That's not my tooth, that's a ROCK!
Upon finishing up the case of beer at the playground, the four of us headed down to the clubs in town. I don't recall where all we went that night, but if it was a normal night, we probably bounced around between the Oasis, Top Hat, and Duffy's clubs. We spent the evening nursing the drunk that we acquired by pounding excessive amounts of beer. At some point in the night, some of the other members of our unit met up with us downtown, and we all partied together.
The clubs closed up at 2am, and while we were all pretty much past reasonably sober, we decided that we were hungry. So, SPC Surfer, SPC Rockstar, PFC Pacman, and I went to a local after hours hole-in-the-wall "restaurant" for some late night ramyun. A couple of the guys decided that they would also have some soju with the "meal". For those that don't know, soju is a type of Korean liquor derived from rice....similar to Japanese sake, but less refined....way less refined. Into the early 1990s, the soju manufacturers were still "treating" soju with formaldahyde, to help it have a longer shelf life. I would personally describe the experience as somewhere between drinking rubbing alcohol and drinking turpentine, but if you chase it with enough cola, you can usually keep it down.
I wascognizant enough at that point to KNOW that I did NOT need to be drinking any soju, and I turned down the first couple of offers by my friends to have a celebratory New Year's drink. Unfortunately, that little monster called EGO came out and bit me in the ass. I looked across the table, and watched as PFC Pacman (who had only been in-country for a couple of weeks at this point) proceeded to have shot after shot. I had a good 2 years of Korean "alcohol training" by this time, and I was not going to let this little shit drink me under the table. So, my machismo got the best of me, and I began to drink shots with the guys. I have no recollection of how much we drank there, but I know that it was too much.
I was having a hard time walking at this point, and we needed to get back through the Military Police at the gate, and then 1/2 mile or so back to the barracks. I somehow straightened myself up enough to get into the MP shack, show my ID, and walk straight enough to walk out the other side of the shack on my own power. Unfortunately, that took every last bit of energy I had. As soon as I exited the shack, I fell on my ass. The others followed me through the MP shack, and much to my chagrin, PFC Pacman, who I had tried to outdrink, was the one who was sober enough to pick me up, and carry me. He literally got me in a fireman's carry over his shoulders, and started to carry me back the 1/2 mile to the barracks.
Halfway home, I decided that I needed to walk on my own to try to sober up more, so I told Pacman to put me down. He complied, and as I walked, I noticed that SPC Surfer and SPC Rockstar were a ways ahead of us on the road (they made better time not having to carry 165lbs of drunk ass on their shoulders). To this day, I'm not sure what came over me. I decided that it would be a great idea to run up behind them and jump on their shoulders...an arm around each guy's neck. So, I took off in a run (as much of a run as I could manage in my condition). As I approached, I noticed that they weren't right next to each other, and SPC Surfer seemed a touch shorter than normal, but they were close enough that I could still pull off the stunt.
The last thing I remember is trying to get a good running jump, and then suddenly the ground was approaching very rapidly. Sources revealed afterward that the reason that they guys weren't so close, and the reason that SPC Surfer was a little shorter than normal, was due to the fact that SPC Surfer was walking in the street. SPC Rockstar was walking on the sidewalk right next to the street. My plant foot for the jump went right off the curb, creating no lift whatsoever, and I went face-first into the street. I got knocked out for about a minute or so, and when I came to, my nose hurt like hell, and I was sure that I had broken it. Fortunately, I didn't break my nose. Unfortunately, I did break one of my teeth.
They guys were intent on getting me back to the barracks and to the NCO on night duty, so that they could get me to the hospital. Unfortunately for them, Jewish guilt outranks military discipline and common sense. In my drunken state, I was obsessed with the guilt of breaking the teeth that my mother had paid so much for in orthodontics. To make it worse, I wouldn't leave until they found my broken tooth in the street. So, somebody ran and got some flashlights, and I had three guys looking in the street for a broken tooth. The tooth was never found, but they conned by putting a rock in my hand and telling me it was my tooth. I was so drunk I couldn't tell the difference.
They finally got me to the barracks, and somebody arranged a ride over to the emergency room. The medics did a preliminary exam, took some blood (for blood alcohol content, I'm sure), and called in the emergency dentist who was on call. The dentist came in, poked around, and asked if I felt any pain. I told him I didn't feel any major pain, and that I tried to tell everybody that I could have just come in the morning. I apologized to the poor dentist for having to come in at like 3am. He explained that I wouldn't have made it through the night without coming in. Apparently, the nerve was exposed in the remainder of the tooth in my mouth, and the alcohol was working as a great anasthetic. He explained that once I sobered up, I'd be in so much pain I'd probably be unable to do anything. So, he patched up the tooth as much as he could on the spot, and told me to make an appointment to have a route canal and a fake tooth put in, and then sent me on my way.
Lucky for me, when the unit commander found out about the incident, he didn't ruin my career. Apparently, since it was an "accident" that didn't involve a crime (i.e. no fighting, no vandalism, etc), he felt that the fact that I busted up my face was lesson enough for me. I never found out the results of my blood test either, but I would be interested to know if I ever got the chance. I'm betting I was somewhere in the .20 range.
The lesson I learned: Soju is NOT your friend, no matter what all the "cool kids" are doing.
I also found out later the reason that young PFC Pacman was able to outdrink me. Apparently he had been quite a partier in college....to the point that he drank himself out of school, hence his enlistment in the Army..... If only I had known......