After I wrote the post about dropping a weight on my foot, I thought, “Hmm. I have a lot of ridiculous stories about how I’m dumb. I should blog more of them.” And then the holidays came, and I got even more sporadic about posting, and I kind of forgot about that idea. But tonight, I remembered. So I’m starting  a series. I’m calling it “Throwback Thursday” because I’m not creative and the cool kids on Instagram have Throwback Thursday.

This week, I’m keeping with another theme that we saw in the weight-dropping story: blacking out. Oh yes, this is a trend of mine.

The summer after my sophomore year of college, I stayed in Fort Collins and worked, and one of my good friends got a job on a ranch in Aspen. It was a pretty sweet gig: he had a fully furnished apartment-type cabin and an easy-going boss. And it was in Aspen.

Yep, that Aspen.  (photo source, because I only take photos this good in imaginationland.)

The only trouble with my friend’s sweet gig was the three-hour drive between him and the rest of us. To make up for the lack of hanging out we were doing, he invited me and a couple of other friends up for the Fourth of July. Naturally, this mountain-loving girl jumped at the chance to spend a couple of days in Aspen.

I drove up after work on July 3 and met my friend and the other two people at his apartment. He lived out in the boondocks, so we took it easy that night — he made us dinner, and we watched the original Saw movie. (Side note: Why were those movies ever made? They are horrible. Horrible.)

My friend’s apartment was little, but the bed was a massive California king-size. The couch, on the other hand, was tiny and lumpy, and floor space was essentially nonexistent. So we did what any group of four college kids would do: all four of us crammed into that giant bed, promised not to fart, and went to sleep. (I’m pretty sure that present-day, old-lady Cassie would not be nearly as satisfied with this arrangement.)

The next morning, after consuming several gallons of coffee (mistake #1), we decided to see the sights, beginning with the famous Maroon Bells (pictured above). We weren’t doing any hiking,  just photo-opping, so I didn’t bring any water (mistake #2). We goofed around at the base of the mountains for a bit, then headed into town, arriving just in time to stand in the hot mountain sun (mistake #3) and watch the Fourth of July parade.

By the time the parade was over, I was both desperately thirsty and desperately in need of a bathroom. The other girl in our little group and I found a small, crowded restaurant and used the bathroom, then stood in the long line and waited to buy a few bottles of water.

The next thing I remember is staring up at a circle of concerned faces and realizing that I was flat on my back on the floor. Well, this is awkward, I thought. After chugging several glasses of water and assuring the numerous onlookers that I was okay, my friend and I left the restaurant and went to find the boys (and, I hoped, never see any of those restaurant patrons ever again). But the instant we stepped out of the restaurant, I was accosted by an over-eager EMT who refused to let me return to my activities until he took my pulse and asked me a billion questions…all while that same crowd looked on. Finally, we got away, found our friends, and continued on our merry way.

The rest of the day went by without incident (aside from a prodigious amount of teasing from my friends), but I certainly learned my lesson: Drink water. Especially at high elevations. Or, simplified, don’t be stupid.

 

Tell me a story about when something embarrassing happened to you. Bonus points if it was entirely your own fault, like my incident.