To get people reading the blog again, I had to lead off with one of my best stories. Being a huge Mets fan and friends with many folks who have made the unfortunate choice to root from the Phillies, I try and make it to as many Mets – Phils games as I can, regardless of city. Well, it just so happened, that on July 5th, a long weekend, the Mets were playing the Phils in a nice Saturday night game. Never one to turn down a good tailgate and baseball game, I saddled up the Silver Surfer (Tuna Titan’s car) and headed on down to Philly. And by saddled up I mean – asking Tuna Titan if he wanted to go so I could get a ride down to Philly.
So there are a bunch of us heading down to the game and thus characters in this day-long tale: Myself, Tuna Titan, Trackpants, Trackpants’ little brother, Jesus, Red Rider, Worlds Best Grandpa (WBG) and supporting cast. Truly a ragtag crew. So Tuna Titan and I get to Philly at the predetermined time (around 3ish) to tailgate, and shocker Trackpants is late. Everyone finally shows up, and beers start getting downed like a freshman college basement party with a little cornhole (Bag-O) to boot. As the sun goes down on the city of brotherly love, the BAC of the group goes up. One in particularly rises to the occasion – Trackpants’ little brother who we will call Crazy Legs. Crazy Legs is just as big as a Phils fan as I am a Mets fan, and the Phils were currently a few games up on the Mets so me wearing my David Wright jersey/t-shirt did not go over well on several occasions, but none more hilarious then this:
[Setting: I am playing cornhole, and Crazy Legs being a sprinter is drunk already and proceeds to interrupt the game]
Crazy Legs: DP, HOW DARE YOU!
DP: How dare I what? You’re drunk.
Crazy Legs: HOW DARE YOU WEAR A METS JERSEY. DON’T YOU KNOW YOU ARE IN
PHILADELPHIA GODDAMIT!
This conversation occurred at least 10 or 12 more times in which Crazy Legs tried to get several random Philly fans to kick my ass for being a Mets fan. It even got so bad, that after a Philly home run, and subsequent taunting of me, Crazy Legs was asked by security guards to leave, but WBG was a smooth mofo and got him out of trouble. The rest of the game included a horrendous brawl between about 8 guys that were all over 6 feet and some sandwich called the Schmitter which is fantastic when drunk, but I would never want to know what was in it.
Fast forward now – time to leave the stadium. Tuna Titan and I are on our way out and some girls are handing out large SOBE energy drinks which are like a cheaper version of Red Bull. I ask for two, and she walks four over the car – some excellent jet fuel for the evening’s activities. Fast forward again – we get back to Trackpant’s new apartment, get changed and head out to a bar which was about a mile walk. Having been tailgating and drinking during the game everyone has a good buzz going on, but still feels the need to pound lots of shots and beers – always one for peer pressure I give in. Every time I turn around, Red Rider is handing me some sort of shot – the kind of shot I never turn down. Everyone is drinking, but here is where the hilarity ensues…
Before I go any further I have one waiver – I am not Brad Pitt, nor do I have a six pack, but am in generally OK/bulky shape for mid 20’s, so I call girls fat it is in all jest (and truth). So there we all are drinking and notice two girls playing photo hunt. You know the game where you have to find the differences between the two pictures. Almost every time you play this it is erotic photo hunt and it is comparing two naked girls. So the two girls playing it are nice, but packing a little weight on them. As I glance at the photo hunt I see they are stuck pm one last match they can’t get. I reach in, tap the screen, effectively saving the day. The girls are happy with my advanced photo hunt skills (years of bartending) and invite me to play. Little do they know, that by inviting me, they are inviting the drunkards I came to the bar with. Over the next half hour, me and 3 of the group take over the game and almost crack a new score. When there are no credits left in the machine, we all effectively turn around and talk amongst ourselves. This is where I start getting into trouble.
With a little prodding from Tuna Titan, I feel bad about playing photo hunt with these girls and then just ignoring them when the game is over, so I strike up a conversation with the skinnier/more attractive one of the group. I am drunk, so I have the most confidence in the world. I proceed to talk to the one girl for about 30 minutes in which I am convinced she thinks I am the most charming person ever. The group starts to leave, and in my drunken state I tell Tuna Titan I am going to stay and talk to fat girl because I want to – he laughs loudly as he walks out. Needless to say because I started to sober up (that’s the excuse I am using), and she stood up there was no shot of me going home with fat girl (learned from past mistakes). I walk out of the bar with her and her friend (fatter girl) and we say our goodbyes after which I have a phone # for fat girl – which will probably only be used in case of a drunken emergency. Before the two large ladies disappear across the horizon, I have a fantastic thought, which I did not filter out in my mind…
DP (with a chuckle): [Fat girl], next time I am here will you hook up with me?
FG: Sure, sounds like plan.
DP: Score!
I take this as a victory, laughing wildly as I start the mile walk home. However, it was not an easy walk home. I am good with numbers/address so I knew where Trackpants new apartment was by address and paid attention on the walk over, but was a little drunk and had no clue where to go. Being a guy, I figured I would use landmarks to navigate home, except that everything in Trackpants looks the same and he lives parallel to a railroad which could really screw me up. So I start walking, about 15 minutes in I am worried, because I am nowhere near his apartment, and it is a quick walk. I am starting to get worried, meanwhile it never occurs to me to use my cell phone to call for help.
So keep in mind – it is around 2:30AM, and I am wondering around a quick neighborhood drunk and lost so it is no surprise that a cop stopped me and we had
the following discussion:
Officer Mike: Son, are you OK?
DP: Yea, I am pretty good – yourself?
Officer Mike: Ok, do you know where you are going?
DP: Yea, [insert Trackpants address]
Officer Mike: Ok, so…
DP: But I forgot how to get there.
Officer Mike: Were you out at the bars?
DP: Yes sir.
Officer Mike: [Chuckles] Ok I am going to give you a ride – get in.
I proceed to get in the backseat of the cop car because he has his laptop and a shotgun in the passenger seat – which is badass. Nervous at first, I talk to Officer Mike about the Phils game, the bar and am about to go into the fat girl stories when we get to Trackpant’s apartment. The ride took all of 4 minutes, but if you haven’t ridden in the back of a cop car – it is interesting. There are no seat belts and its hard plastic seats so you are sliding all over the place during turns – like a meaner version of Slip-n-Slide. Even better – when we finally got to the apartment, he had to get out of the car and let me out the backdoor, and I feel
like a cool criminal…
All in all a great night where Tuna Titan and other miscreants stole a large sign in put it in Trackpant’s apartment as a housewarming gift. Awesome and thank you Officer Mike wherever you are for the ride.
Brrr….beer.
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