I often forget this even ever happened to me, partly because I didn't really "experience" it, but my mom brought it up recently. Back in '03 my house was shot up in a drive by, sprayed, 9 .357 bullets in my bedroom alone. I was asleep in my bed at the time. I missed the whole thing because I was so shitfaced drunk that I didn't hear the shots, or feel the shot that went between my arm and my chest. The detective said that being drunk may have saved my life, as the one that hit me was one of the first shots and all the others were higher. Meaning, I had a greater chance getting hit had sat up. I'll never know. My mom says "you were very lucky...you're an idiot, but very lucky". Like I said, I've forgotten/blocked it, but the older I get I feel more guilt about it. It's weird. Anyway, that's been on my mind.