"I have never seen so many naked women!" I could have left it at that but, there was more to it. I arrived packing quite a buzz on Friday evening when Tony, a former Ottawa Indian Prop, met me at the club house. After a beer and some chat, he volunteered to drive me to Ottawa to pick up some beer, Cuban cigars, and other handy items for the weekend (the Barbie Chair). While picking up some staples of a rugby tour, we stopped by a friend of Tony's to give him a ride back to the fields. As we pulled up, I recognized this tall skinny rugger.   I got out of the vehicle and we recalled a a weekend almost 4 years before in Missoula, MT. We both had spent a weekend drinking and playing rugby at the Missoula Maggotfest. I had traded Greg for his grand poobah hat (big blue furry hat with horns often seen on the Flintstones). I had worn that hat for nearly 3 years, until it was stolen at the 1997 Maggotfest. We got back to the pitch, and what a glorious sight it was. Being from the United States, I was not used of seeing such professional accommodations. Greg offered to share his tent with me, which allowed me to avoid sleeping in my rented van. I had picked a van thinking it would make a great tent, unfortunately, the seats could not be removed, leaving me a tight seated flag ship of the Hertz rental fleet in the parking lot. This vehicle was covered from front to back with Hertz logos, a flaw that I agreed to accept for a meager 10% off the total cost. We walked into the club house and met several ruggers and the rest of the night was a mix of ale in my 1/2 yard glass, copenhagen, slurred French, and several women. Rugby songs filled the night and Old Glory hung from the Shippensburg campsite with pride. It was a Friday of Rugby dreams. Saturday arrived, much too quickly as Greg and I made a dash for the zippers on the tent. Our Nylon home had gained the humidity factor of a zip lock bag in the Mississippi Delta and we were in dire need of air. We found our supplies and wandered over to the shower rooms. I perused an issue of hustler while I took my early morning, pregame, pre-tourney dump. The showers stunk of sulfur, but the hot water washed away the night's party.  I cracked my first beer of Saturday and realized it was game day. I wandered around looking for the sorry lads I would play with, when low and behold there they were. I had been set up by the Scotty, the Tournament Marshall, to whore with a club out of Toronto. The Aurora RFC wore royal blue and looked to be in about as good of condition as I. They arrived at the hotel at 4:30 AM. The bus trip, which would normally last 4 hours, pushed 9 hours with a mix of women and men drinking, pissing, and puking. Marcelle, the hooker, seemed still intoxicated as I arrived. The rest of the team lacked much of the spunk needed to win, but afterall I had arrived to have a good time. We lost the first two games, quite handily. I realized I had not played my  type of rugby, so I finished two New Castle Brown Ales, and we went out of the pitch and blew away our opponent. The team looked good and we all celebrated drinking at the club house bar. The players bought me several rounds as payment for my whoring duties and we shared rugby stories, until their women's team whisked them away, back to their hotels for a night out on Ottawa's Disco district. They would miss all the nudity I would see, with the exception of the bald 8 man, who would be quoted as saying, "I woke up between two naked girls who equaled my age." The party went from quiet rugby songs in the bar to loud rugby songs in the fields, to naked women in the hot tubs, to loud rugby songs in the club house, to lude, crude, and totally nude coed rugby on the pitch. The night seemed to last forever with party after party, when I finally found myself face down in my sleeping bag listening to Greg talking in his sleep. According to witnesses, police reports, and several abused sheep from a neighboring farm, the nights episodes followed like this: 10. Well over 20 naked women in hot tubs.  9. Two men's teams elephant walked into club house and stood around mingling with Joe Public. 8. One Ottawa Scottish player zulued around club house knocking over many bottles of beer. 7. First annual Crude, rude, and totally nude coed rugby game. 6. Greg made out with a 17 year old girl. (He didn't know her age at the time.) 5. American Whore, to remain nameless, danced naked on bar table. 4. One above said table came crashing to the floor with several empties. 3. Greg makes out with another 17 year old girl.  (Guess he forgot to check her ID as well). 2. American Whore, much to the enjoyment to the women ruggers in the bar, loses his voice. 1. Drunken female rugger, while stripping to Father Abraham, falls face first into rock fire ring, while taking off her shirt. She rolled out of fire, but then noticed that she has knocked out her front two teeth. The mood suddenly loses some of its appeal to see her naked, except from one American Whore that starts yelling...."Show us your tits, show us your tits." The next day I awoke with quite a hangover. I drank a few beers, watched some rugby, made some crucial rugby trades, and started on my way back to Washington, DC.  Great tourney....great fun.....great people....I will see you all next year.