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I remember my first time sleepwalking. I 'woke up' curled in a ball outside my Freshman dorm. It was January and I was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I was cold. I had no idea what I was doing there. I started banging on the exterior door to Briscoe Shoemaker but as it was likely 4 in the morning, there was no one to help.

I was starting to panic when I saw a small window ajar. I ran down to it and pried it open as far is it would go, opening up a hole that was about 2' by 2' I was still 18 back then and probably had little body fat. I was able to squeeze through the hole and then I fell directly into the laundry room. Someone must have been washing their clothes quite late into the evening because there were still two adjacent dryers running and they were SO warm. I curled up like a cat on top of the dryers until a maintenance worker poked me awake at 6am and led me back to my room.

It would not be my last sleepwalking event unfortunately. I woke up once on the beach in Barcelona. I woke up in a pool chair in Mexico...at the wrong hotel. And Friday morning I woke up leaning against my Park City condo door when my friends opened it for an early morning coffee run.

They weren't surprised in the least.

Short of handcuffing myself to a bed Mike Birbiglia stlye or hanging a key around my neck I really don't know how to stop it. Maybe not drink so much? Maybe pee before bed. Or maybe do nothing, because it always makes for one hell of a story.

We were in Park City for Jack's 30th. Jack and I have lived together on and off for 11 years (2006-2009 Bloomington, 2008 Italy, 2011-2017 Los Angeles) in fact in some states I may be eligible for benefits in the result of his untimely death. We had been going on this Park City trip for the past 5 years but this time it had a little more weight to it.

A 30th birthday, at least one with an out of town trip feels a lot like a wedding except no one needs to dress up and typically there aren't any parents there. I suppose in that way it's more of a mixed sex Bachelor party where people crack a whiskey the moment they wake up.

In my case, I never exactly stopped drinking whiskey on the slopes which led to some incredibly sloppy skiing and some spectacular falls on my part. By the time I got to apres ski at Umbrella bar, a very concerned server named Janet was concerned with how much I was bleeding. I tried to explain to her that I had some very small cuts but that I was just bleeding a lot because I had been drinking all day and my blood was thin. Also I forgot to bring gloves.

This didn't seem to comfort her in the least.

I sobered up in the hot tub and after 3 Red Bulls, a 5 Hour and 3 cups of coffee you would have never known I spent the previous night in the hallway.

We made our way to downtown Park City for dinner at Main Street pizza and debated our plans for the evening. Would it be Shot Skis at the spur? A TI concert at Park City Live? Dancing at Downstairs? We settled on a bar crawl. But not just any bar crawl, a THEMED bar crawl; the theme? Jack's drinks through the years. I believe the order went something like: High Life, well vodka, Jagerbombs, Rumpleminz, Tequila and then a round of shot hat. Thank God we all lost interest in the theme before we got to see yas and flat lines.

At the last bar we tried to order a bottle and the conversation went like this:
"We would like the $150 bottle of Absolut please."

"Great, where is your table."

"We don't have one."

"Well you can't get a bottle without a table."

"No, it's fine, we are just going to chug it on the dance floor like douche bags."

"This is Utah."

Apparently they don't have frat guys in Mormon country.

Saturday morning I woke up with a sigh of relief to discover that I was on the couch. I had only bought a one day pass and decided it was probably for the best to just spend the day relaxing. I couldn't justify a $140 lift ticket to go ski in slush...

That lasted until about 11 when I was on the Quicksilver Gondola to Park City Mountain.

It was incredible how much better I was at skiing sober! In fact when my crew was done for the day, I stayed out for a few extra runs with some IU bros that I had bumped into serendipitously.

I skied back down to the umbrella bar and found Janet pouring drinks again.

"You're not bleeding today."

"It's amazing how I don't fall when I'm not hammered."

"I can't believe you forgot ski gloves but remembered to bring puka shells."

"Hey Janet, if I slurp all the coagulated foam off of that bar mat, will you give me this beer for free?"

She was not amused. (Jk, she loved it and totally gave me the beer for free)

We stayed in Saturday night and cooked ourselves dinner (after finishing an entire 24 of PBR at the Apres hot tub) because sometimes when your 8 favorite people in a city are in the same room with you, it doesn't make sense to leave the comforts of your own home.

Somehow we ended up playing 8 of Mundt (I lost) and Kings (I lost) and this Pictionary spin off where you  try to draw things from the trip. (Yes both me sleeping in the hallway and my puka shells were drawn)

Jack had his cake, we presented him with a book of 10 years of photographs and the birthday weekend was declared a success.

Sunday was a dark day. After forcing down a Cheeseburger at High West my health started to deteriorate and I sat in a bed trying to determine what was wrong with me. Here is my search history.

Everything was seemingly OK though. We made it to the airport, I bought a 1 pound bag of Skittles and a 1 pound bag of Sour Patch kids and arrived back in Venice around one o clock in the morning.

The rollercoaster of emotions settled and I thought about my 7 companions from the trip. Two were already back in Milwaukee, one was off to SF, another to Austin, another to New York. In a few hours we would all be separated by thousands of miles and I would be laying in bed with a hangover.

It's funny how life works. People come and go, it's sad. I wish all my friends lived on the same street as me and we hung out all the time, but then of course one must realize is that is part of what makes friendships so strong. Anytime you run into someone at a wedding, at a bachelor party, at a festival you remember that it clicks right away like they were never gone at all. You could run into a friend walking down the streets of Paris and within 30 seconds be telling old stories at a bar. These are the moments that make life interesting.

So thank you to all of you who make my life what it is, it's fun to go on a solo trip now and again, but it's the people around you that make the story worth telling.

I was reflecting on all of this as I walked into my apartment Sunday night. How great is was to spend a weekend with my roommate of 10 years, how wonderful it was to see a few people who had made the trip from the east coast and the midwest. I had spent the previous 10 days with my mother and brother. You know what, everything is going to be ok, I thought.

And then I opened my front door and there were three Alpha Chis from Knoxville sleeping on my couch.

Apparently it's college Spring Break and they are here all week.

Fuck.