Early evening the day after. Slowly, I peel my eyes open, squint into the fading daylight, groaning. Jesus, my head is pounding, my tongue is furry and my stomach has a newly built-in roller coaster.

Gingerly, I push myself upright. Bad mistake. I've just upended the roller coaster, which is losing chunky passengers at an alarming rate. Jaw clenched, I race to the bathroom. While last night's food and, more importantly, drink floods out of me, memories of that same night flood my brain. I don't know which of the two floods is worse. Number one leaves a bad taste in my mouth; number two leaves a bad taste in my hippocampus.

I hadn't been planning on partying hard. Honestly, I hadn't. But after the fourth shot I kind of forgot that staying at least semi-sober had been the intention. The alcohol felt smooth, my hips felt loose and the music seemed profound. So I had a really great idea: Get more alcohol down your neck.

That's where things get a little blurry. Disjointed. A massively embarrassing head cinema.

Hippocampus, scene one:

Protagonist attempts to jump onto barstool gracefully. Misses spectacularly. Ends up flat on her arse.

Pause.

Hippocampus, scene two:

Protagonist feels wings growing on her back. Runs outside, arms outstretched, hop skip and jumping in the pouring rain, feeling the water cleansing her soul. Until she pivots gracefully. Fails spectacularly. Meets the greenery of the hedge up close and personal. Ends up flat on her arse.

Pause.

Hippocampus, scene three:

Protagonist approaches blonde stranger at bar; before blonde stranger can even utter a word, protagonist throws arms around him, wiping blood-red lipstick first all over his face, then all over his crisp white shirt. Blonde stranger does not take kindly to attempted establishment of contact. Protagonist ends up flat on her arse.

Protagonist is unsure, but hopes that there is at least a short pause here.

Hippocampus, scene three, take two:

Protagonist decides that blonde strangers are arseholes. Approaches black-haired stranger, pumping a fist in the air. Yes, tall, dark and fucking sexy! Yum! Protagonist loses balance, falling into sexy man's lap like a ton of bricks. Sexy man shifts out of the way. Protagonist slips off lap. Ends up flat on her arse.

Pause.

Hippocampus, scene four:

Protagonist attempts to relieve herself of the colourful liquid she's been consuming for several hours straight by now. Pulling her trousers back up, she steps onto the end of her belt, toppling herself over. Protagonist bounces her head off the cubicle door with a resounding thump. Ends up flat on her arse.

Pause. During this commercial break, protagonist must have been picked up and been dressed by someone. Thankfully, this turns out to be a deleted scene.

Hippocampus, scene five:

Protagonist voices her opinion loudly that for her the evening has just begun. The friends that have come out with her, the witnesses, cringe, beg to differ. As they undoubtedly form a majority here, said protagonist is ushered to a taxi. Protagonist believes in minority rule all of a sudden and struggles against her oppressors, screaming like a stuck pig, losing a significant part of the substances that are putting her in such a fantastic mood in the process. Protagonist slips on her own regurgitation. Ends up flat on her arse.

The film finishes.

I want to sink into the nearest hole. I will never touch alcohol again in my life. And this is a fucking promise.

My doorbell rings. Last night's witnesses are rolling in through the door, fist bumping me.

"Brill night last night, chica. You were spectacular," they sing in unison. "What are you waiting for? Get dressed, put your face on. Let's get ready for round two."

I grin. "Give me two." Who said I would never drink again? I rub my bruised left buttock. Who gives a fuck? I've got one more buttock to bruise this weekend.

Half an hour later, I balance precariously on another barstool, chasing more drinks down my oesophagus, while chasing more memories out of my hippocampus.

Another massively embarrassing, hilarious night. Crash landings guaranteed.