: St. Patrick's Day Kentventure: A Great Night for Disaster and Destruction
Ah yes, here we are again. Yet another St. Patrick's Day Kentventure Blog. When I recieved my invitation via Danny P for another drunken experience to celebrate the life and times of one Saint Patrick, I of course accepted. I felt that there is no better way to celebrate my own Irish hertiage (here's to William Woodside, who headed from Ireland to the new world in 1779!) than by acting like a drunken idiot and blowing grocery money on booze.
After the glory that was 2006 ("Hey hey! It's Keck time!") and the disappointment that was last year ("Pills!"). my hopes were high that this year would be legendary. Here are the chronicles of an adventurious band of young adults looking to have some fun on a chilly mid-March night . . .
The Kentventure began the moment I stepped out of Acme Fresh Market, confident that the night would blast away all previous years. At 5:00 PM, I called Danny P. No answer. I assumed that perhaps he was napping after spending the morning having eggs and beers and whatnot. I called a few more times. Still no answer. I began to grow anxious. Was I about to be shunned Keckler-style? Was he just too hungover from the morning's adventures to be of any good tonight? I started to imagine worst-case scenarios and loud arguing. As I predicted, he finally called back while I was showering.
Of course.
A plan was set. I was to travel to Akron, meet up with him and Rachel, and then follow them to Kent. Once arriving in Kent, we would pick up Pete and head to Paul and Marin's place for Power Hour.
I swung by McDonald's and picked up a Shamrock Shake that had been denied to me the year before.
In typical Woodsidian style, I got mixed up when I arrived in Akron. Nothing horrendous, but still . . . annoying. I eventually arrived at Avengers Mansion -- that is, Denholm Manor, and was of course called blundering and dumb by Danny P. I then told him about Bob's attempt at a practical joke regarding Danny's reference letter. Dan was bothered by this to the extent of being rather pissed. It wasn't until a trip to Walgreens shortly thereafter that I was able to completely clarify the situation. (honestly, it was just an innocent prank -- similair to the whole "Tricia applied at Acme" prank played on me a few years ago)
On our way to Kent on I-76, I distinctly remember thinking "Man, twenty minutes in and I've already been called dumb, blundering, and a jerk. Here we go." Luckily, that was pretty much the end of it.
We arrived in Kent and at Pete's with little to no incident. We picked up Pete, who rode with me to Beer 101 (right?). There was a detour at Wendy's that eventually caused Pete and I to get seperated from Dan and Rachel. Dan and Rachel arrived at Paul's with ease; Pete and I had to go through the Twilight Zone and back to get there.
Then came Power Hour to classic songs of the 90s. An hour-ish later, I was being flooded with high school memories and was six Smirnoff's in the bag. Dan went to the restoom for a few minutes. Paul immediately told me he was throwing up, but I just believed he was taking a long pee. I was wrong. Dan had thrown up, but had instantly gotten back into the game. Then there was a Coop-like discussion of some girl that Pete was maybe-kinda into. Pete and I decided that it would be best for him to simply: "Smoke that ass." (with fist punch added for emphasis)
Fact: I hate Power Hour.
Drunk and bumbling, we entered a cab/van thingy that took us to the Zephyr, the highlight of the evening. Once there, the following things occured:
1) I ordered two white russians and a mini-bag of Doritos. Pete and Dan thought this was the funniest thing in the world. I ate them all and then began to stomp the bag drunkenly and for no reason. This was an omen.
2) I called Tricia when "All You Need is Love" was played. I remember yelling/singing it to her. To quote Tricia this morning: "Was that what you were singing? All I heard was you were yelling, then gasped, and said 'Oh no! Dan just dropped his beer!'"
3) I may have called Stephy for a drunk dial. No one else got any because my battery decided to be of no more use.
4) I danced to at least part of "Thriller" with strange girls that were amused/surprised at my presence. I remember distinctly thinking "I'm making a fool out of myself!"
The evening began it's descent into chaos here:
We went to The Loft. My stomach at this point was a mother-fucking mess. I even attempted pooping as an option to relieve it's troubles (as suggested to me by, of all people, Mike Rood). I drank water. A lot of water. I remember a bartender laughing with his buddy when I asked for it. A Long Island Iced Tea split with Pete and I seemed to be the final punch.
I got up in a rush, pushing by Paul and Marin. I think Rachel or Marin may have asked "Are you okay, Wood?"
I reached the door to the restroom . . . and unleashed the contents of my stomach upon the floor.
"The king is dead," declared Dan the next morning. "Long live the king!"
I wretched again, then shoved my way into the empty restroom. I vomited a third time, then reached the bowl at last, where I puked twice more. I hovered above it, grunting and moaning, hearing the voices of various guys as they remarked on the vomit that had appeared on the floor.
"What is this?"
"Did someone puke?"
Me: "Oh god . . ."
"I guess that explains it."
The vomit was mostly liquid, filled with chunks of Doritos. Tricia and I would later joke that they were taking revenge upon me for stomping on their home.
Danny entered then and I don't quite remember what he said. I know he asked me if the vomit at the door was mine, and then screamed about it being white. I sat down, feeling better surprisingly. A few moments later, a bartender with peircings, tatoos, and curly hippy hair stepped up to the table.
"Sorry man, but [blah blah blah, I don't remember -- was there more here?] we have some rules here and we're going to have to ask you to leave."
I remember looking at the others, thinking "uh, okay. Guess I'll walk back to North Canton."
Everyone joined me, save Paul and Marin, who needed to . . . drink some more or something. The four of us went to Ray's Place. Dan, Pete, and myself just sat there, eyes closed, nearing sleep/passing out. Rachel was apparently the only alive/sober one --
(SIDE-NOTE: Rachel is the best girlfriend Dan's ever had)
-- she was ignored by the asshole who walked over and told us that the bar "wasn't home and that we couldn't sleep there."
Apparently, sleeping is illegal and is inappropiate. Sleeping? Gasp! Fuck that guy. At least the one that threw me out wasn't a dick about it. In fact, I feel pretty shitty about puking all over the restroom door and the floor -- to the extent of wanting to call the bar up and apologizing it. I've had to clean up vomit before, ya know? It fucking sucks.
But you know what I don't feel like apologizing for? Having my eyes closed and leaning on my arm.
At some point here, we found out that Paul and Marin got in a fight.
Pete decided to walk home. Dan, Rachel and I waited around for our cab/van thingy, which showed up while we were in line for something greasy and over-priced. We traveled back to Paul and Marin's, where they were no where to be found. Rachel felt confident in being able to get back to Akron with Dan, but I was left in a pickle. Sleeping in Paul and Marin's apartment with 1) a dog (man's best friend, but certainly not mine) and 2) them fighting was just going to be a disaster.
We sat in my car for a while, deciding and planning. I'm not sure why we sat in my car for so long, but I kind of liked it. Eventually, it was decided that I would be taken to Pete's for the night and that he would return me to my car in the morning.
I was then dropped off at Pete's, who was kind enough to give me a blanket. I slept surprisingly hard.
Come morning, our sleep was shattered and broken by the sound of trees being sawed by lumber-jacks. Pete took me to my car, which was almost as much as a journey to Paul's as it had been the night before. My Kentventure ended with Pete driving around the parking lot in his pajamas, the two of us searching for my car.
It was found. I got in, stopped by McDonald's for some food, and headed home.
~W~
Ah yes, here we are again. Yet another St. Patrick's Day Kentventure Blog. When I recieved my invitation via Danny P for another drunken experience to celebrate the life and times of one Saint Patrick, I of course accepted. I felt that there is no better way to celebrate my own Irish hertiage (here's to William Woodside, who headed from Ireland to the new world in 1779!) than by acting like a drunken idiot and blowing grocery money on booze.
After the glory that was 2006 ("Hey hey! It's Keck time!") and the disappointment that was last year ("Pills!"). my hopes were high that this year would be legendary. Here are the chronicles of an adventurious band of young adults looking to have some fun on a chilly mid-March night . . .
The Kentventure began the moment I stepped out of Acme Fresh Market, confident that the night would blast away all previous years. At 5:00 PM, I called Danny P. No answer. I assumed that perhaps he was napping after spending the morning having eggs and beers and whatnot. I called a few more times. Still no answer. I began to grow anxious. Was I about to be shunned Keckler-style? Was he just too hungover from the morning's adventures to be of any good tonight? I started to imagine worst-case scenarios and loud arguing. As I predicted, he finally called back while I was showering.
Of course.
A plan was set. I was to travel to Akron, meet up with him and Rachel, and then follow them to Kent. Once arriving in Kent, we would pick up Pete and head to Paul and Marin's place for Power Hour.
I swung by McDonald's and picked up a Shamrock Shake that had been denied to me the year before.
In typical Woodsidian style, I got mixed up when I arrived in Akron. Nothing horrendous, but still . . . annoying. I eventually arrived at Avengers Mansion -- that is, Denholm Manor, and was of course called blundering and dumb by Danny P. I then told him about Bob's attempt at a practical joke regarding Danny's reference letter. Dan was bothered by this to the extent of being rather pissed. It wasn't until a trip to Walgreens shortly thereafter that I was able to completely clarify the situation. (honestly, it was just an innocent prank -- similair to the whole "Tricia applied at Acme" prank played on me a few years ago)
On our way to Kent on I-76, I distinctly remember thinking "Man, twenty minutes in and I've already been called dumb, blundering, and a jerk. Here we go." Luckily, that was pretty much the end of it.
We arrived in Kent and at Pete's with little to no incident. We picked up Pete, who rode with me to Beer 101 (right?). There was a detour at Wendy's that eventually caused Pete and I to get seperated from Dan and Rachel. Dan and Rachel arrived at Paul's with ease; Pete and I had to go through the Twilight Zone and back to get there.
Then came Power Hour to classic songs of the 90s. An hour-ish later, I was being flooded with high school memories and was six Smirnoff's in the bag. Dan went to the restoom for a few minutes. Paul immediately told me he was throwing up, but I just believed he was taking a long pee. I was wrong. Dan had thrown up, but had instantly gotten back into the game. Then there was a Coop-like discussion of some girl that Pete was maybe-kinda into. Pete and I decided that it would be best for him to simply: "Smoke that ass." (with fist punch added for emphasis)
Fact: I hate Power Hour.
Drunk and bumbling, we entered a cab/van thingy that took us to the Zephyr, the highlight of the evening. Once there, the following things occured:
1) I ordered two white russians and a mini-bag of Doritos. Pete and Dan thought this was the funniest thing in the world. I ate them all and then began to stomp the bag drunkenly and for no reason. This was an omen.
2) I called Tricia when "All You Need is Love" was played. I remember yelling/singing it to her. To quote Tricia this morning: "Was that what you were singing? All I heard was you were yelling, then gasped, and said 'Oh no! Dan just dropped his beer!'"
3) I may have called Stephy for a drunk dial. No one else got any because my battery decided to be of no more use.
4) I danced to at least part of "Thriller" with strange girls that were amused/surprised at my presence. I remember distinctly thinking "I'm making a fool out of myself!"
The evening began it's descent into chaos here:
We went to The Loft. My stomach at this point was a mother-fucking mess. I even attempted pooping as an option to relieve it's troubles (as suggested to me by, of all people, Mike Rood). I drank water. A lot of water. I remember a bartender laughing with his buddy when I asked for it. A Long Island Iced Tea split with Pete and I seemed to be the final punch.
I got up in a rush, pushing by Paul and Marin. I think Rachel or Marin may have asked "Are you okay, Wood?"
I reached the door to the restroom . . . and unleashed the contents of my stomach upon the floor.
"The king is dead," declared Dan the next morning. "Long live the king!"
I wretched again, then shoved my way into the empty restroom. I vomited a third time, then reached the bowl at last, where I puked twice more. I hovered above it, grunting and moaning, hearing the voices of various guys as they remarked on the vomit that had appeared on the floor.
"What is this?"
"Did someone puke?"
Me: "Oh god . . ."
"I guess that explains it."
The vomit was mostly liquid, filled with chunks of Doritos. Tricia and I would later joke that they were taking revenge upon me for stomping on their home.
Danny entered then and I don't quite remember what he said. I know he asked me if the vomit at the door was mine, and then screamed about it being white. I sat down, feeling better surprisingly. A few moments later, a bartender with peircings, tatoos, and curly hippy hair stepped up to the table.
"Sorry man, but [blah blah blah, I don't remember -- was there more here?] we have some rules here and we're going to have to ask you to leave."
I remember looking at the others, thinking "uh, okay. Guess I'll walk back to North Canton."
Everyone joined me, save Paul and Marin, who needed to . . . drink some more or something. The four of us went to Ray's Place. Dan, Pete, and myself just sat there, eyes closed, nearing sleep/passing out. Rachel was apparently the only alive/sober one --
(SIDE-NOTE: Rachel is the best girlfriend Dan's ever had)
-- she was ignored by the asshole who walked over and told us that the bar "wasn't home and that we couldn't sleep there."
Apparently, sleeping is illegal and is inappropiate. Sleeping? Gasp! Fuck that guy. At least the one that threw me out wasn't a dick about it. In fact, I feel pretty shitty about puking all over the restroom door and the floor -- to the extent of wanting to call the bar up and apologizing it. I've had to clean up vomit before, ya know? It fucking sucks.
But you know what I don't feel like apologizing for? Having my eyes closed and leaning on my arm.
At some point here, we found out that Paul and Marin got in a fight.
Pete decided to walk home. Dan, Rachel and I waited around for our cab/van thingy, which showed up while we were in line for something greasy and over-priced. We traveled back to Paul and Marin's, where they were no where to be found. Rachel felt confident in being able to get back to Akron with Dan, but I was left in a pickle. Sleeping in Paul and Marin's apartment with 1) a dog (man's best friend, but certainly not mine) and 2) them fighting was just going to be a disaster.
We sat in my car for a while, deciding and planning. I'm not sure why we sat in my car for so long, but I kind of liked it. Eventually, it was decided that I would be taken to Pete's for the night and that he would return me to my car in the morning.
I was then dropped off at Pete's, who was kind enough to give me a blanket. I slept surprisingly hard.
Come morning, our sleep was shattered and broken by the sound of trees being sawed by lumber-jacks. Pete took me to my car, which was almost as much as a journey to Paul's as it had been the night before. My Kentventure ended with Pete driving around the parking lot in his pajamas, the two of us searching for my car.
It was found. I got in, stopped by McDonald's for some food, and headed home.
~W~
Current Mood: 
exhausted
exhausted