AND my cigarettes. Unfortunately I was wearing a strapless dress, and in my inebriated state I was showing everyone where my smokes were before I lost them. This apparently had to involve me pulling my dress down and flashing my breasts to a crowd of thousands of people repetitively. Many of these individuals also happened to be in my classes at school - a lot of people saw my boobies that night. If you were at the Mount on NYE of 2008 you probably saw my puppies.
The final leg to the story is that my friends lost me, and called my mother who happened to be staying at the Mount campground. She and my little brother spent two hours searching for me in the massive crowds. They didn't find me until the people had started to disperse, but here's the fucked up part. They found me passed out in the middle of the road - draped over a speed-bump.
Thankfully the tent I woke up in was my brother's.
So anyway, my friends thought that I was acting so out of character that night, that we have speculated for years as to whether the girls at the back of the bus had spiked my drink as pay back for smoking on the bus. I choose to roll with that story to save face, but secretly I know that it was the BZP.
Also it turned out that my boyfriend was a total dog. I later found out that he had spent the night with another girl. Needless to say I dumped him
TLDR; Had a drunk emotional episode, flashed my boobies to thousands of people, and passed out on a speed bump.