Four hours later, I rolled out into the afternoon sun, got lodged in a bike rack and fell asleep. I don't know how long I was out, but when I awoke I found myself in a storage unit, surrounded by at least a hundred cases of Girl Scout Cookies. (I keep forgetting how doggone adorable and kidnappable I am.)
I assessed the situation and decided I would need to sober up quickly if I was going to get out of this predicament. As I considered my options, I downed four boxes of Samoas to help me think, followed by two more to replenish all of the carbs I burned in the half marathon, as well as to soak up the rest of the alcohol in my core. Eleven sleeves of Thin Mints later, I had formulated a solid plan. I would sit and wait until someone opened the door, and then roll outta there. It was almost too perfect. I rewarded my brilliant thinking with some obscenely tall stacks of Toffee-tastics.
Since I had time to kill, I played a round of "See If I Can Fit In It". Turns out I fit perfectly inside of a Lakers garbage can. I do not fit inside of a portable heater, box spring, breastpump motor, or plastic air duct extension.
By this point I may or may not owe the Girl Scouts a couple hundred dollars.
