ok so i was in Vegas and decided I was going to go home to Jersey. First, however, I thought I'd stop and see a friend in Florida, and pick up some of my things they had.
I have arrive in Florida and get a hotel room for the night. For some reason, I think it a good idea to drank vast quantities of alcohol (5 Sam Adams and an entire bottle of Maker's Mark. I didn't drink the 6th Sam Adams because I broke the bottleneck and didn't want to swallow glass)
About 3 beers and 5 shots in, I thought to myself, "Let me take some of these sleeping pills that I have here..." So, I started taking those too. Then, a friend called and apparently I told him everything I'd taken as well as where I was. I don't remember this, but it must be true because I woke in in a hospital bed, strapped down, with a tube in every orifice imagine.
I manage to communicate to the nurse to untie my hands. I'm still not sure how. After what seemed like an eternity, I manage to get them to take the tube from my mouth. Apparently it was a respirator because I wasn't breathing. Another eternity passed, and they remove the tube going down my nose, which had been used to pump my stomach full of charcoal. Which incidentally, was all over my face, hair, and arms.
So, one more eternity passes, and I get the tube removed from inside my dick. I'm not sure I've ever experienced so much discomfort in my life. I'm informed that I'm on something called Baker's Act, which isn't explained to me, but apparently means no one can give me my clothing or cell phone. It also means I'll be locked up for 72 hours, or until a psychiatrist decides to discharge me. I'm told every 5 minutes or so that the psychiatrist would be there to see me shortly, but this never happened. At some point a doctor who could barely speak English did ask me some questions, but after learning he couldn't discharge me, I got annoyed and sent him off.
Eventually, I get transferred from the hospital into a psychiatric ward. At this point, I'm given back my clothing and belongings. Apparently all they have is a pair of boxers, a pair of socks, and a pair of shorts soaked in vomit. Great. I put on the underwear, hop into an ambulance, (I really contemplated escape at this point, but was unsure I could outrun the black athletic ambulance driver, and unsure of what i'd do in a city I don't know, in a hospital gown, with no money or phone, at ~11 at night.) and head on over there. I'm asked a bunch more questions.
All the doors are locked with keypads. I try to get the code by watching people type it in. I also try not to let anyone notice me doing this. Eventually, I'm sent to my room, which more closely resembled a cell. I laid on what felt like a sidewalk all night, never sleeping. At about 3 in the morning, one of the prisoners in my room decided to walk out. Apparently, the nurses and techs (guards imo) responded to this by telling him he smelt bad, turning on the shower in our room, and making him bathe. This was ridiculous, but I pretty much tried to ignore everything because I wanted to just speak to the psychatrist in the morning and get him to discharge me. Eventually, morning comes. We do a lot of nothing.
Finally, someone takes me to see the psychiatrist. In the room are the psychiatrist, a social worker, and 3 students from a local college (wtf?) Honestly, I didn't want the students in the room, but also didn't want to make a scene or do anything to appear unstable. In a few brief moments, I manage to convince the psychiatrist I'm not crazy, I wasn't trying to kill myself, and I have no intention on killing myself in the future. He decides to discharge me. Finally!
I'm told it's going to take some time to process the paperwork, and in the meantime they would acquire me some clothing. One of the staff members goes to look for my shorts that had been taken to be washed the night before, but never manages to find them.
Eventually, after some random meeting that delayed the paperwork, the paperwork gets filed. I still have no clothes. A while later (this took waaay long) someone finally finds clothes I can wear. Shorts that are waaay too small, and a tshirt. This is fine to me. I still have no shoes, and the nurse insists on finding me some, but I assure her that shoes are way below leaving this place on my list of priorities.
So, finally I get to leave. They ask if I have a ride. I don't. I ask them to call me a cab. Like, 100 times. Eventually, they respond to this by giving me $1.25 and telling me I can catch a bus across the street at Publix. I'm a solid 10 miles from the hotel with all of my belongings, including my phone and wallet. In a strange city, with no shoes. And they can't even call me a ****ing cab?
So, I don't argue. Because I want to leave. I leave. I wander down the street for a while. Eventually, I find some stores. I contemplate calling some friends collect, then realize I can't because I know no one's number; they're all in my phone. Eventually, I walk into some random hotel and ask the clerk to please call me a cab. She does. The cabbie arrives shortly, I get in, unsure of how I'm going to pay. 30 minutes later, we arrive back at my hotel, with all my stuff. The cabbie insists on going in with me, afraid of getting stiffed the fare. After confirming what little cash I had in my wallet was indeed stolen, I was able to pay by credit card.
And that's pretty much where I'm at now. Except, I'm crazy and I'm leaving out a bunch of the personal parts. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have a breakdown sometime very soon if something doesn't go my way.
in before tl;dr
