A hot august night, 1992, around 02:00 in the middle of the night the
phone rings at my house. My dad picks up and so starts what is to be
one of the funniest "moments" in his life

thanks to me and alcohol.
He gets a call from someone saying he have to come pick up his son at
a local saturday night party/concert-thingy, he`s just way to drunk and
responds to no one. So he and my mom goes to pick up the apple of their
eyes

when they get there, they find me sitting against a fence, half
passed out, covered in mud and with a huge gash on my arm (from climbing
a fence). Turns out i had gotten sick of the people there, drank too much
and then decided to take the waterway home. Thats was a real crappy idea
since first of all, i had to swim against the stream, second it was a 35 kilometer
swim

(i was very, very drunk)
So anyway, they get whats left over of me into the car and head home, and gets
pulled over at a police checkpoint of course. My dad explains, the cop looks at me
and leans in to check if i`m ok, and then i tell him to "f*** off" and throw up
in the backseat, hitting his arm with some projectile vommit

The cop just looked
at my dad and sent us on our way
Finally home, my dad gets the idea to, instead of carrying me inside, leave me on the
stairs with the explanaition "he should at least be sober enough to walk in by himself
before he comes in, or else he can stay out tonight"

I get my ass inside after
an hour or two and pass out. Wake up the next morning, hung over like a dog and spends
alot of time laying over the toilet. And of course all that day, my freakin`parents whipped
out cakes and talked loudly about food that made me throw up more, all freakin`n day
They thought it was hillarious, i did not share their entusiasme at the time

Ahh, the joys of being young and rebellious.