How Did I Get Home?

 It was my first week in Washington, D.C., a brand new city with brand new friends. After a wild night at a bar, I woke up the next morning in complete shock realizing that I didn’t remember how I got home, let alone in my pajamas, safely in bed. As I stumbled to find my phone I had 11 missed calls and text messages from the 2 friends I had gone out with the night before asking where the hell I was and freaking out that they had lost me and hoping I was ok. Before I could even reply, I searched franticly for my purse, and sure enough it was thrown on my floor and my wallet and all of my belongings were still in it from the night before. Oddly enough, there was some even extra cash that I don’t remember having the night before and a taxi cab’s card. Frantically surprised, I checked my bank statement to find out that at 3’ o clock in the morning I apparently wandered out of the bar, successfully put myself into a taxi cab, stopped at an ATM to pull out cash for the cab, and got to my new apartment somehow safely. I reluctantly called my friends back, who were beyond relieved to hear that I was ok but freaked out that they managed to lose me when I was completely blacked out. We all went over the details of our night and sure enough I had pieced the story all together with my random clues. It seemed kind of funny how successfully I got home in my blacked-out state, but it was also pretty terrifying knowing how much danger I could have put myself in and never have even known it. In all the excitement and surprise of being home, I was beyond relieved and grateful that nothing bad had happened. Just a word of advice: do as I say, not as I do.

Yours Truly,
Loosey Goosey