Archive for September, 2011

A Journey To Texas – Part 6

Welcome to the final installment of our series! I hope you have enjoyed sharing the adventure with me.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

The next thing I remember is waking up the next day around noon. It was game day. Mouse and Scott had gotten up early to get breakfast and watch an ESPN show somewhere. Their return home is what stirred me from my slumber. I felt like complete and utter shit. I had never had a worse hangover. I tried to remember the night, and I had flashback of the sea cow’s underwear. I was horrified. Thanks to the wonder that is Mouse, I had made it back alive and not been used.

As Eric surfaced from the bathroom, Jared began to tell us what had happened the night before. After Eric puked through the table and onto himself and several Texans, Jared moved him downstairs where he kept his head down on the table till we arrived with the car. Early in the morning, Jared got up to use the bathroom and Eric informed him that he was going to puke. Jared rushed him the trashcan and Eric let fly. Jared gave us a demonstration of Eric vomiting, “BHWEHWEHEWHEHhahahWEHWEFHAWEh!” If you have not seen this impression, you must ask Jared to perform it for you, as no description could possibly be adequate.

After some moaning, groaning, and beer shits, we took off for downtown to find a parking space and a bar to watch the other big games that were on that day.

Mouse and Scott had found a safe garage earlier that morning and we parked easily. We started walking downtown in search of a bar and somewhere to eat. Being Texas, one would think the downtown area would be booming with good places to eat. Afterall, we all know that all Texan’s are fat. They have to get that fat from somewhere. The only decent looking place near by was a chili bar and after the night before, we agreed that it wouldn’t sit well in our abused stomachs. Our search continued and we finally found a sandwich shop.

Now, this sandwich shop was nice and clean; it generally looked like a nice place to have a quick sub. After entering and staring at the menu for a few moments, I tried to place an order.

“I’ll have a turkey sub on wheat,” I said.
The shop owner replied, “We’re out of turkey.”
“Okay, I’ll have ham on rye,” no big deal I thought.
“We’re out of rye,” he said.
It went on like this a few more times, and finally I settled for something I didn’t really want, but they actually had.

After seeing the size of my sub, I ordered a salad with French dressing to supplement my meal. I was expecting a small little side salad. The salad I received was bigger than any you would order as a dinner salad in a nice restaurant, but it had one minor defect, “We’re out of French.”

All in all, the sandwich and salad were both decent, but the shop owner is what made the experience. He was very friendly and happy, even though his shop was lacking many of the important items that make a sandwich shop. Mouse Ramer picked up our bill and tipped the man very generously (free cookie generous) as we nursed our hangovers with food.

We had a few hours to kill before heading over to the stadium to pick up our tickets and find our seats, so we decided to find a bar to watch a few of the other games that were happening. The only bars we knew were over on Sixth Street, too far away to walk. We wandered around the surrounding few blocks for a few minutes searching for a bar. We found a building that looked like it might be an establishment that served alcoholic beverages, but there was no signage of any form to ID it as such. We went inside to check it out.

Inside the bar, there were no windows, a dance floor on the far side of the room with a fancy looking lighting system. There were a few patrons at the bar, and one very well kept and stylish bartender. I think Cher was playing in the background. I cautiously looked at Jared, who just sort of nodded and grinned. He had more experience in this area than I.

The five of us wandered up to the bar and sat down. The TVs were playing Christopher Lowell. Mouse asked if they would put the game on for us and the bartender happily complied. We ordered some drinks, watched the game, and shot the shit with some of the other guys in the bar. After we finished out drinks, one of the other patrons offered to buy us a round. How nice of him.

Mouse started talking to the fellow that bought us a round, told him that he was with his son and his son’s friends here to watch the Buckeyes play. Mouse asked the man if he had a wife or kids. The man just chuckled and looked at Mouse rather puzzled.

“What I don’t get it…?” Mouse said.
“You don’t know what kind of bar this is, do you man?” the guy asked.
“I don’t know, just a regular bar,” replied Mouse.
“This is a gay bar man!”
“Are you shitting me?!” Mouse asked quite astonished.

We had been sitting in a gay bar for the last 45 minutes. Mouse, Scott, and Eric were oblivious the whole time. I don’t think anything short of two patrons breaking down and making out right in front of us would have clued them in. Jared and myself had caught on just a few seconds after walking in.

After sitting in disbelieve for a few minutes, Mouse decided it was time we head out, it was getting close to game time! We thanked the guys in the bar and they wished us luck.

We began our trek over to the stadium. We had to be at least two, if not more miles away, but the walk went quickly. On the way, at least 2 dozen Texas fan tried to convince us that we were walking the wrong direction. They must have all collaborated before we arrived. This running “joke” among the Texans continued, even when the stadium was within sight.

We arrived at the stadium, and got in line to claim our tickets. After waiting for 40 minutes, we had our tickets in hand. We filed into the stadium and found our seats near the top row of the student section.

We waited around for the game to start. Eric and Jared got some hot dogs and nachos. We chilled as the stands filled.

The game was filled with excitement. Scott would be much better than me at filling in the details, so I’ll leave it up to him. I’ll just say, Texas got what was coming to them. OSU won 24-7.

After the game ended, we all piled back into the car for our journey back to old Columbus town, with a drive through DOUBLE E, Missouri.

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A Journey To Texas – Part 5

Yo, this is a series. Read the others first!

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Around this time, unbeknownst to me, the rest of the crew ventured back to the wood bar because the final bar sucked. Eric and Jared were on the upper balcony on the opposite side as me, sitting at a table. Eric wasn’t feeling too well, and Jared was attending to him. Eric’s body had decided it needed to purge, and Eric was far to drunk to do anything about it. He puked all over the table in front of him. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, but this particular table had a mesh surface and the vom-bomb dripped straight through it. It coated Eric’s pants and shoes and dripped down the patio to the people below. With quick thinking, Jared, moved Eric downstairs with Mouse and Scott to avoid any drunken puke covered Texans.

Now, I had tried to use the empty glass excuse several times to get away from the sea cow and her friends, but she always demanded that she refill it for me. I tried three or four times, before I realized that it wasn’t going to work. After I attempted this, I started to consider going home with the sea cow, just for the free cab ride. I was in no condition to find our car and make the trip back to the hotel. Finally, it hit me like the full thunderous force of Niagara Falls. I had to pee. The perfect excuse to leave the sea cow behind! I got up and promised I would be right back after I drained the lizard.

I darted downstairs and found Mouse, “WE HAVE GOT TO GO!!” I shouted. Mouse was baffled and groping for an explanation.

“WE HAVE GOT TO GO! WE HAVE GOT TO GO!”

Finally Mouse realized there was no explanation needed. He ran off to find the rest of the group who had moved on. I sat at the bar eagerly awaiting their return so I could leave the sea cow behind. As I sat, I heard the moans of the sea cow from the balcony stairs. I had to leave and I had to leave now. I went onto the porch to buy a few more seconds.

I saw Mouse; he was running towards me, he knew an urgent situation when he saw it. Mouse informed that me that Scott wasn’t ready to go and Eric couldn’t make the walk because he was too drunk. He said we had to get the car and drive back to pick them up. This plan sounded good to me, so I told Mouse I would meet him out front and jumped the wall.

Outside I nervously waited for Mouse to close his tab. I thought the sea cow had seen me jump the wall and was probably on her way out to find me. Thankfully, Mouse was quick and came out. We set out at a brisk pace in the general direction of the car. I explained what had happened to Mouse and he was very understanding, but at the same time thought it was hilarious. I couldn’t blame him. As we continued to walk, we both realized that we had no idea how to get back to the car. We asked a guy that was standing on a corner if he could help us.

He asked us what we were looking for, we roughly tried to explain the parking garage and general area to him, but he didn’t know where it was. His friend he was with went off to hook up with some girl and ditched him, so he vowed to help us find our car. How a complete stranger would help us find our car was beyond me – he had no idea where we parked other than the general direction and didn’t know what it looked like from our drunken explanations, but we were glad to have him on board. We began to talk as we walked and it turned out that he was an OSU graduate and was working in Austin for a computer company. We got onto the subject of homebrew beer and he mentioned that a friend of his brews and sells it at a bar. He insisted that we go to the bar and try it, since I was such a huge fan of beer. Mouse and I tried to refuse, but in the end decided. Fuck It.

This guy took us to a small hole in the wall bar. The floors were dirty and made of wood, the lighting was dim and yellow, the tables were old and rickety, and the bar was scratched and scraped. It looked just like a bar out of the old west, the only thing missing were the swinging doors. We took a seat next to a couple of guys playing poker, I kept expecting one of them to stand up, yell “You fucking cheater!” and pull out a revolver.

Our stranger came back to the table bearing three homebrewed beers from the owner of the bar, Mouse refused, as he was sobering up for the drive. This left myself and the other guy with a three beers. Thinking of Eric, I wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, we had already been gone for what seemed like and hour. I planned on finishing this beer and leaving, so as not to be rude. I tasted it, it was the most bitter and tart beer I had ever tasted. It was horrible. The stranger asked me what I thought of it, so I lied and said I loved it. He proceeded to tell me about the brewing of the beer, all of which I ignored, as I took huge gulps to finish it quickly so we could be on our way.

I finished my beer and sat the glass down. As I was standing up to tell this guy we had to go, he poured half the other beer into my glass and proclaimed, “Man you MUST really love this stuff.”

I chugged the rest of it right there in the middle of this old west bar. I felt like brawling with the cowboys, but instead I grabbed Mouse’s arm and told the stranger we had to leave. He wished us good luck in finding our car and on our way we went. Somehow we managed to find the car in about 40 minutes. We made the climb up the parking garage to the second highest floor. The stair climb was so exhausting; it felt like climbing a mountain. Thankfully, by this time Mouse was sober enough to drive and we took off.

Mouse and I had a conversation on the way to pick up the rest of the crew, none of which I can remember, the rest of the car ride back to the hotel is merely a blur.

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A Journey To Texas – Part 4

Hey, Dummy! This is Part 4! Read the rest first!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

After a two beers in this bar, my night becomes a little hazy, but I will recall it to the best of my abilities. I began to lose track of my drinking buddies in this place. They wondered off to mingle with the locals and I stayed up at the bar to refill my glass quickly. A woman setting next to me took notice of all the different beers I was ordering and struck up a conversation. Maybe woman isn’t the best description of her; I think sea cow or walrus would be better. She was a very large girl. We had a common interest in craft brews and began to talk. She recommended several from the bar and even bought me a few. She was heading back outside to the patio and told me to come and met her friends. I did, not knowing what happened to my posse.

Outside, her friends were ugly and annoying people. Don’t get me wrong, they were nice, but looked like drugged up alligators. I just ignored them and continued talking to this girl about beer. She bought me a few more rounds; some of her friends split to smoke weed. This left me with sea cow, her not-so-attractive friend, and some douche bag guy they hung out with. I didn’t notice it at the time, but as the night progressed, sea cow was moving closer and closer to me and began to put her arm on my chair.

Eventually, Mouse found me and said it was time to move onto the next bar of our pub-crawl. I informed sea cow and her friends that I had to leave and wished them a happy evening. This wasn’t enough for the cow. She demanded to know what bar was next on the list, so she could meet us there. I gave up the information thinking the next bar would be blocks, if not miles away and her fat little legs wouldn’t be able to carry her there. Turns out I was wrong.

The next bar was across the street. We drunkenly stumbled through traffic to the other bar. It didn’t have a theme, just a regular bar. I insisted on buying an Irish car bomb for Eric, as I didn’t think he was drunk enough. I was wrong.

I met a few British guys at the bar with a laptop and talked with them for a while. I got them to check my stocks for me, and since they were up I bought them a round. Mouse and Scotty told me a tale from the night before. When we were bar hopping on Sixth Street, a couple of Texas fans bought them a beer and wished us luck. Half way through the beer, these guys informed Mouse and Scott they were drinking non-alcoholic beverages. Mouse got a kick out of it and Scott was annoyed. Those crazy Texans.

I wandered around the bar a bit more and met the guy that organized the pub-crawl for the Alumni association. We chatted about how he was worried most fans would only see the Sixth Street bar scene and be treated rudely by the college aged fans. He wanted us to see the nice side of Austin.

During our chat I saw sea cow walking into the bar. Instantly I knew I had to be on the run. We played a game of cat and mouse. She was the cat and I was trying to find Mouse. I waited out on the patio as she was searching for me inside, when I saw her start to move onto the patio, I jumped the fence and went back in the front door. I found the rest of the gang hanging out in the front of the bar and told them I think its time we moved on.

They agreed so off we went to the next pub. I hadn’t finished my goal of trying every beer on tap in the previous bar, so I decided to split off from the group and go back to finish. Mouse, Scott, Jared, and Eric went on to the final bar of the pub-crawl. As soon as I entered the wood bar, I knew I had made a mistake. Sea cow’s friends were still there. I went to the other side of the bar where I hoped they couldn’t see me and continued my conquest. As a neared the end of the taps, I heard a thunderous booming at the entrance of the bar. I turned to see the dejected sea cow standing in the doorway. I quickly got up and ran to the bathroom.

While in the bathroom I was taken aback at the beautiful wallpaper. I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture of it as I peed.

Cautiously, I left the bathroom. My luck for the night took a turn for the worse. The sea cow was exiting the women’s bathroom right across from me. Her eyes lit up and I knew I was screwed (possibly in the literal sense). The sea cow and her friend each took one of my arms and escorted me up to the balcony of the bar. I began to spin my cock and bull stories to the sea cow. I told her I was psychic, that I played guitars, and that I was casted for a lead roll in an upcoming action movie. She began whispering only to me, ignoring her friends. She started telling me personal things. She physically took my hand and put it very high up on her massive thigh. I felt it ooze into the fat like quicksand. I tried pulling it away, but that only made things worse.

I could see her underwear because she was wearing a very short skirt. The only thing I could think about was what a great sail they would make for a boat. I told her I owned a yacht. She started asking me to come back to her apartment with her. Said we would have a great time. I told her I couldn’t leave my friends and that I had no way to get back in the morning. She kept prodding me to come with her. I have a feeling that I would have been double teamed by the sea cow and her friend had I done so.

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A Journey To Texas – Part 3

If you missed the previous parts, grab’em quick:
Part 1
Part 2

We headed downtown to Sixth Street for a little partying and drinking in preparation for the big game. Downtown was crowded and filled with the smell of drunken college kids vomiting in the shorts. The bars were over packed and filled with worthless Texans. The older ones offered us luck and told us to spend some money. The younger told us to fuck off and waved their horns at us. We heard Free Fallin’ by Tom Petty for the 27th time in two days as we found a bar populated with OSU fans. We sang some buckeye songs and drank some booze.

In an exhausted drunken stupor, we left the bar to somehow to find our way back to the hotel. We couldn’t make the 500-block walk back to our hotel, so we decided to take a taxi. However, Texas doesn’t believe in normal taxis because we found it damn near impossible to track one down. We did find several “bike taxis,” think rickshaws only with a bike attached. We drunkenly commissioned, rather suckered, two of these bikes to take us back to the hotel. We challenged our drivers to race each other, cheering, leering, and swearing at one another. The drivers would only take us half way to our hotel, but at the end of our trek we were shown Leslie, the transvestite that ran for mayor. He was dressed like a garish Elton John and twice as flaming. Apparently, he did quiet well in the election. Those crazy Texans.

When we arrived back at our hotel, we felt like going for a swim, but the pool was closed for the night. We had Mouse sweet-talk the ladies at the front desk into unlocking the pool for us. It worked like a charm.

The next day we awoke around noon and scraped together some food. None of us we were hung over. Around four we headed downtown to take in some festivities. After the walk from the night before, Mouse decided that it was best if we drove, so we all piled back into the car for the ride downtown. We spent the better part of the hour trying to find parking close to the OSU pep booster we planned to attend. Finally, we found a parking garage that didn’t seem to have any enforcement, and after much debate and arguing about being towed, the decision was made. Fuck It.

We ventured to an outdoor bar hosting the OSU event. We finally found a large number of OSU fans after seeing very little the night before. Drinks we were ridiculously priced, I think they we trying to take advantage of our good Columbus nature. The atmosphere was rather bland and people weren’t very excited, but that would soon change. They began to notice us. Well, more specifically, Mouse. We had given Mouse a gift of appreciation before we left Columbus; a leather OSU football helmet. If you know Mouse, you know why we gave this to him. Everyone loved it and wanted to know where they could find one. This helped draw a crowd to us. I saw the potential to improve the party. I started, “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I wanna go back to Ohio State, to Old Columbus town!” Soon after everyone was laughing, singing, and cheering. It started to rain, so we moved on to our next event.

The alumni association had arranged a pub-crawl in a different part of town that was slightly more respectable than the downtown college area. We headed off towards the first bar on the list. Along the way, we were taunted and cursed at by the younger Austinites for wearing our OSU garb.

We arrived at the first bar, a somewhat classy and upscale place, well about as classy as Texas gets anyway. The fine patrons were mostly dressed in “nice” jeans, cowboy boots and button downs, with the standard Texan 10-gallon hat. We showed up in shorts and t-shirts clashing their style. Before we entered, we gazed into the window debating about whether or not to go in since we were treated so rudely on the street. We didn’t know how our reception would go in this place. We decided, fuck it.

Upon entering, all eyes moved to us and the conversation stopped. Mouse yelled, “Go Buckeyes!” and the bar erupted into frenzy again. They didn’t seem to mind. We all ordered some drinks and started to converse with the Texans. A familiar pattern seemed to arise. They all told us to “SPEND MONEY!” Apparently, this is the only reason they were friendly to us.

Growing bored with this small bar and its sad and delusional crowd we moved onward to the next bar a few blocks away. This was a large patio style bar that was jammed packed with people, roughly half OSU and half Texans. A few beers were drank, random people talked to and small world connections were found, as in all bars. One waitress caught my eye; she was very attractive. I conned her into taking a picture with me. As the sun began to set we moved to the third bar on the list.

The third bar had a “wood” theme I guess it could be called. Everything was made out of natural lumber. It was a very nice place to get drunk in. We moseyed up to the bar. I was overwhelmed by the number of local and craft beers they had on draft. I decided to make it a personal goal to try each one.

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A Journey To Texas – Part 2

Welcome to Part 2! If you missed part 1, see it here.

My time in the back seat was not pleasant in any sense of the word. I was overwhelmed with the smell of Eric’s farts, the stench of one particular Scott Ramer, and the fact that I was crammed into a space about five cubic feet short of what would be comfortable for a full grown male of my size. Exhausted from having spent the previous three days moving out of my apartment and working 10 hour days at COSI, I tried to grab a few minutes of decent sleep. Try as I might, I was extremely unsuccessful, gaining only about 20 minutes of uneasy rest.

A few pit stops later and it was my turn to sit shotgun with Eric. We had made quite a bit of progress with five of us driving around the clock. As the sun rose, we hit Arkansas. It was a very harrowing experience, sitting shotgun with a man like Eric behind the wheel. He was confident in his driving abilities, I was not. Several times, he veered into the rumble strip as he casually nodded off or decided that paying attention to the road was not in his best interest. I started to wonder if we’d make it there alive, one thing was for sure – we’d certainly die trying.

Another switch of drivers, and we were passing through Missouri. Mouse awoke me from my horrible nightmarish slumber by screaming frantically. Being an electrical engineer, he thought it was extremely exciting for me to be passing through a city the namesake of my major. “DOUBLE E, DOUBLE E MISSOURI,” he screamed, very excited. I yelled back in the excitement of the moment, and I can assure you that the very same thing happened on the way home.

As we arrived in Texas, we began to see what the rest of the trip would be like. Endless fields of nothing but fat cattle, much like the population of Texas. This is precisely what we encountered as we entered and explored the city of Austin. We arrived at the hotel and we were greeted by a rather attractive young lady who checked us in. Mouse made the typical small talk he is so utterly famous for, taunting the young girl. She didn’t seem to mind all that much, just smiled and nodded while causally checking out the rest of the crew. We went and checked out the hotel room Mouse had gotten for us. Two queens and a floor. The floor would become a vital part of Eric’s life in the next few days.

Eric had to take a dump, which is no surprise for anyone that knows him. Twenty minutes later, we go back to the desk and ask the girl for a good restaurant we were can get some good ol’ Texan beef. She seemed delighted to talk to us again and pointed us in the direction of some steakeries. The five of us piled back into the car and began another adventure. The road system within Austin is certainly something to be weary of. The Texans know the roads well, but they don’t give directions well. The steakhouse we had decided on was on the same street we had come in off the highway.

We couldn’t get back to this road because the path to the hotel is one way. So, we set off on another one-way street in an attempt to find a place to cut across the freeway, the only thing between dinner and us. I felt like we were on a hunt for the wild buffalo. The same road ran on either side of the freeway, but in opposite directions. We had a to find a path to the other side of the freeway. Easier said than done. No U-turns were allowed or possible because of the freeway separating the two sides of the road. We found several small streets connecting the two sides, but we were not able to take them for various ridiculous reasons. Finally, we approached a large six-lane road. Five grown men, small car, four lanes, and fast traffic. Mouse gunned the engine and she roared to life. Roared much in the same way a two-cycle weed whacker does. Honking horns and middle fingers erupted in the flurry of traffic as we suddenly darted out. It is astonishing how much of your life and flash in front of you in just a few seconds. We cut across the traffic, ignoring the pissed off Texans, and slammed the car into the turn lane. We had made it. Barely. We waited for our signal and flew down the proper side of the road.

We arrived at the eatery and got our table after Mouse sweet talked the hostess. The waitress arrived and suggested some wine; Mouse and Jared jumped the thought of sweet liquor dripping down their gullets. Mouse found that he and waitress shared a common interest in wine. He chatted her up every time she came back to serve us. This place, along with every other in Texas, was famous for their prime rib. We all received a small sampling of the goods. Not bad, but I’ve still had better in Ohio. We took our time eating and drinking. Dessert was had and I drank several green teas. The check came and unfortunately for Mouse, the waitress’s number was not at the bottom. We ventured back to the hotel so Eric could drop another deuce.

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A Journey To Texas – Part 1

Presented here for the first time online in all its glory and bliss, is the The Texas Story. Semi-Officially titled, “A Journey to Texas,” it recounts the tall tale that occurred when myself and four friends made a magnificent road trip to watch some football. It will be presented in several parts, so stay tuned in over the next few weeks, you’ll hardly regret it!

Texas is a never-ending monotony of blue skies and broken fields traced by manufactured and generic housing. You feel like driving 120 mph down the desolate highway just to escape that emptiness. You do until you remember what Jesus told you, that Texas pigs are fucking dicks. I keep expecting to see tumbleweeds roll by for excitement, but I am sorely disappointed. I’m jumping ahead of myself here, way a head.

Perhaps I should start from the beginning instead of the end. In the summer of 2006, John “Mouse” Ramer planned a trip to see the OSU Buckeyes get their much-needed revenge on the Texas Longhorns. Easily the biggest game of the year for both teams, the bucks being ranked number one and the horns number 2. One evening in his basement, after a few games of beer pong, he asked me if I would be attending. After a few drunken moments of thought I loudly concluded that I would. Mouse was overjoyed with my decision and started screaming, “JOHNNYV, JOHNNYV, WE’RE GOING TO
TEXAS!!!”

As the days went by and summer began to come to a close, a frantic scramble to find tickets began. Eric won a ticket in the student ticket lotto with his Irish luck. Mouse bought a pair for Scott and himself from the Alumni association, undoubtedly shelling out the big bucks. That left Jared and I out in the cold with little hope of find a pair for less than 900 bucks, far too much for our debt ridden student bodies. Facebook groups were created, internet forums were posted in, and eBay was searched. After giving up hope of finding tickets in our price range, a second Texas lotto was held, with Scott and Jared winning tickets. We were set. Let the fucking party begin! Well, first, some bad news. That van we were renting so we could all drive down in comfort and have legroom might have some issues.

“I hate to inform you John, yea we won’t be renting it,” Scott told me with semi-serious face. For a moment I was in disbelieve. I was certain he was joking, but as the awkward silence between us grew, it was clear it was telling the truth. Five grown men are driving 22 hours in a mid-sized sedan to watch a football game.

Now I’d like to call it to you attention, that I was currently homeless at the time of this trip, several days before, during, and several days after the trip took place; as were Eric and Jared. Jared and I were living with Scott, which is a heartbreaking experience, but that in and of itself is a tale for another time. So the day finally came; it was time to leave for Texas in our crowded clown car. Mouse arrived at Scott’s apartment to pick us up. The first thing out of his mouth was, “God, I could go for a beer!” Mouse came
prepared.

We piled all our shit into the trunk, including Jared’s underwear trophy from a 6 year old girl. Yea, he likes them young, but who doesn’t? And off we went, Mouse driving and the rest of us pondering what will come. Will we win? Get lucky? Get our asses kicked by half-retarded drunken Texans? One thing was for sure – we would get hammered.

A short stop over in Dayton to eat at the Ramer’s favorite restaurant, the Outback, got a little rowdy. We embarrassed several waitresses and made another grossly uncomfortable with our conversation of how to divide her body amongst ourselves; Eric only wanted the ass. After a few beers and some shenanigans, we were back on the road, with myself in the driver seat. We drove on into the night, switching drivers after we got through Indiana.

Stay tuned for the next installment!

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