Beer, margaritas, etc... Get to bed around 3.
Finish all my errands earlier than I thought so I ring up some friends for one last margarita. Of course, one margarita leads to another, so its T-minus two hours until the plane leaves by the time I get in my car to zip over to Eric's.
Oooops, I left the computer in the back. I need to get it, because I don't want to mess around with wandering to Eric's house based on memory.
Pop the back, hop out and find-- Ooops, I didn't pop the back. Must have misfired on the lever. And-- Yes, you guessed it, I locked the door, so now my keys are locked inside a running car and I have a plane to catch that I'm already late for.
Welcome to my life.
What to do?
I pick up a rock and start banging on the window. For future reference, it turns out to be a lot harder to break a car window than you would think. My first rock is about the size of a brick. Beating on the window with it did nothing but make a cool sound and slice my hand open. Cool, blood is an integral part of any adventure. I am minus two hours into my trip and I'm already bleeding. A very good sign.
Take two: I grab a piece of an old curb so now I have a concrete spear. Yeah baby. Window broken.
I pop the door and off I go. I'm tearing down the road at 80 in the rain, smelling of tequila, bleeding like a stuck pig, no passenger window, glass flying all over the car, and... Reading my e-mail. Because I still can't find Eric's address. I end up having to go by memory anyway.
I arrive at Eric's house 15 minutes late, covered in blood, with the car that he is borrowing thrashed. Eric is not impressed.
I wash off some of the blood off and tear out of Broomfield for the airport. We make it with about 15 minutes to spare. I tell the woman at the check-in counter my story and out of sympathy, she gives me: get this-- two tickets for free drinks. Yeah, just what I need, more alcohol.
I didn't even use them, just went into a coma on the plane.