What a daunting task.  Summarize 4 days that can only be experienced if you were there.  My kidneys and liver are almost better now, however, the haunting phrase  “B to the E” still sends shakes down my spine. 

We arrived at the airport and headed directly to the bar.  Boz soon joined Tommy, SB and I for a round of Bloody Marys and we soon chased them with beers.  We boarded our plane and I soon found I was sitting next to Super Boy.  I, unfortunately had the middle seat in a crowded plane.  NOT GOOD.  I quickly offered $20 to switch seats, which he accepted, and we were airborne. 

Tommy and Boz were a few rows up and we could see their heads nodding only moments after take off.  Asleep on tour already.  SB and I discussed tour rules and again quoted the 8 rules of touring (which is actually 9).

After memorizing them we continued to sip on our drinks, served by a very friendly Northwest Flight attendant, and discussed sex, politics, and rugby tours.  SB was dropping F bombs like bunker busters which sent the lady in front of us in near hysterics when she realized her impressionable 14 year old son was taking notes.  I tried to quiet SB several times to a dirty look and a “whatever.” 

TONIGHT’S ROLE OF "MUD CRAB DONNELY" WILL BE PLAYED BY THE UNREPENTENT SUPER BOY

We depart our flight in Minneapolis and head directly to another bar.  We lose Boz for a while, but Tommy, SB and I continued to take it to the next level, pounding drinks at the Surf Bar in the airport.  Martina Navratilova, former Wimbledon champion, was adorned in a flashy Hawaiian shirt and serving us drinks.  My how the mighty have fallen.  We paid our tab and hustled down to our gate and found Boz already seated in the back of the plane.  SB was again seated center and I did not look forward to the tight squeeze for 3 more hours into Spokane.  I was much relieved to see SB continue down the aisle and take a seat in the back of the plane.  The flight was not as full and he found a comfy seat near Tommy and Boz.  I drank.  About one hour out of Spokane I slipped into the bathroom and kilted up.  I had been wearing my kaki shorts, but preferred to have my tartan and sat back down without much notice.

We landed and made our way to the baggage to find Ozzy Paul and Casey (rookie from Carolina who had confirmed he was attending months before.)  Ozzy shows up with no sign of Casey.  Apparently the fact he had not been heard from since letting us know he was going, meant he actually wasn’t going.  We waited for our baggage and were met by Seth, a rugger from Portland that I had run around with 3 years prior in Seattle.  We agreed to give him a ride to Missoula (so he wouldn’t have to wait for the rest of his team to arrive hours later.)  He asked about the rest of our team and we explained that it had slowly fizzled from 16 guys to the 5 he saw in front of him.  He laughed.  He was playing with a group known as the HIGHWAY MEN. 

We explained our plans (we still needed to stop at a costume shop in Spokane before departing for MT) and he didn’t seem to mind.  We secured a van and filed into our seats for the tour.  Seth was shocked when we selected our driver......an Australian, but he had been good on the road on past tours and no one seemed to mind at the time.   After several U turns after missing exits, we arrived at the party/costume store and were suddenly children in a candy store.  The store was complete with any gag gifts, costumes, or every fun thing imagined.  We bought Viking helmets, battle axes, mardi gras beads, as well as Elvis glass and mood rings, but the key purchase was the wig for our costumes.  Now we were only one piece short of the greatest costumes ever.

Seth reminded us that the real fun was 3 hours down the road and we jumped back in the van and headed to random stores looking to purchase beer for our trip to Missoula.  After purchasing about 5 cases of beer and 3 Sparks (nasty drink of red bull, malt liquor and vodka) we were off.  I quickly loaded CD #1 and the boys were rocking on the trip.  I had put together a 6 Volume Tour CD with random songs to enjoy on our trip.

By the time we were mid way through Idaho, the rules of bathroom breaks were explained.  $5 first stop, $10 second, $15 and then $20, etc.  It was only a 3 hour trip so it should be that bad.  We pulled over on the side of the road and peed in the snow.  It must have been 80 degrees outside, but piles of snow along the mountain pass remained.  We had taken some nice pictures of the mountains and lakes along the way, but were eager to get to Montana and pose at the border

 

We loaded back up and next stopped at the border of Montana.  A Photo Op later we were back into the vehicle discussing stopping at the 10,000 Silver Dollar bar (because of the ten thousand silver dollars on the bar and walls.).  Another fun tourist trap filled with toys that Tommy and Aussie Paul found particularly exciting.  We found the bar, gambled a bit, and were back on the road.  Boz was upset that no one would let him buy a sword, but simply, they wouldn't let him take it on the plane...and really a sword was the last thing this group needed to have in their possession.  Seth left us at this point, explaining that he would wait at this bar until his teammates caught up.  We were off, throwing back beers and enjoying the mix.

We had instituted a VETO rule in the van.  If you didn't like a song, you could use your VETO.  However, if you hadn't already used your VETO you could override a veto.  Your VETO power would be restored once everyone had used their VETO or OVERRIDE powers.    This kep things interesting.  A bit further down the road we decided to pay another $10 for bathroom break and loaded into a small bar on the side of the road.  Inside the bar were locals and a lot of stuffed dead animals.  We literally could have stayed there chatting with the locals for almost 30 minutes before we realized we needed to get a move on.  We rolled in like gang busters and were met by locals laughing at our kilts, t-shirts, and Elvis glasses.  We drank Moose Drool (A local brew) and a few shots and were again off on the road (being told which exit we should hit to see Freds – the local strip joint.)  We were in a hurry to get to our hotel and sped past the exit, pounding more and more beers. 

In past trips to Maggotfest, Freds had been a mainstay.  A small strip joint next to a truck stop.  I have never been in the position to judge the women's attractiveness (always been too drunk) but I do recall a girl lighting my cigar with a flaming match from her coochy one time.  That was worth the admission alone (oh that is right it is free...and Friday afternoons were $1 drafts.)  Definitely hoped we could stop there on the way back anyways.

We left the bar and headed to the Rugby party.  Tommy and Aussie Paul went back to the Motel to get Tommy a kilt to wear.  With Tommy, Aussie Paul, Boz and myself all wearing kilts, we were the perfect entourage for Super Boy who was wearing his Mr. Incredible costume.  We arrived at the party to find a large number of ruggers (males and females) hammered, swaying around the bar.  We then noticed the female players had taken position on a back bar and were dancing to the tunes. While Tommy was dancing with one of the ladies, she "borrowed" his viking helmet and by the time Tommy found her to get it back, one of the horns was confiscated (Probably to be used as a drinking vessle) and he now had what would be known as the Rhino horn.  Unfortunately, the next 4 hours were a fruitless attempt to get the DJ to play Sweet Child of Mine and Paul, Tommy and I decided it was best we left to find a better bar.  The bar was easily 100+ degrees inside, so when we hit the cool 65 degree temperature outside, shivers began to run through our bones.  Or maybe that was a pre cursor of the shakes we would all experience on Sunday from over boozing.

Our trio then headed over to Rhino Bar and after some chatting there, made our way, by suggestion of our new female friend Allison, to a much more quiet bar, where we could actually be served.  We entered and found a hip-hop club only half full.  I made my way to the bar and found a very cute bartender.  She set us up with 3 beers and 3 shots of Sambuca.  $10.  I later ordered another 2 more beers, 2 Jack and Cokes, and 3 more Sambucas.  $5.  My final round was a few more shots and beers and there simply was NO CHARGE.  We watched the clock and saw that 2 AM was approaching quickly.  I asked our new friend Skye, the bartender, where the nearest place to buy beer was.  She gave me directions and the Allison, Tommy, Aussie Paul and myself  headed out to find more drinks.

It was getting tight on time and the girl decided she would literally run and buy the beer for us.  She sprinted 5 or 6 blocks ahead of us, only to find the Safeway was closed.  She then sprinted another 5 or 6 blocks, only to miss last call by seconds at the next beer oasis.  On her way out of the store she ran into her cousin, who had stolen a bottle of merlot.  When we finally met up with her and her cousin, they were joined by a Scottish guy who questioned our kilts.  Allison's cousin tok the bottle of merlot and broke off the neck so we can drink from the bottle.  It was so delicious.  Obviously I had been overserved.  Aussie Paul was in rare drunk form, as was Tommy (and we all know I was) and we all stumbled back to the convenience store (a KUM AND GO) to buy some food and see if we could get a cab.  We lost our female friend about this time.  I bought 22 cookies, potato chips, a box of ice cream bars (Bubby’s cure to walking home) and some Vienna sausages.  We waited for our cab.  It never showed up.  While we waited we captured just how drunk we really were on a disposable cam corder I had purchased.  The price was a steep $30 for 20 minutes of film, however, as many times as I had dropped it (and Aussie Paul had kicked it down the street) it was so worth not having my expensive camera with me.  The film turned out hilarious and will long be treasured for its humor.  So we started walking home.  We got about ½ way there when a kind soul decided to pull over to our pleas for a ride.  Three large men in kilts are walking along the road, and of all people, who picks us up?  A 23 year old Muslim student from Iran.  We thanked him for his kindness as he dropped us off at the motel and walked to our rooms.  That really was one nice and slightly crazy foreigner.

Along the way we ran into a few ruggers.  Tommy stopped and said, “Hey, guys. Big gulps, huh? Cool. Alright! Well, see ya later.”  We all ascend the stairs to our room laughing at Tommy.  Out of no where a beaten and bloody Mr. Incredible comes storming towards us.  His drunk ramblings are slowly deciphered into his night in retrospect.

 “We walked out of the bar looking for you guys.  We were right behind you and then we lost you.  Boz and I entered another bar and then we were home and then I was knocking on the door because you failed to give me a key.”  He continued, “Some Marines started yelling at me to be quiet so I walked up to shut them up.  When I arrived I saw their room had about 12 guys in it so I decided I would just walk away.  About that time a guy walks out and says, ‘I heard someone out here needs to get his ass kicked.’  I turned and charged the big guy and took him down.  Next thing you know I am being kicked in the head and ribs by several guys until the fight is broken up.”  Tommy and Paul go to bed.  I stare in disbelief.  I ask him why he can’t just be like everyone else and fight one guy at a time. 

On St Patrick’s day he took on 5 guys in the front of our house.  At Maggotfest 12 Marines.  He then says, “And I blame you Montana.  You and this horrible state.  This horrible rugby tournament.  It is horrible all of it.  I hate Montana.” 

I walked over to the Marine’s room to get their side of the story.  Seems SB was pounding on doors trying to get let into a room so he could pass out.  The Marine’s, who had gone to bed early, yelled at him to shut up.  He approached and when seeing that the room was filled with guys, decided he would leave and shut up.  About this time they sent out their 6’6” broad shouldered marine buddy.  He said, “I hear someone out here wants to get his ass kicked.”  Jesse, unable to step down from a fight, charged the big man.  He had the upper hand when the Marines decided it was now time to kick SB off their mate.  The fight was then broken up.  I listened to the entire story, shook my head and said, “You called out the SWEDE?”  Only one of the Marines got the reference to Heart Break Ridge (Clint Eastwood), but he quickly explained it to the rest of the guys.  They gave me and SB a slice of their pizza and I left satisfied that another typical misunderstanding in the rugby world had been resolved.  (But they did jump him during a fight......??? Hmmmm)

We wake up early on Saturday (8 AM-ish) and get prepared for the tournament.  We have been fortunate enough to be picked up by the Washington State University Alumni team, The Legends.  Their first game was at 12:20 PM.  What a great draw.  We headed down to the store and bought 2 cases of beer, a 12 pack of Bud Energy drink (B to the E) and a few cans of Sparks.  We started drinking heavily and decided it was time to load up and head over to the field.  While standing around waiting to leave, we chatted with some guys from random teams.  I recalled a moment at Savannah’s tournament and shared the story with the guys.  Seemed a player on Rocky Gorge decided I didn’t look so good on Sunday and I needed a “Petey eye,” referring to the white dog with the block circle on the Little Rascals.  He quickly “sharpied” me a black circle around my eye and things were that much better.  I watched him walk around to various girls and provide them with Petey Eyes.  I decided this was genius, as did my comrades, and we grabbed the black make up marker that SB had used to draw on his Mr. Incredible mask and we hit the field.  We were dressed with our finest USSR paraphernalia  and walked in singing, “Ruskies Ruskies….RUS RUS.”  We were there no longer than 10 minutes before I found my first Petey Eye victims.  Four girls agreed to wear the circle “if we would just leave them alone.”  The Petey Eye expedition continued for another 5 hours and slowly, but surely we had marked over 100 chicks at the tournament.

To clarify something about Maggotfest, the largest demographic of females at the tournament is not “rugger huggers” or women ruggers, but rather civilians.  Chicks that just want to show up and drink all day for $10.  This tournament may have the largest collection of hotties ever seen at any one rugby tournament, ever.  Sure there were the usual “rugby” cute women players, along with the crew cut girls, the girlfriends and wives, and a handful of girls that their sexual orientation was confused to say the least, however, the best and brightest highlight would be the hundreds of civilian chicks dressed in skimpy outfits just getting hammered and stumbling around.  I watched one such girl just stumble face first into the gravel, only to look up at the guy she almost ran into – John Q Law.  The two cops that were patrolling the event were very cool.  Posing with pictures and enjoying the specatacle that only 1000 rugby players could create.  At one point, he agreed to let a crew cut chick rugger in a bikini handcuff him while his partner laughed and laughed.  She continued to grind on the helpless cop until she became bored and wandered off looking for more beer.

The weather at Maggotfest is rather odd.  One year it snowed on Friday, only to reach 79 degrees on Saturday and Sunday.  Another year it was gorgeous on Thursday only to reach 40 mile an hour winds on Saturday and Sunday.  The weather report had forcasted 75 degrees and sunny Friday through Sunday.  This was good.  It, however, was incorrect.  As we would later find out, temperatures reached 93 degrees.  At least it was a dry heat.  Well not under my kilt it wasn’t.  My balls were sweating buckets. 

After our first game with WSU Legends, we had lost some of our desire to play.  We had traveled, we had played, we had drank, now it was time to party.  SB had separated his shoulder fancy dancing around the pitch….carrying the ball with one hand, over the shoulder passes, and side stepping young college backs.  Boz had ridiculed the lack of skill these 19 year olds had and made fun of them everytime we entered the scrum.  Tommy injured himself with a series of runs that he hadn’t even expected himself to participate in.  Paul had played a decent 8 man, but switched to hooker in the second half and the forwards again controlled the match.  Down by 19 at half, we subbed out several players and for reasons unknown to us, they brought in a group of quality backs.  They quickly put three tries on the board and we won 21-19.  With two injured players and myself being completely out of shape, we decided social activities would reign the rest of the day.

Realizing we hadn’t eaten, I made my way to the concession van and found they offered one thing to eat:  THE VIKING.  This beauty was four Norwegian meatballs made from ground pork and beef, dipped into pancake batter and deep fried to a gorgeous golden brown.  Then it was placed on a stick (resembling in structure only – a corn dog.)  My first bites almost floored me.  This delicacy is a secret that must be shared.  I quickly bought 5 more and shared them with my friends.  We sat back in the sun, sipped on Coors Light, and watched the crowd of girls and idiot guys continue this legendary event.

SB had agreed to give Montana and Maggotfest another shot and we decided to engage a rule:  “Where ever MT goes, SB follows.”  I could keep him out of trouble.  So we sat near the beer trucks, making short journeys to the free beer flowing from the 8 kegged vehicle.  As we made more and more friends, our crowd grew larger and larger.  At one point when Boz returned from a trip to watch some girls play, I said, “Since you’ve been gone….”  To which the entire group of idiot brothers on this trip screamed out the lyrics to Kelly “f’en” Clarkson’s “Since you been gone.”  This got the attention to several ladies in the area and we soon had a nice large following of female fans. 

The girls soon became our beer wenches and would run and get our cups filled at the beer truck whenever we ran out of beer.  After a few hours we were approached by the Legends letting us know our match was at 4:20 PM.  Aussie Paul and Boz agreed to run with them one last time.  We needed a couple players to play again to guarantee the beer tickets for the party that night.   (ONLY TEAMS ARE GIVEN THE TICKETS….so whores literally are paid with beer tickets.  BRILLIANT. )

While they were away, Tommy, SB and I continued to entertain the flood of ladies and ruggers, including my “twin” brother Chewbacca.  This handsome devil, shared only my body hair qualities, was surely a blood relative.  I reminded the guys that we still needed to go shopping for our final piece of our costume (the brown shirts.)  They continued to drink and we enjoyed the final hour of Saturday afternoon.

Once Aussie Paul returned with Boz, we got a few more beers and headed to the van.  We bought a bunch more B2E and Sparks (we were slowly but surely buying the town out of alcoholic energy drinks.)  Then we hit ShopKo.  Tommy walked into the store, B2E in hand.  We all cringed, but we were on tour…..and the rules state, Drink and eat whenever possible.  I remained in the car.  I didn’t need a shirt (since I had a complete costume already.)  They returned successfully and we made our way back to the motel. 

We showered up from the day’s events and sat around drinking.  SB went to make a phone call to his friends back home and walked out the back door of our hotel room and stood there chatting…….butt naked.  We soon received a phone call from the motel owner telling us we had 5 minutes to get out of the room or he would call the police.  Seems he did not appreciate Jesse’s nudity.  SB got dressed and walked down to the lobby to apologize and the owner agreed to let us stay if it didn’t happen again.

Jesse then had to satisfy his end of Kangaroo Court.  Because of his fighting 12 marines, he was honored with the Strokes/Donnelly award (Biggest idiot of Friday night) and had to return to the Marines and sing the Marine Corps song.  Everyone apologized, drank beer and sang more rugby songs.  We returned to our room and started drinking and watching Porn until a discussion of religion sparked the groups interest.  Each of us have a Graduate Degree in various fields enabling us a higher level of conversation, however, I kept reminding everyone that we were on a rugby trip and we should be talking about Booze and drugs and hookers and fire engines and strippers and chicks.  I was largely ignored until I started applying the orange make up to my face.  At this point the group all started getting ready for that night’s event.

We left the motel around 930 and headed to the state fair grounds where the party was being held.  We stopped for some supplies and made it to the party without incident.  As we entered the park, the crowds went wild after seeing our costumes.  Five HUGE Oompahloompas entering the beer garden was more than most of these ruggers could imagine.  Everyone complimented us on our costumes and we sat and partied with random people for most of the night.

At this point, a guy in a business suit (a common costume theme for Maggotfest) approached and said, “You know, FT Collins came as Oompahloompas last year.  Do you think it is that great of a costume if someone had done it before?”  I looked at him in disbelief and said, “Better than yours” and walked away.  In the words of Seth, our friend from Portland, “who cares, the biggest oompahloompas show up at your party…….that is just plain awesome.”  So after the defense of the costumes we meandered around drinking and partying more.  SB had become the infamous MOLESTANA (a nick name I received one night because of my “busy” hands.)  He had several girls cornered into walls and they barely escaped with their lives.  The dreaded words of  “the beer is all gone” was shouted out and we decided it was time to leave. 

A team had chartered a bus and the bus was out front waiting when we left.  We tried to join their merriment, but they held us off the bus.  So we walked to the car.  There was some drunken chatter with a girl who thought we were all gay because we were wearing make up and then Tommy ran head first into a fence.  Overall…the night was going well.

We drove downtown where Aussie Paul decided he would just drop us off and he would head home.  The four of us went back to the Rhino, but after poor service we moved downstairs to the hip hop club.  A new bartender was there, but he seemed okay.  We ordered drinks.  I was holding Tommy’s wallet in my sporin and realized I needed to go pull out cash.  I walked to the ATM got some cash and joined the rest of the boys at a table near the dance floor. 

The spectacle for the patrons was something else.  Four HUGE oompahloompas dancing on the dance floor.  Then SB challenged Tommy to a dance off.  The DJ got into it and announced that the ooompahloompah dance off would begin after the next song.  Crowds lined the floor to watch these two orange men with green hair tear up the dance floor.  I decided to go buy another round and noticed Tommy’s Wallet was missing.  I freaked.  I looked on the floor all over the bar and went to the bartender.  He handed over the wallet and I was relieved.  I ordered my drinks and he was nice enough to say, “These are me.”  The bar closed and we wandered up the street back to our motel.  We continued past it to a 7/11 to buy food.  When I finally made it out of the store, I found Tommy with a puzzled look on his face.  “Montana, what did you do with all my money?”  Flashback to finding his wallet.  Then the bartender saying, “These ones are on me.”  I explained the situation and told him I would pay him back for whatever he was missing.  He told me he had $250.  I told him I would pay him back.  Things started to go down hill from here.

We made it back to the room.  Boz and SB shot the shit as they ate chips and hot dogs.  I went in with Tommy and we started drunk dialing friends and family.  It was 3 AM in Missoula, which made it 5 AM on the East Coast.  Definitely leaving a lot of messages.  I finally awoke the next morning with a 3 star hangover.  We went to find food and headed back to the fields for a final lap around the pitch and to say some goodbyes to friends we had met.  It had dropped from a 93 degree day to around 45 with a windchill close to 30 degrees.  We decided it was time to leave and we loaded up the van and headed to Glacier.  We were hoping to stop at Fred’s on the way out of town, but they were not open at 12 noon.  So we continued up the road.  I had told the guys it would be a 3 hour drive each way, but no one seemed to hear me.  We arrived at a small town with a store front called “Buffalo Souvenirs.”  Boz being from Buffalo, wanted to stop and we did.  We bought some Buffalo Jerky, postcards and took a few pictures.  We also got directions to the American Bison Range, which was a mere 5 miles away.

We pulled up to the reserve and had our picture taken with the sign.  We continued on til we found some Bison roaming near the road.  We stopped the car and rolled down the windows.  The signs had said not to leave the car, but SB jumped out and started walking towards the buffalo – eating Buffalo Jerky.  The Big beasts moved further away with every step he took.  Boz joined him as we remained in the car.  We loaded back into the vehicle, drove a bit more around the park and started our journey again north, to Glacier National Park.

About this time Tommy says, “I thought dogs…..laid eggs and I …… learned something today.”  We laughed and kept driving.  Around Flathead Lake we stopped to pose down next to the giant body of water.  We picked up some more B2E and Sparks.  Tommy and Aussie Paul were done drinking, but SB, Boz and myself were still throwing down drinks.  About 3 hours into this trip, Aussie Paul asks how much further.  I tell him that since we stopped so many times, it was probably another hour or so….and then another 3 hours back and 3 hours to Spokane.  Tommy and Paul both flipped out.  They bitched at me for not telling them it was a long trip.  Whatever….I didn’t even want to go in the first place.  We finally take the turn off to West Glacier and pull into a small town.  Paul says, “I am gonna go ask the park ranger where this damn glacier is…..”  I head to the bathrooms and when I get back, both Tommy and Paul are more angry than before.  SB replayed the scene for me:

Aussie Paul:   “So where is the Glacier?”

Park Ranger:  “ON the mountain.”

AP:  How do we get there, I want to touch this glacier.”

PR:  “Oh…..you wouldn’t be able to do that.  It is under 20 feet of snow on the top of the mountain.”

AP:  “WHAT?  WHY DID I COME HERE THEN?”

PR:  “Well, you know, you could hike up the mountain”

AP:  Looks at Tommy, SB, Boz and me approaching from the bathroom, “Not Likely.”

At this point I see a store across the street.  In front is an Ice box.  I tell the guys we can all go touch the ice in the box.  That way we can say it was a glacier.  When we get there though, it is empty.  No glacier for us.  Tommy is getting more and more mad.  “Strokes/Donnelly award winner should be Montana.  I am gonna send out an evite for Montana’s funeral….because he is dead to me.”  Five hour drive to Glacier and the park is closed....."the moose at the gate should have told you."  We go and pose in front of Lake McDonald.  Tommy shows his displeasure we me as he flips me off.

We get back on the road and find a quicker way to get back to I-90 to Spokane.  Tommy retorts, "I thought Glacier National Park had Glaciers.....and I....learned something today."  It will shave 3 hours off our trip.  We drive through scenic Montana and finally get to the interstate as the sun is setting on the Rockies.  As we depart Montana, SB thinks he might have food poisoning and pulls the trigger on the side of the road.  Orange puke shoots from his nose and mouth.  This goes on for about 10 minutes as the rest of us laugh and laugh.

We reach Spokane, get rooms in a Motel 6 and go to bed.  We make our flight the next day and have a quiet flight back to DC.  The trip was great.   The shakes are still with me.