I have a bunch I can add when I remember but heres one for now:
I think I was in 6th or 7th grade, and my best friend at the time had done many drugs and been in trouble with the law quite a bit.
I spend the night at his grandparents house, and he tells me we're going to get hammered. I'd never drank before at that point I think I'd only smoked cigarettes and maybe weed once. So he makes us 2 huge whiskey and rootbeer floats(which actually werent bad), with his grandparents 2 feet away from him. We go into his room and I pound mine. He'd taken methadone earlier (I had no idea what it was at that time) and wasnt drinking much. I ask him why and he tells me I can have it if I want. I pound the second one. I tell him I dont feel anything so he takes the same massive glass and fills it up with half vodka and half orange soda. I get about half way through it when I realize "Wow, Im fucking tanked". Im slurring like a motherfucker, I smoked a cigarette down to half a filter without noticing. He says hes going to bed and I say I guess I will too. Not even 2 minutes after he turns out the lights I say "Dude im going to puke", I try to jump up as quick as I can in the dark not realizing that my balance is going to be completely off. I fall over and smash into his gecko cage, smashing the top and and probably claiming the lizards life. I stumble out of his bedroom and proceed to throw up all over the front of his bathroom door, then back, then the floor and then finally in the toilet. That was rough, evil fucking hangover the next morning too.
He was nice enough to clean almost all of it up for me though when it happened, and just told me to clean the back of the door when I was done. He had a reputation of a real hardass, bad attitude punk but he definitely went above and beyond cleaning up my puke for me. I appreciated that.