I Got So Drunk I Nearly Ate Myself To Death

A person sitting at a table with a red box and a red box with a red ribbon on

This isn’t an article to brag. No. It’s to let you know, you aren’t alone.

There’s always that tipping point when drinking where all my attention turns to what food I’m going to shove down my drunk face. Nothing else matters. Get the fuck out of my way – I need food and a bed.

A kitchen with a sink and a toaster oven

A while back, I did my typical “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna pee” line and disappeared from the bar, off to begin my journey for food. First craving was pizza. Oh, lookie here – a “pizza by the slice” joint. I’ll stop in. So, I had a Chicago deep dish sausage, thin crust pepperoni and a can of Sprite. Nice and light, ready for bed right? Fucking so wrong. I decided to walk more for some reason.

A black coffee maker on a counter

I saw golden arches in the distance, shining like pearly gates. I had to have it. So I got it. I had 3 McDoubles, 2 McChickens, a medium fry, and an Oreo McFlurry. I started to get the sweats, and had to lay down in the booth for a three minute breather – gather myself. The chemicals in the food gave me enough energy to sit upright then stand. I knew I had to walk more to burn off some of this food.

I continued to walk, and started to think about my favorite Mexican takeout spot. It was open 24 hrs – this was a big fucking problem, because I knew I would roll myself there. That’s what I did. I got a chicken burrito, rice and beans, an orange Crush, and a slice of carrot cake. I ate it all, and then thought I was going to die. Did I just eat myself to death? Was my mom going to get a call saying I died eating McDoubles and carrot cake? I managed to get myself to bed, accompanied by shooting pains all over my abdomen and a panic attack, but also impressed by my accomplishments.

A kitchen with a sink and a toaster oven

My epic night of food and travel would put Anthony Bourdain to shame. Italy, America, and Mexico all covered in the matter of 90 minutes. Man v Food guy? That’s Little League. I practically just ate 25% of my body weight (or something like that). And in case you’re wondering, no, I’m not huge. Quite fit, thank you.

In the end, I was a legend (in my eyes), and most importantly, alive to tell the tale.

A beer bottle on a dock



A beer bottle on a dock