I'm pretty confident this happened in 6th grade. Back in 6th grade we had a class called "cycle" where we would rotate an elective course every 6 weeks. If I remember correctly (and I can't believe this was in 1989, by the way) we would take Spanish, French, Latin, Health, Computers, and a Music cycle.
Anyway, back before I was the fashion maven I am today, I could not have cared less about fashion. In elementary school Notorious and I essentially had contests over who could come up with the best combination of sweatpants and t-shirts. In order to win the contest you had to have the brightest sweatpants and the best pop culture reference on your t-shirt. Matching or coordinating the colors did not make a difference. For example, I would win on the days when I would wear my bright orange sweatpants along with my "avoid the noid" t-shirt. As Diesal will tell you (whenever you're making fun of him and he wants to deflect the attention away from himself) I didn't even own a pair of jeans until 7th grade. I was generally sweatpants all the way through then, although I did have some of those interesting Bugle Boy pants with the zippers and stuff all over them '80s style.
So this happened in 6th grade, during middle school, but before I decided to actually put any thought into my outfits aside from which company's witty t-shirt expressed my mood that day. If I'm remembering correctly on that day I was wearing cargo sweatpants (because really I was just way ahead of my time, rather than a fashion misfit) and a t-shirt that said PennState-asaurus (do you remember those -asaurus t-shirts? Those were weird.) that was most likely an XL size even though I think I was 5'1" at the time. The shirt came down to my knees, which for some reason was also fashionable back then, or else I was just a huge dork. Probably both.
Here's the actual story. This is one of LJT's favorites, so I hope he will add or amend the story as necessary. We were in the music cycle and in the music room with Mr. Streckfuss. This was before he nearly killed our bass drummer for playing the song incorrectly. And also this was just a introduction to music class, so he couldn't be all that mean. I had taken my 3 years of piano lessons and so when he asked if someone could play some notes on the piano in order for him to demonstrate something or another, I volunteered.
So I'm wearing my cargo sweatpants, and my shirt that comes down to my knees, and I had been sitting, and most likely fidgeting in this chair for a while now. I get up to walk to the piano and wouldn't you know it, the now famous mother of all embarrassment, the shirt wedgie. I had a wedgie so big, that not only my underwear, not only my sweatpants, but also my XL t-shirt had jammed its way all up into my buttcrack. All I really remember is the 6th grade Notorious LJT, who was only slightly more uncouth than he is now and who had been sitting next to me, laughing hysterically as I tried to play off the nonchalant wedgie pull as I walked to the piano. I like to think that I redeemed myself by playing the notes on the piano correctly, but in retrospect, that probably just made me look like an even bigger nerd.
It was awesome.
Showing posts with label great stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label great stories. Show all posts
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The Toilet Bowl 2007: A Short Story
(This was originally written by Side Bar. Also, make sure to check out the hysterical video LJT posted below.)
Teaneck, New Jersey. Sunday, December 23, 2007.
On seeing that, we all agreed: Halftime. After a short break for water, wringing out our socks, and (in a few cases) a smoke, we reconvened. (But without Walt Clyde who, it may as well be said, had continued running all the way back to his home in South Jersey. Just kidding, Walt Clyde was forced to leave, much to his chagrin, as he had left it all out there on the field.)
Upon restarting, the 1978 squad continued to dominate (with Diesal now serving as all-purpose QB for both sides). As the 1 p.m. Giants kickoff drew closer, and our mud-soaked clothes beginning to weigh us down, both teams drove up and down the field, scoring on some hilariously executed plays. (Stunningly, the 1978s executed the Holy Grail of the schoolyard/pickup-football game: a double-reverse flea-flicker touchdown pass. Yes, dear reader, anything can happen.)
Naturally, a game like this delivered the funny, too. At one point, Diesal found the Brett Favre inside him and hurled a pass so amazingly fast that Andy B didn't even notice that it passed within 6 inches of his head. Had the pass fluttered a little bit to the right, this post would be an "R.I.P. Andy B's face," rather than this delightful retelling. (Oh, and at a different point, Andy B just missed a reception, slipped, and then -- before even hitting the muddy field below -- let out one of those classic screeches you only hear when one is in real fear. Seriously, he yelled before he even hit the ground. Sweet.)
About 20 minutes into the second half, on a seemingly innocuous play, Diesal dropped back and spotted Open Bar running down the left (East) sideline -- with a step on MMG. Diesal tossed a picture-perfect spiral that (would make Eli Manning cream in his shorts) seemed to hang in the air for an eternity . . . from Bryant School, to Lowell Elementary School, to our days at BF . . . The ball hung in the air and landed in Open Bar's waiting arms. A perfect pass and catch. Montana to Rice.
Open Bar never broke stride, but MMG was too close to give up. He pursued, Open Bar fled . . . Two grown men, sprinting after a youth spent playing football with friends. Open Bar neared the end zone, but didn't slow down, for MMG hadn't slowed his pursuit. Open Bar looked back, spotted MMG a few feet behind, and, with the widest shit-eating grin you'll ever see, flipped MMG the bird, and and continued running into the end zone for the score. MMG continued to pursue, wanting that final tackle, but Open Bar stayed just a few strides ahead.
The chase extended beyond the end zone. About 15 yards after the touchdown was clear and both men were well off the field of play -- but still running full-steam -- Open Bar (who was wearing cleats) came to a dead-stop, stepping just a smidge to his left. MMG (who was also wearing cleats) streaked past Open Bar and made one final bid to even the score. He slid into the mud, attempting to wipe Open Bar's feet out from under him. However, he missed, badly, winding up about 10 feet past his target. His slide through the mud, though, was tremendous.
There was Open Bar, holding the football in glory, while his pursuer dealt with the massive amount of new mud his clothes had just acquired.
Back on the field, Diesal, Beer-on-the-Girl, Andy B, Chuck, and I collapsed in laughter. Not only at the site of MMG on the ground (he claimed it was an intentional dive), but at Open Bar still flipping the bird. However old we all are now, in that moment, we were all just kids. Football, lots of mud, someone falling, a middle finger.
Soon after, we sat at the bar at Vinny O's, devouring sliders and hot wings and pitchers of sweet, sweet lager. Our legs were numb, but we all knew of the inevitable soreness to come -- something we never had to worry about years ago.
The cold rain from earlier in the morning had stopped. In spite of the conditions, we had played. Against the odds, we had met up once again to fulfill a tradition.
It used to be we would meet up in my basement after the game to play some Nintendo. Twenty years later, we simply moved over to Vinny O's to drink together. The camaraderie was still the same. And as every pitcher was emptied and drunk, the brotherhood was refilled and restored.
All was well.
To be read in the voice of that guy who did the voice-over on The Wonder Years. Minor liberties have been taken with the facts, but they are all true to the heart of the story. Please hit play on the video below to put you in the proper frame of mind.
Teaneck, New Jersey. Sunday, December 23, 2007.
The rain whipped the cracked, leaf-covered driveway. I looked out from our living-room window. Little daggers of water were spearing the ground relentlessly, bouncing off the pavement like hot oil sizzling in the frying pan.
"No chance." I said to my brother, MMG, flatly.
"I think you'll be surprised," he replied evenly, ever confident in his skills, which include both the power to forecast (and affect) the weather on hope alone and the ability to summon six other people telepathically.
As we hurried to the car, the rain somehow seemed to pick up, daring us to continue with this fool's errand, mocking our efforts to preserve not only a 20-year-old tradition, but a piece of our youth. A piece of ourselves.
"There is just no way anyone is going to be there," I said. "I mean, do you really think Andy B is even allowed out of the house in this weather? And Open Bar? It's not even 10 o'clock -- I'm not sure he's even gone to bed yet."
"I really think you'll be surprised," he replied -- still evenly, but with (maybe?) the slightest trace of uncertainty.
There were few other cars on the roads. Doubtless they were last-minute holiday shoppers cursing the weather, and perhaps themselves for waiting until December 23rd to make those final Christmas purchases.
Fortunately, we were not in that boat. Rather, we headed out to fulfill a tradition of many years. Every Christmas Eve, we played football -- a game we brilliantly titled the Toilet Bowl. As kids, we played full-tackle. Now, a bit older, we play (rough) touch. But it's the tradition that counts. No matter the weather.
Fortunately, we were not in that boat. Rather, we headed out to fulfill a tradition of many years. Every Christmas Eve, we played football -- a game we brilliantly titled the Toilet Bowl. As kids, we played full-tackle. Now, a bit older, we play (rough) touch. But it's the tradition that counts. No matter the weather.
As we turned the corner onto Windsor Road, approaching from the South, I glanced West. We used to go sledding down that big, sloping hill (though it seemed rather small today). Straight ahead we could see a few people standing in the parking lot at Benjamin Franklin (BF) Middle School. For a brief moment I wondered if we would have to find another spot, or if we would have to share the field with others. Curiously, it was not until we got even closer that I realized these were our people, our friends -- laughing at the rain, the hour, and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation -- who had come for the same reason we were there: to have fun, and to be 8 years old again, even just for a few hours.
Almost everyone who said they would be there was there. Walt Clyde was there, and his brother, Beer-on-the-Girl. Open Bar was present, accounted for, and wide awake. Chuck had driven all the way out from Queens. And Andy B was there, wearing six pairs of gloves, two sweatshirts, and insisting that he not be tackled.
As we started tossing the football around the parking lot, we laughed about the condition of the field, all of us wondering if we could make a game of it. Someone (Open Bar) complained that there was no beer. (Which was reasonable, considering that at the previous year's Toilet Bowl, a 30-pack of Miller Lite eased the pregame/halftime/postgame conversation.)
We walked the short distance from the parking lot to the North playing field. (BF has two fields, a North and a South and, for some reason, we've always played on the North field). At this point, it was Open Bar, Chuck, MMG, Walt Clyde, Beer-on-the-Girl, Andy B, and myself.
The field was a mess. Pools of standing water, patches of ice, all of it surrounded by and filled with slippery, slush-like mud. Basically, swamp-like conditions. Even the few who were smart enough to wear cleats could barely get any traction; those of us in sneakers could barely stand upright for more than a few steps. It didn’t matter. Or maybe it did. But probably, it was better this way.
We "borrowed" a few cones from a public-works truck parked nearby and sketched out two end zones and sidelines. Same rules as always: First-down marker at the midpoint of the field, no hand-offs, one blitz per four downs, five-mississippi before you can rush the QB. (Or was it seven?)
We chose up sides as we always do: the 1978 birthdays versus everyone else. Someone from had to play permanent-QB to keep the teams even, as there were only three 1978s and four non-1978s. But as fate would have it, just as the first drive got underway, Diesal D -- a proper 1978-er -- arrived (along with Danny G, who was carrying a small bag with an even smaller dog inside. Seriously.). Danny G took care of Gia (the dog), and Diesal joined our team, making it a true 1978-team against MMG, Andy B, Walt Clyde and Beer-on-the-Girl. For the 20th (or 21st? 22nd? 19th?) year in a row -- without ever missing a year -- on the day (or two) before Christmas, we all gathered in Teaneck for a few hours on a Saturday or Sunday morning.
The Toilet Bowl was underway.
The Toilet Bowl was underway.
The game itself proved to be quite a matchup. We (the 1978s) scored early and often, but the non-1978'ers hung in. But after consecutive interceptions by Open Bar, Diesal, and myself -- and, on offense, Diesal conjuring a Super Bowl XXI Phil Simms, as he relentlessly picked apart the non-1978 secondary, aided by the elusive receiving abilities of Chuck -- we began to pull away.
The non-1978s battled back, though, coming within a score or two of tying up the game. With third down and a long field to go, MMG dropped back to pass, looking for Walt Clyde deep. I was covering Walt Clyde on this particular play, and he flat-out burned me. The combination of his speed, my lack thereof, and the poor field conditions were no match; I had blown the coverage, and Walt Clyde was wide open. MMG heaved the ball deep, way too far over my head for me to do anything but watch Walt Clyde score. Then, just as Walt Clyde was about to haul the ball in for the touchdown, he lost the handle, and the ball fluttered to the soggy turf below. Rather than stopping, however, Walt Clyde just kept running. He never broke stride to curse his hands, or the weather, or the slippery ball that eluded his grasp . . . He just ran North along the tree-lined field, farther and farther out of view. It was hilarious.
On seeing that, we all agreed: Halftime. After a short break for water, wringing out our socks, and (in a few cases) a smoke, we reconvened. (But without Walt Clyde who, it may as well be said, had continued running all the way back to his home in South Jersey. Just kidding, Walt Clyde was forced to leave, much to his chagrin, as he had left it all out there on the field.)
Upon restarting, the 1978 squad continued to dominate (with Diesal now serving as all-purpose QB for both sides). As the 1 p.m. Giants kickoff drew closer, and our mud-soaked clothes beginning to weigh us down, both teams drove up and down the field, scoring on some hilariously executed plays. (Stunningly, the 1978s executed the Holy Grail of the schoolyard/pickup-football game: a double-reverse flea-flicker touchdown pass. Yes, dear reader, anything can happen.)
Naturally, a game like this delivered the funny, too. At one point, Diesal found the Brett Favre inside him and hurled a pass so amazingly fast that Andy B didn't even notice that it passed within 6 inches of his head. Had the pass fluttered a little bit to the right, this post would be an "R.I.P. Andy B's face," rather than this delightful retelling. (Oh, and at a different point, Andy B just missed a reception, slipped, and then -- before even hitting the muddy field below -- let out one of those classic screeches you only hear when one is in real fear. Seriously, he yelled before he even hit the ground. Sweet.)
About 20 minutes into the second half, on a seemingly innocuous play, Diesal dropped back and spotted Open Bar running down the left (East) sideline -- with a step on MMG. Diesal tossed a picture-perfect spiral that (would make Eli Manning cream in his shorts) seemed to hang in the air for an eternity . . . from Bryant School, to Lowell Elementary School, to our days at BF . . . The ball hung in the air and landed in Open Bar's waiting arms. A perfect pass and catch. Montana to Rice.
Open Bar never broke stride, but MMG was too close to give up. He pursued, Open Bar fled . . . Two grown men, sprinting after a youth spent playing football with friends. Open Bar neared the end zone, but didn't slow down, for MMG hadn't slowed his pursuit. Open Bar looked back, spotted MMG a few feet behind, and, with the widest shit-eating grin you'll ever see, flipped MMG the bird, and and continued running into the end zone for the score. MMG continued to pursue, wanting that final tackle, but Open Bar stayed just a few strides ahead.
The chase extended beyond the end zone. About 15 yards after the touchdown was clear and both men were well off the field of play -- but still running full-steam -- Open Bar (who was wearing cleats) came to a dead-stop, stepping just a smidge to his left. MMG (who was also wearing cleats) streaked past Open Bar and made one final bid to even the score. He slid into the mud, attempting to wipe Open Bar's feet out from under him. However, he missed, badly, winding up about 10 feet past his target. His slide through the mud, though, was tremendous.
There was Open Bar, holding the football in glory, while his pursuer dealt with the massive amount of new mud his clothes had just acquired.
Back on the field, Diesal, Beer-on-the-Girl, Andy B, Chuck, and I collapsed in laughter. Not only at the site of MMG on the ground (he claimed it was an intentional dive), but at Open Bar still flipping the bird. However old we all are now, in that moment, we were all just kids. Football, lots of mud, someone falling, a middle finger.
Soon after, we sat at the bar at Vinny O's, devouring sliders and hot wings and pitchers of sweet, sweet lager. Our legs were numb, but we all knew of the inevitable soreness to come -- something we never had to worry about years ago.
The cold rain from earlier in the morning had stopped. In spite of the conditions, we had played. Against the odds, we had met up once again to fulfill a tradition.
It used to be we would meet up in my basement after the game to play some Nintendo. Twenty years later, we simply moved over to Vinny O's to drink together. The camaraderie was still the same. And as every pitcher was emptied and drunk, the brotherhood was refilled and restored.
All was well.
Saturday, May 5, 2007
Phoning It In: Beer On The Girl
One thing you have probably realized by now if you've ever read any of my web sites or blog posts is that I don't ever edit any of the entries. I usually just write in a Joycian stream of consciousness kind of way as if I were having a conversation with someone who doesn't do much talking (my real self and my e-self are polar opposites apparently). Once I run out of thoughts then I hit publish and that's it. So I know there are mistkes in here and in all my posts for that matter, but I'm not going to fix them.
I was re-reading some of the stories from my old web site. Most of them are still pretty funny, so In lieu of some original content, I'm just going to cut and paste one of those stories here. One of my favorite ones is Beer On The Girl, so that's the one I chose. I know most of you reading this blog were either there when this took place, or have read the story before, but If you haven't thought about this in a while, then read it again. You'll get a kick out of it.
Beer on the Girl
So I've read this over and this is definitely a very poorly written story. What actually happened was hysterically funny and I'm afraid that this rendition isn't really too funny. It's way too long and doesn't really get to any point at all. I hope one day soon I'll get to figure out what I want to say and write it here.
This is definitely the quickest turn around on any story on the great stories site. I am writing this tale roughly two months after the event in question has taken place. This story is too funny and too random not to have a place on the board. I am certain that in time, this story will be just as classic as the oft told nugget story, or even reach such grandiose heights as the shit story.
So I hope you all remember Evan. He appears in several stories on this site. Biggie Sessoms, Daffy and the Transvestite and, most notably in relation to this story, Beer on the Cat. Just to refresh our memories, Joe poured beer on Evan's cat and Evan got mad. Please try to keep this story in mind as you read about the events of this night.
There is a bar in Teaneck, NJ called Vinny O's. It's not unlike any other local bar you may have ever been to, but Vinny O's stands out in two ways that make this story possible. The first is that Vinny O's in in walking distance of my house, Brian's house, Luke's house, Dave's house, Chris's house (you get the point). As this is such, if there are no plans on a particular night, an evening at Vinny O's is always an option. The second thing that makes Vinny O's special is an even known as 'wing out'.
Every Thursday night at Vinny O's between the hours of 7 and 11pm you can get buffalo wings for 10 cents a piece. Thus if you walk in with 5 dollars, you can get a drink and some wings and be set for a while. The most common order is 20 wings coming to a grand total of 2 dollars. If given the opportunity, I could wax poetic about the brilliance of this particular night at Vinny O's, but then I would be way off the point. Suffice it to say, that Thursday nights at Vinny O's are a popular event.
There are some of my friends who in recent months have made Vinny O's on Thursday night the place to be. Among us were Brian, Luke, Ricky, Dave, and myself who could be said to be staples of the wing out crowd. There had also been at about this time several people who made slightly less frequent, but not unheard of forays into the wing out pantheon. Mike Gray, Gerald, Max, SPomm, Lilah, and Megan have been seen at wing out on many Thursdays. Now Evan himself had been to many a wing out, and in the weeks leading up to this event, was quickly becoming part of the staple group. Megan, who is another friend of ours, but who didn't know Evan especially well, had also been coming more and more frequently.
So we're this far down in the story and I have yet to say anything about what actually happened on that night. Before I start, I must say that this was the first Thursday night in many, many months that I wasn't at Vinny O's for wing out, so I'm relating this to you second hand. The best thing to ever happen at Vinny O's and I missed it. Most of the staple crew was there that night, including Evan. Megan was also there and with her on that evening were several of her friends from nursing school. One of Megan's friends is named Ina. (perhaps is Eena. I'm not really sure, but that's how it's pronounced. I'll stick with Ina.)
Anyway, everyone was just kindof hanging out, eating wings, things of that sort. Evan struck up a conversation with Ina. He talked to her for a while, but he soon got the impression that Ina was a bit full of herself. Evan was turned off a bit by what he felt was a superior attitude on Ina's part. Luke later confirmed the fact that Ina was acting a bit superior on this night and he wasn't especially fond of her at the end of the evening either. As Evan put it, "She thought she was dope, but she wasn't."
Anyway, Evan wasn't fond of Ina, and neither was Luke, so they stopped talking to her in favor of other activities. Even after leaving Ina, however, Evan felt that he deserved some sort of retribution for Ina's cold ways. He stopped for a while, thought a few thoughts, and came up with a plan, which he relayed to Luke.
"Hey, you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna pour beer on that girl's head."
Now both Luke and Evan had had a couple of drinks at this point, so keep in mind that in all likelihood, niether of them was really thinking especially rationally. Luke was in a position to talk some sense into Evan. He was at least in a position to hold him back if he could not talk sense into him. But Luke passed up his opportunity to do that because, as he says, "At the time it seemed like a really good idea." Instead of advising against Evan's plan, therefore, Luke not only agreed but encouraged Evan to pour beer on Ina.
So Evan set out. He took his glass of beer and started toward Ina. Walking as straight a line as he possible could, he targeted the poor girl and soon had her in his sights. He was ready to strike when all of a sudden he realized that something was not quite right with his plan. If you are a good samaritan you might think that Evan had realized the foix pas he was about to commit and decided to err on the side of caution. You would be wrong in that assumption.
Evan looked down at his glass and realized that it was only half filled with beer. In order to have a fully effective strike, he must have a full glass. He turned around, went back to the pitcher on his table and filled his glass. Now fully prepared, he headed back toward Ina.
The strike was quick and unescapable. Evan walked past Ina as if he were going somewhere else and then performed the now famous turn and pour technique. Ina was obviously not expecting to be completely doused with beer at any point during that night, and she was therefore taken aback at what was happening.
Ina's first response was to start throwing kicks and punches in Evan's direction. She did her best to beat the crap out of Evan right from her barstool. It was a valiant effort, but for the most part a failure. Evan quickly held on to Ina and tried to calm her down, saying things like "It's ok, it's over now." and "Ok Ok, calm down it's alright."
So imagine this. You've just been doused with beer for no good reason at all and the person who's trying to console is the one who just doused you. Not only that, but he's trying to convince you that what had just happened was not really a big deal. Ina, like most people who might find themselves in such a situation, was having none of that. Even so, Evan had a grip on her so her fight was fruitless.
The reaction from those running the bar, however, was fast and furious. One of the bouncers quickly grapped Evan, put him in a headlock for several seconds, and then slammed him to the floor with his arms behind his back. Someone also held Ina if I remember the story correctly, but I think it was only to keep her from getting at Evan. During this whole time there were three or four people involved in running the bar who were saying things like "Oh, you fucked up tonight, man." and "You shouldn't have done that here." in Evan's general direction. Except it was more like yelling than saying and they were all standing right around him and simultaneously pulling him out of the bar.
Luke tried to step in on Evan's behalf, urging the bouncers to leave him alone, or at least to not treat him so roughly. Evan eventually ended up outside and was being spoken to by Vinny O himself who was among the men pulling Evan out. Vinny informed Evan that he was banned from Vinny O's for 3 entire weeks. This seems like a pretty arbitrary amount of time to be banned from somewhere, and as you may not understand, wing out is one of the more fun events in the week. In fact, Evan had been driving up from Rutgers for the past few Thursday nights in a row, just to come to wing out. Evan was therefore pretty upset that he wouldn't be able to come for a while and tried to talk down his sentence, as it seemed like it came out of thin air in the first place. In the end, however, the 3 week ban was held up and Evan would have to miss out on some hot wing out action.
As you can probably guess, the night at Vinny O's was pretty much over at this point. Everyone more or less decided that after what had just happened, they would be better off just leaving for the night. But here is where the story gets really interesting. I believe Megan was one of the people who had driven there on that particular night and she was obviously going to drive Ina home. Somehow, and as I wasn't there I really have no idea how this happened, but somehow Evan also ended up in Megan's car. And if that weren't strange enough, by the time Megan dropped Evan off, Evan and Ina were friends and they had decided that they would have to hang out again some time.
The next day Evan had a few cuts on his face from face planting into the floor. To peoplewho didn't know what happened, he was hesitant to tell them the real story. Aside from that life seemed to just go on. Evan served his three weeks and upon his return he was welcomed back to Vinny O's with what might be called a glorious send up, though it really wasn't. For various reasons wing out is no longer the glue that holds the week together and there really isn't a staple crowd that meets there every week. But to be banned from wing out during that period of time, was a grave punishment. Let's hope that Evan has realized the error of his ways.
I was re-reading some of the stories from my old web site. Most of them are still pretty funny, so In lieu of some original content, I'm just going to cut and paste one of those stories here. One of my favorite ones is Beer On The Girl, so that's the one I chose. I know most of you reading this blog were either there when this took place, or have read the story before, but If you haven't thought about this in a while, then read it again. You'll get a kick out of it.
Beer on the Girl
So I've read this over and this is definitely a very poorly written story. What actually happened was hysterically funny and I'm afraid that this rendition isn't really too funny. It's way too long and doesn't really get to any point at all. I hope one day soon I'll get to figure out what I want to say and write it here.
This is definitely the quickest turn around on any story on the great stories site. I am writing this tale roughly two months after the event in question has taken place. This story is too funny and too random not to have a place on the board. I am certain that in time, this story will be just as classic as the oft told nugget story, or even reach such grandiose heights as the shit story.
So I hope you all remember Evan. He appears in several stories on this site. Biggie Sessoms, Daffy and the Transvestite and, most notably in relation to this story, Beer on the Cat. Just to refresh our memories, Joe poured beer on Evan's cat and Evan got mad. Please try to keep this story in mind as you read about the events of this night.
There is a bar in Teaneck, NJ called Vinny O's. It's not unlike any other local bar you may have ever been to, but Vinny O's stands out in two ways that make this story possible. The first is that Vinny O's in in walking distance of my house, Brian's house, Luke's house, Dave's house, Chris's house (you get the point). As this is such, if there are no plans on a particular night, an evening at Vinny O's is always an option. The second thing that makes Vinny O's special is an even known as 'wing out'.
Every Thursday night at Vinny O's between the hours of 7 and 11pm you can get buffalo wings for 10 cents a piece. Thus if you walk in with 5 dollars, you can get a drink and some wings and be set for a while. The most common order is 20 wings coming to a grand total of 2 dollars. If given the opportunity, I could wax poetic about the brilliance of this particular night at Vinny O's, but then I would be way off the point. Suffice it to say, that Thursday nights at Vinny O's are a popular event.
There are some of my friends who in recent months have made Vinny O's on Thursday night the place to be. Among us were Brian, Luke, Ricky, Dave, and myself who could be said to be staples of the wing out crowd. There had also been at about this time several people who made slightly less frequent, but not unheard of forays into the wing out pantheon. Mike Gray, Gerald, Max, SPomm, Lilah, and Megan have been seen at wing out on many Thursdays. Now Evan himself had been to many a wing out, and in the weeks leading up to this event, was quickly becoming part of the staple group. Megan, who is another friend of ours, but who didn't know Evan especially well, had also been coming more and more frequently.
So we're this far down in the story and I have yet to say anything about what actually happened on that night. Before I start, I must say that this was the first Thursday night in many, many months that I wasn't at Vinny O's for wing out, so I'm relating this to you second hand. The best thing to ever happen at Vinny O's and I missed it. Most of the staple crew was there that night, including Evan. Megan was also there and with her on that evening were several of her friends from nursing school. One of Megan's friends is named Ina. (perhaps is Eena. I'm not really sure, but that's how it's pronounced. I'll stick with Ina.)
Anyway, everyone was just kindof hanging out, eating wings, things of that sort. Evan struck up a conversation with Ina. He talked to her for a while, but he soon got the impression that Ina was a bit full of herself. Evan was turned off a bit by what he felt was a superior attitude on Ina's part. Luke later confirmed the fact that Ina was acting a bit superior on this night and he wasn't especially fond of her at the end of the evening either. As Evan put it, "She thought she was dope, but she wasn't."
Anyway, Evan wasn't fond of Ina, and neither was Luke, so they stopped talking to her in favor of other activities. Even after leaving Ina, however, Evan felt that he deserved some sort of retribution for Ina's cold ways. He stopped for a while, thought a few thoughts, and came up with a plan, which he relayed to Luke.
"Hey, you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna pour beer on that girl's head."
Now both Luke and Evan had had a couple of drinks at this point, so keep in mind that in all likelihood, niether of them was really thinking especially rationally. Luke was in a position to talk some sense into Evan. He was at least in a position to hold him back if he could not talk sense into him. But Luke passed up his opportunity to do that because, as he says, "At the time it seemed like a really good idea." Instead of advising against Evan's plan, therefore, Luke not only agreed but encouraged Evan to pour beer on Ina.
So Evan set out. He took his glass of beer and started toward Ina. Walking as straight a line as he possible could, he targeted the poor girl and soon had her in his sights. He was ready to strike when all of a sudden he realized that something was not quite right with his plan. If you are a good samaritan you might think that Evan had realized the foix pas he was about to commit and decided to err on the side of caution. You would be wrong in that assumption.
Evan looked down at his glass and realized that it was only half filled with beer. In order to have a fully effective strike, he must have a full glass. He turned around, went back to the pitcher on his table and filled his glass. Now fully prepared, he headed back toward Ina.
The strike was quick and unescapable. Evan walked past Ina as if he were going somewhere else and then performed the now famous turn and pour technique. Ina was obviously not expecting to be completely doused with beer at any point during that night, and she was therefore taken aback at what was happening.
Ina's first response was to start throwing kicks and punches in Evan's direction. She did her best to beat the crap out of Evan right from her barstool. It was a valiant effort, but for the most part a failure. Evan quickly held on to Ina and tried to calm her down, saying things like "It's ok, it's over now." and "Ok Ok, calm down it's alright."
So imagine this. You've just been doused with beer for no good reason at all and the person who's trying to console is the one who just doused you. Not only that, but he's trying to convince you that what had just happened was not really a big deal. Ina, like most people who might find themselves in such a situation, was having none of that. Even so, Evan had a grip on her so her fight was fruitless.
The reaction from those running the bar, however, was fast and furious. One of the bouncers quickly grapped Evan, put him in a headlock for several seconds, and then slammed him to the floor with his arms behind his back. Someone also held Ina if I remember the story correctly, but I think it was only to keep her from getting at Evan. During this whole time there were three or four people involved in running the bar who were saying things like "Oh, you fucked up tonight, man." and "You shouldn't have done that here." in Evan's general direction. Except it was more like yelling than saying and they were all standing right around him and simultaneously pulling him out of the bar.
Luke tried to step in on Evan's behalf, urging the bouncers to leave him alone, or at least to not treat him so roughly. Evan eventually ended up outside and was being spoken to by Vinny O himself who was among the men pulling Evan out. Vinny informed Evan that he was banned from Vinny O's for 3 entire weeks. This seems like a pretty arbitrary amount of time to be banned from somewhere, and as you may not understand, wing out is one of the more fun events in the week. In fact, Evan had been driving up from Rutgers for the past few Thursday nights in a row, just to come to wing out. Evan was therefore pretty upset that he wouldn't be able to come for a while and tried to talk down his sentence, as it seemed like it came out of thin air in the first place. In the end, however, the 3 week ban was held up and Evan would have to miss out on some hot wing out action.
As you can probably guess, the night at Vinny O's was pretty much over at this point. Everyone more or less decided that after what had just happened, they would be better off just leaving for the night. But here is where the story gets really interesting. I believe Megan was one of the people who had driven there on that particular night and she was obviously going to drive Ina home. Somehow, and as I wasn't there I really have no idea how this happened, but somehow Evan also ended up in Megan's car. And if that weren't strange enough, by the time Megan dropped Evan off, Evan and Ina were friends and they had decided that they would have to hang out again some time.
The next day Evan had a few cuts on his face from face planting into the floor. To peoplewho didn't know what happened, he was hesitant to tell them the real story. Aside from that life seemed to just go on. Evan served his three weeks and upon his return he was welcomed back to Vinny O's with what might be called a glorious send up, though it really wasn't. For various reasons wing out is no longer the glue that holds the week together and there really isn't a staple crowd that meets there every week. But to be banned from wing out during that period of time, was a grave punishment. Let's hope that Evan has realized the error of his ways.
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