Friend of mine and I decide to go to a bar I used to work at for drinks. The bartenders all liked me and I left on great terms, so I figured we'd be getting the hook up. I was correct. Everything was going great until I reached that point where my brain went to sleep but my body was up for the party. The problem started when one of the guys that still worked there showed up to have some drinks with all of his friends. He saw me and immediately ran over to say hello and all that great stuff. I noticed he was holding a hotdog, loaded with ketchup, mustard, relish, ect. So as any reasonable black-out drunk guy would do, I snatched it out of his hands and threw it clear across the bar. I wound up hitting on of his friends with it right in the chest. The problem wasn't that I hit his friend with a loaded hot dog while he was wearing a nice polo t-shirt. The problem was that his friends were a rugby team. An angry rugby team, who now had one of their friends covered in ketchup and mustard. From what I am told, the jukes I had in a crowded bar were more than impressive and my ex-coworkers said they had never seen me move so fast in the text messages I got the next day. I did not, however get away because half way down the street during my escape I forgot what I was doing (This is the only part of the night I remember) and I stopped running. He shortly caught up to me and instead of just beating my ass screamed over and over again "WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THIS?" And I swear to god, I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about. I was so drunk that I had no idea that I just threw a hotdog at him and ran halfway down the street away from him. It wasn't until my much more sober friend arrived and talked the guy down from beating my ass. The solution was actually the same thing that caused the problem. We go to another bar and I buy him lots and lots of shots. I remember nothing before or after that. Only coming to in the middle of the street with some guy yelling at me. I dont drink anymore.