It’s only a walk of shame if you choose to let yourself define it as such. Let people look on your tattered, potentially booze-soaked, bleary-eyed, and disoriented frame, and make stories of their own. It’s not like you’re going to stop and explain how you ended up walking home from a bizarre place of (potential) no importance, to people that it doesn’t concern. That all being said. These moments are wrapped up in strong coats of self-loathing, guilt, and confusion. They are ridiculous in the sense of how we expect people to get themselves home.