Monday, August 31, 2009

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My NYC Trip Pt. 2

You guys have to bear with me here on the frequency of posts as I am currently moving out of my wonderful summer residence into a new spot not very far away. Oh the memories. The bonds made and the insects killed will not be forgotten. Now back to this NY trip.

My two buddies and I were pretty irritable at the point when we met up with our other friend at the bar. It was a long walk, we were wet, and a bunch of people looked like they were genuinely having a better time than us. We called up another one of our friends from school and finally got to a place called “Calicko Jacks.” Hearing that name rang a “this may be a weird spot” bell, but we were willing to give it a try. Our buddy apparently “won” a happy hour? I personally didn’t understand the concept of winning an hour, but again, we gave it a try. We must have looked like the biggest nerd balls on the block because as soon as we tried to get in, one of my friends was denied for wearing a white polo. Keep in mind, white polos are like the bar uniform in the United States and during this arguing period about 6 other guys wearing white polos just strolled in. A strategic change of clothes occurred and we finally got in. It was not worth it. Being in that bar was the equivalent of playing running back in the NFL. I fumbled like 4 times, suffered bruised ribs, and had to be taken out of the game due to exhaustion. Time expired and the final score ran, Calicko Jacks-35, Bro-izards -7 (the one score being we got drunk for cheap).

Moving along, we got to this other bar that had a dance floor. I was more than ready to cut a rug, but I was also ready to encounter an NYC bitty. 4-5 beers later, the rug was cut to pieces and there was no bitty on my arm. Oh well. It is a little hazy from here, but I think we went to another bar where the beers were like $12 and I felt like I was being filmed on an episode of “The City.” We got our asses out of there with the quickness and headed back to Yacktown, NY. I proceeded to crush food, fend off vomiting and pass out dreaming about how many touchdowns Mark Sanchez was going to put on the G-Men.

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