I don't know if I entered a restaurant at any stage nor if I was thrown out of any venue, but I have woken up at home shirtless after a big night out, never to see the shirt I wore out again. Fucked if I remember much of the night. Seemed like it was going to be a good night until I finished the booze in the house and trekked into the pub.
The closest second I can recall was after our last grand final win. I skulled the final third of a bottle of scotch that I'd started on when the game kicked off and went to one of the local pubs with another wasted mate. His recollection of the night was that he found and got intimate with a local aboriginal lady that was rather hefty and around 55 years old at the time (both of us were about 20ish at that time). I recall waking up the next day at my sisters place on her lounge in a pair of my nephews boxer shorts. The rest of my clothes were in the wash because somewhere on the way to her house I'd thrown up on them. By that stage I'd discarded my phone, wallet, keys and the Bulldogs jumper that I'd started the night with. I later returned to the pub I last recalled drinking at and the barmaid on duty told me I'd loudly proclaimed to the world that I need not money nor phone nor jumper nor keys since the sweet warmth of our premiership was enough to sustain me before throwing my phone wallet keys and jumper into a bin and running off into the night. Luckily she retrieved them for me to pick up the next day. Pretty embarrassing to be told that at the time.