Not For Weak Stomachs...
Memorial Day party the day before Memorial Day, we had invited a bunch of friends, neighbors and my husband's employees over. One of his employees, relatively new but very promising and seemingly stable (married, great background, personable, etc.) starts drinking red wine like it's beer.
I had a two year old at the time so when I put that monster to bed as the party was winding down (and coupled with my own consumption) I crashed. I woke up in the morning to a living room with pink-stained carpeting, sofa and -- incredibly -- window blinds. In getting the story from my husband, at one point he had to wade into to vomit-fest and turn his employee onto his side because the guy was on his back, vomiting straight up, Exorcist-style.
The remaining party-goers (including an NHL player and his wife, I wish I were kidding about this, because it's mortifying that I slept through it) threw him into the shower, cleaned him up and sent him on his way with borrowed clothing and a trash bag of his own vomittey attire. Someone dumped soda water and an entire box of baking soda on the mess and everyone dispersed.
The aftermath? $300 for emergency carpet/furniture cleaning on Memorial Day, a personal check and a apology note from the employee, and the quiet destruction of his career at that particular company.