After enjoying a few too many drinks followed by a few spliffs, Dillon found himself lost just as Deadmau5 began to play. Dillon began squeezing through the crowd in search of his friends only to end up getting punched square in the nose because he got in an argument with a giant.
A few months later
Dillon awoke in intense pain. He felt like he had been hit by a truck. No way was this real, he must be dreaming. He headed to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He had been hit by a truck. Or something near to it. His eyes drew back in horror as they saw his blood covered face. His hands slowly rose up and after a brief touch of the nose he knew it wasn't a dream. What the fuck happened last night? He has no idea. His last memory is pounding shots of Pepe Lopez Tequila. Oh god, Pepe what did you do to him. After gently wiping his face clean, Dillon realizes he is most likely in need of medical condition. Still in a state of drunken/hungover disarray he lays in bed for a few minutes pondering what the fuck could have happened to him last night. He decided he needed to seek medical attention. Dillon borrowed Mirror's truck and drove himself over to Brackenridge hospital. Bad call. Upon sobering up during the 4 hour wait to be seen he realized he should have went to a doctor and not the emergency room. After receiving an x-ray and being informed of a broken nose he was given a bandaid and discharged. What a great way to spend 6 hours. Thousands of dollars in medical bills later all he had to show was a bandaid. A week later, he found out he had ridden his bike when he was drunk over a dip in the road and went flying over the handle bars.
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