Ann, The Drunk Chick in Ireland

May 05, 2005

This is one of my old stories, but one I haven't told in a while. It came up just the other day.

In November of 1995, Mrs. theskinnyonbenny and I were newly married and on our honeymoon in Ireland. November is a cool drizzly month in Ireland (as I suspect most months are), but we were having a good trip.


We spent most days driving from one small town to another. We would eat a big breakfast, and then suffer through the nasty food that they serve the rest of the time. It got dark early, so we would find a pub where the heavy thick beer would help the unsalted potato mush dinner go down more easily.

One night, we were in a nice little place in the seaside town of Kinsale. We were sampling local beer and whisky and sitting by a fireplace shooting the breeze. The place was mostly empty.

A couple of drunk English people rolled into the bar. There was a little guy, whose name I don't remember. He resembled Sunny Bono. He was with his sister-in-law, Ann, who out-hefted by at least a hundred pounds. It was probably closer to a buck fifty.

Ann was drunk as a skunk. She took a seat at the bar, and talked noisily to our table. Then, she made her way down and took a chair at our table. Between her thick limey accent and the effects of severe drunkenness on her speech, it was tough to understand what she said.

I don't really remember what we talked about, but I remember that it was a mildly amusing conversation.

Ann wobbled her way back to the bar stool, where Sunny Bono was still waiting. Then she realized that she had left her purse at our table. She took a hard step off of the bar stool, and passed out. She fell face-first right onto the floor.

She hit the ground hard and bloodied her nose. Her head was toward us, and we could see the black liquid shimmering on the floor. She made no move to get up. She was clearly out for the night.

Sunny jumps down and starts to try to pick her up. But Sunny didn't really have the size or strength to lift her up smoothly. He grabbed her around the middle, threw his body into a backward arch, and hoisted her to her feet.

More accurately, he hoisted her so that her feet were in the general direction of the ground and her head was in the general direction of the ceiling. She did nothing to help keep herself upright.

She still faced us, legs dragging and nose bleeding. Sunny held her tight around the middle.

But not tight enough. Ann's shirt rode up under his grasp without Sunny realizing it. And Ann -- even though well endowed -- didn't bother to wear a bra. Sunny's feet stumbled around as he tried to keep her upright and not lose his grip altogether.

So picture the two 20ish honeymooners staring right into these big, floppy titties, right under a bloody nose, moving like a marionette puppet with a half step to one side and then two half steps to the other. Now all of this happened in just a few seconds. I was still to surprised at the initial fall to have gotten up and tried to help. I wouldn't have known what to do if I did try to help.

Sunny finally gave up, laid her down, and went outside to get some of their other friends to assist. They were able to get her out of there with no further incident.