[i]Jesus Fucking Christ, what did I [b]drink[/b]?[/i]

Whatever it was that had turned Gabriel's stomach over to the devil who saw fit to fill it with evil spirits - well, maybe just spirits - didn't account for the instant exorcism every college student was familiar with: Banishing Satan in a graceful projectile arc, straight into the sink, just barely missing the woman he bumped into on his hasty, wobbly way to salvation and almost pinned down right in the middle of it.

[i]The power of vomit compells you![/i]

The smell was otherworldly, or so Gabriel was told the next day. One of the benefits of being shitfaced drunk, although this recent incident that raised the volume in the kitchen tenfold by educing "Eww"s and "Wow"s from those present lowered his alcohol levels and heightened general awareness of his surrounding.
Despite this unappetizing episode, he felt great. December was a magical time when Christmas and New Year's seemed like an impenetrable bulwark against every worry, deadline and exam that awaited you in a few brief weeks; it was the time when roommates seemed to be less dickish, girls were willing to have "one last fling" before their New Year's resolution to "never sleep around again" and families came together.

Well, the last part wasn't exactly true for Gabriel Salem but that made being drunk more enjoyable: Ignorance is, don't you know it, bliss, meaning that the more ignorant you are, the more blissful you become; if there was one equation he could relate to, it was this.
The only flaw in this otherwise perfect logic was that he found himself in strange places with no recollection of how he got there, in this case just outside the backdoor, with an unobstructed view of a landscape covered in white. He didn't feel the cold creep up his fingers and under his shirt, didn't sense the shivers that took hold of his body. 
Inside, he was still and took in the sight before him, the trees and hills and city lights in the distance, all made ethereal by the snow and moonlight. Ending up in somebody's bed was one thing but this, the feeling of witnessing a subtle and yet majestic sight, was one of the reasons he always had another drunk night out, no matter how badly the one before had ended. He loved and hated the bottle; it was like an abusive girlfriend he kept going back to for that one kiss, that one night that would happen every now and then and seemed to make it all worthwhile. Or was it more like an abusive parent?

But now that the shaking was getting too bad and he heard his teeth clatter as he produced clouds of vapour, Gabriel turned away from the vista and returned inside, only to bump into the same woman again as before.
Only this time, he recognized her:
"Natalie?"

Their eyes met and, yes, there was recognition in those eyes but also confusion. Was she raising an eyebrow? The strobe light made it hard to tell. [i]Wait... No, it's not Natalie, it was... Fuck, what was her name again?[/i]
She probably hadn't even heard him over the music, or so he hoped. This time, he leaned down to her ear and yelled:
"Nadine? It's good to see you!"

Yes, he remembered her. They had had a few courses together the year before and became fast friends. But that year, just before finals, his parents' divorce was finalized and his sister had a breakdown over it, so he dropped everything and left. That in itself wouldn't have been an issue if he hadn't lost his phone and had a crap memory for numbers. He was bound to run into her sooner or later but after months, he had pretty much given up on her.

"Fuck, I've been trying to get in touch forever! You want a drink?"