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What’s the most disorienting thing about waking up the day after St. Patrick’s Day? Wondering where the fuck you are, how you could have possibly gotten there, and what your chances of contracting tetanus are, because that booster shot from middle school definitely lost its charm by now. Ditch the train ride home from work and pop into your friend’s band’s practice space for a cramped, sweaty, terribly-rested sleep from which you’ll awake with a pounding headache. Your body won't know what hit it!