There's this big party in my hometown in July called Gilbertville Days.
Well, every year, I end up puking. The combo of heat, cheap warm beer, and grilled cow parts eventually catches up with me around midnight I puke and puke HARD. Putting-out-a-fire hard. (And nothing smells worse than a fire that's been puked on.)
But after that, I'm good to go again, though I just drink then.