A Halloween Bacchanal

DISCLAIMER: This true story is just a lil' bit graphic. Graphic for my life, at least. Maybe for you it's totally normal YA FREAKS! Anyway, if it's going to be awkward for you to read this story coming from me than I suggest you turn away now. This means you, mom. And mom's friends who compose roughly 90% of my readership.

If you're still with me after the disclaimer, get ready for a doozy. In honor of Halloween, I present to you the true story of the grossest Halloween experience I've ever had. For some of you, this is mild, I'm sure. But for me - who lest we forget, is not exactly the hard-partying type - this was pretty nasty.

Let's take a journey, shall we? The year was 1892* 2010, and I was living in an apartment with three other dudes. I had transferred colleges and been roomed randomly with strangers - we got along totally fine, though we never hung out outside of the apartment. One of my roommates was named Ham. Ham was not his real name, but to explain why I'm giving him the code name Ham would reveal his identity. He was a perfectly nice guy - dressed well**, wore his hair all nice, in good shape - much preppier than I am, though there's nothing wrong with that, I'm just trying to create a comparison here, jeez.

*Flowhs, flowhs fo' sale!
**Though once, right after I moved in, he looked through my closet, spotted the single brightly-colored paisley button-up shirt I own (I almost exclusively wear muted tones) and went, "What is this?" with a tone that suggested his eyes hurt from being accosted by such a garish garment. "Just for fun!" I chuckled, just wanting to be liked.

That year on Halloween I came home relatively early for the holiday - let's say one or two in the morning. I'm in my room, typing a Facebook message to a friend in Africa when I suddenly hear a commotion outside of my door. "Just lay him on the couch, get him over here, set him down" I hear the voices saying. Hush, I think, I'm writing over here. I deduce based on the fact that I don't recognize any of the voices that Ham is the one these people are trying to lay down. Then I hear pounding on my other roommate Kenny's door, followed by his voice joining the fray. The whole thing is greatly disturbing my concentration. Then the conversation really ratchets up a couple notches - overheard lines include: "Can you just stand him up for me? Walk with me to the bathroom. That is disgusting. It's all over him! Oh god, he puked everywhere. Could you guys stop having sex? I'm getting less hard!" that last exclamation delivered in an Australian accent.

Yeah, uh, I think it's time to figure out what the hell is going on in my apartment. It's my obligation, really. I exit my room, pretending to be awoken by the kerfuffle. My roommate Kenny is sitting on a stool at the island in the center of the apartment, and Ham and his friend (who I later learn is named Jordan) are in the bathroom, where Ham is relieving himself of the contents of his stomach. By puking. Kenny looks really amused by not annoyed - he's a very relaxed guy.* He casually points out to me that there's puke all over the floor and on our couch. This is when I begin to feel nauseous; I smell it. I hustle over to Jordan, asking if there's anything I can do to help. He says not really, but he warns me that two people are having sex in my bathroom (there were two bathrooms, one Ham and Kenny shared and the other that me and the fourth roommate shared). "Are you joking?" I ask. Nope. Jordan crosses the apartment to my bathroom, knocks and the door and with the pleading tone of a little kid being picked on, is like, "Come on, guys, he's really sick! Stop having sex!" I too would also like them to stop since they're in MY BATHROOM. It is at this point that Ham stumbles out of the bathroom. "Hey bud" I say. "Hi Jeremy" he says back. I make a mental note to remind him forever to call me Jeremy.

*Kenny was so chill; one time, I brought a group of MY friends back to the apartment after going out, and I found out the next morning that one of my ladyfriends drunkenly and mistakenly got up to use the bathroom and went back to the wrong room and got into bed with him. Horrified and embarrassed, the next day she decided she had to apologize to him even though we were all sure he'd slept through it and had no clue. "Hey Kenny, did you know I got into bed with you last night?" she asked. "No, no I didn't" he said with a sideways smile and the relaxed cadence of a surfer bro. "I'm really sorry." "It's totally cool."

The two lovers exit my bathroom. Oz and Shania (not their real names, natch) protest they weren't having sex. Nobody believes them. Oz - named for his Australian accent - says to me, "Oh, you're the other roommate? I've visited three times and you're never here" in a very accusatory tone. First, I think, uh-oh am I antisocial but then I'm like, UH there's bigger fish to fry here, Oz. The gruesome twosome then go into Ham's room and shut the door. As the universe collectively rolled its eyes, Ham stumbles over to the couch, and Jordan goes "NO NO NO DON'T SIT-" but it's too late, and Ham has sat in his own puke. Awesome. Jordan is a actually a very nice friend, constantly talking to Ham, reassuring and helping him. Kenny and I, however... well, Kenny is sitting at the counter eating spaghetti* and I'm awkward. I feel as though I should help, so I plug my nose and lay some paper towels over the mess. Jordan, clearly exhausted and overworked, is on the phone with a friend saying that he's never seen Ham like this. He also uses the word fag a bunch. I suddenly like him less. Somehow we have a bucket** and we give it to Ham, and the three sober people take a breather and are chatting in the kitchen when I see Ham hurl again, completely not even close to the bucket, just onto the ground.*** Sickened, I start spraying Febreeze like a maniac when we hear moaning coming from Ham's room.  Yep - moaning. "Oh my god you guys, Ham is puking and you guys are still having sex!" Jordan yells. "I only gave them one condom", says Kenny. "I guess they're going green", says I.

*One of my friend Jenna's favorite anecdotes from my time in this apartment is that one time, we were hanging out watching TV when Ham joined us with his dinner plate. The dinner he had prepared for himself? Spaghetti with chicken nuggets on top. "Not a meal!" Jenna said to me, invoking our favorite phrase, "not a thing".
**Bizarrely, this is only my SECOND-best story that involves buckets appearing from nowhere. No joke. I'll save that one for later...
***Thankfully it was mostly water. Also EW.

Ham is talking but nothing he's saying makes any sense, like word salad. It's like he's trying to communicate but what he means isn't what's coming out of his mouth. He's still heaving a little. Oz and Shania exit the bedroom, Oz wearing only Ham's blanket. We explain to them that Ham is still throwing up. "Oh, that's not good" is their sentiment. "UM YEAH" says our collective thought-bubble. Jordan is mad at them for sexing while Ham was so sick. "We were just making out", says Shania. I worry for Shania - I think someone needs to explain to her that making out doesn't usually involve condoms. "Are you naked under there?" Jordan asks Oz. "I like to sleep naked" he says, and while 98% percent of me thinks, "oh yeah, I'm sure, that's why you're naked", 2% of me is like, "maybe it's an Australian thing". And then, as if putting the cherry on top of this ludicrous night, Oz turns around, drops the blanket, and flashes everyone his ass. Hooray. Oz decides Ham should be moved to the bathroom. Shania and I discuss whether Ham will pay to have the carpets steam-cleaned. And then Oz and Shania go back into HAM'S ROOM to sleep in his bed. SUCH AWESOME FRIENDS they are! Truly selfless.

At a loss as to what to do further, I try to convince Ham to lie down in the bathroom, but he doesn't want to. Me, Kenny, and Jordan stay up chatting and keeping an observant eye on Ham, who eventually drifted off to sleep in an upright, sitting position. The time now 5:00 AM, I decided to go to sleep and crossed my fingers I wouldn't dream about the various different types of horrors I had just seen.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYBODY. Have spooky scary vomit and/or naked Australian-filled nightmares!

Denouement - A month or so later Ham wrote on Oz's wall for his six-month anniversary with Shania - "awwww Ozzypoo and Shay. Happy 6 months!" - and it came up on my newsfeed.  "GROOOOSSSSSS!!!!" I shrieked, alone at my computer, "YOU'RE AWFUL!!!! I HAD TO LYSOL MY WHOLE BATHROOOOM!"