Barstool Stories

“Everybody’s youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

Genius is the ability to put into effect what is on your mind.

Often people display a curious respect for a man drunk, rather like the respect of simple races for the insane…  There is something awe-inspiring in one who has lost all inhibitions.

On a school trip in high school, sophomore year, I shat off a glacier and almost hit my chemistry teacher.  I was sure he knew it was me, so I tried to avoid him the rest of the trip.  At a pizza place that night the same teacher stood up during dinner and told everyone to quiet down, then he directed his attention to me. “Barstool2 please come here.”  The silence was deafening as I walked across the restaurant toward him.  Racing through my mind was everything wrong I had done in the past 24 hours, I couldn’t even catalog it all in that short walk.  I was finally going to get taken down a peg.  “Barstool2, there is a gentleman here to speak with you.”  I look over and there is a policeman staring right at me, not looking pleased in any manner.  So I began to make my way over to him, when a chorus chimes in, “What are you doing? Come back here.”  All the other teachers were squawking, “What did you do?  We were just kidding, oh my god you must have done something wrong.”  The whole crowd got a huge kick out of this.  My mom told me later that I should have kept a stoned face, and informed the teacher I thought my dad must have been shot in the line of duty.  Damn, I wish I had thought of that.  The rest of the trip was pretty eventful, I got to play with Jamie Stanford’s tits on the bus ride.  She would end up having pictures of her spread around the internet with a beer bottle up her vagina, it was pleasantly awkward having to sit next to her after that episode.  Not even a simple class trip was without some ridiculous occurrence back then.

I also shat off a cliff at boy scout camp, and almost hit some kids from the ghetto.  I also threw a rock off that same cliff onto the counselors lodging, I was one twisted little kid.

I used to enjoy TP’ing people’s houses and then taking a dump on their porch or driveway, covering it with TP, so when they cleaned up their yard they’d end up grabbing a nice log.

I also shat in some girl’s mom’s Lexus SUV on a dare.

I shat off a moving swing, then put a clip of it into the credits of a school movie.  Watching it in class was pretty awkward, luckily the teacher had no idea what the video was of.

Taking shits on people’s cars or in their pickups was also a fond pastime.

Sneaking into master bedroom’s at parties to take a dump in the upper tank of parent’s toilets was also golden.  This is known as double decking, and when the toilet is flushed it is flooded with shitty water.  I can’t imagine the conversations people had with their parents trying to explain that.

I also sharted at a party once, then ripped off the underwear and hid them under the bathroom sink behind some cleaning supplies.  Someone’s mom must have been quite alarmed at that.

People sometimes ask me, “So what is your craziest story?”  Shit, I wish I had an answer for that question.  Usually I just respond with, “well, it depends on what your definition of crazy is,” then I pick out a night that for a lot of people if not most would constitute the craziest night of their life.  The following is written the best I can remember from this very long and complicated night.  Intoxication and the passage of time have taken their toll on my recollections.  Basically I forget a lot of shit, but everything else I write is factual in event if not in minute details.

I can’t remember how we started the night, but we started it at Tod Campbell’s house in Oceanview, a neighborhood of Anchorage.  This kid lived in a grimy house in a nice neighborhood, he was just an average stoner, none of us really liked him, but we had nowhere else to go.  Much to my delight, this loser has now been in and out of rehab for years - typical.

My friend Fred Richards was home from prep school for spring break and he came out with us.  I was not having a good time, it was turning out to be a weak night.  A lot of random stoners in a dirty house.  Kyle Haden, a big goofy bastard who had to come up with elaborate ruses in order to come out, started to laugh in my face because he was so obscenely drunk, and then he slapped me.  I paused for a second, knowing Kyle was out of his mind drunk, he had no control over himself, he never got with girls, he was just a big, innocent, lovable guy.  Slapping me was too much though, so I punched him right in the face.  His nose ran like a waterfall, I wish I had known he had some problem that prevented his blood from clotting.  He was in the bathroom for an hour before we ended up leaving.  When we left we offered to bring him, but he was still bleeding in the bathroom.  So we left him there.  We were going up to Michelle Bryan’s house in a lush hillside neighborhood called Goldenview.  This was more the scene to which I belonged, not some grimy stoner’s house.

All the girls that hung out with the stoners were from a different section of town than us, went to a different middle school, and would drop those kids in a second to hang out with us.  Michelle was a petite blonde, with a fake looking face, plastic like almost, but she had the most amazingly perky, perfectly shaped tits.  Apparently she had some serious money as well.  Her house was massive, everything was white - the carpet, the walls, the leather furniture - and it was odd how empty the house felt.  This vain little girl also had a fucking tanning bed in her bedroom.  Fred and I showed up with some girls from the cheer leading team and their friends, but there was bad blood between a girl we brought and one of the girls who was friends with Michelle.  Awkwardly, even though almost everyone else was friends with each other, the group of girls we brought were basically shown the door.  While this seemed like a major setback in the night, it was great.

There were only a few of us there, and these girls wanted to go crazy.  Michelle was dancing on a table and attempting to look like as much of a slut as possible.  Rubbing her tits, bending over and shaking her ass, kissing other girls.  The girls we had brought had a lot more class and we had been around them for years, but that night I was more than happy to trade them for Michelle and a stable of losers who were destined to go nowhere in life.  This night was starting to look promising, I was glad that I didn’t disappoint Fred with some lame ass night since I barely saw him anymore.  Fred and I had spent years when we younger getting into bizarre incidents.  Not many kids could get suspended from school in 8th grade over an incident even your parents find humor in.

There are only two other memories I have of Michelle.  She came to hang out with us one night, my friend Nathan Smith brought her to a room, and 5 minutes later she came out all distraught, followed by Nathan laughing.  When we asked her why she was so upset, she said Nathan kept getting her to suck his balls.  The only thing else I remember about that incident was a smiling Nathan exclaiming, “What?  It feels fucking awesome when a bitch sucks your balls.”

The other memory I have of Michelle was when my friend Chris, the only Alaskan native I would associate with, gave me and her a ride home after school and the two of us talked about pubic hair.  This made Chris extremely uncomfortable, especially after she showed me how she shaved hers into some design.  Chris had stopped the car and told me to get out when I started to sing “The Only Gay Eskimo” by putting his name in front of it.

This chubby little girl named Jackie Mullen was in love with Chris.  She tried to make out with me that night until I literally put my hand onto her face and pushed her away.

Michelle’s older ex-boyfriend, Jordan Markus showed up with his new girlfriend, the much hotter Jane Rubin.  This girl was a tall, brunette swimmer, she looked like she could have modeled.  There wasn’t a thing wrong I can remember about her looks.  This situation, however, caused a huge commotion.  Michelle was freaking out and dumpy little Jackie Mullen started to talk shit to Jane.  The shit talking was rather pathetic, girlie shit talk always comes off as pathetic and trashy.  When Michelle attacked Jane though it was probably one of the coolest things I had ever seen.  With all of us cheering on, Michelle’s shirt got ripped off, and her amazing tits were all over the place for us to gawk at.  When Michelle got her head smashed into a wall and these two bitches tried to rip each other’s hair out the sexual excitement soon waned, and they were broken apart.  Jordan Markus had disappeared, and Jane Rubin stormed off into the winter night.  I hung a 10 or 12 foot beer bong over the railing into a foyer for Michelle to take, and when she opened the nozzle the thing hit her like a god damn fire hose, blasting her in the face and knocking her over.  The force of all that beer started to make the tubing whip around in circles, soaking the walls in beer.  It was an absolute mess, but my friends and I were loving it.

People started to pass out, but Fred and I were wide awake, ready for more.  I found a pair of car keys in my pocket and we decided to go find where they came from.  It turned out they were miserable little Jackie Mullen’s truck keys.  Fred and I decided we’d go for a little joy ride.  Neither of us had licenses, we were both drunk, and it was the middle of winter, “what could go wrong, right?”  He took the wheel first, and as we made our way down Goldenview I saw a girl walking down the street.  Holy shit, it was Jane Rubin and  what the hell, where are her shoes?  I leaned out the window and asked if she needed a ride.  She hopped in and sat on my lap.  This girl was so incredibly hot, it was a bizarre twist of events.  We asked her where she lived, but THE BITCH DIDN’T KNOW.  She was so drunk and delirious from being in the cold she couldn’t explain where she lived.   Finally, we managed to get a neighborhood out of her and we headed in that direction.  She asked us who we were and asked why I didn’t ever talk to her at school.  This was a girl that intimidated me just by looking so damn good, but here I was with her in my lap, asking why I never talked to her.  Then she started to cry, abruptly stopped crying, looked at me and says, “IF YOU TELL ANYONE AT SCHOOL I CRIED, I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, JANE RUBIN DOES NOT FUCKING CRY.”  Yeah OK, whatever you dumb bitch, your feet are half frozen and purple and you’re talking shit to me.  Then she explains that she has a court hearing at 7am for underage drinking, so I tell her I should probably take her fifth she was taking nips from.  This offended her and she was in no way ever going to give it up.  It was already like 4:30am, she must have had an interesting court hearing.  We dropped her off and decided to head back to Tod Campbell’s to see if anything was happening there.

I took the wheel from Rubin’s place to Campbell’s.  I was speeding like mad, letting the truck slide on the ice, having a blast.  Fred was nervous as hell from my erratic driving.  He kept trying to convince me he should drive, but I was having far too much fun. When I cut down the street that connected to Campbell’s I was going way too fast, and when I hit the breaks coming towards a T intersection we were sliding out of control, the truck was careening toward a light pole, and we slid to a stop inches from the bloody pole.  Somehow things just seem to go right for me.

I saw Tod’s Escape parked in front of his house.  I walked up to the Escape and the son of a bitch was passed out in the back, so I put my face to the window and started to yell “BEEENNNNNYYYYY” in a very creepy voice.  The son of a bitch almost pissed his pants getting woken up like that.  He loved to tell that story for years.  The three of us went inside and everyone was passed out.  Kyle was passed out standing above the sink, this was not the first time we had found that goofy bastard passed out standing up.  He had filled the sink with blood, I had never seen so much blood before - an entire sink filled with blood.  Fred woke him up and brought him out to Tod’s car, agreeing they’d follow us up to Michelle’s so we could sleep off the night.

When we approached Michelle’s I saw the last thing I would ever want to see while driving a stolen truck.  Three cop cars!  FUCK, that dumb bitch woke up and called the cops.  I quickly turned into a cul-de-sac, we jumped out, left the truck running, and made a run for it.  That old guy getting his morning paper must have been so confused trying to figure out what was going on.  We called Tod and had him pick us up.  Once we got a hold of Ben, he told us the cops were gone, and to come on over.

We got there and Michelle was passed out in her panties, laying on the floor, and dopey Jackie Mullen was passed out on the living room floor in a puddle of her own puke, the best part being she had puked back up gum she had swallowed and now it was stuck in her hair.  Fred decided he wanted to strip down to his boxers and have us take pictures of him and Michelle with her parent’s camera.  He was never short on ideas.  Ben, being the follower he is, stripped down too, which made the whole situation seem awkwardly homosexual.  But we got the pictures, and I can’t deny that the sight of two naked dudes with their naked daughter must have been even more shocking to Michelle’s parents.

We were sitting lazily around, reveling in how everything seemed to go right for us.  Only 16, but it seemed as if we were on the top of the world, we seemed to have free reign, we did what we wanted without any repercussions, this bizarre string of “luck” if you want to call it that, would hold up for the large part until we all graduated and left the land of our adolescence, some of us for what is likely to be the rest of our lives.  Our families were generally well off financially, we seemed to have what felt like a monopoly over all the best looking girls from decent families, we made up most of the athletic teams of the school, a good many of us were taking AP classes, and we had our eyes set on Eastern private schools for college.  It was an age of bliss and ignorance, but most of all unfettered pleasure seeking.

As we sat there in my sitting room we were gleefully planning out yet another weekend that seemed endlessly promising.  Ben, my neighbor, had Andrew Wiggin staying at his house while his parents were out of town, and we knew Ben’s dad wouldn’t blink twice when they gave him some lame story about how they were going to go somewhere else for the weekend.  Wiggin is best described as simply, “a crazy son of a bitch.”  This kid had been expelled from school multiple times in the past several years and he had no sense of consequences, but we all got along with him surprisingly well.  Ben had played football with him for several years and their obnoxious personalities seemed to fit together perfectly.  The weekend was set and we were going to throw a rager at Wiggin’s.

At this time I had been courting a girl a year younger from another high a school, Amy Beverly, and she was everything I looked for in a girl.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, tan, nice tits, and athletic.  At this time I had no concept of how much personality is required for having anything seemingly meaningful between two people.  What did I care though, she was gorgeous, the envy of so many of my friends, many of whom attempted to go behind my back to try and steal her.  To have her as  my own only inflated my obscene ego to disgusting levels.  Her and two of her nasty slut friends agreed to come to Wiggin’s that weekend.  The smart planners we were, we had arranged to have enough vagina there that no one with at least some charm couldn’t end the night with some ass.

Andrew lived on a secluded back road, with neighbors not far off but with some pretty solid buffers, and he also had a trail that snaked through his property to a nearby elementary school.  This was key in our planning, we would have everyone park at the school so no cars would be on his little road.  We thought we were so damn clever.

A good number of us spent all our time at Andrew’s on Friday, just sitting around drinking.  We had a pretty long beer bong, or a “funnel” to you east coasters, which we were overly proud of.  You would have thought from our attitude that we were the first people to over think up such a thing.  We were, however, almost always ahead of our class or the class ahead of ours in thinking up new ways to get fucked up, or ratchet up the excitement level.  Ben was showing us around like it was his god damn house, he had a habit of becoming decent friends with someone, then trying to monopolize that relationship, always trying to express ways in which he knew the person better than anyone else.  Ben had a bizarre family life, his sister was a smoking hot slut, his step mom was also a smoking hot slut, and his dad was one rowdy dude but someone who probably wasn’t all that caring of a parent.  Ben would try so hard to latch onto another family it would be embarrassing, you felt bad for the guy.  He was excitedly showing us around and he showed me a trap door under Andrew’s closet, it was just a piece of plywood that opened upward, about a 2’x 5” area, that from one side sloped down into the other end and basically the space under the door was just a cubic triangle, not deep at all.  I was rather unimpressed by this seemingly insignificant fact.  I was rather more interested in the newly finished basement, with a full bar, pool table, leather couches, a big screen TV, and the hottub on the deck was also catching my eye.

The night started off fair enough, ewich veryone getting thoroughly drunk, and most of us had taken to drinking heavily.  Ol’ James Kelly was trying to prove his mettle by going shot for shot with someone, that son of a bitch is the last person who should ever go shot for shot with anyone.  Amy and her friends showed up and I must have had the dumbest shit eating grin on my face as I introduced her to my peers.  James was disgustingly drunk and was enamored with Tiffany, having met her up at his cabin the summer before and her thinking he was a “cute” kid who proceeded to explain this amazing connection between to the two of them, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend Megan.  I was basking in the atmosphere, trying to keep close to Amy.

As the night progressed more and more of an older crowd started to show up.  It wasn’t too worrying, we had partied with a lot of the older kids from our school before, knowing enough of them from sports teams and siblings so no one was too uncomfortable.  Elizabeth Clark showed up, which was an absolute shock to me.  As everyone stared at this petite and beautiful girl who no one knew, all I could do was smile.  I had spent many of my younger years trying in vain to impress this girl while in actuality I revolted her, I had broken a kid’s nose in a pickup football game in 6th grade, and much to my disappointment she screamed in horror, consoled my victim, while telling me she thought I was a monster, fucking 12 year old bitch she was.  As the crowd swelled and fractured into groups I felt weary of where this night might be headed and I gravitated to the edge to watch it develop.

Miranda Bradburry was a smoking hot senior, while also being a notoriously heinous bitch.  On a side note, Ben hated her younger sister and we took a dead fish and put it in the spare wheel well in her jeep that night, God knows how she ever got the smell of rotting fish out of that car.  Miranda was in true form that night, she walked over to me and asked me who I was, she knew, but it was her bitch manner to ask people who they were when she obviously knew.  Then she shifted her focus to Amy, “did barstool2 bring you here?  How old are you?  Oh you’re a freshman, that’s so cute!  Barstool2 why don’t you hang out with older girls?  Your date is so cute, but you shouldn’t neglect the girls your age.”  She then herded Amy over to her friends, and had Amy summon her two friends, then they all took shots together, and Miranda played it up perfectly.  I just knew this bitch was about to make a 180 degree turn.  She informed the 3 girls they were to take off their shirts.  After much protesting she ratcheted up the bitch level, and these three freshman did as they were told.  They were then forced to shotgun beers, take shots, and model for the older guys, while being pelted with insults from Miranda and her gaggle of followers.  I found amusement in all of this deep down, but I felt like shit for not telling Miranda to fuck off and just leaving with Amy to spare her what I knew would ensue.  The three freshman were then doused in beer.  It was pretty embarrassing to watch these older girls model themselves from the whorish gang from Dazed and Confused.

Meanwhile, Andrew was quite perturbed by some older douche bags who had shown up and was calling his older brother to clear people out who weren’t leaving when he asked.  When the crowd in question started to mock Andrew, he decided he wouldn’t wait for his brother, but would take matters into his own hands.  He calmly walked to the coat closet next to the front door, grabbed a shotgun, and went on a vicious tirade about how “YOU MOTHERFUCKERS NEED TO FUCKING LEAVE MY FUCKING HOUSE!”  I was pretty worried about this insane situation that was unfolding, especially as Andrew’s tormentors laughed at him when he pointed the shotgun at them.  One of them started to yell back, “FUCKING SHOT ME PUSSY, FUCKING DO IT!”  As Andrew took aim, my stomach wretched harder than it ever had before.  This is really fucking bad, I looked around at everyone’s faces and not a single person wasn’t horrified at what was unfolding.  Andrew’s tormentor lunged forward, grabbed the barrel, pointed it upward, and wrestled the gun from Andrew.  Somehow the situation took care of itself and the kids decided to leave after 20 minutes.  James Kelly was puking his brains out in a bathtub and everybody just stood over his body to piss into the toilet.  I don’t remember how long it was before the night took its next turn.

The crowd freaked out suddenly, “COOOOOPPPPPSSSSS!”  This wasn’t any normal night, my dad was still a city cop at this point and I knew he was working that night.  Everyone made their attempt to run, then all rushed back into the house.  Apparently there were quite a few cops who had made their way toward each exit.  I had to decide fast what I was going to do - the TRAP DOOR UNDER ANDREW’S CLOSET.  I made my way to his room while everyone was panicking around the house, my friends were scurrying to hide, apparently there was a fake wall in a stairwell that opened up to ample storage space for 15 of my friends.  As I dove into Andrew’s room and could hear the cops already in the house, Miranda grabbed me and told me to hide in the closet with her.  She was shocked when I opened the trap door.  We dove in, somehow managing to contort ourselves into position to get the door to close on top of us.  PITCH BLACK, with only the sound of our heavy breathing.

The cops herded everyone into the living room, but one came into Andrew’s room, turned on a flashlight, and shined it in the closet.  It was shining through the cracks, I knew without a doubt he would see the door.  Nope, he left the room.  I could hear the cops ask who knew the kid who appeared to be dying in the bathroom, Ben and Megan volunteered themselves and Ben tried to explain how he was better friends with James than James’ girlfriend was, fucking kid was so desperate.  The cops told the two of them to take care of James.  Miranda started to whisper to me, “Oh my god, I cannot get caught again, I’m on probation.  I’ve been arrested twice this month, I’ll be so fucked.”  She was thoroughly freaking out.  The queen of mean, was turning into a babbling scared little girl.  She asked me about her sister and made some small talk while my knee was touching my cheek and our bodies were intricately intertwined with each other.  The dumb bitch then proceeded to check her voicemail.  I kept telling her to shut up and knock it off, but she proceeded to called some fucking ghetto loser named Demetrius, oh this night was getting richer and richer by the second.

Then BAM, something slammed on top of the trap door.  Andrew had thrown a bag on the door, knowing it was lifting because someone was down there trying to hide but not quite fitting.  I still don’t know how me and Miranda managed to fit in this space, God knows I never could years later.  Then I heard the voice of Officer Jake Warren, a family friend, telling Andrew to shut up.  Andrew had been screeching, then he burst into tears, wailing about how he needed to call his brother.  I was shocked, Andrew reveled in getting into trouble.  If anyone would take it like a man it should have been this kid.  Officer Jake tried to talk him down, Andrew kept saying he wanted to call his brother in between tears, then Jake left the room, yelling for the last person’s name I wanted to hear at this moment.  My dad’s obscure foreign name sent fear through me.  Then Andrew started to laugh his ass off, he had been faking his hysterical little fit.  He opened the trap door, laughed at the sight of two people smashed into such a small space, then closed the door again.  Andrew was handcuffed.  Then I heard my dad tell someone to “SIT THE FUCK DOWN, YOU THINK YOU’RE FUCKING TOUGH?  THE SECOND I CALL YOUR MOMMY YOU’D PROBABLY BE THE FIRST LITTLE BITCH TO START CRYING.”  For all my father’s talk of bravado, and wild stories from his job, I never actually believed he was the type of guy who struck fear in people.

Andrew’s brother showed up, most people were let go, and the cops went on their way. When Andrew’s brother found about the gun incident and the shitheads who refused to leave he flew into a rage and smashed a door off its hinges.  He berated Andrew for being such a moron for having a party.  Things wound down, and it was back to our rather manageable group of friends just hanging out.  I definitely was not drunk enough for this shit.  I decided to finally get lit.  The last thing I remember was sitting downstairs with James’ girlfriend and her friend Maria who had an intense crush on me, but to whom I was horribly mean for no apparent reason.  Andrew had gotten obscenely drunk at this point, fucked this nasty native in his hottub, and blew a load in the water.  Then Ben made out with one of Amy’s friends who was hideous while Andrew’s load floated around, unbeknownst to Ben.

While this was going on Andrew came downstairs ass naked.  Then he started to swirl his dick around, squealing “HELLLLLICOPTTTTTER!  HEEEEHEHEHEHEHHE!”  I couldn’t control my laughter, especially after seeing Maria’s horrified face.  She was pretty damn prudish and this could very well have been the first cock she’d ever seen.  Then Andrew swung his hips at Maria, smacking her on the head with his dick.  Megan was trying to decide whether she should laugh or be horrified.  To end the night Andrew walked over to the TV and pissed on this brand new big screen.  He fell onto the floor and slept off the night laying there ass naked.  This wouldn’t be the last time Andrew’s house would provide some hilarious nights.

It started like any other night in Anchorage that year, I was out to get drunk and have yet another ridiculous night. Pierce was always down for having people over at his old, small house that was placed in a sea of new, large, and extravagant homes surrounding it. I had known Pierce for years and he was a wild kid. Willing to do any drug and a guy with a personality that seemed to attract all different types of people. I once burned myself while hiding from the cops behind his water heater with a care free Eskimo named Wes.

The prospects for that weekend night seemed good, if Pierce was having a party then no doubt it would be a memorable night. The night however started slow, and a large group of people decided to head out to Bird Creek to go camping for the night. I was left with Jordan, Betty, and Pierce. Jordan was a pretty chill guy, but he always seemed to be up to something, he had this weaselly look about him, but he had always been a pretty decent guy to me. Betty was one of our school’s cheerleaders, tall, petite, blond, the whole package; but she looked much younger than she was, she still had this baby fat on her face that made her look 12. Betty was amazingly quiet back in those days, seemed extremely naïve, and was considered by many as a box of rocks, but she was without a doubt always up to go out on the weekends. Pierce was, well he was just Pierce, like I said before he was your typical crazy kid.

The four of us kept calling people and EVERYONE seemed to be out at Bird Creek or heading out there. I suggested we head out there as well, but we really didn’t want to freeze our asses off during the cold spring night. Instead, we figured we would sneak up on them and surprise them with barrages of friendly eggs and TP. The plan was set, and the four of us squeezed into Jordan’s single cab light blue Chevy pickup, Betty resigned to sitting on our laps for the 40 minute drive. We stopped by our usual egg supplier and picked up a fair amount. On the highway drive down there we were killing beers and coming up with the details of our friendly prank. The Seward Highway is commonly listed as one of the most scenic drives in the United States, wedged between steep mountains and Turnagian Arm, but we were driving in the middle of the night, so that beauty was lost on us.

We called several times to ensure everyone was out at Bird Creek, we wanted to be sure they were there, because Bird Creek was often littered with groups of wild white trash. We got there in amazing time, and saw all the cars spilling out of the Bird Creek campground, we drove through the campground, and found a spot past everyone else up near the far side locked gate. We saw the massive bonfire and roughly 60-80 people drinking and having a good time. What should of tipped us off right away that something wasn’t right was the person with a chainsaw cutting down trees to fuel the massive fire. We like amateurs had packed our pockets with eggs, Betty was even genius enough to wedge them in her jean pockets. From our perfectly concealed hiding spot in the wood line, we debated whether this was the right group of people, “who would of brought a chainsaw? Do you see anyone we know?”

After positively identifying several people we knew, I let rip one of our TP rolls at the fire. It skimmed the fire in mid-flight and lit, sending a trail of burning paper through the sky. The crowd went wild, we threw a few more badly aimed rolls into the trees, and could hear people “who the fuck is throwing those?”. Then we began with a barrage of eggs, nailing multiple people, then we realized very quickly that these were not the people we thought they were. These were rowdy rednecks in their 30s or so. After some intense diatribes of impending violence, the chainsaw maniac reared up his saw, and a crowd started coming at us fast. One yelled “I’m gonna rape whoever is out there!” They knew which direction the eggs were coming from, and were about to exact their revenge. I said “Let’s get the fuck out of here” and Betty agreed “I am sooo scared, we are gonna die.” We were running as fast as we could back to the truck, Betty slipped on the snow and fell right on her face, crushing the eggs in her jean pockets. We were in a race for our lives. We made it to the truck and realized we had blocked ourselves in with the back gate. We were now panicking, debating whether to call 911 or just ditch the truck and make our way through the woods back to the highway.

Jordan somehow managed to turn the truck around, and by then there were crowds of people everywhere, including the chainsaw maniac. I made eye contact with one rather disturbed redneck and told Betty to smile and wave. The way out was blocked by trucks filled with angry rednecks however. We were far from making it out. Jordan maneuvered his truck past others, gunning it at people in the way, when they realized we weren’t part of the group but the assholes they were trying to find. The roar of yelling and obscenities was almost deafening. People started to run after the truck, and Jordan was just gassing it out of there, not willing to stop for anything, we barely made it past the last obstacle in our way, an occupied truck. We hit the highway and turned the opposite direction of town, calling our friend to see where the fuck they really were. We were so high on adrenaline and amazed at being alive, a truly euphoric feeling. It turned out our friends were 5 minutes down the road, camping at some random wooded area, when we arrived, who would happen to pull in behind us but a Trooper, then another Trooper. We rolled to a stop next to everyone’s cars, stuck around to watch everyone be herded out of the woods, then turned around and headed home.

At nineteen, a trip to Las Vegas netted me my first Vegas stripper story.  I was there for the weekend with two friends that went to bed before 11 o’clock the first night.  They left me at the bar in the downstairs of our hotel while I got served one rum and coke right after the other.

It was about 3 am when she came up to the bar, down a couple of stools from mine, and leaned over to make her order.  She was refreshingly young after all the cougars I had been fending off.  Short blonde hair and blue eyes.  We made eye contact and I quickly moved in.

She had her legs wrapped around mine at the bar while the sun rose above us and shone through the ceiling.  She was a master at flirtation, a professional I began to suspect.  I think I was tipped off by all the glitter on her face.  She was a stripper by trade but totally fuckable.

After breakfast she joined my friends and I at the Mirage pool.  She had on the skimpiest bikini I had ever seen, I would have been embarassed had I not been still drunk.  Neither of us had slept all night and around 10 am we began to stroll through Seigfried and Roy’s Secret Garden and Dolphin Habitat.  For those of you who don’t know what that is, it is where their exotic cats are caged and a dolphin performs tricks in a pool for a trainer.  Hands down, the most family friendly place in Las Vegas.

We were making out every 10 paces.  I had the biggest boner poking through my swimshorts and I had to keep tucking it under the elastic.  At the dolphin show we sat on the front ledge, closest to the trainer and pool, with moms and strollers all around us and her on my lap exchanging glitter and saliva with my face.

Once, at the bright age of 18, while visiting some friends in San Diego I had it stuck in my head that I wanted to see a donkey show in Tijuana. The weekend was Cinco de Mayo and those douchebags spent it in Las Vegas. I didn’t see a donkey show but got more than I bargained for.

I was dropped off at the border in shorts and a flannel shirt on Friday by a friend who’s last words to me were “be carefull, man.”  I will always remember the clang, clang of the rotating gates as myself and hundreds of Mexicans pushed the aluminum bars around.  Clang, clang and I was in Mexico.

My hotel was at the end of a two mile long strip of bars, restaurants, and strip clubs.  I started out at a restaurant by sitting down and ordering a beer.  The barman sent two shots of tequila with it.  Bienvenidos a Tijuana.

In one establishment a large, jovial doorman offered me anything I wanted and I took him up on it.  I was soon doing cocaine with my hands on the big pair of fake tits on the stripper next to me. In and out of clubs I went that night, especially their bathrooms, not having any problems

It was only later, after I left that other hotel room I rented to fuck that hooker I just met, that I ran into trouble. Only a block away from my hotel and I was called over by a stopped police car. They checked out my passport and while one of them tried to get me to tell them about my home state, Alaska, the other began to pat me down and search my pockets.

I had my stash in the front pocket of my flannel shirt. Where la policia-man was thorough on one side, pulling lint out of the pockets, I was let off with only a few pats around the critical pocket.

I got off easy on that one. Sometimes one walks into a situation, as I did when I crossed the road to meet the police car, where one’s entire mind is motivated towards one goal - that they won’t find my stash - and this intense focus brings the situation to its desired goal.

The next morning I woke up in my hotel room in the corner of the building, and did all my blow on the table - with America seen through the window on one side and the white arches of Tijuana on the other.

I worked on tugboats with a cast of characters, from Boston trash to Caribbean Islanders. One guy was from Guyana, north of Brazil, and would shoot jaguars in a loin cloth while home. He once told me a story about this pet monkey he had.

He brought it to the bar with him and while he was playing pool set it on the edge of the table. With his back turned to the monkey, the monkey saw the cue ball, picked it up, and put it in his mouth and swallowed it. The bartender saw this, was furious, and kicked my friend and his monkey out.

Two days later the monkey shit out the cue ball. My friend thought he was clever and cleaned it up and brought it and the monkey back to the bar.

With the monkey on his shoulder, my friend apologized to the barman and gave him back the polished cue ball. During their conversation the monkey reached into the olive jar on the counter, pulled out an olive, and put it up his asshole. The barman was grossed out, and told them both to leave again. To this my friend said:

“What… ever since he shit out that cue ball, before he eats anything he wants to measure it first.”