May 30 is infamous in my life, but not because of my birthday. My sister-in-law was married May 30, 1998, and the reception was at a small picnic grove in the country.
The reception was a regular hoedown, very folksy, fun and loose. A very, very wild time with no inhibitions or limits when it came to intoxication. Needless to say, I got more f*cked up that day than any other in my life.
I was so inebriated that I passed out on the lawn in front of the main structure at the grove in my tux and puked all over myself. Kids were poking me with sticks like a carcass, and I still didn't move.
My wife hardly ever gets pissed at my antics, but she was furious. Can't say I blame her. I was an embarrassment in front of her family and friends, and I vowed never to get that sh*tfaced in public again.
I've upheld that promise ... so far. Remember, the one caveat was <i>in public. </i>

Take care,
PK