(
written 8/4/07)
Well, here we are, we're back with one of my most anticipated blogs since I proved why The Hamburgler is the most misunderstood fictional characters of all time. Yes, I am back with one of my running diaries, if you don't remember, the last time I wrote one like this, it encompassed Las Vegas, and well, Vegas is Vegas, so you can only imagine. I've been looking forward to writing (and going on the actual trip) since Jason (hereby referred to as 'J-Sin') announced he was getting married. Here is a chronicle of what actually transpired when we left Houston to fly to Detroit, aka Beirut West, and then continue the debauchery into the land known as Canada. Exciting, eh?
Set-up: Steven and Mike (my roommate) are flying from Houston Intercontinental Airport to Detroit, MI; upon arriving in Detroit, we will meet up with his brothers Keith, and J-Sin…the same cast as the Vegas blog. Furthermore, there will also be about 10-15 more people meeting up with us as we destruct ourselves.
The agenda is as follows: Detroit Tigers game tonight, going out in Windsor Ontario tonight, and well, that's about all we have so far. Included between now and then is a bunch of beer, Cuban cigars, and strippers (not for me because I am waaaaay to wholesome for that). What follows below actually was said, transpired, and, well, you get the idea.
10:45am: Finally pull into Bush Intercontinental Airport; Mike and I decide to park at some park and ride, affectionately called "All-Right Parking". One can only think Wooderson from Dazed and Confusion is the operating owner.
10:56: Nope, it's a bunch of brothers.
10:57: We load onto our shuttle which will take us to Northwest Airlines. Guess what our shuttle drivers name is? Dee. Cue the whole, "Deez Nuts!!!!" jokes from me to Mike. I figure since we are going to a bachelor party, might as well start acting immature.
11:09: So, I am checking in at the gate and apparently you cant bring in a bunch of different shit, well, I wish I would've known that. So, I have to lose my hairspray…now I know what girls feel like without make-up.
11:13: I am still getting my shit searched, Jesus, they must think I am a terrorist; I even shaved to avoid situations like this…but I digress.
11:16: We finally get through terrorist camp, and decide to grab a bite to eat and grab a beer before our check-in time, which is about in 40 minutes. Space City Bar and Grill sounds good, eh?
11:18: My first (of many) beers for the weekend. Ahh, Bud Light!
11:30: Mike and I (using proper English) start contemplating bachelor party pranks to use on J-Sin, one includes a midget, the other a transvestite, the other includes both.
11:33: Time for my second beer…why not?
11:38: I've reached a new low: Googling porn and strippers from my cell phone at an airport bar. At this rate, I will be selling my brothers kidney on the black market in Cairo next weekend.
11:39: Lunch is served: aka, a cheap knock-off of Hooters Buffalo Chicken Sandwich with curly fries and, well, that's about. They forgot my ranch, which, well, considering I am at an airport I would've raised hell. Cie la vie…
11:49: 3rd beer. Mike wants me to note, I am drinking 16 oz; he is drinking his 2nd 23rd oz.
11:51: Time to jet back to the set; nothing like a $30 lunch, and we haven't even left Houston; I could've had this for 1/3 the price at The Men's Club, which is where Riv is eating lunch today…supposedly Jenn knows about this. Yeah, right, Riv.
12:00: Standing in line getting ready to board, I run into some guys who are talking like a cross of Il Duche from Boondock Saints and Sean Connery; they say they are from Detroit; fuck I cant wait to get there…eh
12:09: Mike suggests I talk like an Inuit ("Eskimo" for the layperson), honorary Canadian, or a displaced Mexican. I am opting for a combination of the 3…."Orale, que paso, eh?"
12:15: So I grab my seat (next to the shitter: I wish I was making this up) and there are 2 little kids, brother and sister; unless they are some unusually young married couple (not out of the question, I heard it happens in Arkansas all the time). As soon, as I sit down the little girl switches seats with her "friend" as fast as a brother leaving a clan meeting. Mike just shakes his head. "Only you, man". Yep.
12:36: The seal is broken. In a airport lavatory nonetheless.
12:47: You know how the stewardess asks if the passengers would like anything refreshments? Well, the Puritans next to me order Snack Packs; I am eyeing them, maybe around Des Moines I might offer a trade….my autograph for your Oreo's.
12:52: The damn refreshment cart ran into my arm, sorta like Drew Barrymore in The Wedding Singer. What's one way to get over this? Miller Lite!!!! Crack open another beer; life rules, I rule.
1:03: You know what I could use right now? Yep, Team America. Luckily for me, it was in my laptop DVD player…fuck yeah!
1:15: I dare you to find another feeling greater than being 3,000 feet above land with a buzz; the only thing I can imagine is becoming a member of the Mile High Club; but I've heard when that is involved, some sort of buzz is required…not that I would know….or would I?
1:47: The Puritan kid just scratched his balls. No, seriously, he really, really scratched them. I mean he did the whole, "scoop, lift, scratch, repeat" method." Don't ask me why I was looking, I swear it was so obvious, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, and Rayden from Mortal Kombat would have seen this as clear as the water in Cabo.
2:08: I just went to the bathroom again and realized 2 things:
..[if !supportLists]-->a) ..[endif]-->the little kid before me must've ate Chaco's before we left
..[if !supportLists]-->b) ..[endif]-->Matrix from Commando was the ultimate action-hero, I just walked all over this plane and there is no way for him to access the landing gear from here, much less land safely in the marsh afterwards. Fuckin' Hollywood.
2:10: Battery running low; shutting down laptop for a while. See you back in the Great Northwest…mixed with a lot of chocolate, aka Detroit. Seriously, it sounds like I just described Hershey's White Chocolate. No wonder this is the city that gave us The Insane Clown Posse, Kid Rock, and Eminem…all of them are sorta' fucked in the head. Back in a bit…
3:55pm: I'm back. Looking out the window airplane, I yell, "Holy shit, check out that river!" Mike says, "Don't worry; you don't have to swim across this one". Dickhead.
4:10pm: We finally land in Detroit, Michigan. Or, maybe it's Oklahoma, they look about the same…minus the turquoise jewelry.
4:12pm: Speaking of Oklahoma, on my Mp3 Player, I am listening to Stoney LaRue's version of Oklahoma Breadown. The lyrics to it, and I quote, Well, it's Friday and we're getting tore up. I couldn't have said it any better Stoney. As much anti-Oklahoma as I am, this song kicks ass.
4:22pm: And we break out our 257th movie line from Commando. Remember Sully, when I said I'd kill you last? That's right Matrix, you did. I lied. Good times.
5:02pm. I'm there, it's official, I am finally in Canada…it looks like Cleveland.
5:43pm: After finally making it through customs with our passports, they ask if I was bringing any goods from America. I resist temptation and don't say, "Heroin". Good call.
6:19pm. we've checked in the hotel, Quality Suites is what they are called…I would have gone with Quality Enough.
6:23pm After debating if we should make the trek across the border to the States to the Tigers game, we decide to go for it…Back to the States, but not before a Ma'ker A Laker…the Busch Light of Canadian beer.
Ed note: I have no recollection of time anymore, from here on out, I will be perma-buzzed. I wish I was lying.
-After scoring Tigers tickets and causing general nonsense at the customs gate, we come to the only logical thing to do at the baseball game: drink booze. I pronounce my Texan to everyone. I rule.
-Apparently, the Tigers proudly serve Little Caesar's pizza at their game, why did no one tell me this before?
-So, I am a Texan and I love Vince Young, who do you think decides to get into an argument about Vince Young and why he is Football Jesus at a Detroit Tigers-Chicago White Sox game? Guilty.
-Oh my God. They have one of those baseball radar guns. For $3 you get to throw 4 baseballs at a net as hard as you can to see who throws the hardest. Also included in the price is a sore arm.
-I spend $15 throwing baseballs. Insane, you think? Not considering I pulled $200 out of the ATM for booze 50 minutes ago.
-I top out at 73 miles an hour. I was throwing 73mph when I was 14 years old. That gun is lying…or I am way drunk already. Or both.
-After pitching a simulated game, me and Mike go back to the game and watch the end of the game. To my surprise, no one is heckling the centerfielder? Why not? Midwesterners…
-The game is finally over, I don't know who won (and at this point, who is playing anymore) and we decide to go to a bar in Detroit…I wanted to go to 8 Mile.
-After spending an hour in the bar in Detroit, we decide to bring the debauchery on to Canada. Heading back through customs was unique…nothing like a drunken Mexican trying to get across the border.
-Walking around Windsor Ontario, Canada, having a blast with a bunch of people I didn't really know, save Keith, J-Sin, and Mike. This is awesome. All sorts of cool people, smelly people, and plump women…oh yeah, there is a karaoke bar too, I so am doing New Kids on the Block sometime this weekend.
-Smelling like warm dog shit in July, I go back to the hotel to shower up and more importantly sober up. Stopped through 3 bars to get directions, not because I was lost but because the waitresses were hot…or maybe that was the beer googles.
-So, if you were a bar, what would you be called? Yep, thought so too. Nothing like buying booze at place called the Chubby Pickle.
-I proceed to buy 3 rounds of Jager bombs for 12 guys…great move. Yep, another $150 bar tab. On the bright side Huston Street and the A's are pitching.
-Texas! Fight! Yep, I am leading the fight song in a Canadian bar. Almost as cool as Mike singing Deep in the Heart of Texas.
-We finally close the bar around 2am, mind you I have been drinking since 11am in Houston and didn't really stop once in I got into Canada, which leads to us being asked to leave around 2:30am by the bartenders.
-Cop: "This guy with you (pointing to me).
Keith: Yeah, we're taking him to the hotel.
Cop: Good idea.
-3am (supposedly) and I am back in the hotel passed out, sleeping on the couch using my shoe as a pillow. Yep, Stoney LaRue was right, it's Friday and I did get tore up. One night in, one more day/night to go…I was just getting started.
-Groggily waking up, I think my sight is cured and I have 20-20 vision. Nope, passed out with my contacts on. Where is my ID and passport?!?! Fuck me, I cant find it. I finally find it in a dresser drawer, how it got there, I have no clue.
-Imagine being in Canada without any identification, that was me for 7 of the longest minutes of my life. So far I've been awake 10 minutes and I suck at life already.
-I pronounce to everyone I find my passport, how do we celebrate? Eating breakfast of course…by the way, I "forgot" to eat dinner last night, but didn't "forget" to drink.
-Heading to Mike's Diner, I order a ham and cheese omelet with hash browns, and toast. Oh yeah, I also order 6 pieces of French Toast…I was hungry.
-Guess what, it's now 11am and we all notice the diner has a bar, with an exquisite shot selection.
-Fuck it, I'm in.11am, we order 5 BMF's to go along with our breakfast. Nothing like Jagermeister and Maple syrup with a order of hash browns.
-Leaving the diner, it's almost noon and Keith and I decide we need some Canada hats. As luck has it, I find a souvenir shop next to a massage parlor. I am now rocking a $6 Canadian visor to go along with my "Electricity" shirt.
-Yep, nothing screams "tourists" like a Mexican with a Canadian visor. With that said, we decide the best way to really fit in is to go to the Casino. Where's our first stop once in the casino? Yep, the sports book and 6 pitchers of Molson Ice.
-After doing my best Pete Rose impression, we all decide, "let's go lose our money quicker!" The poker table is our next destination.
-Going into the trip, I said I would not play Texas Hold 'Em, screw that, I'm in guys. I only played $60 at the table. We all get our own table and sit down and start cracking the Rounders movie quotes.
-I spotted the sucker 15 minutes into play, unfortunately, I was the sucker. On the third hand, I don't even look at my cards and say, "I'm all in". I lost.
-Well, that sucked. I didn't even get to play 20 minutes, needless to say, I don't have alligator blood. I leave the poker room to go find Keith who is around the blackjack table.
-Nope, he's at the sports book, and it was that time we all saw A-Rod hit his 500th homerun. History making stuff right there, right up there with attempting to withdraw money from my savings account (wouldn't be the first time).
-Speaking of history, we all decide to hit the blackjack table. Keith is my personal nemesis; in Vegas last year he jinxed me at The Monte Carlo.
-Luck didn't change in a new country, he is next to me and I lose all my money. I think I should point out I pulled another $300 dollars. I suck at life. Screw it, I'm in Canada. I think I even tried pulling cash out of my savings account, luckily I forgot my PIN to that account.
-End up leaving the casino at 5 pm and decide to go eat some hot wings, pizza, and burgers, BUT not before we go to a strip club (I think it was Silver's) and see what they have to offer. Gabrielle was what they had to offer, and well, you know the rest. It was great...no I didn't get a dance, but looking is free. Throw in more and more pitchers at the restaurant and beers at the strip club my liver feels like beef jerky.
-Needless to say, my Canadian visor is working well right now, no way I'm not a tourist. This restaurant has all sorts of video games. Anything better than playing Rocky: The Arcade, Golden Tee, and Galaga buzzed? Nothing I tell ya'; nothing.
-Yep, just as I figured, I am talking to a bunch of chicks, unfortunately, I am not making sense; that, or they were lesbians.
-After spending another $60 on dinner, we all leave the restaurant because we are all pretty drunk and majority says it's a good idea to go pass out for a few hours before the fun really starts.
-I pass out on the couch in the hotel and wake up around 9pm. Hey, I don't feel that bad.
-Nevermind, I stand up and I am still drunk. Who would think after another whole day of drinking and doing shots and smoking cigars I would feel like butt?
-After taking and shower and changing clothes, Keith and I start to head downtown to meet up with the rest of the group.
-Needing a drink of water because I have cottonmouth like a stoner, I stop at a Lebanese convenient store (in Canada no less) and literally chug a 2 liter of Pedia-Light. Well, that'll keep me regular.
-And, we're here: The Million Dollar Strip Club. Well, the name may be "Million Dollar Strip Club", but the talent is more like "50 cent strippers". My God, hail damage much?
-I am drinking (again) more beers and watching strippers, this might be the best day of my life. Yep, it is.
-We get J-Sin up on stage in a private-public dance and the DJ announces he is getting married and well, chaos ensues. It was classic, there are pictures floating around too. Unfortunately, the strippers ass is in the middle of said photo.
-2 hours later we decide to leave this strip club and head back to Silver's because, well it's a bachelor party.
-By now you know me and my distaste for Canada's worst export since Bryan Adams; Nickelback. I proceed to dedicate every shitty shot to Nickelback for the rest of the night, when ordering the shots at the strip club, they ask how will I pay for them? My reply: "Straight cash, homey". And from here on out, I said "straight cash, homey" to everyone who I saw. It was so bad, I would just yell it out for no reason.
-Leaving the strip club because I spent enough money for a mortgage in River Oaks, we decide to go close down the bar called, "Lefty's".
-It's called Lefty's because the owner is missing his right arm; I'm not making that up.
-"STRAIGHT CASH, HOMEY!!!!"
-Pulled another $100 in cash out at the ATM, fuck. More shots, more booze…and it's 2am again. Leaving Lefty's because we had to go, I give Lefty a fist pound and tell him, yep, "straight cash, homey"
-It's 2:30am and we are all annihilated and head back to the room. Our rooms are adjoined, I have my lap-top and break out the Texas Country Music.
-I am showing all these guys how much Eli Young Band rules and they break out the whiskey.
-Head to a vending machine, buy a liter of cola for our whiskey. Screw that, I start chugging whiskey at 3am. Apparently, it was a sight to see. I don't know how much this is true since I don't remember.
-Pass out around 4am, wake up at 9am and pack the bags and head back into the States. Canada threw us out. At the border the official asks why Mike and I have passports but Jason just has a driver's license, I say "That's how I roll ma'am".
-Starving and hungover, the only thing that will cure us is Red Robin's hamburgers (Hooters was no where to be found)
-Order food, yep, I'm that guy; I order a 22 oz Bud Light. Simply amazing.
-Head back to Detroit to wait for our flight, stop in Greektown to kill time at the casinos. I play down $40 in Blackjack again and hit. I stop right there and go to the sports book and down another Bud Light. I am running on fumes, steak fries, and hops and oats.
-Still got about 2 more hours to kill before our flight. What do Mike and I do? The only logical thing: head to a strip club (I shit you not). These girls had to have been the sophomore team; I am talking butt-ugly, then again what do you expect at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon?
-Leave to go get our bags at the Athenaeum Hotel where a wedding was taking place. That cant be right, who gets married on a Sunday with a reception to follow? How does this work…then I see the names, Steingold and Frieytag, ah makes sense now. (That joke was too easy)
-So, I'm back buzzed again, and the wedding party comes through our lobby and I start the whole, slow dramatic clap and everyone else starts clapping…sorta like "look, it's Enrico Pallazo!" On a scale of awesomeness, this was a solid 87. Mike is rolling because of what I did
-Waiting for our cab to take us to the airport, wedding guest arrive and I am telling them, "Party is on 8th floor, take the elevator on your right…just through those doors". I have no clue where it was at.
-Get to the airport, finally board our plane (which we almost missed because it was sold-out) and pass the hell out, which is amazing because my stomach was doing origami. I wake-up around 8:30pm and start writing the diary.
-Land in Houston, grab our bags and look at Mike and say, I got three words for you: Straight. Cash. Homey. Seriously, I must have said this close to 100 times.
-He just nods back, gives me a fist pump. "Canada, eh?" Mike says. "Fucking, eh"
Epilogue: So I finally get home and cant go to sleep until around 1am, I wake up the next morning at 8am to be at work at 10. I have no clue how I am going to make it through the day but I gotta go because I got 3 new clients to see. I roll into work and start the most miserable day of my life. It wasn't because I was hung-over (ok, well a lot of it was), but the worst part was facing my fear: checking my online bank statements. I am officially poor, I am thinking about selling blood, or maybe plasma, but after this weekend, it will just say "Return to Sender". But, you know what? I would do it again, not a lot of people can say they've done the crazy things I've done in my life, or been to some of the places I have been in my life: Mexico, Cancun, Belgium, The Netherlands, Miami, Arizona, Amsterdam, Las Vegas, New York. And now I can say "Canada"
Until next week, hopefully I will have been detoxified by then….so if you excuse me, I got three words to leave you with, but you probably already know them…
No comments:
Post a Comment