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So one minute you're out partying like it's 1999, dancing away and singing like it's 1999 (and possibly dancing away and singing TO 1999), and then next thing you know, it IS 1999. Actually, no, it's 2010. Actually, now that you think about it, you have absolutely no idea WHAT year it is. In fact, you don't even know where you are and wait a minute, what was your own name again?!

Sound familiar? No? Brilliant, because it completely shouldn't! Sure, groove and jive your way to Prince on the dance floor like it's nobody business by ALL means (because it isn't!), but as far as being able to identify what year it is, your location and your birth name? Let me tell you with 100% sincerity that you should always, ALWAYS know this information!

Why am I telling you this, you ask? Because on Saturday night, I didn't. In fact, if you'd asked me what country I was in, I doubt that I would've been able to give you a coherent answer. And the worst part? (And there are plenty more where that came from, I can assure you!) I can't even tell you WHY. But worse still? I don't even remember any of it HAPPENING.

Somewhere between having four small glasses of champagne across an evening (and something that I should probably have preceded this tale with is that while I hardly qualify for an AA meeting, yes, I do regularly drink socially and can't even remember the last time that I was ''drunk'' - so I'm not sure that I can explain this night away with an ''oh, I must've just had too much to drink'' - especially when the drink in question WAS four small glasses of champagne over the duration of six hours!), which involved having dinner at a friend's house before making our way into the city and being out in the city, I somehow not only lost my friends, but woke up in a taxi sans wallet with a taxi driver screaming at me, insisting that he was going to drive me to a nearby police station because well, if I didn't have any kind of money on me, couldn't pay him. Fun? Oh, no. Terrifying? Uh, yes. Especially for a Virgo with instinctive control-freak tendencies, and particularly when the worst drinking-related incident that I have ever encountered prior to this was waking up in the morning with a mild headache and a hankering for McDonald's and orange juice. 

I have zilch of an idea what happened in between being in the city and discovering that I was in a taxi but can tell you that during those splendid wee hours, a stranger called my boyfriend off her phone to alert him that she had found me, and that I must have been working out on an exercise bike for hours before a truck hit my body and then decided to reverse over me repeatedly. (Okay, so thankfully I can't say that actually happened, but trust me when I say that it REALLY feels as though it did and that I even have the bruises to show for it!)

The girls that I was out with have absolutely no idea what happened to me: they said that they hadn't seen me for a while, but when they finally did, I looked extremely unwell and wasn't making any sense (but not in a ''intoxicated'' way, they said - which is exactly what my boyfriend said to me the next day), but after asking me if I was okay, naturally assumed that I was. They didn't see me again that night.

I still don't know what took place after that or why, but scarily, more than a few people have suggested that they think one of my drinks must have been spiked. I'm not sure, and I probably never will be, but one three things that I have learned about that night out is:

x It's enormously important to not only be mindful of what you're drinking, but also, where you're drinking, and where you decide to place your drink during the evening. (Hint: don't. Just hold on to it.) For many, this is elementary, but for the occasionally absent-minded people like myself who are often being distracted by somebody else's moves to 1999, worth being reminded of.

x Be mindful of who you actually drink with. No, nobody should be responsible for babysitting you on a night out, but getting your cocktail on with a bunch of strangers in an alleyway or swapping drinks with somebody at a bus stop is unlikely to be a decision that you'll cherish for years to come. But sticking with people that you actually know AND trust? It's not only safer, but if you do come into the unfortunate position of being in a dangerous situation, it's more likely that they'll be able to help you. While what happened was in no way the fault of the group that I was with, the girls that I had been out with that night were ex, ex work colleagues; we only tend to catch up annually, and we don't know each other that intimately, meaning that it was probably difficult for them to judge whether or not I was okay. 

x That when one of my aunties told me that she always wrote her address on her forearm ''just in case'' in anticipation of a night out, she was well and truly onto something!

♥

Bruises or no bruises, I actually feel very, very lucky, and exceptionally grateful: for starters, one of the girls that I had been out with that night later realised that she had my wallet (phew!), but more importantly, because I made it home in one piece. An immensely confused and worried piece, but all in all, a piece.

The moral of the story here (if we can all close our eyes and pretend that we're in an episode of The Brady Bunch right now)? DON'T let a night out into a fright out; hey, party like it's 1999 as much as you want to, but while you're at it, why not stay safe like it's 1999, too?

xoxo

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