Thank GOD it's only the preseason right now. I'm clearly not in midseason form. I missed watching the game due to circumstances completely beyond my control. In place of reviewing and discussing the game (of which I saw not a second) I'll take you on a journey which will effectively absolve me from any guilt and blame over the missed game.
The location was Erie, Pennsylvania, and the venue just happened to be an old roommate's wedding.
12:00 PM. My friend (who shall be known as Guy) and I, who are both friends of the happy groom, arrive at the church to watch the ceremony. It was nice. (Side bar: Why don't weddings start incorporating Nickelodean GAK? That would be badass.)
1:00 PM. The wedding is now over, but the reception doesn't start for another hour. Obviously the only choice here is to go to the bar next door. Guy and I sit down and order a couple of Yuenglings. The lines are filthy, the beer tastes like tainted ass. I ask for another, it tastes marginally better, we decide to push through the pain.
1:50 PM. Several beers later we realize it's time to leave...after all...there is an open bar at the reception. Guy orders one more and closes his tab. He says that he can easily finish his beer before I can finish mine. Challenge...accepted. I order another.
1:52 PM. Much bullshitting going on right now. Guy talks himself up, the bartender agrees to be the impartial judge. Game on. In the middle of the pint race the sleeze-ass bartender goes, "WHOA!!". This makes me giggle a manly giggle. I subsequently lose the race. I call interference on the ref. Who the shit says "Whoa!!"? I'm pissed. Guy won't shut the hell up.
2:15 PM. We arrive fashionably late and sit at a random table with three older couples and their friendly daughter. Her tattoos are impressive...I refuse to show her mine.
2:16 PM. I meet up with my arch nemesis...the open bar. A monumental struggle ensues.
4:00 PM. Struggle is still ensuing. We are meeting up with a lot of old friends from college. I see most of them through the bottom of an empty pint glass.
6:00 PM. Fwhaha! I have slain my arch nemesis and I am the victor. Our group decides to take this victory and celebrate next door...at the brewery.
6:15 PM. These old ladies sitting at a table are very cordial. One of them said I look like her son...then she bought be a beer. Mixed signals here...maybe she's from Cleveland. The beer is top notch though.
6:40 PM. Guy is talking more shit about my pint race loss earlier. The only solution is to man up and prove my interference claims were valid. Failure. I lose again. Guy must be some kind of professional swallower of liquids. He ridicules me over giggling, I contest that a man can giggle. The old ladies agree.
7:10 PM. Amidst my victory over the open bar celebration, someone suggests a change of venue is in order. We all agree, old ladies included, and proceed to walk down State Street to another bar. (Side bar: For some reason this trek was made without shoes. I don't know why, but the bouncer at the next bar insisted that we put our shoes back on. Fascist.)
7:40 PM. Change of bars was a great call. We end up meeting the groom there...I'm not entirely sure he's so proud and/or impressed with my slaying of his open bar. Guy is in equally fine shapes...I doubt we get invited to the next big party.
7:50 PM. I look at the glass I'm holding. I am somehow drinking this blue cocktail that I didn't order and I KNOW I didn't pay for. Mysteries ensue. I try to give it to a friend's wife...she smells it and instantly dies of alcohol poisoning. Whoever got me the drink must have hated me. Wait, Guy has one too. Maybe it was the groom.
8:10 PM. I pay my tab and look out onto the street. I see a black dog walking down State Street, so naturally I walk outside to investigate. I peer up and down the street, no dog. I then walk down the street for a little while...no dog. However, now I don't know where I am. Luckily, I can see another bar, and walk in.
8:12 PM. Definitely not the bar from before. I do not know anyone, and the old lady hooking me up with alcohol is gone. However, I'm still flushed with enthusiasm from my victory. Celebration number three begins.
10:00 PM. I decide it's time to meet up with my group of friends. I leave the bar and start walking up a street, but not necessarily the correct street. At this point I need to apologize to someone in Erie who drives a car. You drove home that night with my friend's reception dinner all over your back window. My bad.
10:12 PM. I'm pretty sure I somehow walked to Pittsburgh. Nothing looks familiar, and I'm starting to get a little sleepy. I happen across this flowerbed which is up against a building. Perfect cover? You bet. I mulch out.
8:15 AM. The next day. I wake up to find myself scratched all to hell. (Note to the readers: this is what happens when you sleep in a pile of mulch.) I check my pockets to be sure I wasn't rolled by a bum. Valuables, but not necessarily pride, intact I call up Guy. We carpooled and need to get back to Boston.
9:00 AM. Finally get Guy on the phone. He doesn't know where he is...just near a grape vine. Turns out Guy is in New York, about fifty minutes away from Erie. The wait ensues.
10:30 AM. Guy shows up at the gas station I'm waiting at. Turns out at 2 AM he takes off trying to find a Wendy's. He wants a "BJ and a JBC." Unsuccessful. He ends up passed out in his still running car. Clearly this Guy needs to learn some self-control and moderation. That's what I think.
10:31 AM. Departure to Boston.
So you all see why I cannot be held at fault for missing the first preseason game. This is a situation that if you found yourself in, I doubt you would have handled any differently.
Cleveland Sucks.
No comments:
Post a Comment