From NJM . . .
I was about to start my sophomore year, but was still at my summer job managing the ice cream shop. I walked to the shop most of the summer; it was about 2 miles away, over the Bourne Bridge and across the rotary. At the time, my older brother and I often represented our parents at family events during the school year. One of those events was our cousin's wedding in Newport - on a gorgeous afternoon in late summer.
The reception was lovely, on the water in Portsmouth. It was an open bar; I don't remember the food, but I know it wasn't a sit down meal. And I kept switching between champagne and screwdrivers. My brother drove home (about an hour away). Good thing too, considering how much I had had to drink in that 3 to 4 hour period. When we got there, he made us G&Ts. We had a couple of rounds, but no dinner. He went to bed. I called my ex in Knoxville.
I would have to ask, but I think we were on the phone for 2 or 3 hours. Every so often I would very politely ask him to hold on a minute, and go throw up. He was amused. When we finally hung up it was probably between 1 and 2 in the morning. I was scheduled to open the shop at 11:00, so I needed to be there by 10:30.
I felt so horrible the next morning that taking a shower hurt. I couldn't figure out why, then I remembered - the screwdrivers, the champagne, the gin, the call to the ex. I was experiencing my first hangover, and I had to walk to work. Why, you ask, couldn't my brother drive me? Because he had already left for the day. I knew that there was no way I was going to get to work if I had to walk across the bridge, so I got one of the neighbors to drive me; I told her that I had a virus or food poisoning, but couldn't get out of work.
I was fine by 1:00. For what ever reason, that is the only hangover I have ever had.