On the 3rd Right take a Left!? (The Emerald City Epic: Part 1)
The next few journals are going to be in a little different style. It will be more of a diary style format to recount my adventures in Seattle this past weekend. Please note that all of the events that are being told are through my eyes. These eyes were heavily blurred by Coors Light, champagne, spicy and fried food, and red wine. I would say that this story is at best 85% truth. But as they said in my World Civ class, history is written by the victorious, and without a doubt I won the party this weekend.
A little over a month ago shortly after I broke my sternum, I wrote a blog about my shitty situation. Immediately after my injury I had to make a decision if I would be able to play in the Labor Day tournnament in San Francisco. I did some research on recovery, and all signs pointed to over 6 weeks for the bone to heal. A rebreak didn't sound too appealing so I decided to opt out of the Labor Day tournament. I briefly sulked about missing top level ultimate competition, but when I saw a flight special to Seattle I perked up immediately and gave my buddy Dave a a call. "Dave, when do you get back from your business trip?" "The 25th why?" "I'm thinking of flying to Seattle and I want to stay with you." "Come on the 26th it's Zach's wedding!"
Zach was our RA from Freshman year of college. To say he was a mild influence on our lives was perhaps one of the greatest understatements I could make. He rivaled our immaturity, our akwardness with women, and our love for comics and videogames. Most people despised their RA and avoided them at all costs. We piled on top of each other to watch movies in his room, included him in our idiotic tales, and made him honorary captain of our destructive hall activities. Zach more than anything defined our Freshman year, (except for beer of course). Because of Zach I became an RA, which naturally transformed my leadership approach throughout college. Without his influence there is no way I would be living as sweet as I am today.
So I booked a flight for Zach's wedding and kept my travels secret from my friends. My hope is that they would show up anyway and I would suprise them at the wedding. After about a week I figured that was a stupid idea so I began to tell everyone of my travels in hopes of making it an ultimate reunion/party weekend. Much to my delight people were making plans to meet me in Seattle and before I knew it my weekend was jam packed with meetings and activities.
My flight was pretty normal, I arrived at the airport uncertain of how much time I would need because of the new security measures. I ended up parking about as far as one could possibly park from the airport and still have to walk. I ran to the terminal unsure of my status, I stood in line for 15 minutes before I realized there was an empty self check in station behind the mob. How someone in this age of technology is incapable of self check in still boggles my mind. When I arrived at security the wait wasn't long but I was pulled aside for a special screening. In the "Random Screening Line" there were two black business men, a man of arab descent, two asian women, a latina woman, and me. As I looked across to the normal screening I counted one other non-white person in total. I guess I was selected to make it appear like it wasn't blatent racism, but it could have also been because I am Irish, and we do have a history of blowing up things and going crazy. I managed to get through security and the rest of my Frontier experience was flawless. Big ups to Frontier! (I guess it wasn't perfect because the guy next to me watched the same two movie previews with his headphones on full blast for the duration of the flight. Without ever watching The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, or Invincible I can recite the previews word for word.)
I met Dave in the Airport in Seattle and it was as if we didn't skip a beat. It's comforting that there are friends in life that you don't have that problem with. Arthur (aka RTJ) picked us up, greeting us with his Saturn and ghetto rap beats. Fortunately he was wearing his glasses and we made it to Dave's apartment safely. The plan was to stay at Dave's and party in Seattle for the first night. Dave lived in an apartment in downtown Seattle, but while he was gone they were rewiring his floor. As a result they upgraded him to a fully furnished double to stay in the interim. Unfortunately, the management blew ass and forgot to move him. In fact they stuck someone else in the room he was supposed to live in. When we went to address the problem all we were given was an inempt and impotent security guard. He referred us to a handyman who broke us into a new room, but it was just a studio apartment that completely sucked ass. After a long deliberation we decided it was best to spend the night at RTJ's house in Redmond. Redmond for all of you non Washington folk is home of Microsoft. In my head I always imagined it to be just like Highlands Ranch. In reality Redmond turned out to be a little more quaint and less generic. It didn't have as many chains, but it was even more sheltered with a shittier night life than HR. I guess I would compare it more to Castle Rock with a mega technology corporation.
The major problem of the evening is that RTJ is not a regular honing pigeon when it comes to directions. Upon leaving Seattle RTJ turned the wrong way on a one-way street. Which was made infinitely worse when our two cars caravaning behind him made the same turn. Fortunately we made it out unscathed, but we were seperated and had to depend on Arthur on directions. Dave and I mixed our catch up time about career plans with half witted pieces of directions with Arthur over the phone. After a couple of attempts to get in Redmond we spent literally 20 minutes roaming around looking for our Rondezvous point. One of the best directions from the evening was take a right on 166th and on the 3rd Right take a Left. We spent roughly 10 minutes looking for a movie theater or 83rd street, which turned out to be 87th street. To be fair neither party asked for directions so we are both morons, but you would think that someone would know the cross streets of the only bar in their fucking town.
The bar was J.J. Mahoney's an "Irish" pub where the most authentic Irish thing in there arrived in Seattle earlier that evening. It was an incredibly sterile place that only served premium beers, but they served Alcohol and because of that I could not complain. With us at the pub was Dan escorted by his girlfriend Paris. Dan is one of my abseloute best friends from school. Perhaps someone I spent more time talking to than any other because of our long road trips from frisbee. We share a love of Ultimate, indie movies, indie music, PBR, early 90's basketball, SEGA Genesis, mindless bickering, and making fun of the exploits of our moronic friends and each other. We are two regular hipsters go dorky with absolutley none of the hip or trendy fashion sense. It was great to hang out with him, and as per usual we both got significantly more wasted and loud that the other patrons.
Later in the evening our friends from Spokane arrived. This included Matt Ross (FIFA Rival, Fellow RA, and Good Guy Extrodinare), Brett (Official videographer, Outrageous drunkard, and token Asian), Gil (king of the double fisting, unexpected insight, and Gil like behavior), and Larry (Master Racist, artist, and recent bachelor). They joined us and as the night drew on the tales got longer, louder, and better. At this moment I was content.
Except I needed food, so we made a stop off at QFC where we picked up a 18 pack of C- (aka CL Smooths), 20 taquitos, and 16 Corn Dogs. We managed to cook them without burning down the house and between the 7 of us devoured everything, while watching 3 Ninja's. A movie that did not age as well as we hoped, even with the influence of over a dozen beers. Which also brings to mind what the hell was Rocky thinking with Emily, she was defintely not hot in any sense of the word. If you can dunk from the free throw line you think you could bag a girl that weighed less than you.
The night ended with a passed out Brett giving a BJ to a Corn Dog. You could say it was a good night.
Tomorrow Part 2
A little over a month ago shortly after I broke my sternum, I wrote a blog about my shitty situation. Immediately after my injury I had to make a decision if I would be able to play in the Labor Day tournnament in San Francisco. I did some research on recovery, and all signs pointed to over 6 weeks for the bone to heal. A rebreak didn't sound too appealing so I decided to opt out of the Labor Day tournament. I briefly sulked about missing top level ultimate competition, but when I saw a flight special to Seattle I perked up immediately and gave my buddy Dave a a call. "Dave, when do you get back from your business trip?" "The 25th why?" "I'm thinking of flying to Seattle and I want to stay with you." "Come on the 26th it's Zach's wedding!"
Zach was our RA from Freshman year of college. To say he was a mild influence on our lives was perhaps one of the greatest understatements I could make. He rivaled our immaturity, our akwardness with women, and our love for comics and videogames. Most people despised their RA and avoided them at all costs. We piled on top of each other to watch movies in his room, included him in our idiotic tales, and made him honorary captain of our destructive hall activities. Zach more than anything defined our Freshman year, (except for beer of course). Because of Zach I became an RA, which naturally transformed my leadership approach throughout college. Without his influence there is no way I would be living as sweet as I am today.
So I booked a flight for Zach's wedding and kept my travels secret from my friends. My hope is that they would show up anyway and I would suprise them at the wedding. After about a week I figured that was a stupid idea so I began to tell everyone of my travels in hopes of making it an ultimate reunion/party weekend. Much to my delight people were making plans to meet me in Seattle and before I knew it my weekend was jam packed with meetings and activities.
My flight was pretty normal, I arrived at the airport uncertain of how much time I would need because of the new security measures. I ended up parking about as far as one could possibly park from the airport and still have to walk. I ran to the terminal unsure of my status, I stood in line for 15 minutes before I realized there was an empty self check in station behind the mob. How someone in this age of technology is incapable of self check in still boggles my mind. When I arrived at security the wait wasn't long but I was pulled aside for a special screening. In the "Random Screening Line" there were two black business men, a man of arab descent, two asian women, a latina woman, and me. As I looked across to the normal screening I counted one other non-white person in total. I guess I was selected to make it appear like it wasn't blatent racism, but it could have also been because I am Irish, and we do have a history of blowing up things and going crazy. I managed to get through security and the rest of my Frontier experience was flawless. Big ups to Frontier! (I guess it wasn't perfect because the guy next to me watched the same two movie previews with his headphones on full blast for the duration of the flight. Without ever watching The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, or Invincible I can recite the previews word for word.)
I met Dave in the Airport in Seattle and it was as if we didn't skip a beat. It's comforting that there are friends in life that you don't have that problem with. Arthur (aka RTJ) picked us up, greeting us with his Saturn and ghetto rap beats. Fortunately he was wearing his glasses and we made it to Dave's apartment safely. The plan was to stay at Dave's and party in Seattle for the first night. Dave lived in an apartment in downtown Seattle, but while he was gone they were rewiring his floor. As a result they upgraded him to a fully furnished double to stay in the interim. Unfortunately, the management blew ass and forgot to move him. In fact they stuck someone else in the room he was supposed to live in. When we went to address the problem all we were given was an inempt and impotent security guard. He referred us to a handyman who broke us into a new room, but it was just a studio apartment that completely sucked ass. After a long deliberation we decided it was best to spend the night at RTJ's house in Redmond. Redmond for all of you non Washington folk is home of Microsoft. In my head I always imagined it to be just like Highlands Ranch. In reality Redmond turned out to be a little more quaint and less generic. It didn't have as many chains, but it was even more sheltered with a shittier night life than HR. I guess I would compare it more to Castle Rock with a mega technology corporation.
The major problem of the evening is that RTJ is not a regular honing pigeon when it comes to directions. Upon leaving Seattle RTJ turned the wrong way on a one-way street. Which was made infinitely worse when our two cars caravaning behind him made the same turn. Fortunately we made it out unscathed, but we were seperated and had to depend on Arthur on directions. Dave and I mixed our catch up time about career plans with half witted pieces of directions with Arthur over the phone. After a couple of attempts to get in Redmond we spent literally 20 minutes roaming around looking for our Rondezvous point. One of the best directions from the evening was take a right on 166th and on the 3rd Right take a Left. We spent roughly 10 minutes looking for a movie theater or 83rd street, which turned out to be 87th street. To be fair neither party asked for directions so we are both morons, but you would think that someone would know the cross streets of the only bar in their fucking town.
The bar was J.J. Mahoney's an "Irish" pub where the most authentic Irish thing in there arrived in Seattle earlier that evening. It was an incredibly sterile place that only served premium beers, but they served Alcohol and because of that I could not complain. With us at the pub was Dan escorted by his girlfriend Paris. Dan is one of my abseloute best friends from school. Perhaps someone I spent more time talking to than any other because of our long road trips from frisbee. We share a love of Ultimate, indie movies, indie music, PBR, early 90's basketball, SEGA Genesis, mindless bickering, and making fun of the exploits of our moronic friends and each other. We are two regular hipsters go dorky with absolutley none of the hip or trendy fashion sense. It was great to hang out with him, and as per usual we both got significantly more wasted and loud that the other patrons.
Later in the evening our friends from Spokane arrived. This included Matt Ross (FIFA Rival, Fellow RA, and Good Guy Extrodinare), Brett (Official videographer, Outrageous drunkard, and token Asian), Gil (king of the double fisting, unexpected insight, and Gil like behavior), and Larry (Master Racist, artist, and recent bachelor). They joined us and as the night drew on the tales got longer, louder, and better. At this moment I was content.
Except I needed food, so we made a stop off at QFC where we picked up a 18 pack of C- (aka CL Smooths), 20 taquitos, and 16 Corn Dogs. We managed to cook them without burning down the house and between the 7 of us devoured everything, while watching 3 Ninja's. A movie that did not age as well as we hoped, even with the influence of over a dozen beers. Which also brings to mind what the hell was Rocky thinking with Emily, she was defintely not hot in any sense of the word. If you can dunk from the free throw line you think you could bag a girl that weighed less than you.
The night ended with a passed out Brett giving a BJ to a Corn Dog. You could say it was a good night.
Tomorrow Part 2
posted by IrishZag at 8:28 PM
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