The Drunk Fresher Clean-up
It’s your first year. You’ve just arrived at Uni. You don’t have to explain yourself to Mummy or Daddy any more, and in response, you’ve got yourself completely plastered.
The mats in our First Aid Post aren’t that comfortable, but in your current state they’re just fine. All you want to do is sleep, not worrying about precisely where it is you are.
My plans are different. I only want you here long enough for me to ensure that you’ll probably be okay. As long as you are stable, maintaining your own airway, and we don’t think you’re about to die on us, you can go sleep in your bed. While I’m monitoring you, I try to get some water in to you. Perhaps if I can get you hydrated a little, you might make a bit more sense.
No such luck. I’m almost having to bottle feed you to get water down you, and both my partner and I are getting cross. So cross, in fact, that my partner has just had to walk away, and I have just snapped and called you a four-year-old. You’ll probably be fine, and now we want rid.
You won’t even stand up. All you want to do is sleep. We badger, we pester, we even try tricking you in to getting up. All without success. Again, my partner has to walk out before he starts properly yelling at you.
Then your phone goes off, and you make the final mistake we’ve been waiting for. You sit up, scrambling around for your phone. “Right. That was a bad idea, mate.” A quick shift gets you leant up the wall. Now we’ve got you sat up, anything’s possible.
My friend returns, and together we grab you under the armpits. Before you really know what’s happening, you’re on your feet and heading towards the door.
Together, my partner and I walk you home. The cold air quickly starts to sober you up, and you’re making enough sense to get us in to your place, and dumped on your bed. Just in time for you to vomit once (neatly contaminating all the clothing on your floor), roll over, and fall comfortably asleep. A quick shift to protect your airway, a strict instruction to your housemates to keep an eye on you until morning, and then we’re off.
I hope you enjoyed cleaning up the next day. Perhaps it’ll teach you not to get in such a state again…