This one time. At college.
We were playing centurion (1 shot of beer a minute for 100 minutes), but with a twist. There were a few people doing it with wine, but we were just on the beer. Now one guy, manages his way through 87 shots of cask wine. In 87 minutes. Someone actually ended up taking the wine from him, because they were worried he'd end up dying. Needless to say, he managed to total a room, smash a whole lotta bottles inside the room, and make the dean cry - she's a big lady... Funnily enough, this guy was also the student club president
Now onto my section of the story. We were just drinking beer, but we got our 100, and there were a few quite keen to kick on. So we decided to go til the last man standing. Not the smartest thing I've ever done. I awaken, an hour or two later, to the sound of beating on my then locked door. I'm in bed, and the lights are off, still horrendously drunk. They're like "CHANDLER, OPEN THE DOOR NOW!". Eventually I dragged my ass outta bed, opened the door, and they're like - you're going to the hospital, now. I didn't understand, until they showed me the bathroom, and I looked in the mirror. At some point, after reaching onehundredandeightysomething shots of beer, things got really messy. Shit started getting thrown around. I decided to launch some chairs out a third story window. And my printer. Then, I ran into another guy's room, threw a pizza everywhere, and sprinted out. Unfortunately, I sprinted out far too quickly, turned into the corridor, and ran straight into a cabinet.
At this point, the relevance of me seeing the bathroom comes into play. Now, I'd gone straight to the bathroom after I'd hit it, to survey the damage (couldn't remember any of this). There was blood, everywhere. And I mean everywhere, the mirror, the basins, the floor, the walls, and plenty of it. I look in the mirror, and I'm covered in blood, with a heap of toilet paper sticky taped to my forehead.
12 stitches later...