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When I rolled over and looked at the clock I couldn't believe that it was 8:30 already. I could hear the sounds of people moving around downstairs, and as badly as I wanted to stay where I was, the need to use the toilet forced me to get up.

I grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and headed downstairs.

Pete was sitting on the couch and nursing his hangover. He had a large glass of water and was sipping on a mug of coffee, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess. I knew that Pete's hangover would suddenly seem insignificant if he were to find out what had gone on after he passed out last night.

"Good morning", I said, "You don't look so good."

"I should know better than to drink tequila", Pete responded. "I remember sitting at the table playing cards, and the next thing I knew I woke up this morning in somebody's bedroom."

"That was my son's room", I replied. "We were pretty loud and I thought you might sleep better there."

Just then Sports Center started and he was glued to the screen watching for last night's scores.

...

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