Years ago, I went out with a guy who was in NYC EMS and we used to party with the EMS guys constantly. One night, one of his friends that he called Hannibal had a party. I thought it was his real name till I first saw him-I swear to
God Almighty, this guy looks exactly like Hannibal Lechter, just shorter. It really gives his patients a scare
Anyway, I typically don't drink straight liquor so they were mixing grain alcohol with pineapple juice for me. I got so trashed, later on I let them put a straight jacket on me and lock me in the laundry room because I was so sure I could escape. After what seemed like forever, I didn't escape and started feeling lightheaded like I was going to pass out right there and my boyfriend finally found me. He yelled at them (he wasn't there when they did it) but I soon forgot my troubles after another drink. Ever since then, I get claustrophobic.
Years later, the (ex) boyfriend was getting married (we remained friends over the years) and I went to the wedding ceremony and sat with Hannibal. He was still apologizing for the strait jacket incident, even then. He tried to convince me to come to the reception with him (his date bailed the day before) but I couldn't because my ex-boyfriend's new wife despised me. So he wrote his number down on a piece of paper from the church that says at the top "Scrap paper for little Methodists"
I kept it all these years because I thought it was funny that I got someone's number in a church.