Kegger

It was a Friday night and I was working at Pizza Hut. It was my lucky night because I was assigned to clean the bathrooms. This might not sound lucky to you, but whoever was assigned to clean the bathrooms was also the first to go home. This meant I was going to have a Friday night and beer money.
I finished work around 9:00 and rushed over to Bridget's house. We finished primping and began our Montana-esque ritual of cruising Main Street to see who was out and where the party was.
We met up with Trent who was on his way out to Slim's ranch and hopped into the cab of his truck. As we drove down the highway we took in the fresh spring air and sang to Clay Walker's "This Woman and This Man".
After the twenty minute drive and a long jaunt down a gravel road, we made our way through a grove of trees and onto an open plain with a fire in the distance. As our sight adjusted, shadows engulfed the landscape almost as much as empty beer cans.
When we reached the party Trent sauntered over to his friends, all wearing shit-kickers and wranglers topped off with large-rimmed hats, Bridget made her way to a group of guys and I rushed over to the kegs.
The next few hours were a blur of keg stands and dancing. At one point I decided to relieve myself behind a truck so I hopped up on the edge of the bumper and took care of business. It wasn't until I jumped back down that I found myself right in the middle of a cow pie. I slipped through pie after pie and ended up with cow shit in my hair, in my pants and up my back. Not knowing what to do, I stood off in the distance trying to formulate a plan. Seeing a towel in the back of a random truck, I quickly grabbed it and tried to clean up.
With unwarranted confidence I rejoined the group only to find I had done a lousy job of wiping off. So after a few goodbye's, Trent and Bridget piled me into his truck and drove me home.
As soon as we got back to Bridget's house I immediately took a shower and borrowed some clothes. And instead of reliving the ordeal in the morning by having to explain what happened and wash clothes, I instead chose to throw everything away.
As quickly as a hang-over and a trip to the dumpster, the evidence of my embarrassing night was gone. And luckily, the party goers were as drunk as I had been, so the story was never brought up again.
But I sometimes look back on that night when I'm having a rough day and think to myself "at least I'm not covered in cow shit."