This was one’ve the best weekends I’ve had in a while, as well as one of the most expensive – definitely worth it though. I had a great time on Friday, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not what this post is about. This post is about Saturday. It was a night of irresponsible binge drinking decided upon sometime during the week when we were just hanging out playing Halo 2. Me and the guys decided that since it’d been a while, and all of our midterms were over (though the term papers are just starting) we’d get crazy this weekend while we still could; exams are coming down the pipe and, as a result, our ability to get impaired will be severely impaired. It’s not like that’s going to stop anybody, it just means it’s even less of a good idea.
You know it was a good night when you have to inspect yourself for physical wounds the morning after in an attempt to explain the blood stains which resulted from injuries whose infliction you can’t really remember.
And then bit by bit it all comes back to you. And here it is.
There was a huge football game going on that day – the Yates Cup, one of the biggest games of the year. The stadium was packed as I rode by, and as such, the school was deserted. I had decided to go into campus to see if I could get some work done. It turned out that that wasn’t to be, as I just logged onto one of the computers and talked with people online. That’s a luxury for me these days; our internet is so bad that I think I may have only been online once in November through my computer. It’s because the upstairs crowd is plugged into the switch instead of directly to the source. The joys of these living arrangements continue to reveal themselves. Anyway, that’s beside the point, but I thought I’d fill you all in. Okay, so, at the school I messaged Mark (one of the guys from rez last year) and asked what time he wanted to start drinking. He replied that he and Ryan (again, from rez last year) had already started. Impressed, I told him that I’d be by sooner or later. I had some business to take care of first.
I left the school soon thereafter and rode in the direction of Ryan and Mark’s (I can’t tell you how useful having a bike up here is). However, my friend Laura (also from rez) had been running her mouth about her N64 skillz and so I decided I’d put her to the test. We’d been talking about having a face-off for weeks now, but mid-terms and assignments kept getting in the way. Seeing as how I pretty much had a clear schedule for the rest of the night, and I knew she did too, I figured why not now? I showed up, said hi to Casey (again, rez), made fun of them all for going to Louie’s tonight, and then we got right down to business. (Side note for the ‘loo kids: Apparently Louie’s is closing down in January, eh?) So, first up was some Smash Bros. Now, to be fair, she did tell me beforehand that she doesn’t play this game all too much and isn’t so great at it. She wasn’t lying. As Samus, in a five-stocker, I didn’t take any damage until she had died three times already. I beat her in a clean sweep, so we moved onto the main event: Mario Kart. And yes, she’s good – I wasn’t even near her! We were going to move onto Goldeneye (first person shooters are where I shine) but her parents showed up, so I just played some more Mario Kart with Casey. It’d been a while since I’d actually just hung out with these girls - they’re cool kids, but not being in rez makes it so much harder to hang out with people. It was great getting caught up, but I had some drinking to do and this was not where the beer was.
I rode up the street to the guys’ house, and grabbed a cold Lucky from the fridge - this was around 6 or so. My beer, a smooth 24 of Kokanee, didn’t arrive till a bit later. Ryan was talking about how he learned a whole bunch’ve Tool and System of a Down songs on his guitar earlier that day, so I got him to bust it out as we resumed our game of Mario 3 that we work on when we’re drinking. He’s pretty damn good, folks, but according to Mark, he was apparently doing better that morning. Either way, I was impressed. Almost as much as I was when he suggested we smoke a bowl. We had recently killed his bong (Dr. Puffer – sort of like Toke-a-Cola) and so we smoked from his homemade replacement. He had just enough to hit a big bowl and roll a big joint, which he dipped in honey and put it in the freezer for after the bar. This kid’s a pro. After the bowl, they began telling me about the games of drinking chess they were playing before I showed up, and I asked if they wanted to play some more. They didn’t know I played, apparently, because they were looking for people in rez last year to challenge them and never asked me. Ryan is apparently the better of the two, so he challenged me first. But, to make it interesting, he brought out (from under the sink) his jug of moonshine. Yes, you read that right. Loser takes a shot, and away we go.
This was when we put Lateralus on; we listened to it front to back while he played/drank.
The first game we played he conceded after a couple moves – he was a little out of it, and just wanted to start again apparently. I didn’t mind, it wasn’t like I was right about to win or anything. The second game was one of the best I think I’ve ever played. It was so fucking close; it came right down to me with a knight and a bishop, and him with a rook and a larger number of pawns. Anybody who knows chess knows that’s fucking close, and also that the rook has the advantage. But, I pulled it off somehow and so he had to take a double shot – one for the first game and one for the second. We played a few more games, and at the end I was still standing, undefeated. These guys are good players though, so I think it was just as much luck as it was skill on my part. I’m pretty rusty too, I haven’t played since I played Ryan, drunk, in Doug’s basement god knows how long ago. And before that it was another few years. So, maybe it was more luck than I realize. Either way, they were shooting this moonshine like nobody’s business. Not to be outdone, I wound up taking a few huge shots too. Moonshine goes down pretty easy, or at least easier than its smell would make you think it would. Gets you right fucked though. This is where the night begins to get a little blurry.
We put some Hendrix on, and decided to play some more Mario. We made a bit more drunken progress, but just couldn’t get past the fifth castle in the clouds. Next time, next time. Soon after, Ian showed up and started putting ‘em away too. Then Tom, Derek, Tom’s girlfriend, and her friend showed up, too, so we decided we should probably get going to the bar before we all got too drunk to move. We didn’t know if Ry was going to get in – he was definitely in the lead, drunk-wise. But, long story short, we all made it in, and got right to drinking. Phil’s plays great music every night except Wednesday, but their Saturday DJ is especially good. It’s not uncommon to hear Mudvayne, System, Tool, Bush X, Slipknot, etc and a bunch of other good tunes. Tonight, all I heard him play was Stinkfist, but hearing that alone made the bar worth it.
We were all over the bar, chatting everybody up. There were a bunch of good looking girls, and a few of ‘em hit on me (I was told – I don’t really remember this too clearly). I do remember this really big / ugly goth girl and her moderately attractive friend flirting with me and Ian, except neither of us were interested so we kept trying to lose ‘em. These girls were persistent, so a little later we went outside for some air, and to get away from these chicks. When we tried to head back downstairs the bouncer told me I was too drunk to get back in. "I saw you stumble at the top of the stairs." Yeah, alright, fair enough – I did stumble, and I was legitimately too drunk and rowdy, but not too drunk for Phil’s. What kind of bullshit is this!? Thinking that I was still sober enough to be smooth, I tried the ol’ "Can I at least go get my coat?", but he countered with a skilled "Your buddy can."
Touché, douche bag.
So, I stood outside while Ian went back in. I don’t think he realized that I didn’t even have a coat, but either way, a few minutes later he came back out and we went around to the back of the complex to get a pilot pita. $5 for a pop and the best pita in town – you can’t beat that with a stick! We talked with the guys who work there for a bit – who we’ve gotten to know pretty well – and then hit the road.
We started walking back to the guys’ place. On the way I heard somebody say my name so I looked around. It was Cam Foley with a bunch of his friends, probably on the way to Phil’s or a circle-jerk session. I pretended like I didn’t know him, as that’s easier than acting like I don’t like him, or in other words, how I would normally act, and asked how he knew my name. His friends thought this meant I wanted to fight, and so they started to circle around us. Ian got riled up at this, and started insulting them, etc. Cam went on to remind me how he went to White Oaks, etc but then one of his friends told me he had a hot sister. I laughed and said, "Ahhh yeah, I remember you. Yeah, I’d do your sister." Or something like that. Either way, a couple of his friends laughed and a couple took this as a sign that I defiantly wanted to throw down – Cam didn’t seem impressed, and this gave him a reason to fight. The clincher question was whether I knew his name or not; as far as I could tell, it was this question that would determine whether his friends and him were going to try anything. There were more of them than us (there was maybe 6 or 7 of them against just me and Ian), but they were only acting tough because of this – you could tell they were chicken shit. I did, obviously, know his name, so I told him and then he shook my hand and a few of his buddies did to, and then we left. Staying true to the nature of cowards, as soon as we were at the opposite end of the lot, they started yelling at us – what, exactly, I can’t remember – and so Ian starting yelling back, and threw his drink at them. I just kept walking, and eventually we were back at the guys’.
I don’t remember if Mark or Derek were there when we got back, but either way, if they weren’t, they showed up real soon after. Tom and his girlfriend showed up too but then left. Matthias, another guy from rez, was there now too. We started playing Mario again, talking about the bar, etc – basically waiting for Ryan to get home so we could kill that J.
After a while, we decided to try and call his cell. Before we could even do this, somebody haphazardly found him in the basement. He was with some girl he knew, but came back upstairs and started partying again. He was still really drunk, but still really wanted to hit this joint – except that nobody could remember where we put it. We looked all over, and it wound up being in the freezer.
Oh drunkenness…
We burned down the joint, turned up the stereo, fired up the SNES, busted out a few more beers, and continued to have a good time. (We found out today when we ran into them at Mel’s diner, where we were getting some afternoon breakfast, that their two other roommates – the girls upstairs – were cursing our names all night. Or, specifically, just Ryan’s). Eventually we decided that homeways is rightways, and left. Ian was carrying what was left of our beer, I was walking my bike, and Derek was just walking. When it came time for me to part ways, I hopped on the bike, and pedaled off. I turned onto my street, going a good clip, and hopped up on the sidewalk.
Laurier won that football game that I was talking about earlier, and so there were an equal amount of parties and riots spread across town. This resulted in the usual mayhem, debauchery, and destruction typical to such activities, but somebody had ripped out a sign post and left it lying across the sidewalk. It was grounded in a concrete base at one end, which meant that it wasn’t going anywhere – I was. By the time I saw it, it was too late. I thought this was just something that happened in the movies, but it really felt like it was going in slow motion, even though it simultaneously felt like it was over in the blink of an eye. My front tire violently smashed into the pole and I went flying over the handlebars. If it wasn’t for my jiu-jitsu training, I would’ve gotten a face full of pavement. Instinctively I went into a front brake-fall position, and broke the fall, only scraping up my arms instead of breaking my teeth. A roll would have been ideal, I suppose, but I was really going fast and was really, really drunk, so I’ll take what I can get. I don’t want to over-exaggerate this fall, but fuck - I really could’ve gotten fucked up if I didn’t break-fall. If I hadn’t acted as fast as I did, I guarantee right now my face would be mangled beyond recognition. Even by doing the break-fall, I still hit the ground hard and skidded to a stop; this way, though, I broke the fall properly, with my forearms, instead of with my face.
But, it didn’t stop there. I was going so fast that after being propelled off of it, my bike still had enough momentum to flip - that’s right, get airborne - over the pole and smash into the back of my head and my shoulders. The weird thing is that, somehow, even before it happened – while I was still in midair – I knew that was going to happen. I got up, and shook myself off. I was a bit disoriented, but it passed. There were two people walking ahead of me who only looked back and then kept on walking. It’s okay; when I see somebody fall off their bike and then have it land on them I generally don’t give a shit either.
The fall sucked, but the bike hitting me was the kicker. I think it was the frame that actually struck my head, but it might’ve been something near the gears, as I was definitely cut up. I wasn’t in too much pain at the time – my adrenaline had spiked before I even hit the ground – but I could tell I had just been fucked up. I picked up my bike, checked to make sure it was okay, swore, and then got back on and finished the ride to my place, stopping only once to fix the alignment.
I got in the house, brushed my teeth, and got into bed. Normally I would’ve drunken a couple bottles of water beforehand to ward off the raging hangover I would otherwise acquire the next morning, but this didn’t occur to me at the time.
I woke up at 7 with an aching head, blood stains on my pillow, and a hangover. I took some Advil, drank some water, and went to the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror. I went over every part of my body to determine what injuries I had incurred. I remembered the fall, though, and I knew I was bleeding, but I couldn’t find where it was coming from. I went back to bed.
I woke back up at 10:30 and, once I regained the ability to think rationally, I realized it had to be a head-wound of some sort, as it was mostly my pillow that was bloody. Sure enough, there was a lump on my head, and dried blood in my hair. Not much, but it was there. I cleaned myself off, took a shower, and then got a call from the guys asking if I wanted to go get some breakfast at Mel’s.
They all had similar stories about the night, but it didn’t seem like anybody could top my bike story. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.
My body’s still pretty sore and even if I didn’t remember the fall, the overall ache in my body is enough to let me know that I hit something hard. My elbows are a little scraped up, as well as my sides, chest, and legs, and my left knee is giving me a little trouble, but comparatively, that fall went over really well. God bless jiu-jitsu, and god bless alcohol.
Fuck, I love Phil’s.
You know it was a good night when you have to inspect yourself for physical wounds the morning after in an attempt to explain the blood stains which resulted from injuries whose infliction you can’t really remember.
And then bit by bit it all comes back to you. And here it is.
There was a huge football game going on that day – the Yates Cup, one of the biggest games of the year. The stadium was packed as I rode by, and as such, the school was deserted. I had decided to go into campus to see if I could get some work done. It turned out that that wasn’t to be, as I just logged onto one of the computers and talked with people online. That’s a luxury for me these days; our internet is so bad that I think I may have only been online once in November through my computer. It’s because the upstairs crowd is plugged into the switch instead of directly to the source. The joys of these living arrangements continue to reveal themselves. Anyway, that’s beside the point, but I thought I’d fill you all in. Okay, so, at the school I messaged Mark (one of the guys from rez last year) and asked what time he wanted to start drinking. He replied that he and Ryan (again, from rez last year) had already started. Impressed, I told him that I’d be by sooner or later. I had some business to take care of first.
I left the school soon thereafter and rode in the direction of Ryan and Mark’s (I can’t tell you how useful having a bike up here is). However, my friend Laura (also from rez) had been running her mouth about her N64 skillz and so I decided I’d put her to the test. We’d been talking about having a face-off for weeks now, but mid-terms and assignments kept getting in the way. Seeing as how I pretty much had a clear schedule for the rest of the night, and I knew she did too, I figured why not now? I showed up, said hi to Casey (again, rez), made fun of them all for going to Louie’s tonight, and then we got right down to business. (Side note for the ‘loo kids: Apparently Louie’s is closing down in January, eh?) So, first up was some Smash Bros. Now, to be fair, she did tell me beforehand that she doesn’t play this game all too much and isn’t so great at it. She wasn’t lying. As Samus, in a five-stocker, I didn’t take any damage until she had died three times already. I beat her in a clean sweep, so we moved onto the main event: Mario Kart. And yes, she’s good – I wasn’t even near her! We were going to move onto Goldeneye (first person shooters are where I shine) but her parents showed up, so I just played some more Mario Kart with Casey. It’d been a while since I’d actually just hung out with these girls - they’re cool kids, but not being in rez makes it so much harder to hang out with people. It was great getting caught up, but I had some drinking to do and this was not where the beer was.
I rode up the street to the guys’ house, and grabbed a cold Lucky from the fridge - this was around 6 or so. My beer, a smooth 24 of Kokanee, didn’t arrive till a bit later. Ryan was talking about how he learned a whole bunch’ve Tool and System of a Down songs on his guitar earlier that day, so I got him to bust it out as we resumed our game of Mario 3 that we work on when we’re drinking. He’s pretty damn good, folks, but according to Mark, he was apparently doing better that morning. Either way, I was impressed. Almost as much as I was when he suggested we smoke a bowl. We had recently killed his bong (Dr. Puffer – sort of like Toke-a-Cola) and so we smoked from his homemade replacement. He had just enough to hit a big bowl and roll a big joint, which he dipped in honey and put it in the freezer for after the bar. This kid’s a pro. After the bowl, they began telling me about the games of drinking chess they were playing before I showed up, and I asked if they wanted to play some more. They didn’t know I played, apparently, because they were looking for people in rez last year to challenge them and never asked me. Ryan is apparently the better of the two, so he challenged me first. But, to make it interesting, he brought out (from under the sink) his jug of moonshine. Yes, you read that right. Loser takes a shot, and away we go.
This was when we put Lateralus on; we listened to it front to back while he played/drank.
The first game we played he conceded after a couple moves – he was a little out of it, and just wanted to start again apparently. I didn’t mind, it wasn’t like I was right about to win or anything. The second game was one of the best I think I’ve ever played. It was so fucking close; it came right down to me with a knight and a bishop, and him with a rook and a larger number of pawns. Anybody who knows chess knows that’s fucking close, and also that the rook has the advantage. But, I pulled it off somehow and so he had to take a double shot – one for the first game and one for the second. We played a few more games, and at the end I was still standing, undefeated. These guys are good players though, so I think it was just as much luck as it was skill on my part. I’m pretty rusty too, I haven’t played since I played Ryan, drunk, in Doug’s basement god knows how long ago. And before that it was another few years. So, maybe it was more luck than I realize. Either way, they were shooting this moonshine like nobody’s business. Not to be outdone, I wound up taking a few huge shots too. Moonshine goes down pretty easy, or at least easier than its smell would make you think it would. Gets you right fucked though. This is where the night begins to get a little blurry.
We put some Hendrix on, and decided to play some more Mario. We made a bit more drunken progress, but just couldn’t get past the fifth castle in the clouds. Next time, next time. Soon after, Ian showed up and started putting ‘em away too. Then Tom, Derek, Tom’s girlfriend, and her friend showed up, too, so we decided we should probably get going to the bar before we all got too drunk to move. We didn’t know if Ry was going to get in – he was definitely in the lead, drunk-wise. But, long story short, we all made it in, and got right to drinking. Phil’s plays great music every night except Wednesday, but their Saturday DJ is especially good. It’s not uncommon to hear Mudvayne, System, Tool, Bush X, Slipknot, etc and a bunch of other good tunes. Tonight, all I heard him play was Stinkfist, but hearing that alone made the bar worth it.
We were all over the bar, chatting everybody up. There were a bunch of good looking girls, and a few of ‘em hit on me (I was told – I don’t really remember this too clearly). I do remember this really big / ugly goth girl and her moderately attractive friend flirting with me and Ian, except neither of us were interested so we kept trying to lose ‘em. These girls were persistent, so a little later we went outside for some air, and to get away from these chicks. When we tried to head back downstairs the bouncer told me I was too drunk to get back in. "I saw you stumble at the top of the stairs." Yeah, alright, fair enough – I did stumble, and I was legitimately too drunk and rowdy, but not too drunk for Phil’s. What kind of bullshit is this!? Thinking that I was still sober enough to be smooth, I tried the ol’ "Can I at least go get my coat?", but he countered with a skilled "Your buddy can."
Touché, douche bag.
So, I stood outside while Ian went back in. I don’t think he realized that I didn’t even have a coat, but either way, a few minutes later he came back out and we went around to the back of the complex to get a pilot pita. $5 for a pop and the best pita in town – you can’t beat that with a stick! We talked with the guys who work there for a bit – who we’ve gotten to know pretty well – and then hit the road.
We started walking back to the guys’ place. On the way I heard somebody say my name so I looked around. It was Cam Foley with a bunch of his friends, probably on the way to Phil’s or a circle-jerk session. I pretended like I didn’t know him, as that’s easier than acting like I don’t like him, or in other words, how I would normally act, and asked how he knew my name. His friends thought this meant I wanted to fight, and so they started to circle around us. Ian got riled up at this, and started insulting them, etc. Cam went on to remind me how he went to White Oaks, etc but then one of his friends told me he had a hot sister. I laughed and said, "Ahhh yeah, I remember you. Yeah, I’d do your sister." Or something like that. Either way, a couple of his friends laughed and a couple took this as a sign that I defiantly wanted to throw down – Cam didn’t seem impressed, and this gave him a reason to fight. The clincher question was whether I knew his name or not; as far as I could tell, it was this question that would determine whether his friends and him were going to try anything. There were more of them than us (there was maybe 6 or 7 of them against just me and Ian), but they were only acting tough because of this – you could tell they were chicken shit. I did, obviously, know his name, so I told him and then he shook my hand and a few of his buddies did to, and then we left. Staying true to the nature of cowards, as soon as we were at the opposite end of the lot, they started yelling at us – what, exactly, I can’t remember – and so Ian starting yelling back, and threw his drink at them. I just kept walking, and eventually we were back at the guys’.
I don’t remember if Mark or Derek were there when we got back, but either way, if they weren’t, they showed up real soon after. Tom and his girlfriend showed up too but then left. Matthias, another guy from rez, was there now too. We started playing Mario again, talking about the bar, etc – basically waiting for Ryan to get home so we could kill that J.
After a while, we decided to try and call his cell. Before we could even do this, somebody haphazardly found him in the basement. He was with some girl he knew, but came back upstairs and started partying again. He was still really drunk, but still really wanted to hit this joint – except that nobody could remember where we put it. We looked all over, and it wound up being in the freezer.
Oh drunkenness…
We burned down the joint, turned up the stereo, fired up the SNES, busted out a few more beers, and continued to have a good time. (We found out today when we ran into them at Mel’s diner, where we were getting some afternoon breakfast, that their two other roommates – the girls upstairs – were cursing our names all night. Or, specifically, just Ryan’s). Eventually we decided that homeways is rightways, and left. Ian was carrying what was left of our beer, I was walking my bike, and Derek was just walking. When it came time for me to part ways, I hopped on the bike, and pedaled off. I turned onto my street, going a good clip, and hopped up on the sidewalk.
Laurier won that football game that I was talking about earlier, and so there were an equal amount of parties and riots spread across town. This resulted in the usual mayhem, debauchery, and destruction typical to such activities, but somebody had ripped out a sign post and left it lying across the sidewalk. It was grounded in a concrete base at one end, which meant that it wasn’t going anywhere – I was. By the time I saw it, it was too late. I thought this was just something that happened in the movies, but it really felt like it was going in slow motion, even though it simultaneously felt like it was over in the blink of an eye. My front tire violently smashed into the pole and I went flying over the handlebars. If it wasn’t for my jiu-jitsu training, I would’ve gotten a face full of pavement. Instinctively I went into a front brake-fall position, and broke the fall, only scraping up my arms instead of breaking my teeth. A roll would have been ideal, I suppose, but I was really going fast and was really, really drunk, so I’ll take what I can get. I don’t want to over-exaggerate this fall, but fuck - I really could’ve gotten fucked up if I didn’t break-fall. If I hadn’t acted as fast as I did, I guarantee right now my face would be mangled beyond recognition. Even by doing the break-fall, I still hit the ground hard and skidded to a stop; this way, though, I broke the fall properly, with my forearms, instead of with my face.
But, it didn’t stop there. I was going so fast that after being propelled off of it, my bike still had enough momentum to flip - that’s right, get airborne - over the pole and smash into the back of my head and my shoulders. The weird thing is that, somehow, even before it happened – while I was still in midair – I knew that was going to happen. I got up, and shook myself off. I was a bit disoriented, but it passed. There were two people walking ahead of me who only looked back and then kept on walking. It’s okay; when I see somebody fall off their bike and then have it land on them I generally don’t give a shit either.
The fall sucked, but the bike hitting me was the kicker. I think it was the frame that actually struck my head, but it might’ve been something near the gears, as I was definitely cut up. I wasn’t in too much pain at the time – my adrenaline had spiked before I even hit the ground – but I could tell I had just been fucked up. I picked up my bike, checked to make sure it was okay, swore, and then got back on and finished the ride to my place, stopping only once to fix the alignment.
I got in the house, brushed my teeth, and got into bed. Normally I would’ve drunken a couple bottles of water beforehand to ward off the raging hangover I would otherwise acquire the next morning, but this didn’t occur to me at the time.
I woke up at 7 with an aching head, blood stains on my pillow, and a hangover. I took some Advil, drank some water, and went to the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror. I went over every part of my body to determine what injuries I had incurred. I remembered the fall, though, and I knew I was bleeding, but I couldn’t find where it was coming from. I went back to bed.
I woke back up at 10:30 and, once I regained the ability to think rationally, I realized it had to be a head-wound of some sort, as it was mostly my pillow that was bloody. Sure enough, there was a lump on my head, and dried blood in my hair. Not much, but it was there. I cleaned myself off, took a shower, and then got a call from the guys asking if I wanted to go get some breakfast at Mel’s.
They all had similar stories about the night, but it didn’t seem like anybody could top my bike story. Somehow I wasn’t surprised.
My body’s still pretty sore and even if I didn’t remember the fall, the overall ache in my body is enough to let me know that I hit something hard. My elbows are a little scraped up, as well as my sides, chest, and legs, and my left knee is giving me a little trouble, but comparatively, that fall went over really well. God bless jiu-jitsu, and god bless alcohol.
Fuck, I love Phil’s.
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