I went on a trip to Arizona for a bachelor party/Cubs spring training outing, and these are the highlights, in no particular order:
- Because my buddy is Asian-Indian American, many of the guys at the bachelor party were of the same descent, six in fact, which left six white dudes. So, when picking softball teams, it only seemed logical to have a brown on white match-up. Sadly, white boyz lost 4 to 2, despite my late inning, two-run double, charged by the following comment, made by someone on the Brown team when they had held us scoreless for eight innings: "Didn't your people invent this game?"
- To make the meaningless spring training game against the Oakland Athletics interesting we employed heavy drinking, via the big, white buckets of beer the vendor was cool enough to let us keep buying, and gambling, which was in the form of betting on what a guy in a certain spot of the line-up did with each at bat. I picked late and had the seventh hitter, but Buck Coats came through with a lot of hits, and one of the best cowboy names ever. There was also a pitcher for the Cubbies named Rocky Cherry, which, side-bar, is a good porno actor name, so we hummed the Rocky theme until he threw us a ball for the bachelor.
- Don't ever travel with an expired license. I had to go through the crazy security when you stand in that box and I got blasted with hard bursts of air, which scares the shit out of you, even if they forewarn you, and tell you not to be startled. They also opened up my bag and threw out all my toiletries, some of which were expensive, like my hair gel and my oil of oilay face soap. Okay, that is super-gay, but I have sensitive skin, damn it, or shoud I say, thenthitive thkin. They must have been worried that I had a plot to blow up the plane with the world's gayest, toiletry bomb. Anyway, the ID continued to cause me problems when an a-hole working the door at a bar wouldn't let me in because it was expired. I know it's a college town, but come on, I'm 30! He just didn't want my old balls in there . . .
- When we left a bar called cherry-something, which had pole-dancing girls in their underwear, yet it wasn't a strip club, because there were tons of female patrons, we saw a car accident RIGHT in front of the bar with everyone loitering outside to see it. If I were sober I would have been like, "Oh, man. That sucks." But, because I was fit shaced, I was like, "Oh snap! Did you see that," and I took pictures of the beat-up, smoking car with my cell phone. Moments later we saw a bunch of guys beating up one fat kid. That was also an awesome sight to behold, but not if you were the fat kid, I imagine.