I submitted this story before as a reader submission, but it just has to be re-told, especially now that it is seasonally appropriate.
One Halloween, I decided to be Spongebob Squarepants so I went out and got a HUGE authentic foam costume. It was more for the shock of crashing into annoying bikini-clad "I'm a cowgirl/naughty cop/nurse/fairy" sorority bimbos at parties than anything else. So, the costume was a hit and after much party-hopping West Philly-style, I had managed to fall down steps twice--both times saving my beer with no spillage!--although one of the aforementioned bimbos puked on me. I wasn't so cute by the time I blacked out because I was bleeding fairly profusely from my knee from the second stairs mishap of the night. And, my yellow costume was now a certain shade of brown.
When daylight flooded in, I awoke to find myself on a couch in some strange bedroom and--to my horror--it was a fraternity house. THANK GOD no one was sleeping next to me. I also awoke with the worst hangover in the history of my alcohol consuming career. In full Spongebob attire, I tried to gather my things and figure out where the hell I was. I only managed to find one heel-- yes, I wore stilettos and a mini skirt with my Spongebob foam costume.
So I start to go outside and am stumbling down the stairs in one heel, with dried blood streaks all over my legs, puke and beer stains all over my costume and raccoon eyes from sleeping with my make-up on. Little did I know that morning was the annual Powelton Village Clean-Up where every fraternity, sorority, and student organization on Drexel's campus walks around West Philly/Drexel picking up trash.
When I walked out the door, I was met by about twenty students with black trash bags wandering around the street. I attempted to run, which only brought more attention to myself. The students began howling with laughter and pointing and calling over their friends! I tried to pull the costume up over my shoulders and tuck my head into my costume like a turtle, to no avail. There were eight blocks to go at this point.
When I hit Race Street, things got worse because some of the trash-pickers began to recognize me and started screaming my name. I took off my one heel and tried to run faster, but running barefoot in Philly is never fun. I passed one of my guy friends' house, and of course they were all outside as I stumbled past. As I hobbled past, they ran inside to get their cameras! I was fending that shit off like they were paparazzi or something as they tried to chase me down the street but I was outrunning them because they were laughing so hard that they couldn't catch their breath!
FINALLY, finally, I made it home aaaaand then I realized that I had lost my keys. There was no way in hell I was gonna go back and find them, so I just crouched in my doorway, defeated, for a half hour until my roommate came home and let me in. This happened two years ago, but I still get shit for it. One time I met a guy in a bar who started to actually tell the story to me about some idiot girl who ran home in a Spongebob costume during the P-Village Clean-Up. "THAT WAS YOU?!?" he screamed when I admitted my guilt. *Shakes head* Hey, at least its a good story for people to tell at bars.