Idiot Brothers.......
Come out to Play........
CAN YOU DIG IT??????????
I finally make my historic journey to
New York City to play at Van Cortland Park (home of the Van Cortland
Ranger). Old Blue Weekend.
So where did I end up? New York City. It came down to
Maggotfest was too expensive to fly to and the Memphis game was too
unrealistic (considering I would have to purchase Insurance the day of
the game to be eligible for the match.) I feel bad
about Memphis because I had planned on going, however, it wasn't
practical in
the end. My apologies and congratulations to Memphis for taking
2nd place in the South's Division III playoffs.
As for my trip, I was off to the train station with plenty of
time. I arrived early enough to hit the liqour store for some
cocktails on the train. I also arrived early enough to be stalked
by a beautiful girl. The young lady followed me everywhere and
after several smiles exchanged I got on my train. Unlike those
famed scenes of the girl running after her boyfriend on his way to the
European battlefront, I would not see her again. I quickly got
over my new love by sitting in the bar
car throwing back beers and studying the landscape of the East Coast of
the US. I could hear the music montage from the beginning of the
Warriors playing in my head as we traveled and could not wait to see
where the Van Cortland Rangers or maybe even the Furries hung out.
The train was mostly filled with older
business types, and the chances to chat with anyone were limited.
I quickly called Idiot Brother #4 (Brian Donnelly) who lives in
Philly and left him a message to get onboard when we arrived in
Philly.
Brian Donnelly was the kinda guy that would have a great time with his
buddies, but would regret every good time he ever had with them.
His bald head, even at 26 he was bald, and pasty with
splotches of pink complexion left a lot to be desired, but as front row
mate, you would rarely ask for anyone else. Brian was a prop I
met during my first year of East Coast
Rugby. Our first road trip together we jammed to 80s metal the
entire trip, much to the distress of our teammates in the van.
The next weekend we found ourselves crashing a non rugby party after
our rugby game and drink up. I asked him if he was going to the
tournament the next weekend in Carlyle PA and he told me that he was,
but
had to go to Philly on Friday first for his 8th Grade Class
reunion. I asked if I could join him and he drunkenly replied,
"yes, only if you bring your blue grand poobah hat." I agreed and
we were off to Philly that next Friday. We stayed up all night
drinking and decided we should depart for the tournament. During
the next 10 minutes however, Donnelly realized how drunk he was and
lobbied for us to skip the tournament and just sleep. I convinced him
(coerced/forced) him to go with me and we were off. Around 730
AM, somewhere on the PA Turnpike, we ran out of gas. I climbed
the fence near the interstate and asked a farmer where the closest town
was. He told me it was about 10 miles down the road. I
quickly scurried back to the car, preparing for my 10 mile hike.
When I arrived, a PA state trooper pulled up and explained that it is
illegal to hitch hike on the turnpike. The fact that I had been
up all night drinking could not have occurred to him and I dodged
yet another sobriety question. He ordered a tow truck from town
to
bring me some gas. I quickly realized that we did not have enough
money to pay $10 per gallon and the $35 fee for them bringing it and
told the officer that I would climb the fence and walk on the back
roads to the town. He made me swear I wouldn't hitch hike or ask
locals for gas and left me. I explained what happened to
Donnelly, who was still wasted at this point. The local farmer
did indeed give me the gas needed at reasonable $1 a gallon (yes that
is how long ago this was)
We arrived at the Rugby tournament a few hours late (missing the first
match) but just in time for the 2nd game. We both kitted up and
played, but by the end I was so drained I simply collapsed under the
Beer truck (the only shade on the extremely hot fields) and lay, being
soothed by dripping of the cold condensation under the truck.
After the team found me (post 3rd match) we were off to the party,
which turned out to be just okay. Donnelly had to leave right
after the game back to Philly and I wouldn't party with him again for a
few weeks. Our experiences lasted a few more months before I
moved to Denver, but we always had a great time (Ozzy Ozbourne concert
during the Million Man March, spinning 360s on the interestate at 70
mph, my graduate school party (intern story). All classic
times. Our reunion was rather traumatic. We both lost our
jobs and I soon after lost my wife, and of course our obvious
alcoholism problems, but in the end we have remained distant friends
and he will always be IB4.
So there I am on the train, hoping he would peek his chubby face into
the window as we reached Philly. He did not.
Then a girl walked through the bar car and went to the bathroom.
While the girl was not the Aphrodites one could hope for to recreate
the train sex scene in Risky Business, she definitely caught my
eye. She left the lavatory, got a beer and sat next to me.
Conversation started
flowing soon after and by the time we arrived in NYC we had met another
DC
person and all exchanged information about possibly continuing our
drunken debauchery later that night or even back in Washington,
DC. But in
the end, I knew my Friday Night would be just like David Coverdale from
White Snake sung: "here I go again on my own, going down the only
road I've ever known, like a drifter I was born to walk
alone......."
The Old Blue Guys I had planned on staying with in NYC were actually
leaving town Saturday morning for the Division I playoffs in
Boston. TC, old time friend of PAC, had mentioned, however,
that if they lost he would return to party with us. After a
couple hours of chatting with my hosts, I made my way back into the
city looking for fun. I had scouted out some neighborhoods and
bars and was off to the Lower East Side to hit some Modern Rock type
bars.
When the cabby dropped me off, I was lost, however quickly found my
bearings and sat at a bar, ordering drinks and jamming to great
Metal. Around 2 AM I found directions to the bar I was in search
of, "the Dark Room," and headed in that direction. Once I entered
the
establishment, I quickly took up residence in the corner and ordered
rounds. The bar was dark and crowded, with the exception of my
corner, and from my vantage point I could see, what I thought was, the
entire bar. One of the bartenders, a scrawny scraggly European
type with tattoos all over his arms,
started chatting with me about
hockey (he was Finnish) and we shared many road trip stories from his
hockey career and my rugby journies. After several shots of
Jaeger (on him) I started throwing down beers and sambucas and chatting
up some of the local girls. During one chat with a girl, Guns N
Roses Sweet Child O' Mine came on and, as usual, I removed my shirt and
continued to chat with the girl, singing a few lines during the
conversation. As soon as the song was over, I put my shirt back
on and looked at a completely dumbfounded girl who had no idea why I
had just disrobed.
I quickly was back to the bar for more drinks and listening to more
metal
when the lights came on and I was given my tab. I looked in
disbelief at my tab. I had drank about 6 beers and dozens of
shots and my tab was a mere $20. I laughed at everyone that told
me that the town is very expensive and wandered outside to find the
train back to TC's House. As I got outside I met some British
Royal Marine who told me he would show me the way to the PATH
(Train).
After about 2 hours of stumbling around 8 miles radius of lower
downtown, I came to the conclusion he was after my wallet, me or just
was an idiot and jumped in the first cab I could find. $40 cab
ride later (that is the part that is expensive I guess.) I was in
Hobokon and stumbling for Coop's home. I got upstairs and passed
out immediately. Time 630 AM.
I woke up briefly to TC and his roommates, a grouchy short stubby
gentlemen, who had played rugby with Harry Strokes during his college
days. His roommate, the coach of the lower sides, was trying to
get my ass up
off the couch so they could find his wallet and then I was
asleep again. I woke up next around 1 pm (knowing I was about to
miss the A and probably the B side match) I got dressed, grabbed my kit
and headed to NYC again to take the subway to the end of the line at
Van Cortland Park. The entire way I kept quoting lines from the
1980 film the Warriors. "Right there you have the Van Cortland
Rangers sitting right next to the Jones Street boys....and nobody is
wasting nobody." I know I would be getting wasted later that night and
was actually eager for the rugby match to be over so I could get to
more fun in NYC drinking.
In regards to the Warriors, I would like to point out some of the gangs
representing in the movie were not only NOT scary, but actually I would
invite a fight with. With the exception of the "High Hats."
These are the
clowns (literally) that looked like Mimes, wore
suspenders and top hots. They actually did scare the hell out of
me. Fear of clowns and all. What they really needed was a
street gang of Midgets. That would definitely have scrared the
bejeezus out of me. My favorite however, has to be the Keebler
Elves. They had green elf outfits on. I can't wait til
Rockstar Games comes out with Warriors. This will be an awesome
game.
When I arrived it
was apparent that I had missed both matches (the B
side match should be well into the 2nd half at this point, but
should have still been being played). I made some calls and our
club president explained the B side match had been canceled and we were
all down the street at their rugby bar drinking.
The Punch Bowl is a classic dive bar. The upstairs was filled
with food and beer for their guests (with very few Old Blue Players in
attendance.) Former US Eagle and club Captain Mike Fabling
ventured to guess that there was no way it was more convenient for the
team to go home and shower and return (considering their bar was 5
blocks from the pitch), but no one showed up. We later found out
that Most of the guys had to go home and get ready for a big formal
banquet that night. The handful of players that showed up to
entertain us were die hards however, and told us which bar to go to
that night (one them worked at the bar). We started making our
plans for the night and that was when the group started dividing.
Over half our team decided to go to Atlantic City for the night, which
still
left a good group of idiots to stay and party.
Club President Stefan, backs Robert, Cups and Chito, as well as new
front rowers Nick and Gabo all would join myself and Fokker for a night
in the city that never sleeps (by the way, I honestly can say the night
before, I do believe I caught the city taking a short cat nap.....but
not
sleeping...just a cat nap). Anyways we would continue to get
hammered at the rugby bar, Fokker and I single handedly killing the keg
ourselves. When we later found out that the 20
cases of beer (that were in addition to the keg of beer) were all paid
for, we each grabbed several 20 packs and headed out the door to shower
up at
Fokker's brother's house. Stefan gave us a ride to the Midtown
location and we unloaded our supplies. About this time Fokker got
uncontrollably sick (almost earning the name Ebola) and puked so hard
that he started bleeding heavily from the nose. We finally got to
his brother's apartment to find that the key wouldn't open the
door. Fokker, now free of stomach contents needed to empty his
bladder and just opened up the apartment hallway floor to his
urine. Cups and I at least pissed out the 4th story window.
Fokker also upset about the blood that was still runnning down his
face, wiped blood all over the white painted walls. We finally
got inside and set up to relax before the night's party. The plan
was to be up town with the other guys by 11 pm. It was now 830
PM. Fokker passed out. Cups passed out. I sat in the
living room watching TV and drinking beers until around Midnight when I
finally motivated them both out of their slumber.
At one point during their passed out moments however, Cups sits up and
starts mumbling in French. I slap him to snap him out of it and
she starts crying and screaming that Denzel shouldn't hit him like
that. Very freaky - gotta be careful with backs on tour.
So we finally load up into a cab and head over to "Earls," a bar near
where his brother works, to pick him up. We go inside and I get a
call from TC, who has returned after their loss that day. We
wait at Earls and enjoy several rounds of Pabst Blue Ribbon and some
conversation with the ladies that are present in the bar. One of
the girls, a girl Cooper referred to as "having no reason to be talking
to you," was sharing some anecdotes about her time in Scotland and
other
travels. I asked her if she colored her hair (something just
didn't seem right) to which she said, "It's a wig." I replied,
"Bullshit" and went to grab the hair and she screamed and grabbed my
hand. She then lifted up the side of the wig exposing her bald
head. I was mortified. I apologized over and over until she
told me not to worry about it. We exchanged numbers (how
benevolent was this girl?) and we were off to the next bar. I
assumed at this point we were going to Tin Lizzys (the bar where we
were to meet our mates.) This, however, was not what
happened. We ended up in some bar that resembled Breckenridge,
CO. The walls were log cabin, there were skis and snow shoes on
the walls. We were in a ski lodge if I had ever saw one.
The $15 six packs of PBR kept my interest, along with 2 hottie
bartenders,
however, I did get my ass kicked by some girl around 4 AM. The
girl, not small in any sort, was the sorta dame that would break your
heart, and probably, as I would find out, your arm if you were not
lucky. Turns
out my compliment of her having a "tasty rack" was not taken in the
manner it was given and she started wailing on me with swings and
punches. By the end of the assualt both of my shoulders and
biceps
were bruised and swelling. We left the bar looking for an after
hours club.
Our failed attempts to gain entrance into the afterhour party did not
surprise TC. My attempts in using the old "Door guy Union
302" fell on deaf ears and we stood considering what we were to do
next. We finally found our way into one of Fokker's
friend's
house. It was huge, but they had only a few beers. We
rationed our drinks and chatted for a couple more hours. TC
made a booty call at 5:30 AM to a girl that lives down the street from
the house we were at and left me with Cups, Fokker and the handful of
new friends. Around 6:30 AM it became
apparent that no one was going to sleep and former passed out members
carried the scars of their sleep "Fuck Face" and "Cock Sucker" written
across their faces. I knew that I could not hang on much longer
and simply ignored Rule 3 of Rugby travel: Sleep only when it's
safe. I decided to try and hide by going outside to their back
courtyard and sleeping on the patio furniture. It was raining,
but I figured it would be better to be wet then to be written on.
They found me. They then coaxed me inside and I slept on the
couch, submitting to their inkings and just slept.
I woke up around noon in an empty house. My train was to leave in
1 hour and I was without my stuff or ticket. I called Fokker, who
didn't answer, and ended up making my way to the bathroom to find my
face, indeed, looked like a Nascar. I had about 20 different
expressions of profanity written all over my face, neck and arms.
I scrubbed for about 10 minutes before realizing that the Permenant
marker was not coming off. I called TC, who was still in the
neighborhood with his booty call. He said he would return to get
me. I found one beer left and quickly downed it as I
waited.
TC arrived and we went to Earls again to have some
cocktails and brunch. I was quite a spectacle during the subway
ride and walk on the streets. Everyone instantly took attention
to my kilt, but quickly noticed my R Rated face. Mothers covered
their children's eyes. Young couples looked away in
embarrassment, and police officer's consulted their city ordinance
rules. TC, who had originally thought he was attracting all
the looks from lovely ladies on Sunday, quickly came to the conclusion
that they were staring mortified at my face. We made it into the
Earls and I quickly suggested sitting at
the bar (where the only person that would have to look at us was the
bartender.) We got drinks and explained my face to the
bartender. She may have been the cutest girl I had seen all trip
to New York. We called Fokker several more times during the 2
hour brunch and downed as many drinks. We decided that I would
wait for him to contact me and I would get my stuff later that
day. I assumed that meant I wouldn't make it back to DC by Monday
and made plans to stay with Cooper one more night. Really, what
harm could one more day in NYC be? I had stayed well below my
budget for the weekend and we were going to be in Hoboken (which
couldn't be that pricy right?)
We got to Hoboken and I spent 30 minutes scrubbing my face. I was
still
stuck in my dirty rugby jersey and kilt as we entered the street fair
in
Hoboken and quickly found a few female friends of TC. We
drank with them for a while and then they left. We ran into a few
more female friends of TC and drank with them for a while
too. It came to my conclusion that TC was as popular as a
bartender at last call with the ladies in this town. We soon
found ourselves eating slices of pizza and preparing
for the final hours of Sunday night. I had called for a
substitute and called my boss to let him know I wouldn't be making it
back to DC Sunday. We then stopped at THE SHANNON. This is
a typical Irish Dive bar. Chubby Red headed bartender (without
much of a sense of humor) along with a handful of bar
patrons. Cooper warned that the Shannon wasn't a bar that we
should be hitting, but I pushed for it and I got it. We ordered
a few beers and spent some time talking to the Bar Owner, a lovely
older lady that asked us for our advice to get more people in her
bar. Three shots of Sambuca, two pineapple upside down cake
drinks, and 4 beers later we moved on to the next bar. This bar
was filled with younger folks and we ordered our beers from a cute
asian girl. She quickly left the bar and sat down to start
drinking. TC told me to go get her and have her sit with us,
but I couldn't find her so I ended up grabbing a cute blonde and
brining her down to TC. They hit it off instantly. I
then spent the remainder of the night chatting up the girl's friends, a
couple of random girls sitting at a table, and finally some guy's
girlfriend (as he sat next to her). "Ditch the zero and get with
a hero" was my line of choice. They chose to leave the bar.
My
final plunge into alcohol at this bar was betting the bartender I could
drink a bottle of beer in 3.2 seconds. He took the bet and I
quickly snorkeled the beer in under four seconds securing my shot and
free beer. A guy entered right after completing this task and I
was forced to make the same bet again and finished another beer in
olympic qualifying time and another shot. TC had paid the tab
by this time and was off to find romance in the late sunday
evening. I on the other hand left the bar to try my luck at the
Shannon again and see if I could obtain a beer to take home with
me.
About this time a handful of Irish nationals entered and started
telling me I was welcome in their bar and needed to leave
immediately. This, I believe was after I just bought them a round
of shots. I was then pushed out of the bar (sneaking my open beer
out with me.) I got back to TC, found my couch space again,
and passed out. I awoke around 10 AM that morning and waited for
our club president to come pick me up for our drive back to DC.
Stefan had also stopped by Fokkers and picked up my bags so I was now
able to leave the City that never sleeps (Cat naps maybe) and, like the
Warriors, I was finally almost home......
I later found out from Stefan that the boys that made it to the Tin
Lizzy enjoyed hours of free booze, hot chicks, and great music.
But I couldn't complain too much (until I saw my credit card receipts
from Sunday alone - way too much money spent). I had a great
weekend thanks to Old Blue, TC in particular, and the City of New
York. Great Odyssey.
I arrived .