the wiiiiiilllldddd niiiight is calling.
Zak kindly reminded me that I hadn't shared with you folks one of the more interesting stories I've had to tell lately.
Kyle, a good friend of Zaks recently returned home from Iraq for some much deserved leave time. Our young Marine friend, and I capitalize Marine only because anyone with a pair of dog tags tattooed on their arm, the nerves of steel and the balls of brass to walk into a war zone willingly deserves to have any title associated with their name trumpeted from the ramparts. As I was saying, our young Marine friend skirted deployment in New Orleans and scored himself a very sweet pass home for a few days.
While the original plan was to go to a strip club, we all settled for what is arguably the next best thing a few guys can do; play beirut.
Well, to clarify, my suggestion of beirut didn't meet with the hearty cheers one would usually associate with my caliber of friends.
Zak and Kyle in unison, "What's beirut?"
I wasn't surprised that Zak didn't know, but Kyle? I was shocked and appalled. Was this truly what our armed forces had come to? Where were the raging drunk heroes that Clint Eastwood had told me to honor with each frosty mug of beer that touched my lips?
Then I remembered that beirut was sometimes too big a word for most individuals who were almost old enough to drink.
"Beer pong," I replied. The glazed overlook in their eyes vanished and was replaced by visible skepticism.
No matter, I would explain the details to them later, a more pressing matter was at hand. We needed another player.
I tried to enlist Tyler to play but he was too busy copying a paper on plagiarism. No matter, I had a veteran of the college years in mind.
Brad Sawyer brought out the solo cups, the ping pong balls and the refreshing Coors Light I have come to love so well. He had no clue whatsoever as how to play beirut.
I suppose Brad needs a little more back story than perhaps Kyle or Zak might. Point of fact, Brad is Zak's dad. I don't care if you've played pong with your friends dad. Your friends dad is a deadbeat who skips out on his wife so he can have more time with his truck. Your friends dad isn't a pharmacist. Getting Brad to play was a real kick for me.
While I explained the rules of the game, Brad explained what the different shots were that we were taking from the liquor cabinet. A short while later our pregame faces were on.
No one really put on a stellar performance but we did get a pretty good drunk on. We conversed about women, politics, college and the war in Iraq. Kyle punched me and proceeded to explain that it was his endorsement of my running for mayor. I don't recall exactly what made my platform so strong but it's good to know that I have the troops behind me. Brad and I talked about the ramifications of legalizing marijuana and I realized that psychotropic have by and large lost most of their appeal to me. I made yet another hollow promise to quit smoking (All while going though another quarter of a pack that night). We ate cheese and crackers.
All in all it was one of the better times I've had lately. Apparently I can teach a few things to a Marine, a high school drop out and a pharmacist.
Just remember, a vote for me is a vote for America.
Kyle, a good friend of Zaks recently returned home from Iraq for some much deserved leave time. Our young Marine friend, and I capitalize Marine only because anyone with a pair of dog tags tattooed on their arm, the nerves of steel and the balls of brass to walk into a war zone willingly deserves to have any title associated with their name trumpeted from the ramparts. As I was saying, our young Marine friend skirted deployment in New Orleans and scored himself a very sweet pass home for a few days.
While the original plan was to go to a strip club, we all settled for what is arguably the next best thing a few guys can do; play beirut.
Well, to clarify, my suggestion of beirut didn't meet with the hearty cheers one would usually associate with my caliber of friends.
Zak and Kyle in unison, "What's beirut?"
I wasn't surprised that Zak didn't know, but Kyle? I was shocked and appalled. Was this truly what our armed forces had come to? Where were the raging drunk heroes that Clint Eastwood had told me to honor with each frosty mug of beer that touched my lips?
Then I remembered that beirut was sometimes too big a word for most individuals who were almost old enough to drink.
"Beer pong," I replied. The glazed overlook in their eyes vanished and was replaced by visible skepticism.
No matter, I would explain the details to them later, a more pressing matter was at hand. We needed another player.
I tried to enlist Tyler to play but he was too busy copying a paper on plagiarism. No matter, I had a veteran of the college years in mind.
Brad Sawyer brought out the solo cups, the ping pong balls and the refreshing Coors Light I have come to love so well. He had no clue whatsoever as how to play beirut.
I suppose Brad needs a little more back story than perhaps Kyle or Zak might. Point of fact, Brad is Zak's dad. I don't care if you've played pong with your friends dad. Your friends dad is a deadbeat who skips out on his wife so he can have more time with his truck. Your friends dad isn't a pharmacist. Getting Brad to play was a real kick for me.
While I explained the rules of the game, Brad explained what the different shots were that we were taking from the liquor cabinet. A short while later our pregame faces were on.
No one really put on a stellar performance but we did get a pretty good drunk on. We conversed about women, politics, college and the war in Iraq. Kyle punched me and proceeded to explain that it was his endorsement of my running for mayor. I don't recall exactly what made my platform so strong but it's good to know that I have the troops behind me. Brad and I talked about the ramifications of legalizing marijuana and I realized that psychotropic have by and large lost most of their appeal to me. I made yet another hollow promise to quit smoking (All while going though another quarter of a pack that night). We ate cheese and crackers.
All in all it was one of the better times I've had lately. Apparently I can teach a few things to a Marine, a high school drop out and a pharmacist.
Just remember, a vote for me is a vote for America.