This is an abridged version of the tailend of the evening on Cape Cod. (note that this part of the story starts past midnight - excluding the 12 hours of adventure before this)
12:10am - We arrive in Hyannis and take 12 shots in 12 minutes. This feels like a great idea.
12:25am - Enter RooBar nightclub. Get shots and beer, and proceed to drink whatever wounded soldiers we find. After dancing off against a bachelorette party - and winning like we do - we were challenged to a late night game of kickball. Alas, the bump & grind session had only provoked their now angry bf's, husbands, and guys that wished they were us, so they flaked on the game. (pffssh..cockblocks)
1:00am - Armed with a fifth each, we are off to find a place to crash... immediately rejected twice from getting a hotel room - once because they saw us playing frisbee and drinking in the parking lot, and the other time because "they don't rent rooms to guys," presuming that 6 guys dressed like us were destined to gang-bang the night away. Understandable... donning silly hats including a crab, orca, pirate, fisherman, "Midwest" 80's beanie, and a pink cowboy hat i would have been suspicious myself...not to mention that we all had our faces painted at a charity carnival and were glitter-plastered with unicorns and aquatic wildlife.
1:45am - We realize that we have only walked 1/2 block in the search of another hotel in the last 45 mins... so naturally, sleeping on top of mcdonalds is the only viable option remaining and will put us in prime territory for some breakfast McDeliciousness. Since it's cold, the only way to stay warm until then will be excessive drinking. Only 2 of us make it up. We move on.
2:00am - Using the bad directions we received from the last hotel clerk (who is a douche) we continued the hotel hunt in the exact opposite way of any such thing. Now is when we realize we lost george. We call repeatedly and get no answer. Expect the worst with George.
2:45am - we have walked 45 mins to the middle of nowhere. Brett starts running to see if he can find a hotel. Mike is on the roof of an ice skating rink. Ben is trying to run up a telephone pole to do a backflip (pause for mental image of him repeatedly landing on his head). Frank is not pleased. George is likely dead. I am wondering if the booze is next to his corpse somewhere.
3:00am - we finish off the alcohol we have and Mike realizes he left the rest in a bag in the Mcdonald's parking lot. Idiot. We take brett's camera and film a podcast with Mike ranting about Jesus trying to find a hotel in Bethleham. I see something shiny and get distracted.
3:15 am - Ben & I form a search party for the MIA alcohol. We find george in the driveway of a firestation drunk-dialing EVERYONE he knows, except us of course. We tell him to stay put for 5 minutes while we try and rescue the booze. We go, it's gone, and there is no doubt an elated homeless guy blacking out somewhere on our dime. Good for him. We return to find George just where we left him and are surpised he actually stayed...until we realize the reason is that he's so drunk he cannot stand. So now, our group is reunited but with the news that there is no hotel within 2 miles any direction. Oh, hell. Now we have to backtrack all the way back to the car. En route, we actually find our booze-bag. The bum took everything else, but left a bottle of captain and the goldschlager with no lid. I guess even the dumpster-diving homeless have standards above ours.
4:00am - we are back where we started 3 hours ago. Cops keep passing as we pile into the car. One stops next to us in the street and watches as we try to heave george's body into the backseat. He looks like shit and it is easy to see we are all trashed. Still wearing silly hats and facepaint, we are surely fucked. The cop slowly drives away. We flip a U-turn and realize we are on a one-way street. If that cop is watching we are really screwed now as this traffic violation is the probable cause he needs to pull us over. We go the opposite direction, awaiting our inevitable arrests. It never happens.
4:30am - Enter Holiday Inn Express (we feel smarter already). Brett and I being the most convincingly sober drunks in our group, we field the front desk to get a room with two Queen beds. The clerk thinks we about to go toss each other's salads, and the look on his face shows it. We BS a story about how we are doctor's from Beth Israel hospital and in town for a Cancer Survivor charity event. I boast that I am the youngest resident surgeon EVER. We make small talk about fixing cleft pallets in cental america and how rewarding it is to do what we do. Saving lives....with a glittery purple squid on my face and hair that rivals Doc Brown's.
We get everyone into the room. 2 DOUBLE beds for 6 grown men. George lands on the first sprawled out like the vetruvian man. He is passed the point of no return. We immediately pull the entire comforter and george off onto the floor. You know that trick where you pull the tablecloth out from underneath the glasses and plates, but everything stays where it should? Picture the exact opposite. He lands, hard, but doesn't wake up. We roll him onto his stomach and check his pulse to prevent Neglegent Homicide charges in the morning. This seems adequate enough.
6-6:30am - For a full half-hour Mike makes throat clearing noises that sound like a seagull fighting Gollum in his larynx. Everyone wakes up but him. I punch him in the ribs out of spite.
730am - George gets up to use the restroom. He wakes everyone up by making whooping noises while on the john. He continues having a two-sided, one-man conversation about how to get to atlantic city. We giggle ourselves back to sleep.
11:00am - hotel checkout. George thinks he has lost his shoe. It's in the car, but we lie so he has to walk around like a jackass with one bare foot. Before breakfast, george and I decide to finish the Goldschlager. I am curious if little gold foil flakes will make my dump look pretty. We interrupt breakfast to go to the parking lot and leave a note for our server reading "Petting Wolves. See You Soon." And this is acutally what we were doing. Another patron had a timberwolf (named timber, because he's not clever) and a timberwolf-huskie mix. An actual wolf and a half. Fucking intimidating. 130 pounds of pure muscle, and as scary as it was impressive. We finish breakfast and george goes to destroy the bathroom. To make him feel worse, we leave while he's shotgun blasting the porcelain. In place of the car, we leave his shoe. We hide in the bushes expecting him to find it while we giggle at his misfortune, but he doesn't. Brett goes stealth to grab the shoe and throw it at george's back - it lands on the roof of the restaurant.
1:00pm - Shenanigans continue as we head home drinking and trying to find horseshoes.
5:00pm we find the jager in the trunk.
2 days later we found the bottle of rum.
6 days later we found the bottle of vodka.
1 comment:
I don't recall most of this. In fact am pretty sure I was at church that entire weekend giving orphans food and haircuts!
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