The Chalice of Porter

Idiot Brothers Amuck in Richmond


Once again, the Brothers were out to rape the land and pillage the women.  The event was the Annual Porter Cup Rugby tournament in Richmond, VA.  Idiot Brother 11 and Myself were running late (as usual) and would be an hour or so late for the tournament.  Luckily they had 9 front row players in the 28 man squad we sent to the rugby classic.  I burned a CD the night prior for the weekend of fun and had it jamming in Super Boy's car on the way down.  Several songs he looked at me in disbelief for having.  I am not sure what possessed me to put Air Supply on the CD, but I figured it would add the right flavor to the mix that included The Gambler, Sweet Home Alabama, and Iron Maiden.  As we stopped for provisions (food from a interstate McDonalds) we discussed what type of klan we would have on tour.  The group was a good mix of Idiots, including no less than 10 Idiot Brothers and another 5 potential classmates.  We were all set for the fun loving weekend that only a social tournament can provide.

When we got close to Richmond we realized that we had left the directions to the tournament 2 hours behind us in Arlington and that we would have to contact someone at the tournament to get directions.  Luckily we got a hold of Ian (one of the many brothers on tour) who gave us half assed directions with some lecture about irresponsibility of leaving the directions.  I hung up before he was complete and we decided we would guess on the direction.  We finally stopped for directions at a gas station and were called back by another player on PAC who provided us with a bit more detailed directions.  From what he told us, it seemed logical that we took a wrong turn a few miles back.  So we double backed and continued in that direction for several extra miles before turning around again and asking for directions from a local.  Turns out we were very close when we received a call from our teammate and his directions sent us off on the wild goose chase we were currently engaged in.  So we headed back from where we came.  

Both of us were a bit giggly from sleep deprivation and when we pulled up to a light we saw two things that simply lost our abilities to keep a straight face.  The first site was a huge stuffed teddy bear positioned in a tree as if it were to pounce on our car.  What made matters worse was the "Elmer Fudd" voice I used to describe the sight........"oooh....lookey....there is a bear in the tree....we might need to go Bear huntin' today."  Then my driver pointed out that the women in the car next to us had quite the bear look herself.  This woman, who had her hair done up very nice and had long and well manicured (fake) finger nails, turns to look at us laughing and that is when I noticed the Grizzly look about her.  She had a full mustache.  Not just some unsightly lip hair, but a full mustache that would make Sam Elliot jealous.  We proceded to the pitch laughing and when we arrived and got out of the car we noticed the clouds had started to drop rain on the fields.  It would be one of those wet, cold weekends, but we would be able to keep ourselves satisfied with the beer.

As I walked to the pitch, I noticed my "imfamous" turf toe that had plagued me weeks prior in San Diego had returned and it was not easy to walk.  I wondered if running would be even possible at this point.  Not that I was needed that weekend, but I would like to take part in the rugby playing prior to the drinking.  Something about getting the beer in you after playing is much more rewarding than after just watching.  I walked to the field and watched our club beat the Marine Corp team from Quantico, VA.  I also noticed the list of teams.  While there were no "quality" rugby teams in attendance, there were several top notch Division 2 sides registered and I looked forward to seeing how our boys would fare against these sides.

After our first game the rains started coming very hard and we all huddled under the tent set up by a local women's side.  The ladies were not eager to share their accomodations, but didn't quite have the nerve to ask us to leave.  That is until we started singing.  Now we were not singing your normal rugby songs at this point, but rather a amusing little diddy from the Muppet Show.  While I don't know the name of the song and trying to "sing" it online would be impossible, it was simply a organized bout of Na na nas and they disturbed the girls to the core.  We were quickly warned if we didn't stop singing we would have to get out of the tent.  Several of us that were NOT under the tent continued to sing (not worrying about being kicked out of a tent that we were not under) and pissed the ladies off more.

I then grabbed Jim McNeely (one of the famed Idiot Brothers) for a conference regarding Kangaroo Court to be held that night. I gave him rights to be Judge and decided I would act as prosecutor.  We assigned the Defense duties to new PAC Player and Idiot brother Snatch, who had never heard of Kangaroo court, let alone participated in one.  Perfect trail by fire.  He would get his share of penalties for not providing a good defense.

We then walked over to the field we were to play our next match on and started to warm up for our match vs our PRU rival in D3 and my former club:  Western Suburbs.  During warm ups it became apparent that I would not be able to play much longer than a half (if that).  During scrums I could barely push off my foot and running was a bigger chore than usual.  I told the coach to prepare to replace me early on and we hit the field.  During the first five minutes I made a couple tackles and ran with the ball 20 yards before coughing it up in a chaotic mass of hands grabbing for it.  After a stoppage of play I decided I was more or less hobbling around too much to be of any assistance and left the field.  I stood on the sidelines and pouted for a good 10 minutes regarding my aged body, before someone offered me a beer.  Beer is always a priceless way to change someone's depressed attitude to one of happiness.

So I drank beer and watched our side thump the Suburbs side.  We celebrated on the sidelines for about an hour before I made the announcement that Kangaroo court would commence in the Hotel at 6 PM sharp and anyone not in attendance would pay the hefty price that night at the drink up.  We all made our way back to the hotel (a very nice accomodation for such a shady group of individuals).  Along the way we made a stop at a Pharamacy to pick up first aid supplies for one of the injured players, and some handy toys to be given out to our rookies on tour.  We also had planned on picking up beer at the store, however, for some crazy reason, this store did not sell beer.  We noted this and decided to find beer elsewhere before court.  We also assumed that our orders to bring beer to court would not fall on deaf ears and worse case scenario we would have "Some" beer when we started court.

This was not the case.  But this was not the only problem to arise at court.  Several players failed to make the mandatory team meeting, including the Judge - who had impeached me (without my knowledge) as prosecutor and assigned the duties to the same player that had given us the bad directions earlier that morning.  After some debate, I was assigned the judge duties, and we began with a series of charges mostly pertaining to being late to the match, knocking on tries, and getting injured.  There were some charges handed out for "bringing sand to the beach."  The player with his girlfriend on tour was dealt a guilty, as was the scrum half who brought his friend (The prosecutor).  It had long become a running joke that these two players were Flaming Gay and the joke continued in court.  The prosecutor, who objected to someone other than he bringing up charges, was overruled and they were sentenced to "introduce their significant other" to five women that night at the party.  As for the penalties, without beer, the typical chugging a beer penalty was replaced with chugging a coffee pot filled with warm tap water. Several of the players were quite rehydrated after court.

We then dressed in our finest (SB and I were in our kilts) and headed over to the post tourney party.  We seemed to be the first to arrive (other than the hosting United Rugby side) and most opted for the $5 all you can eat buffet that was offered.  We quickly approached the food and found a line of chicken wings, meatballs, fries, and fried mozzarella sticks.  We dug in and started to get our free beer.  One of the Idiot Brothers, Ian, made some bad comments about the food.  He said the food wasn't worth $5 and he knew he should not have bought into the buffet.  I am still wondering if I made a mistake when I gave him IB status.

The bar was also offering $2 shots of anything at the bar.  I had made my way to the bar to get beer and decided it would be best to sit down and drink there opposed to hobbling back and forth all night.  Add the fact that the bartender was a hottie, I sat and threw down two Sambucas and several beers.  I then realized that the spot was a blessed location, because as everyone of my teammates approached they bought be another shot.  After several shots of Sambuca and several beers, I decided the spot was not so impressive afterall.  I started to feel the overwhelming power of alcohol and it was merely 7:30 PM.  I held off on the shots for a while and kept drinking beer.  Until Mike Bullock showed up.  Mike was an old school prop that I played with back in the late 90s with PAC.  He had taken some time off from rugby and was now back.  He was the wise old prop on the team and when he offered to buy me a shot, I couldn't resist.  We chatted about his experiences back in Atlanta terrorizing a plane full of passengers by holding kangaroo court on the flight.  I soon decided I would wander around the bar which had become quite crowded with rugby players. The doors would not open to the public until 9 pm and we would have the run of the place for more than an hour more.

I checked with our Rookies to see if they had their tour toys (pacifyers - in case I am misspelling this....they are the small handled toys that babies suck on). The boys didn't let me down and proudly displayed their keep sakes.  A few of the boys that had missed court finally arrived at the party and were forced to chug several beers for their crimes, including the former judge who impeached me.  I showed no leniency for his acts, with my punishment fueled by his coup de tat.  I was then informed that one of the props, Sully had passed out and someone had put him in a cab home.  It wasn't even 8 pm and we had soldiers falling left and right.

In the middle of my conversation with some props from other clubs, I heard the distinct sound of Salt-n-peppa doing their song Push it.  I jumped on the dance floor, which at this point was filled only with a girls and a few backs and started dancing and singing to the classic rap song.  A few of the girls approached and started dancing with me and I soon found several of my larger teammates on the dance floor too.  When the song ended the DJ announced that the next song went out to PAC Rugby.  The haunting guitar rifts of Sweet Child of Mine started to play and the boys all headed to where they knew they would HAVE to be.  The entire PAC side jumped on the quasi stage near the mirrored wall on the dance floor and started ripping off our shirts. With 20 PAC guys topless and screaming to the Guns N Roses song, the entire bar soon stopped what they were doing to watch in awe.  Several girls approached and started ripping off their shirts as well.  Some adventurous girls jumped on stage with us, mixing their small cute bodies with the ugly mass of sweaty humanity only compared to a scrum or a mosh pit.  After the song, we redressed and jumped down...with the exception of Frisco (who was named that because he was also labeled Gay in court.....San Francisco) and Bullock who walked around the dance floor.  Imagine a 40 year old jacked black prop with Fraternity "brandings" on his arms laughing hysterically and hugging all of our teammates.  The bouncers soon became a bit paranoid about his size and intoxication level and asked him if he would put his shirt back on, along with Frisco.  He agreed and it was a happy bar again.  

Super Boy and I staggered around the bar chatting with random ruggers, when I finally approached Idiot Brother 25, John Atkinson.  Not having seen him in several years we had a nice chat and I introduced him to Super Boy who was quite in awe of meeting one of the original idiot brothers.  WE all made our way up the street after 9 pm (when the free beer ran out and the crowd was allowed to join the party) and headed to a bar that several of the guys went to the night prior.  When Super Boy and I arrived at the door, the door guy carded us and we entered.  The hostess asked for the $5 cover and I said, "We are VIPs....see we are in kilts."  The hostess looked at her manager and he laughed and said, "Well then you don't have to pay the cover."  We walked in laughing at our abilities to pull the Jedi mind trick on anyone we wanted.  I quickly grabbed 2 beers and had one stolen from my by a drunken Super Boy.  I drank my beer and went to get another 2 (trying to stay on top of things) and he pounded his beer as well and took my alternate beer again.  

After Frisco stumbled into a table and knocked over several beers, I decided it was time to head back to the first bar and see what the night life was there.  I had passes to avoid the cover now being charged at that bar and we would be able to go back in forth between the bars.  As we left, we got our hand stamped and headed down the street.  I noticed we had obtained a couple of tag alongs from the bar we were leaving.  Frisco and a new prop, Lumpy (who received his name that night in court for being, quite simply......lumpy) were following and they started to talk.  "What about Lumpy?  Lumpy wants to go with you guys."  Lumpy said with a confused look.  Lumpy was not only using his new nickname already, but he was using it in the 3rd person.  He was sloshed drunk and I could only imagine the fun we could have with this rookie.

Frisco remained quiet and wandered with us up the street.  When we arrived at the original bar, "The Happy Bar" as I called it, we were accosted by the door guys and police who both determined that Lumpy had had enough beer for one night and were not going to let us in the bar.  I tried to abandon him at the door, but again the door guys refused to let me in (guilt by association).  So I walked away cursing under my breathe about what had just happened.  Super Boy told me to stop whining and Lumpy apologized non stop.  I agreed that my behavior was a bit much and apologized for cursing Lumpy.  Again Frisco remained quiet.

On the way back to the 2nd bar, I heard the sound of music coming from down an alley.  We all ventured into the alley to see what was going on.  I found a door and entered the bar.  I paid my cover charge and walked in to find a Greatful Dead sounding band playing.  I actually hate the Dead, but decided that I would get a beer anyways and enjoy the scenery of Hippy chicks everywhere.  Being a large man in a kilt, I received several interesting stares.  I soon saw Super Boy, Lumpy and Frisco come in the door as well.  They came in to rescue me from the Hippy people, but I convinced them to stay for a bit longer.  Lumpy would just wander from group to group screaming into their faces "I HATE HIPPIES."    Superboy and I were a bit more diplomatic in our behavior.  We posed with some hippies, chatted with some hippies, and then I was approached by the manager of the band that was playing.  Super Boy and I had been using our garbled Scottish Accents (to highlight our kilts) and when the manager approached to chat I didn't stop the horrible accent.  He was wondering if I would be interested in appearing in a commercial and asked for a photo of me (which his camera man took after my agreement) and got my phone number.  We left several hippies who were amazed that they had just met two Scottish Rugby players.

As we left the bar, we noticed we had lost Frisco somewhere.  He was probably off with some hippies remaining quiet and drinking beer.  We figured he was in good hands.  Lumpy however, realized he was hammered and decided it was best for all of us to go back to the hotel.  We turned down the street for the 2nd bar and he screamed at us to come with him to the hotel.  We said our farewell and he wandered down the street looking for home.

We reentered the bar and found several of our teammates dancing with ladies and drinking.  Most of our team had made their journies back to the hotel already (before 11 pm).  The night became a blur of flirting with girls, dancing, and drinking.  Some highlights were having some girls buy me a beer, watching a soft core porn being played on Cinemax on every tv in the bar (someone wasn't paying attention to the scheduled show after boxing) and finally trying to convince some girls to give us a ride back to our hotel.  We found some food and a cab and decided that 3 AM was late enough to be out.  We did have a championship match to play the next day.

We arrived in our hotel to find several rugby players sitting in the lobbying.  One of which was passed out on the floor.  Super Boy and I stopped, chatted a bit and headed up to our rooms, where we felt obligated to knock on all our teammates doors before finally arriving in our room.  We kicked the 2nd row out of one of the beds and crawled in....falling into a sleepy world. We awoke the next morning, noting the black clouds and what appeared to be snow.  We slowly got ourselves out of bed and ready for the match.  The other players all decided to head out leaving us in the hotel.  We figured we would be late again and would hear about it from the team.  The 2nd row that rented the room asked us to make sure we were out of the hotel by noon or he would be charged for a 2nd day.  Superboy and I both laughed considering the kick off to the match was at 1130 AM and we had planned on being there for that....so we assured him we would be joining them soon.

We soon found out however, that getting to the hotel was easier than getting back.  We had followed someone from the field to the hotel.  But on the way back we were on our own.  We soon became lost and found ourselves in a not so nice neighborhood in Richmond.  Several ineresting buildings and streets kept our still drunk minds in laughter until we finally found the pitch.  First 9 Mile Road had us in stitches as we began to sing Eminem.  Then there was the small scuzzy cinder block bar with a sign painted on the side calling it the "Black Tie Social Club."  An obvious location for most elegant events in Richmond, including the Govenors Inuguarational ball.  Finally, a painting on another restaurant that had a fat black man in a chef's outfit chasing a Pig (wearing overalls) with a meat cleaver.  By the time we arrived at the pitch, the fields were deserted.  WE asked around and found out that the matches were canceled do to inclimate weather.  So we got back on the road and headed back to Washington, DC not know the location of our teammates (who we later found out had gone to a bbq place in Richmond).

Result of the trip:  Good partying time with several Idiot Brothers and finding a couple more to join our ranks.  Oh and placing first place in the tournament (tied for first anyways) is a nice touch too.