The last time you heard from the fearless drunken quartet, we were on our way to Columbus. The flight was relatively painless, despite Milo being prettty drunk. Upon arrival in this university town (THE Ohio State), we got seated in our comfy airport shuttle and headed out. About 3 minutes into the trip, Timmy came to 2 realizations:
1. Milo smelled like hot garbage.
2. I left my jacket on the plane.
Shut up. Yes, I left my motherfucking jacket on that motherfucking plane. Yes, I did the same damn thing I made fun of Milo for. And yes, Columbus was cooooold.
After listening to the rest of them laugh at me for the rest of the trip to the hotel, we steered Milo to the counter and managed to check in uneventfully. First up, pub time. Went down to the Arena District, which is really nice...but halfway into my meal/beer in the empty bar, I start feeling like shit. Folks, when I’m unable to finish a beer, something’s seriously wrong with me. I cabbed it back to the hotel, where I...puked. Into the bathtub. A bunch of times. I forgot how unpleasant it was, cuz I haven’t done it in a long time. Normally people feel better after they puke...nope, not me. At first I thought I went too hard over the past few days partying-wise, but it sure didn’t seem like that.
3AM rolls around, and the 3 drunks pile into my room. Apparently the waitress at the empty pub decided to take them all to some bars back on campus (THE Ohio State, remember?), but her boyfriends car was parked in underground lot where no one was manning the front gate anymore. The gate had one of those train-crossing style arm thingers. So what did she do? She drove right through the fucking thing! I wouldn’t have believed it, except Paul had it on tape! She knocked it right off it’s support thinger, with the guys screaming the whole time. Laughing when you’re nauseous is not fun, but I couldn’t stop...it was HILARIOUS. Nothing much eventful happened after that, but what the fuck could top that?
Still felt like shit the next day, but I couldn’t beach myself in bed the whole time...I had to grow a set and go do stuff. I’m sure it didn’t sound fine to the other guys though...I basically spent the whole day being a whiny bitch. Laughing hurt, but Jeff and Milo were hilarious the whole time...Jeff intentionally, Rob...not so much. Milo was only half-ass paying attention to our convos a lot of the time, so he developed a habit of repeating what someone had already said. Example:
Tim - "So how do you think we should get up to campus today?"
Paul - "I think a cab would be the best idea....you agree Jeff?"
Jeff - "Yup, sounds good to me."
2-3 minutes later....
Milo - "Hey guys, I think we should probably take a cab up to the campus...what do you think?"
Jeff and I started imitating him, and I could not stop laughing...I don’t think Milo (or even Paul) found it half as funny as we did, cuz we did it for over a week...but I laughed every single time. If any of you ever come across Jeff Jacobs, ask for his Milo impression. It rules.
Anyways, THE OSU campus is super nice, and huge. We went to a pub (quelle surprise!) , and ended up chatting with the manager lady. She explained the Michigan rivalry, how crazy it gets on campus during gamedays (500,000 people on the streets), and a lot of other stuff. It was pretty interesting. What was more interesting was Jeff informing us he was gonna go puke, doing it, then coming back and continuing on with his beer like nothing happened.
Due to the severe cold and lack of a jacket, I bought an Ohio State hoody and we went to the football stadium. Holy huge, batman. A gate was open, so we walked right inside...place holds 110,000 people. It was incredible. I definitely wanna go back for a Buckeyes game. Speaking of games, we headed back to the hotel and got prepped for...game 2! Canucks/Blue Jackets!
After we went down to the glass and bothered the canucks again (Willie Mitchell laughed at us again), we talked to a cameraman. We asked about getting on TV, so he radio’d in, waited a few seconds, and asked "You were at the St Louis game, weren’t you?"
We’re famous, bitches!
His next question was pretty funny too..."Are you sober?" Two answered yes, 2 answered no. He laughed, and said he’d do his best to get us on. Alas, this didn’t happen. Not yet, anyways.
We lost. I almost puked like 5 times. The civil war cannon they have there is REALLY REALLY loud. We were on the other side of the stadium, and we all jumped everytime they fired the fucking thing. The stadium is super nice. I know NHL hockey isn’t big in this region yet (after telling people we were going to a hockey game that night, they ALL replied "The Buckeyes play tonight?"), but these people have every reason to go. It’s cheap, good hockey, great stadium, and killer party area before/after the game.
Anyways, I still felt like ass post-game, so I walked back to the hotel...turns out we had been taking cabs to the arena district the whole time, and it was only 3 blocks away. Oops. Milo ended up back pretty early too cuz he was feeling like shit...so we watched Grandma’s Boy and had problems sleeping. Joyous.
Next stop, Windy City.
***
Here’s an extra story...I’m throwing it on the end, cuz I don’t remember exactly when it happened...
We get into a cab to go...somewhere. Milo has had a fair amount to drink, and is a pretty talkative guy when he’s had a few. He starts asking the cabbie random questions, till he gets to this gem of an exchange:
Rob - "Where are you from?"
Cabbie - "Nowhere that you want to go."
Rob - "How do you know? I love to travel, I’ll go pretty much anywhere. Except Somalia....NOBODY wants to go to fucking Somalia, that place is a fucking shithole!"
Cabbie - *long pause* "I’m from Somalia."
Paul/Tim/Jeff - "HAAAAHAHAHAHA!"
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Hockey Trip, Part DOS
Southwest Airlines is the greatest form of transportation in the civilized world. I don't care what you've seen on the news about their unsafe planes or any of that propaganda. It's all lies. LIES I SAY. Nothing can tarnish the fine reputation SWA has built up in my world. Why, you ask?
Cuz they gave me free fucking beer, that's why.
The last time you graced this fine blog, you were undoubtedly shocked and disturbed by the ending of part 1...how would Milo survive the midwest without a jacket? How would we all survive a hungover flight to the midwest? As Mikey would say...this is a good'er.
For the first half of the flight, there were maybe 20 people on the whole plane, which was fine by us. We all felt like bags of smashed assholes, as expected...till the flight attendants started chatting us up. One was pretty good looking, one was...well, old...but they were both super friendly. We ordered drinks, they promptly brought them..and when we went to pay...they wouldn't let us. Well, this was a good sign! Paul and me were sitting together, Jeff and Rob were behind us. Paul wanted to sleep, so I drank his. When it came time to order round 2, I ordered one for him...cuz ya know, I'm a nice guy. Round 2 arrives...again, they won't take our money. Round 2 is promptly guzzled. Paul didn't wake up in that 46 seconds, so I drank his too...and politely stacked the cans on his tray. Arrival at Salt Lake (stopover) added a plethora of new passengers, so we figured our windfall was over. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
Or not.
Round 3? Free. Round 4? Free. Paul = still asleep. Tim = 2 beers. Paul's tray = 4 more empty cans. By Round 5, we were trying to actually force them to take our money, which I think they did from Jeff. I'm not really sure what their rationale was for the charity, other than we were entertaining...Jeff or Rob might remember, but I was 10 beers deep at 11AM PST, after consuming half a brewery the night before. Leave me alone, dammit.
Around this time, Paul woke up. The look on his face was fucking priceless as he tried to compute the 10 empty beer cans on his tray...then he looked at me, and just started laughing. I guess I was kinda unsober. Jeff and Milo weren't far behind. After laughing about this for a little while longer...we arrived!
We were waaay too gassed for public transportation. Cabbed it to the hotel, which was pretty nice. Straight to the store for 24 beers. Stocked our 2 fridges, relieved a few cans of their contents, and went to check this place out.
We were staying right next to Laclede's Landing, which is a large area of bars, restaurants, etc. We saw probably 90% of the bars. At some point we got split up, since Jeff and I wanted to check out a brewpub that Pauly and Milo weren't interested in. We ended up finding them in a club later, after been led there by a posse of poon from Decatur, Illinois. Yea, I dunno where it is either. After having a fatty give me a lapdance (as usual, the fattys love me, but no one else does), we paraded around for a while in our jerseys like the attention whores that we were, and bought large portions of meat from a meat vendor.
What's a meat vendor, you ask?
You know the hot dog stands outside of bars? Just like that...except they sell BBQ'd stuff. Brisket, pulled pork, rib sandwiches...it was pretty fucking crazy. I got the rear left leg of a cow for 4 dollars. I found half of it in the bathroom the next day, for some reason. [Feedback edit - this was not an attempt at potty humor...there was actually half of the thing sitting on the bathroom counter when I went in there the next day.]
The entire contents of the night aren't quite clear to me...I know Milo almost got bit by a cart-pulling horse, after asking the lady if he was friendly, and her replying NOPE, and him still trying to pet the thing. I know there's a picture somewhere of the fat girls tits on my head. And Milo fell out of the computer chair in the hotel room, and fell asleep with half his body on the bed. Knees on the floor, top half of his body on the bed, face down. It was a sight to behold.
Next day was hockey day! 24 more in the fridges...after morning/afternoon beers to kill the hangover, we...didn't do a whole lot. Cabride to the arena, where we all did the lightbulb dance with the brown taxi driver...more beers, then GAME TIME! Watched the pregame warmup from the corner, where we yelled at Willie Mitchell a lot. Canucks won in a shootout, which was awesome. Pretty good atmosphere for a game, and the fans were really nice to us (except Pauly and some drunk dude getting into a bathroom argument...that was actually pretty funny). Saw some sweet jerseys, and the biggest cellular phone of all time. No shit, this thing was a shoebox with a car antenna...we laughed at that for a long time.
We're trying to figure out how to get a cab away from the arena, along with 15,000 other people, when Milo yells "GUYS, OVER HERE"...Pauly and I look over...at a blue minivan. Not a cab...just a dude's van. A 5 year old kid with a 'RIDE' sign. Then our friendly "driver", Oscar Williams, runs over to us...
"You boys need a ride dontcha! 3 dollas each, anywhere in the city! Don't worry, I aint gonna rob y'all, look at this big stackamoney I got right here...I don't got to rob you's!"
Paul and I looked at each with the exact same expression on our faces. It read "Oh, helllllnofuckinway. Are you kidding me? Getting into a random's van in the STL? Not a chance in hell. Nope. Nuh uh." Fuckin Milo is already in the back of the thing.
So, Oscar turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Jeff and I discussed the city and the Blues with Oscar in the front while the anklebiter in the back demanded a tip from Milo and Paul. He dropped us off at what he said was a good sunday hangout...but it turned out to be a bowling alley/Chuck E Cheese kinda joint. Not our thing. We tried to come up with a plan outside, when a ridiculously drunk dude came up to us and started giving us pointers on where to go. Outta nowhere he just fucking screamed HEYYYYYYY! at a cab going by. He scared the piss out of all 4 of us, he was so loud...but he got the cabs attention. Unfortunately.
Get in the cab...and this homeboy is straight up high on crack. No fucking joke, Pauly videotaped the whole thing. He was falling asleep at lights against the steering wheel, telling us all about the titty bars across the river (everyone talked about them, actually), told us a joke no one understood, and called us 'niggas' about 38 times in 2 minutes. In between fits of laughter, we had to call an audible and go back to the Landing, since it was close and we wanted to...ya know, survive.
It's sunday night, so things are pretty slow at the Landing, except for one bar. Get in there, go to order a drink, and the bartender says "it's 20 bucks, all you can drink...you want a wristband?" to Paul and I. I looked at the guy like he was speaking taiwanese. There was no way he said what I think he just said. I asked the guy to repeat himself twice more, and once for Pauly's camera for verification, before I believed it. 9PM - 1AM, all you can drink. My dream come true. I nearly nutted in my shorts...I'm sure you wanted to know that.
After actually running over to Jeff and Milo to explain our hitting of the proverbial lottery, it was on. I got bored of corona's pretty quick. Then the bartender explained that anything they had was included. Grey Goose? Check. Tanqueray? Check. Hooooly crap. I had a grey goose fucking bloody mary, cuz I didn't know what the hell to mix it with. I was ON FIRE. I think I got pretty drunk pretty quick, cuz quite possibly the hottest woman alive (at least to me) was dancing away on her own, and I was mesmerized by her. The other 3 thought I was retarded. Go booze. Anyways, around 10:30 I needed to chill out for a bit, so Pauly and I decided to walk down to another bar to see what was going on...I knew my wristband had me covered till 1AM, so it's all good, right? Come on, this is me we're talking about.
Halfway to the other bar...danger erupts. Timmy's tummy no feel so good. I tell Pauly to carry on, that I'm gonna go back to the hotel (only 2 blocks away), take care of it, and meet him down there. Yes you jackals, you can officially call me shitbreak now. Besides, what happened afterwards was much, much worse than any name you can call me.
I hear noises. Noises eerily similar to a door opening...and drunk-speak. I open my eyes...and I'm staring at a pillow. Quick look around...I'm on my bed, in my hotel room. "DUDE, what the fuck happened to you? Where did you go?"
FUCK!!! Shitty McFuckfuck! I passed out! I have no idea how...but there I was, fully clothed, beached on my bed. Jeff told me it was 3:30AM...so I guess I passed out for close to 5 hours. I hate the world...I hit the fucking alcohol jackpot, and I pass out at 10:30? How come this doesn't happen when I'm payin 6.50 a beer at some terrible club at home? I can't begin to explain my disappointment in myself.
Apparently they closed the place, then ended up at a casino where one of them made out with an ashtray. Or a girl named Tashay. Or something. Milo then tried to jump onto his bed, and bounced right off the other side onto the floor, which was highly amusing...but I couldn't quite get over my party foul. I had shamed the team. Sadly, this wasn't the last time.
They all woke up hungover...I woke up fine. Another kick in the nuts...I should have been hungover, dammit! After checking out the Arch and the Mississippi River (the only touristy things we actually did, I think), we headed to the airport to head for stop 2...Columbus.
And in case you're wondering, St Louis wasn't that cold...so Milo didn't freeze. Why is this relevant? Ohhh you'll find out soon enough.
Cuz they gave me free fucking beer, that's why.
The last time you graced this fine blog, you were undoubtedly shocked and disturbed by the ending of part 1...how would Milo survive the midwest without a jacket? How would we all survive a hungover flight to the midwest? As Mikey would say...this is a good'er.
For the first half of the flight, there were maybe 20 people on the whole plane, which was fine by us. We all felt like bags of smashed assholes, as expected...till the flight attendants started chatting us up. One was pretty good looking, one was...well, old...but they were both super friendly. We ordered drinks, they promptly brought them..and when we went to pay...they wouldn't let us. Well, this was a good sign! Paul and me were sitting together, Jeff and Rob were behind us. Paul wanted to sleep, so I drank his. When it came time to order round 2, I ordered one for him...cuz ya know, I'm a nice guy. Round 2 arrives...again, they won't take our money. Round 2 is promptly guzzled. Paul didn't wake up in that 46 seconds, so I drank his too...and politely stacked the cans on his tray. Arrival at Salt Lake (stopover) added a plethora of new passengers, so we figured our windfall was over. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.
Or not.
Round 3? Free. Round 4? Free. Paul = still asleep. Tim = 2 beers. Paul's tray = 4 more empty cans. By Round 5, we were trying to actually force them to take our money, which I think they did from Jeff. I'm not really sure what their rationale was for the charity, other than we were entertaining...Jeff or Rob might remember, but I was 10 beers deep at 11AM PST, after consuming half a brewery the night before. Leave me alone, dammit.
Around this time, Paul woke up. The look on his face was fucking priceless as he tried to compute the 10 empty beer cans on his tray...then he looked at me, and just started laughing. I guess I was kinda unsober. Jeff and Milo weren't far behind. After laughing about this for a little while longer...we arrived!
We were waaay too gassed for public transportation. Cabbed it to the hotel, which was pretty nice. Straight to the store for 24 beers. Stocked our 2 fridges, relieved a few cans of their contents, and went to check this place out.
We were staying right next to Laclede's Landing, which is a large area of bars, restaurants, etc. We saw probably 90% of the bars. At some point we got split up, since Jeff and I wanted to check out a brewpub that Pauly and Milo weren't interested in. We ended up finding them in a club later, after been led there by a posse of poon from Decatur, Illinois. Yea, I dunno where it is either. After having a fatty give me a lapdance (as usual, the fattys love me, but no one else does), we paraded around for a while in our jerseys like the attention whores that we were, and bought large portions of meat from a meat vendor.
What's a meat vendor, you ask?
You know the hot dog stands outside of bars? Just like that...except they sell BBQ'd stuff. Brisket, pulled pork, rib sandwiches...it was pretty fucking crazy. I got the rear left leg of a cow for 4 dollars. I found half of it in the bathroom the next day, for some reason. [Feedback edit - this was not an attempt at potty humor...there was actually half of the thing sitting on the bathroom counter when I went in there the next day.]
The entire contents of the night aren't quite clear to me...I know Milo almost got bit by a cart-pulling horse, after asking the lady if he was friendly, and her replying NOPE, and him still trying to pet the thing. I know there's a picture somewhere of the fat girls tits on my head. And Milo fell out of the computer chair in the hotel room, and fell asleep with half his body on the bed. Knees on the floor, top half of his body on the bed, face down. It was a sight to behold.
Next day was hockey day! 24 more in the fridges...after morning/afternoon beers to kill the hangover, we...didn't do a whole lot. Cabride to the arena, where we all did the lightbulb dance with the brown taxi driver...more beers, then GAME TIME! Watched the pregame warmup from the corner, where we yelled at Willie Mitchell a lot. Canucks won in a shootout, which was awesome. Pretty good atmosphere for a game, and the fans were really nice to us (except Pauly and some drunk dude getting into a bathroom argument...that was actually pretty funny). Saw some sweet jerseys, and the biggest cellular phone of all time. No shit, this thing was a shoebox with a car antenna...we laughed at that for a long time.
We're trying to figure out how to get a cab away from the arena, along with 15,000 other people, when Milo yells "GUYS, OVER HERE"...Pauly and I look over...at a blue minivan. Not a cab...just a dude's van. A 5 year old kid with a 'RIDE' sign. Then our friendly "driver", Oscar Williams, runs over to us...
"You boys need a ride dontcha! 3 dollas each, anywhere in the city! Don't worry, I aint gonna rob y'all, look at this big stackamoney I got right here...I don't got to rob you's!"
Paul and I looked at each with the exact same expression on our faces. It read "Oh, helllllnofuckinway. Are you kidding me? Getting into a random's van in the STL? Not a chance in hell. Nope. Nuh uh." Fuckin Milo is already in the back of the thing.
So, Oscar turned out to be a pretty nice guy. Jeff and I discussed the city and the Blues with Oscar in the front while the anklebiter in the back demanded a tip from Milo and Paul. He dropped us off at what he said was a good sunday hangout...but it turned out to be a bowling alley/Chuck E Cheese kinda joint. Not our thing. We tried to come up with a plan outside, when a ridiculously drunk dude came up to us and started giving us pointers on where to go. Outta nowhere he just fucking screamed HEYYYYYYY! at a cab going by. He scared the piss out of all 4 of us, he was so loud...but he got the cabs attention. Unfortunately.
Get in the cab...and this homeboy is straight up high on crack. No fucking joke, Pauly videotaped the whole thing. He was falling asleep at lights against the steering wheel, telling us all about the titty bars across the river (everyone talked about them, actually), told us a joke no one understood, and called us 'niggas' about 38 times in 2 minutes. In between fits of laughter, we had to call an audible and go back to the Landing, since it was close and we wanted to...ya know, survive.
It's sunday night, so things are pretty slow at the Landing, except for one bar. Get in there, go to order a drink, and the bartender says "it's 20 bucks, all you can drink...you want a wristband?" to Paul and I. I looked at the guy like he was speaking taiwanese. There was no way he said what I think he just said. I asked the guy to repeat himself twice more, and once for Pauly's camera for verification, before I believed it. 9PM - 1AM, all you can drink. My dream come true. I nearly nutted in my shorts...I'm sure you wanted to know that.
After actually running over to Jeff and Milo to explain our hitting of the proverbial lottery, it was on. I got bored of corona's pretty quick. Then the bartender explained that anything they had was included. Grey Goose? Check. Tanqueray? Check. Hooooly crap. I had a grey goose fucking bloody mary, cuz I didn't know what the hell to mix it with. I was ON FIRE. I think I got pretty drunk pretty quick, cuz quite possibly the hottest woman alive (at least to me) was dancing away on her own, and I was mesmerized by her. The other 3 thought I was retarded. Go booze. Anyways, around 10:30 I needed to chill out for a bit, so Pauly and I decided to walk down to another bar to see what was going on...I knew my wristband had me covered till 1AM, so it's all good, right? Come on, this is me we're talking about.
Halfway to the other bar...danger erupts. Timmy's tummy no feel so good. I tell Pauly to carry on, that I'm gonna go back to the hotel (only 2 blocks away), take care of it, and meet him down there. Yes you jackals, you can officially call me shitbreak now. Besides, what happened afterwards was much, much worse than any name you can call me.
I hear noises. Noises eerily similar to a door opening...and drunk-speak. I open my eyes...and I'm staring at a pillow. Quick look around...I'm on my bed, in my hotel room. "DUDE, what the fuck happened to you? Where did you go?"
FUCK!!! Shitty McFuckfuck! I passed out! I have no idea how...but there I was, fully clothed, beached on my bed. Jeff told me it was 3:30AM...so I guess I passed out for close to 5 hours. I hate the world...I hit the fucking alcohol jackpot, and I pass out at 10:30? How come this doesn't happen when I'm payin 6.50 a beer at some terrible club at home? I can't begin to explain my disappointment in myself.
Apparently they closed the place, then ended up at a casino where one of them made out with an ashtray. Or a girl named Tashay. Or something. Milo then tried to jump onto his bed, and bounced right off the other side onto the floor, which was highly amusing...but I couldn't quite get over my party foul. I had shamed the team. Sadly, this wasn't the last time.
They all woke up hungover...I woke up fine. Another kick in the nuts...I should have been hungover, dammit! After checking out the Arch and the Mississippi River (the only touristy things we actually did, I think), we headed to the airport to head for stop 2...Columbus.
And in case you're wondering, St Louis wasn't that cold...so Milo didn't freeze. Why is this relevant? Ohhh you'll find out soon enough.
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