A friend of mine, who I’ll call Michel, learned something new just last Friday night. This is his story.
What he remembers: He went to a friend’s house, drank a bottle of champagne, a bottle of rose followed by ¾ of a bottle of Jack Daniels. He headed home around 3AM.
His final memory of the evening was singing Phil Collins’ “In the Air Tonight” while performing an awesome air drum solo as he walked home.
He woke up the next morning in his bed with a bad hangover, which was to be expected. What he didn’t expect was to find himself wearing a pair of boxer shorts that he had never seen before. They were definitely not his.
Clearly, there were a few blank spots, so he called the friend he spent the evening with to find out what he missed.
Turns out, somewhere between the drum solo and home, he was arrested. He was quite incoherent, but managed to give the cops the name and number of the friend who he had spent the evening with (merci a dieu it wasn’t me). The cops called him and asked him to pick up Michel and to bring some pants.
His friend went to the police station and found Michel quietly playing poker with imaginary cards and opponent. He also happened to be buck-naked from the waist down. As near as Michel can figure it, he must have seen the bus station which is very close to his apartment, figured he was almost home and started taking his clothes off.
Apparently, the neighbors complained about the noise and the cops came to investigate and found Michel singing, without his pants on. They brought him in, not because he was half naked, but because he was loud, and very, very drunk. They were worried he was a threat to himself.
As you might imagine, Michel was feeling pretty crummy as he told me all this. Being the pain in the ass I am, I asked him if he learned anything from the experience.
He thought about it for a moment and I could see see the sparkle of realization in his eyes.
“Yes! It’s legal to walk down the street naked in France!”