The metro ride home

Jesus. Mary. Joseph.
Last night was something, something to remember. So, four of us hit the bar to watch the Habs game (Woooo Habs lost!) and we order 2 huge pitchers (4 litres each). I cannot remember how many times I had to piss within 20 minutes, but damn it was a lot. We make it to the party at 11pm, I believe. I stayed there for an hour or so; fuck I don't remember that either. Let me put it this way, I was drunk. I don't know how many glasses of beers I had at the bar, maybe 10 +, but when I got to the party I saw some familiar faces as I drank a Canadian, a budweiser and several cups of liquor that tasted like Coffee (yuk!). I could have had more, but like I said, I do not remember much. However, I do remember going to the bathroom twice with a smile plastered on my face. I just hoped I did not miss. If I did, I'm sorry Pascal. Oh, but that is nothing. NOTHING.
My friend and I start walking back to the metro (a good 10-15 minute walk) a quarter past midnight, again, it could have been later. Not even a block away from Pascals house, my friend starts pulling 'sale' signs form the ground. Yes, 'sale' signs. I do not know how, but we made it to the metro. How? Holy Jesus! Another thing I do not remember is getting into the metro; I don't remember taking out my pass and swiping it. Fuck! By the time we get on the metro we are laughing and talking aloud about God knows what, maybe my friend remembers. That metro ride was one stop, in which I filled by vomiting twice (not much, mind you). We get off; I do not remember if he had to take another metro or if he was getting off at the one we arrived to. Nevertheless, I get on another one, which is supposed to bring me to my destined stop. Let me tell you this, I believe I just took any metro that came by (Hey! I was drunk!). I could have taken the wrong one for all I know - shit, I wouldn't have known anyways. Though, luckily for me I was on the right one. So, there I am sitting down, hunched forward looking down. I feel sick. I admit it. BAM! I vomit, again and again. Maybe 3-4 times. Who know? I'll tell you who knows; this dude who came over me asking me if I was all right and if he could have helped me. Yes, it happened. I can hardly remember the conversation, but I am sure that it was brief and that I was horribly mumbling when I spoke to him. Unfortunately, I did not see his face.
How did I get off at the right station? How? That's all I remember. And now, 4-5 hours later, I am up writing this. Fuck!