The great night was more than worth the Friday morning after, when I drove to the gas station half-drunk, purchased Tylenol...

...then threw up on the way home, by getting out the Intrepid, running to the curb and spewing chewed carrots and pink booze from my throat; it was worth more pain relievers, more throwing up, the ride home with more stops at the gas station wherein I walked in in my pajamas--little blue sleep shorts, an over-sized Zeppelin t-shirt, and no bra--it was worth not putting the contacts in so I couldn't see what was coming at me during the ride home, it was worth the drop-drip of a bathtub faucet punching my hungover brain with each drop-drip, it was worth the conversation the gas attendant started about bottled water even though I clearly reeked of whiskey, it was definitely worth the cold water I dumped all over my head the hour and a half home, the cold water that kept me from both falling asleep and/or having to stop the car to throw up again.

It was a good night. A good, good, good, good, good night.