Drunk, Lost, Shoeless and a Night in Jail - Part 1

1 beer. 4 Irish Coffee's. 5 Old Fashioned. My night was over. So I thought...

I ain't gonna lie, I was shitfaced. To the point that I passed out on the train ride home. Common occurrence? Fuck yeah...the day in the life of J-Wunder, right? It was, until I ended up in West Dublin with no fucking shoes on...holding my fucking backpack.

I woke up, startled. Drunk. Confused. I took one fucking look down, and POOF...my mother fucking Adidas running shoes that had goose shit on them...GONE. What's the first thing I do? Facebook what the fuck just happened. Yeah, I was that fucking guy. I then looked up, and noticed a body fly out the door. With the drunken fucking quickness, I popped up and  began to follow this mother fucker. Then, a goddamn bum approached me...

Bum: "Yo man. I mean sir, I will let you fuck me if I can borrow your phone for 10 minutes."

JW: "Are you fucking fucking me?"

Bum: "No, but I'll let YOU fuck ME or I'll suck your cock if I can just use your phone for 10 minutes. I need to make a call to Tucson, AZ. Please, I'm desperate."

JW: "But you're a dude." *At this point, I'm just thinking in my head I shouldn't have drank that beer*

Bum: "But I'm desperate. I'll give you a handjob if you don't want the sex."

JW: *blank ass stare for 30 seconds...walks away*

15% battery life is all I had left on my phone. I'm in the wrong fucking city. I'm hammered. Goddamn shoeless. It's raining. The kicker...I'm being offered sex, a blowjob AND handjob from a bum who desperately needs to call someone in Tucson. FUCK MY LIFE. Standing there with a confused ass look on my face, I glance to my left and I see them. My shoes. It's go time...

The dude who stole them was standing right fucking there...his back turned to me. I strapped on my backpack extra tight because there was no fucking chance I was gonna set that shit down and have Bum "I'll suck your dick for a 10 minute call to Zona" Magee walk away with it. Fuck no. So I reached deep, into my inner thug, and ran at that sack of shit like a fat kid chasing down the neighborhood ice cream man. I didn't say anything...I just ran (more like drunk sprinted)...and like Ray Lewis coming full force on an all-out fucking blitz to the quarterback, I nailed this mother fucker with as much drunken force as I could...right in the back...with my backpack still on. Chaos ensues...

What was probably a 10 minute scuffle, felt like a 12 round boxing match...without the fucking boxing. Once I blindsided this fuckmouth, we were on the ground, and on at least two occasions, I tried to put him in a rear naked choke...you know, because I think I'm a goddamn MMA fighter (see what happens when you're fucking shit canned...you think you can be anything). First attempt - FAIL. Second attempt - The mother fucker was choking me. It got to the point that we looked like we were rolling around trying to play "just the tip". And instead of looking like two guys fighting, it was more like two guys fucking. After he got me good right in the fucking kidney, "The Hulk" came out of me. I'm talking some Bruce fucking Banner shit. I was able to mount this guy and go to town on his face.

Blow after blow, after fucking blow, I was throwing everything at this guy. To his face, head and chest. You name it, I was pretty much hitting it. And this whole time...my backpack was still fucking on me (big shout out to Swiss Army for making such an awesome fucking backpack, btw). I'm gassed, still wasted and this dude looks like he just wants to give up on life as a whole...so I decided to go for it. I turn around and attempted to rip my shoes from off his feet. While this is going on, we're basically doing a goddamn 69 and this mother fucker out of the blue, tries to bite my fucking dong and ball sack. Like literally trying to eat my cock and balls, as if he was at a sit down dinner at Wienerschnitzel. Meanwhile 10 feet down...that bum that offered me sex for the 10 minute phone call is standing there watching this whole thing. Just smiling as if he was watching a fucking movie. Eating bon-bons and shit. I finally get my shoes off this dudes feet. Here's where the shit went into a tale of WTF.

I was angry. Angry because a night of drinking and taking the normal drunk train ride home, turned into waking up in another city, with my fucking shoes stolen off my feet, while passed the fuck out. I did nothing. I minded my own business. Then some asshole had to go ruin my night by thinking he was Robin Hood, and stealing my shit. My backpack (which is still on me this whole time) is one thing, but my shoes? Really mother fucker?! My fucking shoes?! Knowing that was the case with shoes in hand, I didn't think...I mounted this dude, put my shoes on my fists like boxing gloves, and started to punch this sonofabitch in the fucking face. No joke. Real talk. That shit actually fucking happened.

I couldn't stop. The fact that I actually put shoes on my fists and was leaving footprints on this guys face was not only incredible, random and awesome...but just straight up fucking WINNING. Then all that shit came to a fucking halt when the cops came...

To be continued...