How ironic.

So I suffer from a sleep disorder. If you're a co-worker of mine, you unfortunately already know this. For the first time in months, I was able to go to sleep, without any sort of outside help such as alcohol or the rare Nyquil tablet. My roommate (BJ) and a mutual friend of ours (Charlie) had gone out drinking at Bar Louie, a new favorite in the West End. Around 11:30, I sent Charlie a text message informing the both of them that I was going to bed and to please not wake me, but that I'd keep my phone close by in case they were absolutely in need of a sober ride home. Please excuse the grammar and inconsistent writing style throughout this piece. It was initially only intended for a friend and eager co-worker.

1:35 A.M. early on a rainy Thursday.
DING DONG. Peanut barking ferociously. Me, VERY pissed off, ignore door bell, try to sleep.
Front door opens and I Charlie - "HA….HA…HA"
Knock at bedroom door. Not normal knock, but just ONE solitary knock. I don’t answer
Another single solitary knock at bedroom door. I ignore. BJ softly…“Carrie”, then another soft “Carrie”
Door knob jingles. BJ – to Charlie in liv rm, very softly “its locked…”
I’m REAAAAAAAAAAALLY angry by now.
Put on robe. Open door.
To BJ, on all fours, in floor infront of my bedroom door, looking up at me.
I say “What the f are you doing?”
Bj offers no response, just a startled and confused look and falls over onto his side and lays there
I walk over him into the living room where..
Charlie immediately begins to inform me of how BJ puked, in and outside of his truck and how he better clean it up tomorrow.
I yell at Charlie for waking me up.
I go outside and smoke a cigarette.
I come back in living room and realize that BJs puke covered shirt is in middle of floor. I wash it.
Now, wide awake, I sit on the couch and eat some leftover breadsticks.
Here comes BJ, who had crawled on all fours with belly rubbing the ground all the way from his room down the hall, into the living room, only to collapse as soon as reaching the threshold.
I chuckle a little, but only a little bc I’m still really mad.
BJ crawls to bathroom and I hear him being sick in toilet.
I check clothes in washer, return to hear Charlie being sick in that same toilet.
Decide there’s no going back to sleep, so I go put clothes on.
I go to ask BJ (who has crawled on all fours again back to his bedroom) if he needs anything to drink/eat.
He is asleep.
I return to living room saying to Charlie “Man Bj…” only to find that within the one moment it took for me to dress, Charlie had passed out as well.
I didn't get back to sleep...until 6.