Shaggy dog stories, eh? Here's something I remembered the other night and then cringed about:
I went to stay with a good friend of mine in London for a few days a couple of years back. We got heavily battered. Very heavily battered.
On the second night we went into town to meet some other friends for dinner. I hadn't slept for a couple of days by this point and we'd been caning it heavily all day. I was n't thinking clearly. Quite happy but not really with it.
At some point I left the restaurant to buy some tobacco, which I managed successfully but then I was so befuddled that I couldn't work out where the restaurant was and I had left my phone there, so I wandered off and found a pub with a random outside and I asked if I could borrow his mobile to call my mate.
Now. I have half a dozen important telephone numbers stored inside my head and I called and left some (probably rambling) message about how I was a bit fucked up, lost somewhere and could my mate please come and pick me up?
Job done, I had a smoke and waited for back up, which duly arrived.
Problem was, when I left the message I hadn't called the friend I was with, got confused and rang home. I gave the wrong name of the person I was with, prompting the other half to call a 3rd friend (who I thought I was with, having hallucinated his presence, but of course I wasn't, which then sparked an incident of "Where is he, who is he with, is he ok, why hasn't got his phone?! &c &c while I had absolutely no idea what was going on.
My 3rd friend actually got out of bed, left his house and came into town to search for me, which is a measure of his friendship.
As far as I knew, I got lost, made a phone call and then my friend had found me...
What I didn't realise was the trail of pissed off people I'd left in my wake.
Ooops.