Red Bull Gives You Wings

     It is like a slow ascent to consciousness, like floating up from the bottom of the sea towards the sky above.  You realize that you are cold, but you don't know what you can do about it.  Next, you realize that you are walking, but it seems natural so you continue.    Then it dawns on you that you are outside, but that doesn't seem odd.  Finally you come to your senses and realize, with regret and shock, that you haven't the slightest idea where you are.  You're wandering around outside, without a jacket, in what appears to be a random suburb filled with unfamiliar houses.  This is not your suburb.

You check yourself.  You're fairly clean and dry, so you've been on your feet the entire time-- luckily no rolling around in the dewy grass of someone's front yard.  You see a Picayune on the ground and are thankful that you are assumedly still in the New Orleans Metro Area.  You pick it up and check the date:  Sunday.  This is right, last night was Saturday.  Check your pockets-- your phone is gone.  You have your ID, a debit card, and one single dollar.  Hope you didn't go to any ATMs whilst you were blacked out.

You pull your arms into your shirt and shiver and walk, and you curse yourself and your situation, staring around dully in disbelief.  Finally you stumble onto Veteran's Boulevard, but you're on the south side and far too west. You go into a gas station, looking a fright, and get twenty dollars out of an ATM. You stumble into a nearby sports bar, call a cab, and have a beer while you wait.

You get home and learn several things:  you gave your phone to your friend before disappearing, assumedly into a cab.  You left the bar around five-- you came to around nine.  During four unaccounted hours you spent thirty nine of the forty dollars you don't remember getting out of the ATM.  Theoretically, that money went to the cab driver that dumped you in the middle of nowhere.  You also realize you don't remember any of the five (5) drinks, four of which were bought for you, you had at the bar before abruptly leaving.  Mystery somewhat solved, you cancel all plans for the day and crash hard and long into your bed.

This friends, is a shining example of the absolute empirical evil that is Red Bull.  When mixed with vodka, it produces a delicious concoction that will try it's hardest to kill you.  While straight booze/beer/wine will dull your mind and body and eventually leave you passed out on the floor/couch/pool table/wherever, Red Bull and vodka will only dull your mind, keeping your body sprightly and alert so that it leaps joyfully into autopilot while your mind passes into shadow.

Experiences don't lie; you have been warned.