ever yak while on the job?

i have.

last week. on a shoot. here's the story:

last monday thru thursday, i had the good fortune of being on a shoot in sandusky, ohio. monday was our final walk-through and pre-pro meeting so a pretty light day. that night was the 24 finale and the client invited the folks from the agency (about 6 people) and the director and AD over to her house to watch the 2 hour shitstorm.

i hate that show, so i elected to sit outside with the creative director and talk shop, life, cigars, sex and all other things. NOTE - for those outside the biz, its kind of rare to see an account guy like me hanging solo with the chief creative officer of an agency. for some reason, its like oil and water or something.

anyway, the clients husband is a wine fanatic and had the whole evening planned out. i can't for the life of me remember a goddam single one, because as a group, we put away 7 or 8 bottles. 2 of which were split by the creative director and me. which was already on top of the 2 bottles of wine we split over dinner. so i was super fucked up.

while driving back, i decided we needed a nightcap so a few of us went to a local dive called the thirsty pony. i sure as fuck didn't need the two beers i had there.

so the night ends. i get back to the room (which i had to share to save costs by the way), drank some water and passed out. woke up a bit hungover, but after a shower i was ready to start.

tuesday, we were shooting for the new ride this season, Skyhawk. good ride. not a coaster, but the biggest and fastest swing ride in the world. surprisingly good. anyway, i had a good greasy mcmuffin and like i said was feeling pretty good. dog tired, but no headache or anything.

so the director asks for a couple fill-in riders to get a shot. which, fortunately with this client, is one of the jobs of the account guy. i get on. ride 7 times in a row and get off like a champ. still dog tired but feeling okay. so i sit down on a bench right by the ride.

i think that was my mistake. i sat there and watched the ride go back and forth. 60 miles and hour, high as shit...120 feet at the apex. back and forth.

fuck me. here comes the mouth waters. swallow. swallow. swallow. mother fucker. get up and go to the bathroom which was near by, thankfully. start to blow right inside the door and manage to get it into a trashcan.

i don't think i've ever puked on wine, but its just as purple the next day. unless you're downing white wine, i guess. blew a couple more times in a toilet and luckily managed to avoid soiling any of my clothes.

so i'm good, right? not so quick. now having an empty stomach and assumably yak breath, i decide to eat some fruit and drink some water. i figured the worst has past and i wanted something lite.

for some goddamn reason, that came up about an hour later. again, i was able to distance myself from the others on the shoot by "going to my car to grab something" and avoided embarrasment. and again, three separate heaves and again, nothing on my clothes.

how the fuck i managed this and still functioned, i don't know. and what the fuck was up with my yakking anyway? i don't think i've gotten sick from too much liquor since i almost lost my fiance to a belligerent asshole from my past.