I'm what the French call "les drunk"

So, last night was our first in Cortona, and what a night it was. We arrived in the small Tuscan mountain town in the afternoon faced with the exciting prospect of climbing the world's steepest hill. Once at the top we took the time to look around and really enjoy the beauty of our new home while simultaneously feeling as if we were about to die. Good times were had by all. Upon moving into our dorm, a 16th century convent, we were given time to settle and complain about the hill. A few hours later we were ready to walk back down the hill to Tonino's, the restaurant where we will be dining every week night. You would think walking down would be pleasant, but the thought of the walk back up is rather haunting. Yet, down we went.
At Tonino's, I was instructed that the before dinner drink of choice is the "spritz" (pronounced spreetz), which is prosecco (Italian version of champagne) and some sort of strawberry-ish liquer. The before dinner drinks were the beginning of the end for me. Most everyone had one of those, then my table drank 3 bottles of wine with dinner. By the end of dinner, I was very excited and ready to go to the Lion's Well for "one drink." Then I peer-pressured pretty much everyone else into doing the same. That was our mantra, "I'm just going for one drink, just to check it out, we won't really go out till Thursday or Friday." False.
We arrived at the "English pub" (Italians love to call their bars English pubs, I guess they think it attracts tourists who don't speak very good Italian. Clearly they're right) around 9 o'clock and were promptly greeted by several Canadian students who are also studying in Cortona for the semester. We made friends with them. So, we all had several more drinks and at some point I decided to casually lean on a stool. As I'm going into the lean saying, "I'm what the French call 'les drunk'", the stool breaks and I almost fall to the ground. Everyone saw, and laughed.
More drinks and shots go by and about 8 of us end up in a booth in the back playing Thumper and then Never Have I Ever. I failed miserably at Thumper, though I did succeed in coming up with the dirtiest word of the group, managing to even gross out the guys present (cum dumpster, in case you were wondering, thanks for that one Peggy). Never Have I Ever may have been a bad choice, as we ended up learning some things about each other that no one needed to know. For instance, two people have made sex tapes, a few have had threesomes, and at least one has had sex in a public place more than once. I'm not going to name names on the off chance that the guilty parties stumble upon this blog, but they know who they are, and so do I. And yes, though I was very intoxicated, I do remember exactly who put fingers down for the items listed above. I don't, on the other hand, remember most of the walk back up the hill or how I managed to make my bed.
All in all, I'd say it was a very successful night and one that won't be repeated any time soon. Especially because I spent all 20 euro that I took out with me last night and am now down to about 35 for the rest of the week. Ooops.