Monday, September 10, 2007

Return from AlCantHangVille

My friends, I am back, but I am not unscathed. If anyone was concerned that I would take a trip to Philadelphia, play Australian Rules Football, and go carousing with Sir Al... well, be concerned no longer.

I rolled into Philadelphia courtesy of Amtrak late on Friday night. Unfortunately due to some transportation hassles I cooled my heels for a little while at the station, though this did allow me to avoid having a marathon session at the Boathouse. This was good news for two reasons: 1) Ideally I try to avoid playing Aussie Rules when hungover (though some of my team-mates claim I play well when under the influence), 2) I was still not recovered from consuming some dodgy crab on Monday, which had rendered me a large amount of digestive distress (including, but not contained to, having to miss work on Tuesday). I was still not properly recovered, and had not had any alcohol since B.C. (Before Crab).

So it was unencumbered by a (serious) hangover that Al and I set off for FDR park, where the undefeated Baltimore Washington Eagles were attempting to dispatch the Philadelphia Eagles and clinch the EAFL title. I was not feeling great, and praised the Weather Gods that the day was not hotter and/or more humid.

Just before kick-off I was talking to Al, who offered his opinion that our opponents looked out-gunned. Ever the quick study, Al was not wrong as we proceeded to roll right through our opposition, the final score being 98 to 19. I played iff-ishly, not firing on all cylinders, which was clear when I proceeded to drill an opponent in the body instead of kicking a goal from 15 yards out. Oof.

Post-match Al and I cadged a lift to a local bar, where I had a few and regarded the strange sight of Al actually downing a couple of pints of lager. Astounding!

After a few hours Al and I took the train back to his neck of the woods. A quick shower and a change of clothes, and we headed off to Maddie's, to see Crystal Roxx - a band near and dear to Al's heart. At the bar we met up with Landow, and old mate of Al's. We shot the shit and began downing beverages as the crowd started to filter in.

At one point Al made the following observation: there were not one, not two, but three Bachelorette parties in attendance. Landow then also observed that there was a trailer park within walking distance of the bar.

"Oh my Lord," I thought to myself, "what am I getting myself into?!"

After a couple of drinks at the bar, we retired to a table to continue drinking in earnest. By chance our table happened to be adjacent to one of the bachelorette parties. They seemed nice enough, asking if we wanted any of their pile of appetizers, asking us those random Bachelorette-dare questions ("How long is it?" asked one of the Bachelorettes. "About four hours," replied Landow).

I was busy putting away beer after beer, with the occasional shot of Soco for good measure. After my day's exertions the alcohol was starting to take effect, and by midnight I was starting to feel good and sloshed. The bachelorette party seemed to be in similar spirits, in particular one young lass who was seated next to me, apparently a little worse for wear. Crystal Roxx were putting on a good show, and Al, Landow and myself were enjoying ourselves.

When all of a sudden, it happened.

Picture, if you will, myself, Landow, and Al, seated and minding our own business (mostly), with the Bachelorette party, featuring the drunken lass mentioned above. In fact, here's a diagram.

All of a sudden, in one smooth(-ish) motion, the drunk girl pushed me back in my chair, and jumped across onto my lap so she was now straddling me.

"My name is Robin, and I love you very much," she informed me. And then proceeded to try and kiss me.

I can only imagine what my face looked like, not to mention Al's and Landow's. Of course I was not in the somewhat awkward situation of trying to extricate myself from underneath a drunk and amorous Bachelorette.

Fortunately some of her less-drunk Bachelorette buddies realised what was happening fairly quickly.

"Robin!" the exclaimed as several arms appeared to haul the young lass off of me.

"We're so sorry about that!" my saviours said a few times afterwards, though I was never sure if they were apologising for their friend's behaviour, or if they were apologising for ruining what seemed like me hitting a home run. I did my best to assure them I was fine, and was in the habit of having girls jump onto my lap, and thus this was not big deal.

For all of you wishing to replicate my feats of receiving free lapdances, here is my detailed expanation of how I did it:

1) Sit next to a Bachelorette party at a bar*

*Offer only valid in Philadelphia and surrounding boroughs

That's it! If you follow the Garthmeister J Blueprint, in no time at all you will have girls falling all over you. Literally.

After that excitement I was naturally throwing back drinks as fast as ever. By the time closing rolled around I was more than drunk. I was incredibly drunk. Wasted. Heavily intoxicated. Al and I sat outside, waiting for our ride to arrive, when one of the more annoying things (even more annoying than drunk girls straddling you) occurred: I contracted the hiccups.

Oh God. How I hate the Drunken Hiccups, also known as the hardest hiccups to get rid of in the world, ever. I hiccuped while we waited for our ride. I hiccuped while our ride took us home. I hiccuped while I took of one Doc Marten. I hiccuped when I realised that I had to VOMIT, RIGHT NOW. I hiccuped as I raced down the hall to where I remembered where the bathroom was.

I almost made it.

Which is how I found myself sprawled in front of a toilet in Al's bathroom, with evidence of quite a heft projectile vomit surrounding me. As Al said later it was a colour "not found in nature", and only a small part of it actually managed to get into the toilet itself. Bathroom Destroyed.

On the bright side, it cured my hiccups.

Al had heard the commotion, and surmised what had happened. He ensured I needed no assistance/additional stomach pumping, before I hauled myself off to bed to properly pass out.

The next morning I was a little sensitive, though I managed to inhale large amounts of sausage, french toast, and (of course) lashings of bacon. We spent time back at Maddie's watching the early NFL games (though I only managed one Bloody Mary in the duration) before I headed back to the Amtrak station for my trip home.

And that's how I spent my weekend in Philly. \m/


  • At least it cured the hiccups :)

    By Blogger JL514, at 1:15 AM  

  • I was about to call bullshit on your bachelorette story but you did provide a diagram.

    Was she worth having on your lap?

    By Blogger StB, at 9:30 AM  

  • ABC...Always Be Closing...I'm sure your girl wouldn't have is only a lap dance and a boner.

    By Blogger Joaquin "The Rooster" Ochoa, at 10:07 AM  

  • So you won the footy match, survived the alcohol with alcanthang, and got a partial lapdance from a drunken bachelorette? And you had the presence of mind to produce a diagram of the bachelorette environment upon your return to DC? You, sir, are the man!

    By Blogger iamhoff, at 6:09 PM  

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