Eating The Worm: True Stories Of Our Craziest, Most Absurd Tequila-Fueled Escapades

Here's one from Alex about almost meeting a personal hero:

"The year after college graduation, a bunch of friends living in various parts of the country met in Chicago to surprise my friend Matt on his birthday. After several spirited games of Beirut and several car bombs at a local bar, we ventured out to explore the clubs of Western Chicago, and after several less than stellar attempts we settled on a vaguely non-sketchy spot with tequila shot specials. Once inside, we began hearing the crowd buzz that the one and only Robert "R." Kelly, the greatest R&B singer of the modern era, was in fact present in the club. With all the courage afforded to me by my good friend Jose Cuervo, I began stumbling through the crowd, trying to locate my hero. There was a minimal chance of success, of course, given that he was most likely sequestered away in whatever private room you can pee on people in, but I was undeterred, and continued to slam down tequila shots to bolster my searching skills. The whole thing gets blurry at this point, but what we know for certain is that I sat down on a red velvet couch to catch a breather, at which point I promptly passed out facedown. R. Kelly emerged from the VIP section just to watch the bouncers lift my lifeless corpse into the air, drag me up the stairs, and throw me onto the street. So close."

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