Okay, so it took me 22 days to write the final chapter. As stated many times before, I'm laaazy. Plus I finally got money in my poker account again, so I've been spending my spare time punching my desk and yelling incoherently at my monitor. I love poker.
Anyways, where were we? Oh yea, that mother nature bitch.
I decided I should go to bed just after the rain started. I was fairly buzzed, but not buzzed enough (or dressed appropriately enough) for a rain party. I got into my tent, got all curled up and comfy, and promptly fell asleep. At some point in the next couple hours, I was awoken by:
A) Gale force winds;
B) An avalanche of water being dumped on my tent;
C) The side of my tent hitting me in the face:
D) ALL OF THE FUCKING ABOVE. Welcome to hurricane season in SW Washington, Tim.
My el cheapo Walmart tent was obviously not made for hurricanes. Actually, I think it might have collapsed if someone just ran by it really quickly. I wasn't thinking about that when I bought it though. I was thinking "What's the bare minimum I can get by with, and still have a shitload of money left over for as many Keystone Lights as possible?". Nice work, fatty. I was paying for my single-mindedness now. I awoke, in the fetal position, to...hell.
The tent had basically imploded. All 4 sides were now perilously close to my face. The fly was still attached, but was blowing more than Jenna Jameson in her prime. Whenever it flipped up, a not-so-nice spritzer of rain would enter through the mesh. And hit me in the face. I had puddles of water all around me, and my sleeping bag, clothes, and bag were all soaked. My hair was soaked. I guess it could be compared to being in the womb, but the water was colder and I'm pretty sure I wasn't gonna get breasts to suck on when I finally escaped.
My first thought was "Hooooly shit, if I wasn't in this tent right now, I wonder how far away it'd be from here?" My second thought was "How the fuck did I sleep through this for this long? It looks like a rain abortion in here." My 3rd thought was in sync with my first words..."JESSSSS!!! WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK IS THIS FUCKING SHIT!"
He was awake too, unsurprisingly. He yelled back something I couldn't understand cuz the wind was too loud. Our tents were like 10 feet away from each other, and we couldn't even hear one another. Do the math there, champ. Shit was fucked up! I decided I had to get the fuck outta there, ASAP. I got dressed in 0.28 seconds, and got outta my tent.
And it blew away.
My first thought came true in about 2 seconds. Even though my sleeping bag, backpack, and various other shit was in there, the fucking thing took off like a missile. Luckily there was a big bank of trees about 5 feet from where my tent was originally located, so it blew into them. I chased it down and pulled it over to the picnic table. Proving that I'm smart at least SOME of the time (ya know, other than deciding camping in hurricane season was an awesome idea!), I popped one of the poles out, put it around the leg of the cemented-in picnic table, and re-attached it to it's peg. Luckily, it held.
I've been outside for about 45 seconds at this point, and I'm straight up soaked. Jess emerges from his tent, which has a shitload of water inside as well, and we load all our shit into the rav 4. After 3 minutes, I feel like I've taken a shower with my clothes on. The wind is cutting right through my wet clothes, and I'm colder than Luc Bourdon is right now.
Hoooleee shit that was a terrible joke. If that offended anyone...sweet!
Anyways, the next words out of bitch's mouth were golden: "Fuck it, let's grab a beer". We did so, and decided to drink it in the only warm, dry, and unoccupied place we could think of.
The bathroom.
Yup yup, we ran across the street, and drank our beers in the heated shitter. It was 4:10am. I used the heatblower thing to try and dry my shoes, to no avail. We laughed about our situation, and tried to come up with a suitable solution. All we could come up with was "let's drink beer and sit in the Rav 4". So...that's what we did.
We sat in the car for 7 hours, and got completely smashed. We drank a whole bottle of baileys, and a shitload of beer. We could only get 2 radio stations...the christian station, and a country station. So we alternated between betting how many lines into a song "Jesus" or "The Lord" would be said...and we sang country songs. Do you have any fucking idea how fucking funny country music is at 7am, after a bottle of baileys? "International Harvester", by Craig Morgan, could be the funniest drunk song of all time. "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk", by Trace Adkins...not far behind.
By the time the girls got up at 11am (it had stopped raining around 8:30), the first thing Jess slurred to Jamie was "Woman, we'rrre drrrunk. Drrrive us to town for brreakfast! Now!" We were so drunk they wouldn't even eat at the same restuarant as us. They dropped us off and went up the street. After our drunken lunch, we staggered out and up to where they were. After a couple blocks we hear "HEEEEEY" from behind us...and a fat girl was chasing us. I'm used to the fat girl love by now, so I thought she just wanted an autograph or something...but she was holding my jacket. Oops...it was our waitress, chasing us down to give it back. That was actually really nice of her. She had a big heart...figuratively and literally.
After arrival back at the site, the girls started talking about where they could shop. I told them to go to Astoria, but they didn't think anything was there. I dunno where the hell it came from, but I told them about the Astoria walmart, and said they could get tonsa cheap shit there. They thought that was a great idea, so they buggered off to the Astoria walmart.
Why is this funny? Cuz there is no Astoria walmart.
Jess thought it was hilarious that they actually bought the story and went to find it, but it turned out waaaay better than that. While Jess and I had a nice nap and watched a couple movies in the nice warm yurt, the girls went on a wild goose chase for an imaginary walmart. When they got to Astoria and couldn't find it, they asked a lady, who filled them in on the lack of a walmart...but she told them there was one in Longview, which was "only 20 miles away". This lady was seriously retarded, cuz Longview is at least 90 miles from Astoria. But the girls didn't know that...so they drove all the way there for Walmart.
And it was closed. Easter sunday.
Needless to say, they were not amused with Timmy when they got back. FIVE HOURS LATER. Hey, we had a good nap....at least someone enjoyed their time!
After sitting around for a while, we decided to go to town for dinner. The McDonalds in Long Beach has an air hockey table! This shit was on! I whooped Jess like cyclones whoop Myanmar, and ripped a huge hole in the crotch of my jeans while celebrating a goal. Dammit. After that, we went to buy more booze, but the town liquor store couldn't sell hard stuff after 8pm or some shit. What the hell? It's America. Part of it's charm is that you can get blasted on 2 dollar ghetto swill at anytime of the day. BS.
We were outta firewood, so we went to the store to grab some...and that was closed too! However, there were 5 bundles of firewood that just happened to be sitting in front of the store....was it free? We didn't know. After sitting there and debating it for a couple minutes, Melissa (you know it was you!) said we should just grab it. I was peer-pressured into volunteering...and I committed a felony. Or a misdemeanor. Or something. I grabbed 3 bundles, stuffed them in the car, and I had committed my first real crime (other than drinking in public). I'm not gonna lie folks, it felt good. Damn good.
After the best fire ever, everyone passed out pretty early. Jess and I ditched the whole tent idea. He slept with Jamie in the yurt (rat bastard), and I decided to sleep in the Rav 4. Round peg...square hole. I didn't exactly fit too well. Jess and Jamie thought I was up all night drinking, cuz they kept hearing cans opening on the patio of the yurt, where the cooler was. Nope. That fucker Steve, the one-eyed dorito-stealing raccoon douchebag, systematically bit a hole in every single one of my remaining beers during the course of the night. One last pimp slap from mother nature for disrespecting and underestimating her.
Thanks a lot, bitch. And I don't mean Jess.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Disappointment, Take 2
I dunno if you've ever experienced nature's fury. I have, and let me tell you, it's not sunshine and puppies. I have no quarrel with nature...I happen to enjoy it very much. Mother nature, however, seems to have a vendetta against me. She uses her beauty and variety to suck me in, then kicks the everloving shit out of me. Since I don't enjoy misery alone, I usually end up sharing the misery with my friends. They can thank me later.
I know what you're thinking...what the fuck is fatty talking about? Is he drunk?
I'm talking about Cape Disappointment redux. Part 2. The encore. And, for the record...no, I am not drunk. This is my first beer. So eff off!
Since Jess and I had such a great time at Disappointment in October (see Road Trip With 2 Bitches, parts 1-3), we decided we'd go back in late march. It started off as a trip for the members of Jess's wedding party to meet and greet in a sea of booze and fire, but it didn't work out that way. Jim couldn't come, and neither could Jamie's bridesmaid. So it ended up being me, Jess, Jamie, her maid of honour Melissa, and their friend Janet. We could only get 1 yurt, so Jess and I gave it to the ladies and decided we'd tent camp at the next site. Good idea, right? $%&!!
Jess and I were taking his mom's Rav 4, and the girls drove down in Janet's car. We were goin on easter weekend and knew the border would be crazy busy, so we got off to an early start. Jess and I were up at 5:45 and at the border by 6:30...and there was already a monster lineup. I (brilliantly) decided we should go thru the duty-free, which meant we could skip a ton of the line. After a beer purchase we head back to the car, eager to get on the way.
Yea, right.
In the 10 minutes we were inside the store, the parking lot completely filled up. We couldn't move at all for 20 minutes...when we finally did, we were slotted into a lane (1 of 7) so traffic could be streamed back into the line more efficiently. We sat there for well over an hour, losing our minds from boredom, till we finally made it back into the line. Another 40 minutes or so, and we finally crossed the border. Total time? 2 hours, 20 minutes. Yes, that sucked! But...
The silver lining of all this? The girls decided the border wouldn't be that bad, and left a little bit after us. They arrived at the border about 45 minutes after we did...didn't do the duty-free thing....guess how long they were there.
GUESS!
2 hours? They wish. 3? Pishaw! 4? That's how long it took just to get TO the duty-free! If you guess 5.5 hours, you would be correct!
I believe the correct description of this is....AAAAHAHAHAHAHA! Men = resourceful and smart! Women, not so much!
Jess and I stopped for money (where Jess left his bankcard in the machine and walked away...there goes the smart man statement), and Jack In The Box for food. Jess had forgotten to load music onto a flash drive to listen to in the car, so he busted out his laptop in the JITB for a while to complete this task. The locals thought he had palsy or somethin, but...let's face it, he probably does.
Next stop, native liquor and walmart. Miller Lite! Jager! I should point out that I had misplaced my tent and camping gear, and had to purchase new stuff at walmart. Cheapest tent I'd fit in? Check. Shitty 6 dollar sleeping mat instead of air mattress? Check. Camping chair that can hold 225lbs? Che...wait a minute. Other camping chair that can hold 300lbs for 2 more dollars? Muthafuckin check!
After laying waste to the Walmart bathroom and noticing that this walmart was the epicenter of fat people in the state of Washington (I was svelte here!), we headed on our way. Upon leaving the I5, we were welcomed by some of the ugliest towns known to man, and a whole lotta clear-cut forests. Not the prettiest drive. But it was worth it, cuz around 4pm we arrived back in our adopted hood! Ilwaco! Long Beach! Cape Disappointment! Malt Liquor Energy Drinks, Bitch!
We set up our stuff, and went to call the ladies to see where they were. Quelle surprise! They were nowhere near the place yet. Jess and I played on the beach for a bit and chilled till the ladies finally arrived, long after dark. Fire was brought to life by the resident girl scout, and the ladies passed out fairly early after their exhausting day. Jess and I? Not so much. We decided to to go to the beach in the dark. Drunk. Big mistake. Jess swore up and down the strange cloud formation we saw in the sky was the northern lights, somehow. I kept telling him he was retarded, but he started into some nerdspeak lecture that almost convinced me. After 20 minutes he realized...it was a cloud. Just a cloud. Dumbest smart guy I know. Go malt liquor!
On our way back to the campsite, we...got lost. We couldn't find our path back into the park. We found an abandoned boat, and lotsa wood and grass...but no path. At first it was funny, but after 3 or 4 laps up and down the beach, it got a little weird. Eventually we just walked through the bushes, and emerged in the park...somewhere. After consulting park maps, finding nice showers, and laughing uncontrollably, we finally found our way back, eager to tell the girls of our idiotic adventure. But they were asleep. Denied.
People, never EVER let Jess mix drinks for you. He makes the worst jager bombs known to man. When the bomb's still brown AFTER you add the red bull, you fucked up! We both got totally smashed pretty quickly, and discussed everything from drugs to murders to family/friend criminal histories to animal abuse. We found it funny. The family 2 sites over, with their kid's tents totally within earshot...not so much. Those kids are scarred now. Oh, and Jess decided eating hot dogs right off the metal cooking pole was a great idea, and burned his lip. I laughed so hard I coughed on my keystone light. We stayed up drinking super late, and eventually passed the fuck out.
So far? Nature has been our friend. The deer Jess went berserk on during the first trip were out and about. Our raccoon friends were still around, but kept a low profile for the first night. The weather was good, if a bit cold. Everything this was too good to be true. And you know what that means!
Saturday started off nicely enough. Cold but dry weather meant a trip to the beach with the ladies. Jamie proved she's from the interior by asking such deep philosophical questions such as "What are shellfish?" and trying to dig for clams with a stick. You don't believe me? Here, see for yourself:
After the girls wrote their names in the sand and amused themselves for awhile, it was jetty time. Waves ate them, but not nearly as bad as the last time we were there. Nonetheless, they were amused (and wet). Next up, it was onto Long Beach for food and entertainment. Upon arrival, the girls wanted to pose with the same animal statues that we posed on the first time we came down here. There was a big sign that said "No climbing on animals", but the village idiot cleared that up for us pretty quick. Some kids on their bikes rode up, and palsy-boy said:
"Don't worry, the police station is across the street (points awkwardly across the street; almost falls off his bike), but (long pause), 98% of the time they don't care what happens. I know, cuz I've lived here for (counts on his fingers, another long pause)...11 years! Or 13. No, 11! Yea! Umm...bye!"
Welcome to small town America.
Next up was the awesomest museum ever. If you read the blog about the first trip, we were mesmerized by an execution machine. Insert a quarter, watch someone get...well, executed. Here, see for yourself:
How fucking cool is that?
There's no way we could top that, so it was lunchtime...and, true to form, Long Beach offered more hilarity. This was the sign on the door of the restaurant:
Does this even require a witty comment?
After grabbing some firewood, we headed back to camp. The raccoons were out in full force for the rest of the day/night. Jess gave them some baileys, but not very much (this becomes important later). Jess the f'n nerd did some homework, while the rest of us putzed about and did some drinking. Nightfall arrived. I had left a family-sized bag of doritos on the ledge of the yurt, and a fucking raccoon fucking shanghai'd it! No offence, people of chinese descent. Anyways, the little bastard took the bag under the yurt and ate the whole god damn thing. PIG. We fed them various stuff, and eventually gave them names. Steve was the broken-eyed dorito stealer. There was also Bruno, Cyril Sneer, and a host of others unworthy of names.
Everyone else passed out early, except me. Steve decided he was gonna steal diet cokes from the case next to me, which was fairly amusing...till be bit a hole in the side of one. He jumped about 3 feet in the air, screeched, and fucking took off. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, and no one was there to share it with me. Too bad that little fucker got me back the next night.
Around 1am, the weather got much colder, and a light rain started to fall. I'm not sure what I did to deserve the impending destruction....laughing at raccoons? Leaving beer cans all over the place? Busting out the 6-years-past Bow Wow jokes on Jamie? Anyways, no matter what I did...I'll never forget what mother nature had in store for me that night. Nor will I ever forget how much fucking proverbial lemonade Jess and I made outta lemons in the aftermath.
Ya wanna read about it? Come back in a day or two (or 11), and it'll be here. Same fat-time, same fat-channel. Or blog. Or whatever.
I know what you're thinking...what the fuck is fatty talking about? Is he drunk?
I'm talking about Cape Disappointment redux. Part 2. The encore. And, for the record...no, I am not drunk. This is my first beer. So eff off!
Since Jess and I had such a great time at Disappointment in October (see Road Trip With 2 Bitches, parts 1-3), we decided we'd go back in late march. It started off as a trip for the members of Jess's wedding party to meet and greet in a sea of booze and fire, but it didn't work out that way. Jim couldn't come, and neither could Jamie's bridesmaid. So it ended up being me, Jess, Jamie, her maid of honour Melissa, and their friend Janet. We could only get 1 yurt, so Jess and I gave it to the ladies and decided we'd tent camp at the next site. Good idea, right? $%&!!
Jess and I were taking his mom's Rav 4, and the girls drove down in Janet's car. We were goin on easter weekend and knew the border would be crazy busy, so we got off to an early start. Jess and I were up at 5:45 and at the border by 6:30...and there was already a monster lineup. I (brilliantly) decided we should go thru the duty-free, which meant we could skip a ton of the line. After a beer purchase we head back to the car, eager to get on the way.
Yea, right.
In the 10 minutes we were inside the store, the parking lot completely filled up. We couldn't move at all for 20 minutes...when we finally did, we were slotted into a lane (1 of 7) so traffic could be streamed back into the line more efficiently. We sat there for well over an hour, losing our minds from boredom, till we finally made it back into the line. Another 40 minutes or so, and we finally crossed the border. Total time? 2 hours, 20 minutes. Yes, that sucked! But...
The silver lining of all this? The girls decided the border wouldn't be that bad, and left a little bit after us. They arrived at the border about 45 minutes after we did...didn't do the duty-free thing....guess how long they were there.
GUESS!
2 hours? They wish. 3? Pishaw! 4? That's how long it took just to get TO the duty-free! If you guess 5.5 hours, you would be correct!
I believe the correct description of this is....AAAAHAHAHAHAHA! Men = resourceful and smart! Women, not so much!
Jess and I stopped for money (where Jess left his bankcard in the machine and walked away...there goes the smart man statement), and Jack In The Box for food. Jess had forgotten to load music onto a flash drive to listen to in the car, so he busted out his laptop in the JITB for a while to complete this task. The locals thought he had palsy or somethin, but...let's face it, he probably does.
Next stop, native liquor and walmart. Miller Lite! Jager! I should point out that I had misplaced my tent and camping gear, and had to purchase new stuff at walmart. Cheapest tent I'd fit in? Check. Shitty 6 dollar sleeping mat instead of air mattress? Check. Camping chair that can hold 225lbs? Che...wait a minute. Other camping chair that can hold 300lbs for 2 more dollars? Muthafuckin check!
After laying waste to the Walmart bathroom and noticing that this walmart was the epicenter of fat people in the state of Washington (I was svelte here!), we headed on our way. Upon leaving the I5, we were welcomed by some of the ugliest towns known to man, and a whole lotta clear-cut forests. Not the prettiest drive. But it was worth it, cuz around 4pm we arrived back in our adopted hood! Ilwaco! Long Beach! Cape Disappointment! Malt Liquor Energy Drinks, Bitch!
We set up our stuff, and went to call the ladies to see where they were. Quelle surprise! They were nowhere near the place yet. Jess and I played on the beach for a bit and chilled till the ladies finally arrived, long after dark. Fire was brought to life by the resident girl scout, and the ladies passed out fairly early after their exhausting day. Jess and I? Not so much. We decided to to go to the beach in the dark. Drunk. Big mistake. Jess swore up and down the strange cloud formation we saw in the sky was the northern lights, somehow. I kept telling him he was retarded, but he started into some nerdspeak lecture that almost convinced me. After 20 minutes he realized...it was a cloud. Just a cloud. Dumbest smart guy I know. Go malt liquor!
On our way back to the campsite, we...got lost. We couldn't find our path back into the park. We found an abandoned boat, and lotsa wood and grass...but no path. At first it was funny, but after 3 or 4 laps up and down the beach, it got a little weird. Eventually we just walked through the bushes, and emerged in the park...somewhere. After consulting park maps, finding nice showers, and laughing uncontrollably, we finally found our way back, eager to tell the girls of our idiotic adventure. But they were asleep. Denied.
People, never EVER let Jess mix drinks for you. He makes the worst jager bombs known to man. When the bomb's still brown AFTER you add the red bull, you fucked up! We both got totally smashed pretty quickly, and discussed everything from drugs to murders to family/friend criminal histories to animal abuse. We found it funny. The family 2 sites over, with their kid's tents totally within earshot...not so much. Those kids are scarred now. Oh, and Jess decided eating hot dogs right off the metal cooking pole was a great idea, and burned his lip. I laughed so hard I coughed on my keystone light. We stayed up drinking super late, and eventually passed the fuck out.
So far? Nature has been our friend. The deer Jess went berserk on during the first trip were out and about. Our raccoon friends were still around, but kept a low profile for the first night. The weather was good, if a bit cold. Everything this was too good to be true. And you know what that means!
Saturday started off nicely enough. Cold but dry weather meant a trip to the beach with the ladies. Jamie proved she's from the interior by asking such deep philosophical questions such as "What are shellfish?" and trying to dig for clams with a stick. You don't believe me? Here, see for yourself:
After the girls wrote their names in the sand and amused themselves for awhile, it was jetty time. Waves ate them, but not nearly as bad as the last time we were there. Nonetheless, they were amused (and wet). Next up, it was onto Long Beach for food and entertainment. Upon arrival, the girls wanted to pose with the same animal statues that we posed on the first time we came down here. There was a big sign that said "No climbing on animals", but the village idiot cleared that up for us pretty quick. Some kids on their bikes rode up, and palsy-boy said:
"Don't worry, the police station is across the street (points awkwardly across the street; almost falls off his bike), but (long pause), 98% of the time they don't care what happens. I know, cuz I've lived here for (counts on his fingers, another long pause)...11 years! Or 13. No, 11! Yea! Umm...bye!"
Welcome to small town America.
Next up was the awesomest museum ever. If you read the blog about the first trip, we were mesmerized by an execution machine. Insert a quarter, watch someone get...well, executed. Here, see for yourself:
How fucking cool is that?
There's no way we could top that, so it was lunchtime...and, true to form, Long Beach offered more hilarity. This was the sign on the door of the restaurant:
Does this even require a witty comment?
After grabbing some firewood, we headed back to camp. The raccoons were out in full force for the rest of the day/night. Jess gave them some baileys, but not very much (this becomes important later). Jess the f'n nerd did some homework, while the rest of us putzed about and did some drinking. Nightfall arrived. I had left a family-sized bag of doritos on the ledge of the yurt, and a fucking raccoon fucking shanghai'd it! No offence, people of chinese descent. Anyways, the little bastard took the bag under the yurt and ate the whole god damn thing. PIG. We fed them various stuff, and eventually gave them names. Steve was the broken-eyed dorito stealer. There was also Bruno, Cyril Sneer, and a host of others unworthy of names.
Everyone else passed out early, except me. Steve decided he was gonna steal diet cokes from the case next to me, which was fairly amusing...till be bit a hole in the side of one. He jumped about 3 feet in the air, screeched, and fucking took off. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt, and no one was there to share it with me. Too bad that little fucker got me back the next night.
Around 1am, the weather got much colder, and a light rain started to fall. I'm not sure what I did to deserve the impending destruction....laughing at raccoons? Leaving beer cans all over the place? Busting out the 6-years-past Bow Wow jokes on Jamie? Anyways, no matter what I did...I'll never forget what mother nature had in store for me that night. Nor will I ever forget how much fucking proverbial lemonade Jess and I made outta lemons in the aftermath.
Ya wanna read about it? Come back in a day or two (or 11), and it'll be here. Same fat-time, same fat-channel. Or blog. Or whatever.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Hockey, endgame
There's no hockey tonight, so I have some free time on my hands for once. And a 6 pack. So, I might as well just finish up the hockey story. For any of you showing up anytime soon and finding this, scroll down and read part 4 first. DO IT NOW. If you're reading this sentence, you better understand part 4...there's a pop quiz at the end. DO IT NOW. By the way, if you're wondering why the hell we went to Sarnia....Milo's dad lives there. It seemed like a good, quiet ending to the trip. This turned out to be true...and we had a lot of fun there too.
So, after singing terrible songs and escaping Michigan, we arrived in Sarnia at 1am or so. We bought a trunkload of beer at the duty free, so we were set. Pete and Sue (Milo's dad and stepmom) greeted us all with open arms, and we sat up drinking for a couple hours. I had met Pete before, but not Sue. They're both awesome, in their own way. Pete's a grumpy old bastard who's very set in his ways, but it's impossible not to like the guy. His grumpiness is hilarious, and he doesn't take himself too seriously. Sue is just straight up awesome. I can't say enough good things about her. She had beds set up for all of us, and made us feel right at home. I was lucky to score the attic, since my snoring woulda kept everyone up. Thanks for letting me crash up there all 3 days, guys.
After a great nights sleep, I was refreshed and ready to binge drink. Milo took me out to the other side of the city, where Mike Weir is from. We had a beer in his bar, and checked out a few other things. Sarnia's actually really nice. Honestly, it is. I'm not drunk. I'm telling the truth. After kicking about and consuming some wobbly pops, we went down to an OHL game. Pete and Sue were nice enough to score us tickets to a Sarnia Sting game...for those not in the know, the Sting are a junior team, who had the top-rated prospect in all of hockey on their team...Steven Stamkos. Milo's friend Mike came with us, and laid out the rules for me...well, the only rule. Never, EVER order a beer from the runner, who brings it to your seat...ALWAYS go up to the bar and get it yourself. They always bring you terrible beer, no matter what you order. Simple enough to follow, right?
Yea right. I'm a lazy bastard. Start of the 2nd period, I order a Stella from the runner. Sure enough, the thing tastes like paint thinner. I have no idea how they could get beer to taste this bad, but it was terrible. Why don't I just listen sometimes? Anyways, we spent most of the game heckling the other team and their fans, which apparently isn't how Sting fans usually act...oops. Everyone was pretty shocked at our antics...except Pete, who started yelling right along with us. Sue took it all pretty well. We almost made a 16 year old hockey player cry. It ruled. Stamkos played awesome, for those of you that care.
Next up, we went to the only good bar in the city. Seriously, this is what we were told. This was the only bar that any remotely attractive women went to, apparently. Uh, sure. The bar had a cool layout, and was pretty big...but the only thing I found "cool" about it was that the upstairs had a bunch of crazy metal bands playing in a corner, one after the other. Other than that, it was...just your average terrible club. Sans attractive women. I got bored after a while, but I didn't wanna drag the boys away from the ghetto poon they were working on...so I took a cab back to Pete and Sue's. About 1:30am. I just expected the front door to be open.
Nope.
Did I mention it was -20 outside? And I had no jacket?
It took about 4 seconds before I officially freaked the fuck out and rang the doorbell 562 times.
No response. Ohhhh no.
I decided the best thing to do was to try the back door...yea, that'll be open, right? After climbing their gate like a drunk spider monkey (and totally looking like a hungry burglar to everyone who coulda seen me), I got to the back door.
Nada.
Fuck it, I thought....I pounded on Pete and Sue's window till Sue woke up and let me in. I nearly gave her a heart attack, but at least I was warm! She filled me in on the fact that she gave Paul the key before we left. Thanks for telling me guys! The funny part is that she gave it to Paul instead of her own stepson, cuz she knew Milo would lose it. Ha. After I got inside and got warm, I laughed at that for a while and drank Miller Lite till the crew got back. Poonless, of course. I almost disappeared to London, but Kelly was goin through some shit. Next time.
Saturday rolls around. We all wake up, suprisingly un-hungover. What's on the agenda today? Strippers and UFC, that's what! After a few morning/afternoon brews, we went with Sue to her local pub for a bit, and got some "recommendations" on peeler bars from a guy with a grey front tooth. You'd think that shoulda been a warning that he didn't have good taste. Or a good dental plan.
There are 2 strip clubs in Sarnia...greytooth told us the other sucks, and to go to the "good one". We walk in, and see a table with a few women sitting at it. The first thing we hear is "Aww, does dis mean we gotta dance or sumtin?" What? There is NO ONE ELSE in the place. We are served a beer, music starts, and a black girl gets up on stage. Does she dance? Nope. Does she strip? Nope. She walks around the poles for a song, flashes us her tits, and leaves. We tried not to laugh, but we were unsuccessful. After a few more minutes of weirdness, another black girl comes out. Much better looking. She actually dances. Cool. She actually takes her clothes off. Sweet. The best part was the end though. After she finished up, she got off the stage, walked over to us...and proceeded to hug, kiss and thank all of us. 1 by 1. It was fucking odd. At least she smelled good.
We laughed the whole way to the next club, which was...a real strip club. It wasn't that busy, but there were actual people there. And an actual DJ (a midget, if I remember correctly...there was a midget somewhere!)...and actual dancers. I musta had a few beers by then, cuz I don't remember all the details. Like who the fucking midget was!
After chillin back at the house for a bit, we went over to Mike's to watch the UFC. There was also a Roy Jones fight that night that people wanted to watch...so Mike came up with the best of both worlds. He borrowed his friends cable box, threw a 2nd TV in the living room, and we were able to watch both at the same time! Mike fucking rules. Next time you're out here, I owe you a few beers buddy. After that, it was a semi-early night, cuz we had a long ass trip home the next day.
Nothing really eventful happened on the way home...except it was looong. 1.5 hr drive to Detroit...3 hour flight to Denver. Connect to 3 hour flight to Seattle. And 3 hour drive home. 3 states, 2 provinces, 1 day. Ugh.
In closing, I just wanna thank Pete and Sue for their wonderful hospitality. You're both awesome people, and Rob's lucky to have you. Hopefully we can come visit again soon. Mike, thanks for hooking us up in Sarnia, and it was great meeting you, the wife, and the kiddo. All the canucks fans we met along the way, thanks for being as drunk and retarded as we were. Hefty girl in St Louis, thanks for the boobie hat. Bouncers at every bar we were in, thanks for not kicking my ass. Most of all, I wanna thank Milo, Jeff, and Pauly for a kickass trip.
Pauly, thanks for always being upbeat and positive, and never getting frustrated with all the retarded things Milo and I did. And thanks again for driving the Langley/Seattle legs. I'm glad you got the travel bug, bro. It never goes away.
Jeff...you're a fucking funny guy. Thanks for making me laugh the whole time, and many times since then. You're the only guy I know that can go as hard as I can and still be standing and functional. I wish I could type out a Milo impression, but it's not quite the same. Oh, and thanks for threatening to kick the shit outta Milo when he stuck his hand in your suitcase...I laughed just now, thinking about that.
Milo, thanks for putting up with my snoring. Dude, you were fucking hilarious the whole time, whether you intended it or not. You definitely had the best lines of the trip.
Waitress: "How are y'all doin today?"
Paul/Tim/Jeff: "Fine, thanks".
Milo: "Actually lady, I feel like a big bag of shit!"
Or...
"These are the worst ribs I've ever had!"
5 minutes later...."These aren't too bad!"
Another 5 minutes... "These are the best ribs I've ever had!"
Priceless stuff. I hope we can all do it again sometime, if you bastards can put up with me once more.
Cities we checked out - 6
Hockey games - 4
Pucks in my beer - 1
Other canucks fans we met - Lots!
Times Jeff and I impersonated Milo - over a hundred
Women any of us got with - Nada. Ashtray don't count.
Bars/restaurants we drank in - Seattle 1, St Louis 10, Columbus 3 (for me, the rest of them, probably 8-10), Chicago 3 (other guys 4), Detroit 2, Sarnia 5, Denver 1. So 25 for me, 31-33 for them. In 10 days.
Beers bought for pre/postgaming at hotels/houses - 132. I think. And at least 30 on planes. And probably 40 more at the hockey games. This is for all 4 of us by the way, before you drive over and take me to an AA meeting.
Cabs - 12, plus a caddy, plus Oscar
Videos Paul has on his camera - 50?
Number of those videos Paul can't show to the general public, due to comments containing some sort of racism/sexism/pedophilia/beastiality/homophobia/etc...47?
Number of those videos where it's Tim doing making the controversial comments - 45?
Here's a few pics...just cuz.
All of us with the kickass flight attendants (left to right: Paul, Jeff, me, Milo)
Pauly and Milo, before the St Louis game
Me, Paul, Jeff - Savvis Center bar, St Louis
Me, Milo, Pauly - Savvis Center bar, St Louis
Warm ups, Savvis Center, St Louis
Me, Pauly, Milo - Ohio Stadium, Columbus
Pauly, Jeff, Milo and Me - Jordan Statue, United Center, Chicago. It was f'n cold.
The view Pauly and I had from our stolen seats, Joe Louis Arena, Detroit
Waiting for the shuttle in Detroit, with some crazies. I'm very far in the background
Milo, Pauly, Me - Detroit Airport. Not sure what Pauly's doing here. Jeff surprised me with the stupid camera
This has nothing to do with the trip, but my friend did this to her cat, and it makes me laugh. Enjoy.
So, after singing terrible songs and escaping Michigan, we arrived in Sarnia at 1am or so. We bought a trunkload of beer at the duty free, so we were set. Pete and Sue (Milo's dad and stepmom) greeted us all with open arms, and we sat up drinking for a couple hours. I had met Pete before, but not Sue. They're both awesome, in their own way. Pete's a grumpy old bastard who's very set in his ways, but it's impossible not to like the guy. His grumpiness is hilarious, and he doesn't take himself too seriously. Sue is just straight up awesome. I can't say enough good things about her. She had beds set up for all of us, and made us feel right at home. I was lucky to score the attic, since my snoring woulda kept everyone up. Thanks for letting me crash up there all 3 days, guys.
After a great nights sleep, I was refreshed and ready to binge drink. Milo took me out to the other side of the city, where Mike Weir is from. We had a beer in his bar, and checked out a few other things. Sarnia's actually really nice. Honestly, it is. I'm not drunk. I'm telling the truth. After kicking about and consuming some wobbly pops, we went down to an OHL game. Pete and Sue were nice enough to score us tickets to a Sarnia Sting game...for those not in the know, the Sting are a junior team, who had the top-rated prospect in all of hockey on their team...Steven Stamkos. Milo's friend Mike came with us, and laid out the rules for me...well, the only rule. Never, EVER order a beer from the runner, who brings it to your seat...ALWAYS go up to the bar and get it yourself. They always bring you terrible beer, no matter what you order. Simple enough to follow, right?
Yea right. I'm a lazy bastard. Start of the 2nd period, I order a Stella from the runner. Sure enough, the thing tastes like paint thinner. I have no idea how they could get beer to taste this bad, but it was terrible. Why don't I just listen sometimes? Anyways, we spent most of the game heckling the other team and their fans, which apparently isn't how Sting fans usually act...oops. Everyone was pretty shocked at our antics...except Pete, who started yelling right along with us. Sue took it all pretty well. We almost made a 16 year old hockey player cry. It ruled. Stamkos played awesome, for those of you that care.
Next up, we went to the only good bar in the city. Seriously, this is what we were told. This was the only bar that any remotely attractive women went to, apparently. Uh, sure. The bar had a cool layout, and was pretty big...but the only thing I found "cool" about it was that the upstairs had a bunch of crazy metal bands playing in a corner, one after the other. Other than that, it was...just your average terrible club. Sans attractive women. I got bored after a while, but I didn't wanna drag the boys away from the ghetto poon they were working on...so I took a cab back to Pete and Sue's. About 1:30am. I just expected the front door to be open.
Nope.
Did I mention it was -20 outside? And I had no jacket?
It took about 4 seconds before I officially freaked the fuck out and rang the doorbell 562 times.
No response. Ohhhh no.
I decided the best thing to do was to try the back door...yea, that'll be open, right? After climbing their gate like a drunk spider monkey (and totally looking like a hungry burglar to everyone who coulda seen me), I got to the back door.
Nada.
Fuck it, I thought....I pounded on Pete and Sue's window till Sue woke up and let me in. I nearly gave her a heart attack, but at least I was warm! She filled me in on the fact that she gave Paul the key before we left. Thanks for telling me guys! The funny part is that she gave it to Paul instead of her own stepson, cuz she knew Milo would lose it. Ha. After I got inside and got warm, I laughed at that for a while and drank Miller Lite till the crew got back. Poonless, of course. I almost disappeared to London, but Kelly was goin through some shit. Next time.
Saturday rolls around. We all wake up, suprisingly un-hungover. What's on the agenda today? Strippers and UFC, that's what! After a few morning/afternoon brews, we went with Sue to her local pub for a bit, and got some "recommendations" on peeler bars from a guy with a grey front tooth. You'd think that shoulda been a warning that he didn't have good taste. Or a good dental plan.
There are 2 strip clubs in Sarnia...greytooth told us the other sucks, and to go to the "good one". We walk in, and see a table with a few women sitting at it. The first thing we hear is "Aww, does dis mean we gotta dance or sumtin?" What? There is NO ONE ELSE in the place. We are served a beer, music starts, and a black girl gets up on stage. Does she dance? Nope. Does she strip? Nope. She walks around the poles for a song, flashes us her tits, and leaves. We tried not to laugh, but we were unsuccessful. After a few more minutes of weirdness, another black girl comes out. Much better looking. She actually dances. Cool. She actually takes her clothes off. Sweet. The best part was the end though. After she finished up, she got off the stage, walked over to us...and proceeded to hug, kiss and thank all of us. 1 by 1. It was fucking odd. At least she smelled good.
We laughed the whole way to the next club, which was...a real strip club. It wasn't that busy, but there were actual people there. And an actual DJ (a midget, if I remember correctly...there was a midget somewhere!)...and actual dancers. I musta had a few beers by then, cuz I don't remember all the details. Like who the fucking midget was!
After chillin back at the house for a bit, we went over to Mike's to watch the UFC. There was also a Roy Jones fight that night that people wanted to watch...so Mike came up with the best of both worlds. He borrowed his friends cable box, threw a 2nd TV in the living room, and we were able to watch both at the same time! Mike fucking rules. Next time you're out here, I owe you a few beers buddy. After that, it was a semi-early night, cuz we had a long ass trip home the next day.
Nothing really eventful happened on the way home...except it was looong. 1.5 hr drive to Detroit...3 hour flight to Denver. Connect to 3 hour flight to Seattle. And 3 hour drive home. 3 states, 2 provinces, 1 day. Ugh.
In closing, I just wanna thank Pete and Sue for their wonderful hospitality. You're both awesome people, and Rob's lucky to have you. Hopefully we can come visit again soon. Mike, thanks for hooking us up in Sarnia, and it was great meeting you, the wife, and the kiddo. All the canucks fans we met along the way, thanks for being as drunk and retarded as we were. Hefty girl in St Louis, thanks for the boobie hat. Bouncers at every bar we were in, thanks for not kicking my ass. Most of all, I wanna thank Milo, Jeff, and Pauly for a kickass trip.
Pauly, thanks for always being upbeat and positive, and never getting frustrated with all the retarded things Milo and I did. And thanks again for driving the Langley/Seattle legs. I'm glad you got the travel bug, bro. It never goes away.
Jeff...you're a fucking funny guy. Thanks for making me laugh the whole time, and many times since then. You're the only guy I know that can go as hard as I can and still be standing and functional. I wish I could type out a Milo impression, but it's not quite the same. Oh, and thanks for threatening to kick the shit outta Milo when he stuck his hand in your suitcase...I laughed just now, thinking about that.
Milo, thanks for putting up with my snoring. Dude, you were fucking hilarious the whole time, whether you intended it or not. You definitely had the best lines of the trip.
Waitress: "How are y'all doin today?"
Paul/Tim/Jeff: "Fine, thanks".
Milo: "Actually lady, I feel like a big bag of shit!"
Or...
"These are the worst ribs I've ever had!"
5 minutes later...."These aren't too bad!"
Another 5 minutes... "These are the best ribs I've ever had!"
Priceless stuff. I hope we can all do it again sometime, if you bastards can put up with me once more.
Cities we checked out - 6
Hockey games - 4
Pucks in my beer - 1
Other canucks fans we met - Lots!
Times Jeff and I impersonated Milo - over a hundred
Women any of us got with - Nada. Ashtray don't count.
Bars/restaurants we drank in - Seattle 1, St Louis 10, Columbus 3 (for me, the rest of them, probably 8-10), Chicago 3 (other guys 4), Detroit 2, Sarnia 5, Denver 1. So 25 for me, 31-33 for them. In 10 days.
Beers bought for pre/postgaming at hotels/houses - 132. I think. And at least 30 on planes. And probably 40 more at the hockey games. This is for all 4 of us by the way, before you drive over and take me to an AA meeting.
Cabs - 12, plus a caddy, plus Oscar
Videos Paul has on his camera - 50?
Number of those videos Paul can't show to the general public, due to comments containing some sort of racism/sexism/pedophilia/beastiality/homophobia/etc...47?
Number of those videos where it's Tim doing making the controversial comments - 45?
Here's a few pics...just cuz.
All of us with the kickass flight attendants (left to right: Paul, Jeff, me, Milo)
Pauly and Milo, before the St Louis game
Me, Paul, Jeff - Savvis Center bar, St Louis
Me, Milo, Pauly - Savvis Center bar, St Louis
Warm ups, Savvis Center, St Louis
Me, Pauly, Milo - Ohio Stadium, Columbus
Pauly, Jeff, Milo and Me - Jordan Statue, United Center, Chicago. It was f'n cold.
The view Pauly and I had from our stolen seats, Joe Louis Arena, Detroit
Waiting for the shuttle in Detroit, with some crazies. I'm very far in the background
Milo, Pauly, Me - Detroit Airport. Not sure what Pauly's doing here. Jeff surprised me with the stupid camera
This has nothing to do with the trip, but my friend did this to her cat, and it makes me laugh. Enjoy.
Hockey Trip, Part 4
This has taken me waaay too long to finish. Shut up, I'm lazy. Deal with it. This will cover Chicago/Detroit. I'll finish up the story with Sarnia and misc. stuff in a separate blog. Game on.
There's something about Chicago...I really think the city hates me. I've gone out of my way to go there twice now, and both times I've been prevented from actually checking out much of the city. Last time, it was cuz I tried to take a quick nap at 6pm, and woke up 14 hours later. This time? I still wasn't feeling too hot. How the fuck do I get sick on a trip? I never get sick!
The hotel was awesome. Right on Michigan Av, across from Grant Park. Cool doorman, beautiful lobby, flat screen in the room (only ours though, for some reason), and a store inside that sold a shitload of meds. I told the guys I was gonna get super high on meds and take a nap, and they went exploring...but not before Rob told me a story about someone with my symptoms being left alone, only for his family to come back later and have to rush him to the hospital cuz he had almost died from pneumonia. Thanks, Milo. I didn't think about that at all as I was falling asleep. Bastard.
The guys went to Wrigley and did some other stuff, and eventually came back and got me after dark. Thankfully, I was feeling much better. After some food at the ESPN Zone (my 3rd out of 8), and a couple of beers at some preppy dueling piano bar, we called it quits early. The next day was gonna be a long one. Incidentally, it was the only night Paul and Jeff didn't drink till 3am. Those guys are fucking warriors. I'm still jealous.
I was sick, and snored a lot apparently. Milo got virtually no sleep. He was not a happy Milo...he even tried sleeping in the bathtub, to no avail (Sorry bud). We again decided on a cab, since it was just easier. Our cool doorman hooked us up though...he got us a ride in a pimp cadillac, with a stop at the United Center included, for the same price as a cab. Pics in front of the Jordan statue, and onto...Motown. I'm not gonna lie, I was nervous. I had heard some things about this place...
The Detroit airport was suitably ghetto. Getting the rental car was easy...then we ventured into the city. Rob accidentally popped the hood release at 110 kph on the highway and screamed, which was pretty hilarious. He had to pull over and open and shut the thing.
Hoooly shit. Detroit is the fucking HOOD! Everything you'd heard about the place is true. Times 10. Abandoned, derelict houses and buildings everywhere, the roads are all torn up...it was like a cold Baghdad. After White Castle, we went on a bit of a hood tour...hoooly crap. I thought we were gonna die. Thug Life, represent! I know I sound like a cornbread white guy from the burbs here...but eff off, that's exactly what we are! I was scurred, yo.
It got better though...there's like 3 or 4 blocks downtown that are actually nice. Comerica Park (baseball stadium) was fucking awesome. The 2 hockey bars we went to, Cheli's Chili Bar and Hockeytown, were sweet too. Especially Hockeytown. Was great hearing the story about the guy that busted in the front door and shot 3 people at Cheli's...that didn't scare me at all. I only peed a little bit.
We decided to park at Hockeytown and take their shuttle to the arena. Going down was great...coming back, not so much. Joe Louis Arena is the Pacific Coliseum people. 2 hour beer lines, 2 hour bathroom lines, and terrible facilities. The modern tech we missed out on was more than made up for by the people. This crowd was MEAN! It was awesome.
The usher told us we weren't allowed in the first 2 rows to watch the warmup, cuz that was season ticket holder territory. Yea, okay bud. We went right down, yelled some more. Willie Mitchell stared at us in disbelief. He was probably thinking "these retards AGAIN?!?" He busted out laughing, and fell down. That was all kinds of funny. A lot of the canucks were acknowledging us, which was pretty damn cool.
Right after that, the beer/puck incident I documented in part 1 went down. Fucking Matt Cooke. I still can't believe I didn't get one drop of beer on me. I sure got some everywhere else though...right when the "season ticket holder" showed up. HOLY MAFIA. Greased back hair, pimp clothes, whole deal. I was sure Luca Brasi here was gonna make sure I was sleeping with the fishes. I was done. Outta nowhere, 2 ushers come running down with towels and spray cleaner. They actually mopped up all the beer and wiped the guy's seat down for him while he waited. I apologized to Luca repeatedly and kissed his ring (not really, but it sounded good), but he waved me off..."It's okay-a kid, these-a guys are here to clean up. You mighta wanna take-a that shitty jersey off though". Who knew the dagos could be funny? Just jokes Luca, just jokes.
Game was incredible. JLA might be old, but it's got atmosphere. People booed us and our Canucks jerseys left and right. After the 2nd period, Pauly pointed at a couple of empty seats behind Detroit's net and said they had been vacant the whole game. We scooted down there, and watched the rest of the game in the 2nd row, bitches! We even got on Sportsnet finally! Canucks lost a shootout, but we had the best seats in the house for it. Thanks Pauly! The funniest part was that Milo, Jeff, and 2 of Milo's friends from Sarnia came down and tried to sit behind us...and got kicked out in like 30 seconds...while we yelled at them and called them seat stealers. HAHA!
We could NOT find our shuttle back to the bar. There were like 100 busses, all unlabeled. It was completely disorganized, yet totally defined Detroit. Pauly decided he was just gonna start filming people...he busts out his camera, and the first guy that sees the thing, 5 seconds later, walks up to us and says "You'll love this, guys!" He whips open his jacket, laughing, and he's wearing..a fucking CALGARY FLAMES jersey. I tried to boo him, but I couldn't stop laughing. No matter where you go, there's always one homo in the crowd!
We finally ended up taking a cab...and nearly died. The cabbie was CRAZY. Just pinned it the whole way...in between lanes, other side of the road, through lights, the whole deal. It was fucking intense! After we arrived and our heart rates dropped to normal levels, we found the car (and Pauly filmed me dry heaving in the parking lot...thanks buddy), and started the drive to Sarnia, which was about an hour and a half away. Milo drove, so he was sober...us 3, not so much. We sang Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It"...loud. And danced. And Paul filmed it. If he hasn't deleted that yet, I might have to pay him to do it. It's fucking painful to watch.
After some duty free hijinks, we crossed the border back into THE HOMELAND. The border guy said he was just happy we weren't leaf fans. This place was hard not to like!
There's something about Chicago...I really think the city hates me. I've gone out of my way to go there twice now, and both times I've been prevented from actually checking out much of the city. Last time, it was cuz I tried to take a quick nap at 6pm, and woke up 14 hours later. This time? I still wasn't feeling too hot. How the fuck do I get sick on a trip? I never get sick!
The hotel was awesome. Right on Michigan Av, across from Grant Park. Cool doorman, beautiful lobby, flat screen in the room (only ours though, for some reason), and a store inside that sold a shitload of meds. I told the guys I was gonna get super high on meds and take a nap, and they went exploring...but not before Rob told me a story about someone with my symptoms being left alone, only for his family to come back later and have to rush him to the hospital cuz he had almost died from pneumonia. Thanks, Milo. I didn't think about that at all as I was falling asleep. Bastard.
The guys went to Wrigley and did some other stuff, and eventually came back and got me after dark. Thankfully, I was feeling much better. After some food at the ESPN Zone (my 3rd out of 8), and a couple of beers at some preppy dueling piano bar, we called it quits early. The next day was gonna be a long one. Incidentally, it was the only night Paul and Jeff didn't drink till 3am. Those guys are fucking warriors. I'm still jealous.
I was sick, and snored a lot apparently. Milo got virtually no sleep. He was not a happy Milo...he even tried sleeping in the bathtub, to no avail (Sorry bud). We again decided on a cab, since it was just easier. Our cool doorman hooked us up though...he got us a ride in a pimp cadillac, with a stop at the United Center included, for the same price as a cab. Pics in front of the Jordan statue, and onto...Motown. I'm not gonna lie, I was nervous. I had heard some things about this place...
The Detroit airport was suitably ghetto. Getting the rental car was easy...then we ventured into the city. Rob accidentally popped the hood release at 110 kph on the highway and screamed, which was pretty hilarious. He had to pull over and open and shut the thing.
Hoooly shit. Detroit is the fucking HOOD! Everything you'd heard about the place is true. Times 10. Abandoned, derelict houses and buildings everywhere, the roads are all torn up...it was like a cold Baghdad. After White Castle, we went on a bit of a hood tour...hoooly crap. I thought we were gonna die. Thug Life, represent! I know I sound like a cornbread white guy from the burbs here...but eff off, that's exactly what we are! I was scurred, yo.
It got better though...there's like 3 or 4 blocks downtown that are actually nice. Comerica Park (baseball stadium) was fucking awesome. The 2 hockey bars we went to, Cheli's Chili Bar and Hockeytown, were sweet too. Especially Hockeytown. Was great hearing the story about the guy that busted in the front door and shot 3 people at Cheli's...that didn't scare me at all. I only peed a little bit.
We decided to park at Hockeytown and take their shuttle to the arena. Going down was great...coming back, not so much. Joe Louis Arena is the Pacific Coliseum people. 2 hour beer lines, 2 hour bathroom lines, and terrible facilities. The modern tech we missed out on was more than made up for by the people. This crowd was MEAN! It was awesome.
The usher told us we weren't allowed in the first 2 rows to watch the warmup, cuz that was season ticket holder territory. Yea, okay bud. We went right down, yelled some more. Willie Mitchell stared at us in disbelief. He was probably thinking "these retards AGAIN?!?" He busted out laughing, and fell down. That was all kinds of funny. A lot of the canucks were acknowledging us, which was pretty damn cool.
Right after that, the beer/puck incident I documented in part 1 went down. Fucking Matt Cooke. I still can't believe I didn't get one drop of beer on me. I sure got some everywhere else though...right when the "season ticket holder" showed up. HOLY MAFIA. Greased back hair, pimp clothes, whole deal. I was sure Luca Brasi here was gonna make sure I was sleeping with the fishes. I was done. Outta nowhere, 2 ushers come running down with towels and spray cleaner. They actually mopped up all the beer and wiped the guy's seat down for him while he waited. I apologized to Luca repeatedly and kissed his ring (not really, but it sounded good), but he waved me off..."It's okay-a kid, these-a guys are here to clean up. You mighta wanna take-a that shitty jersey off though". Who knew the dagos could be funny? Just jokes Luca, just jokes.
Game was incredible. JLA might be old, but it's got atmosphere. People booed us and our Canucks jerseys left and right. After the 2nd period, Pauly pointed at a couple of empty seats behind Detroit's net and said they had been vacant the whole game. We scooted down there, and watched the rest of the game in the 2nd row, bitches! We even got on Sportsnet finally! Canucks lost a shootout, but we had the best seats in the house for it. Thanks Pauly! The funniest part was that Milo, Jeff, and 2 of Milo's friends from Sarnia came down and tried to sit behind us...and got kicked out in like 30 seconds...while we yelled at them and called them seat stealers. HAHA!
We could NOT find our shuttle back to the bar. There were like 100 busses, all unlabeled. It was completely disorganized, yet totally defined Detroit. Pauly decided he was just gonna start filming people...he busts out his camera, and the first guy that sees the thing, 5 seconds later, walks up to us and says "You'll love this, guys!" He whips open his jacket, laughing, and he's wearing..a fucking CALGARY FLAMES jersey. I tried to boo him, but I couldn't stop laughing. No matter where you go, there's always one homo in the crowd!
We finally ended up taking a cab...and nearly died. The cabbie was CRAZY. Just pinned it the whole way...in between lanes, other side of the road, through lights, the whole deal. It was fucking intense! After we arrived and our heart rates dropped to normal levels, we found the car (and Pauly filmed me dry heaving in the parking lot...thanks buddy), and started the drive to Sarnia, which was about an hour and a half away. Milo drove, so he was sober...us 3, not so much. We sang Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It"...loud. And danced. And Paul filmed it. If he hasn't deleted that yet, I might have to pay him to do it. It's fucking painful to watch.
After some duty free hijinks, we crossed the border back into THE HOMELAND. The border guy said he was just happy we weren't leaf fans. This place was hard not to like!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Hockey Trip, Part 3
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!"
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!"
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.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Hockey Trip, Pregame
"Dude, the puck...it's in your cup!"
I looked down...and I'll be goddamned, the puck IS in my cup. There's not a drop of fucking beer left in it - the beer that previously inhabited this cup is now all over Jeff and the woman behind me...and I don't have a drop on me, somehow - but there's a puck there now. And Matt Cooke fucking owes me 8.50.
Boys and girls, moments like the above paragraph are what traveling is all about. Some trips are all about sightseeing, some are about relaxation. This one included very little of either...yes folks, this trip was all about the fine sport of hockey. More specifically, about the Vancouver Canucks. And beer. Lots, and lots...and LOTS of beer.
In late October, your chubby but lovable storyteller was dealing with one of his many bouts of wanderlust. I know some of you are probably wondering what the fuck that is, and if I have to take medication for it. So, for the uninitiated -
wan·der·lust - a strong, innate desire to roam or travel about.
Now that we've cleared that up, we can carry on. As usual, I was playing on the internet, trying to figure out a good trip idea. I was talkin about hockey with Kam, and SHAZAAM! the candle gets lit in my head (I'm too cool for a light bulb). Why not follow the Canucks for a few games? A few clicks and a quick perusal of their schedule showed a 3 game road trip in January...St Louis, Columbus, and Detroit. That was obviously out...who the fuck wants to go to Detroit? I wasn't in the mood for a murder death kill, thank you very much. And Columbus? Do people even watch hockey there? I read the day before that St Louis was the most dangerous city in the USA in 2006 (Detroit was 3rd). Not sure how much they like pot-bellied (yet oddly charming) white people there.
As you can guess by the obvious foreshadowing, this is exactly where I went. And I brought friends!
I planned out a rough outline and told a few people about it over the next couple of days. If people can actually have a WTF look on their face...every single one of these folks had that look. At least they had encouraging things to say! Or not.
"We all know you're retarded Tim...but St Louis and Detroit? Seriously? I thought you enjoyed living. Hey, look at the bright side! You can stay in an abandoned building on 8 Mile for free! That's more beer money for you! Goooo Motown!"
I have caring friends, by the way.
Anyways, I told Rob (will be referred to as Milo from now on, cuz it's his last name and it sounds funny) about the trip, and his reaction was the exact opposite. It was more along the lines of "Dude, I'm so coming with you. And I'm gonna get other people to come too". Yea, okay champ. You're gonna find unarmed "volunteers" to come with us to these god awful cities...and you wanna come along too? Ahh Milo, always the comedian.
Three days pass...and I now have 3 recruits for the trip. I dunno how Milo did it...money was exchanged, gentlemen were fellated, whatever...but now Jeff and Paul wanna come too. And they're just as hyped as Milo and I are about this trip. I'm speechless. After talkin to them and confirming their sanity, it was GO TIME! Cheap flights were booked, semi-nice hotels were reserved, and pretty good hockey tickets were acquired. 2 and a half exhausting months later, Timmy really needed an entertaining vacation...and he sure as shit got one!
SEATTLE
Our flight was at 7:20AM to St Louis, so we decided to stay a night in an airport hotel in Seatac. We arrived at 9PM, and checked into our suitably ghetto hotel, after the purchase of an 18 pack of beer. By 9:20, the case was empty. This is not bravado...I speak the truth people. We just had to go find a bar now...but we made sure we wouldn't stay too late...come on now, we had an early flight. Drinking till 2AM would be horribly irresponsible. Uh, okay.
We stumbled up to the Bull Pen. Sure, this'll do. Go inside...good god, it's a karaoke bar. Joyous. We line up to get beer...Paul grabs a pint, and goes to get a table. Jeff and I decide to split a jug, we go to find...Paul already sitting with a cougar, chattin her up. It took like 23 seconds for him to pick up....I was mightily impressed. Jeff and I didn't wanna cockblock, so we grabbed another table with Milo, and listened to some fucking TERRIBLE karaoke. This bar had quite the cast of characters...think the cast of Cheers mingling in the Star Wars bar. Paul's new friend was the hottest chick in the bar, no contest, and probably the best singer there too.
Milo, being the friendly guy that he is, met some people while out for a smoke and brought them by the table. The chick was your generic goth land beast...cuz ya know, there's a generic version of them. Probably the ugliest girl in the bar, and believe me, that was quite a feat. Her boyfriend on the other hand, looked like his daddy was a computer and his mommy was a book about computers. Complete nerdbomber. They were just about the oddest couple I've ever seen. And of course, they had to tell us all about their "super intense" 2 month relationship. And people wonder why I make fun of americans.
After a few hours of pretty good beer and bleeding ears, it was 2AM. What a surprise. Paul's woman disappeared, so we did too. I staggered across the street for more beer, and met the guys back at the hotel. Where Milo realized he had lost his jacket.
Please let me repeat this for emphasis. We are about to leave for 3 cities in the midwest...in the middle of winter. It's fucking cold there. And Milo lost his jacket. Before we have even left for the first destination.
Travel bloopers, take one!
Stay tuned for part 2...all about the STL yo!
I looked down...and I'll be goddamned, the puck IS in my cup. There's not a drop of fucking beer left in it - the beer that previously inhabited this cup is now all over Jeff and the woman behind me...and I don't have a drop on me, somehow - but there's a puck there now. And Matt Cooke fucking owes me 8.50.
Boys and girls, moments like the above paragraph are what traveling is all about. Some trips are all about sightseeing, some are about relaxation. This one included very little of either...yes folks, this trip was all about the fine sport of hockey. More specifically, about the Vancouver Canucks. And beer. Lots, and lots...and LOTS of beer.
In late October, your chubby but lovable storyteller was dealing with one of his many bouts of wanderlust. I know some of you are probably wondering what the fuck that is, and if I have to take medication for it. So, for the uninitiated -
wan·der·lust - a strong, innate desire to roam or travel about.
Now that we've cleared that up, we can carry on. As usual, I was playing on the internet, trying to figure out a good trip idea. I was talkin about hockey with Kam, and SHAZAAM! the candle gets lit in my head (I'm too cool for a light bulb). Why not follow the Canucks for a few games? A few clicks and a quick perusal of their schedule showed a 3 game road trip in January...St Louis, Columbus, and Detroit. That was obviously out...who the fuck wants to go to Detroit? I wasn't in the mood for a murder death kill, thank you very much. And Columbus? Do people even watch hockey there? I read the day before that St Louis was the most dangerous city in the USA in 2006 (Detroit was 3rd). Not sure how much they like pot-bellied (yet oddly charming) white people there.
As you can guess by the obvious foreshadowing, this is exactly where I went. And I brought friends!
I planned out a rough outline and told a few people about it over the next couple of days. If people can actually have a WTF look on their face...every single one of these folks had that look. At least they had encouraging things to say! Or not.
"We all know you're retarded Tim...but St Louis and Detroit? Seriously? I thought you enjoyed living. Hey, look at the bright side! You can stay in an abandoned building on 8 Mile for free! That's more beer money for you! Goooo Motown!"
I have caring friends, by the way.
Anyways, I told Rob (will be referred to as Milo from now on, cuz it's his last name and it sounds funny) about the trip, and his reaction was the exact opposite. It was more along the lines of "Dude, I'm so coming with you. And I'm gonna get other people to come too". Yea, okay champ. You're gonna find unarmed "volunteers" to come with us to these god awful cities...and you wanna come along too? Ahh Milo, always the comedian.
Three days pass...and I now have 3 recruits for the trip. I dunno how Milo did it...money was exchanged, gentlemen were fellated, whatever...but now Jeff and Paul wanna come too. And they're just as hyped as Milo and I are about this trip. I'm speechless. After talkin to them and confirming their sanity, it was GO TIME! Cheap flights were booked, semi-nice hotels were reserved, and pretty good hockey tickets were acquired. 2 and a half exhausting months later, Timmy really needed an entertaining vacation...and he sure as shit got one!
SEATTLE
Our flight was at 7:20AM to St Louis, so we decided to stay a night in an airport hotel in Seatac. We arrived at 9PM, and checked into our suitably ghetto hotel, after the purchase of an 18 pack of beer. By 9:20, the case was empty. This is not bravado...I speak the truth people. We just had to go find a bar now...but we made sure we wouldn't stay too late...come on now, we had an early flight. Drinking till 2AM would be horribly irresponsible. Uh, okay.
We stumbled up to the Bull Pen. Sure, this'll do. Go inside...good god, it's a karaoke bar. Joyous. We line up to get beer...Paul grabs a pint, and goes to get a table. Jeff and I decide to split a jug, we go to find...Paul already sitting with a cougar, chattin her up. It took like 23 seconds for him to pick up....I was mightily impressed. Jeff and I didn't wanna cockblock, so we grabbed another table with Milo, and listened to some fucking TERRIBLE karaoke. This bar had quite the cast of characters...think the cast of Cheers mingling in the Star Wars bar. Paul's new friend was the hottest chick in the bar, no contest, and probably the best singer there too.
Milo, being the friendly guy that he is, met some people while out for a smoke and brought them by the table. The chick was your generic goth land beast...cuz ya know, there's a generic version of them. Probably the ugliest girl in the bar, and believe me, that was quite a feat. Her boyfriend on the other hand, looked like his daddy was a computer and his mommy was a book about computers. Complete nerdbomber. They were just about the oddest couple I've ever seen. And of course, they had to tell us all about their "super intense" 2 month relationship. And people wonder why I make fun of americans.
After a few hours of pretty good beer and bleeding ears, it was 2AM. What a surprise. Paul's woman disappeared, so we did too. I staggered across the street for more beer, and met the guys back at the hotel. Where Milo realized he had lost his jacket.
Please let me repeat this for emphasis. We are about to leave for 3 cities in the midwest...in the middle of winter. It's fucking cold there. And Milo lost his jacket. Before we have even left for the first destination.
Travel bloopers, take one!
Stay tuned for part 2...all about the STL yo!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)