Peer Pressure Drinking in France
September/12/2008 02:03 PM Filed in: France!
I left my crib and headed downtown (it’s like 4 minutes from my spot). There’s one restaurant that serves Italian food that I had already been to before with my teammates. The main server speaks good english, so she understands that I like my steak medium-well and not the usual purple-red bloody meat that is served out here. The owner is also a real nice guy who hands me the remote to the flat screen so I can change the channel. It’s a good thing.
After I left there, I went to a bar to meet my teammate. He never showed up. I ended up sitting there drinking some drink that consists of Stella, Cannes (which I think is sugar), and Absinthe. I had about five of those bad boys while waiting for my teammate to show up.
Finally, I got tired of waiting and I left. On my way back to the house, I walked past a bar that the owner of the Italian restaurant happened to be seated out of of. He was with a big group of people. He called me over and asked that I partake in some drinks with them. Who was I to say no?
I sat down with the big group. I guess it was the birthday of one of his friends. The owner must be like 50 years old, and the birthday boy was 25 on that day. The whole group was already pretty drunk. He ordered three whiskey and cokes. There was one for me, one for him, and one for the birthday boy.
He handed one to the birthday boy and told him to finish it immediately. I figured the kid would just sip it kinda fast, but it was a big drink and I doubt his ability to finish it so quickly. The older guy told the birthday boy to give him his hand. I was looking confused. The other people at the table seemed to already know what was about to transpire.
The friendly restaurant owner grabbed the birthday boys hand, and pulled out his index finger. He then put the birthday boys finger in his mouth and bit it. He bit that bad boy HARD. The birthday bay threw his drink back in a heartbeat. Mann it made my head spin it was so fast. As soon as the drink was finished, old guy released birthday boys finger. He then took his own drink and gave his hand to the birthday boy. Birthday boy bit the finger of 50+ year old man.
There was only one drink left on the table. Clearly it belonged to me and everyone looked at me like I had been informed of the rules, now it was time to play the game. I started shaking my head as I saw the teeth marks on the birthday boys finger. I told them I didn’t need my finger bitten to kill my drink. I kill drinks like lions kill gazelles.
The sweet old restaurant owner was suddenly not so sweet or old. He reached for my hand and I tucked it away. Suddenly, there were four people fighting for my hand -- a fight I could not win. Teeth plunged into my index finger and I knew that my only way out was to drink the drink. I took that bad boy like I was Frank The Tank. As soon as the glass was empty, my hand was once again mine.
The birthday boy ordered another round. I knew it would be a long night.
By 2am I was biting fingers like they were covered in McDonalds sweet and sour sauce. It ended up being kinda fun. I guess that could be the new way to get your boys to finish their drinks. Just bite their index fingers and see what happens. Tell em that a 50 year old restauranteur started it and that it’s your job to keep it going. That’s what I’ll be doing anyway.
After I left there, I went to a bar to meet my teammate. He never showed up. I ended up sitting there drinking some drink that consists of Stella, Cannes (which I think is sugar), and Absinthe. I had about five of those bad boys while waiting for my teammate to show up.
Finally, I got tired of waiting and I left. On my way back to the house, I walked past a bar that the owner of the Italian restaurant happened to be seated out of of. He was with a big group of people. He called me over and asked that I partake in some drinks with them. Who was I to say no?
I sat down with the big group. I guess it was the birthday of one of his friends. The owner must be like 50 years old, and the birthday boy was 25 on that day. The whole group was already pretty drunk. He ordered three whiskey and cokes. There was one for me, one for him, and one for the birthday boy.
He handed one to the birthday boy and told him to finish it immediately. I figured the kid would just sip it kinda fast, but it was a big drink and I doubt his ability to finish it so quickly. The older guy told the birthday boy to give him his hand. I was looking confused. The other people at the table seemed to already know what was about to transpire.
The friendly restaurant owner grabbed the birthday boys hand, and pulled out his index finger. He then put the birthday boys finger in his mouth and bit it. He bit that bad boy HARD. The birthday bay threw his drink back in a heartbeat. Mann it made my head spin it was so fast. As soon as the drink was finished, old guy released birthday boys finger. He then took his own drink and gave his hand to the birthday boy. Birthday boy bit the finger of 50+ year old man.
There was only one drink left on the table. Clearly it belonged to me and everyone looked at me like I had been informed of the rules, now it was time to play the game. I started shaking my head as I saw the teeth marks on the birthday boys finger. I told them I didn’t need my finger bitten to kill my drink. I kill drinks like lions kill gazelles.
The sweet old restaurant owner was suddenly not so sweet or old. He reached for my hand and I tucked it away. Suddenly, there were four people fighting for my hand -- a fight I could not win. Teeth plunged into my index finger and I knew that my only way out was to drink the drink. I took that bad boy like I was Frank The Tank. As soon as the glass was empty, my hand was once again mine.
The birthday boy ordered another round. I knew it would be a long night.
By 2am I was biting fingers like they were covered in McDonalds sweet and sour sauce. It ended up being kinda fun. I guess that could be the new way to get your boys to finish their drinks. Just bite their index fingers and see what happens. Tell em that a 50 year old restauranteur started it and that it’s your job to keep it going. That’s what I’ll be doing anyway.
|
One Last Vegas Story (The Best One)
September/12/2008 02:45 AM Filed in: Random
It was just one of those mornings. I knew that the night before had been spectacular because I woke up in my own bedroom and, for a split second, thought it wasn’t. It was a relief to know that I made it back to my hotel room and that my boys were there too. Well, actually, one of my boys, Elram, was there, the other, JGant, was nowhere to be found.
It was time for me and Elram to recount what happened the night before. I knew the story to a point. We all showed up at JET Nightclub hoping to get in, even though Elram didn’t have an I.D. I knew it’d be a tall order, but he wanted to go to the hottest club that night and not settle for the Palms.
Clearly they wanted no parts of him and his lack of identification, so we had to bounce. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to head back to the Palms, so that if he was denied again, I could just go right to bed. Elram and JGant had other plans. They wanted to stay and wait for this girl to pick them up so they could try to go to the HARD ROCK and sneak in. After a short argument, it was decided that I had to get back to Palms. They stayed and waited for the girl. That is when our nights went down different paths.
My night was simple. I went to Rain and consumed a lot of alcohol. I fell asleep in my bed. I was awakened by Elram at 6am. He came up to the bed and tapped me to wake me up. I looked at him and told him to go to bed. He said: “wait wait wait. Gabe Pruitt is such a nice dude.”
Confused, I told him to go to bed. That was where my night ended.
I was waiting for Elram to explain to me where the hell JGant was, when his phone rang. JGant was calling. Elram picked up and started talking, then he started laughing. I grabbed the phone from him.
“JGant man where are you?”
“I don’t know,” he answered me.
“Well, why don’t you look at a street sign or something.”
“I don’t see any street signs.”
“Jason, seriously go walk outside of wherever you are and look at a coddamn street sign!”
“Bro, I’m trynna tell you that there are no street signs. It looks like Afghanistan. All I see is dirt.”
I started laughing. I told him to get a cab or tell whatever girl he was with to get him home. There was nothing Elram and I could do. JGant ended up getting a ride and meeting us at the hotel McDonalds. It was time for them to tell me what exactly happened the night before.
JGant explained that they waited for that girl to pick them up while they drank at the lobby bar of the Mirage. The girl came to pick them up a while later and took them to the Hard Rock. From what I was told, she had a bottle of liquor in the car that she offered to JGant. He claims that there had to be roofies in the bottle because he requested to go back to the Palms a few minutes after arriving at the Hard Rock. He passed out in the car on the way and woke up in “Afghanistan,” in her bed. That’s where JGant’s story ends.
Elram arrived at the Hard Rock with one goal in mind: he wanted to sneak into Body English. He was hanging around the lobby, drinking, when a woman began to give him the eyes. He started talking to her, and, before he knew it, he was on the way up to her hotel room.
When he arrived at the hotel room, she put her key in and opened the door. As he began to walk in, he noticed someone down the hall walking in their direction. He didnt pay any mind. He let the door close behind him when he entered the room. Right before it closed, though, a hand pushed it back open and a guy walked into the room as well.
Elram whispered to the woman.
“Who the hell is this?”
She answered him at regular volume.
“Oh, that’s my husband. He likes to watch. Don’t mind him.”
Elram looked over at the guy, who was now seated in one of the chairs, legs crossed, watching SportsCenter. The woman started kissing Elram on his neck and attempting to unbuckle his pants. Elram was feeling uneasy because the guy was just staring right at him. Elram described the watchful husband as “all swole with hella tattoos.”
It became too much for Elram to handle. He got up and took off. He went back downstairs, had some more drinks and somehow, walked into Body English. When I say walked in, I mean that he didn’t sneak in. He just waltzed right in through the regular entrance.
After he was tired of dancing by himself, he decided it was time to head home. He went out front and hailed a cab. The cab driver suggested that Elram go to a strip club before heading home (we later found out that cab drivers in Vegas get paid by strip clubs for referrals). Elram, too drunk to use his better judgement, decided to go to take the taxi drivers advice and head to the strip club.
When he got to the club, he walked in and realized that he didn’t have any I.D., so they sent him right back out. He walked back to the cab. The cab driver suggested ANOTHER strip club. Elram went. Elram went into and was denied from 5 strip clubs, not realizing that his lack of I.D. would keep him from being able to enter.
Finally the cab driver told Elram that he knew of a place better than any strip club. Elram ended up at some place called “The Redroom.” He walked in and there was one beautiful woman sitting there behind a desk. Behind the desk was a long hallway.
“What is this place?” He asked curiously.
“Here at the Redroom we offer full relaxation,” the woman answered.
“I’m sorry, but what exactly does that mean?”
“It means that we offer full relaxation.”
Elram, wanting to explore further, rephrased his question.
“Different people have different opinions on what fully relaxed is. Can you be more specific?”
“Specifically, when you leave here you’ll be fully relaxed,” she answered once again.
Elram left. He got back into the cab and FINALLY got back to the Palms. He paid his cab the $70 fare for driving him all over the city and walked back into the hotel. He walked over to McDonalds and, while waiting in line, struck up a conversation with Gabe Pruitt (Celtics guard). After all of that, he walked back to the room, woke me up, and told me how nice Gabe Pruitt was.
It was time for me and Elram to recount what happened the night before. I knew the story to a point. We all showed up at JET Nightclub hoping to get in, even though Elram didn’t have an I.D. I knew it’d be a tall order, but he wanted to go to the hottest club that night and not settle for the Palms.
Clearly they wanted no parts of him and his lack of identification, so we had to bounce. I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to head back to the Palms, so that if he was denied again, I could just go right to bed. Elram and JGant had other plans. They wanted to stay and wait for this girl to pick them up so they could try to go to the HARD ROCK and sneak in. After a short argument, it was decided that I had to get back to Palms. They stayed and waited for the girl. That is when our nights went down different paths.
My night was simple. I went to Rain and consumed a lot of alcohol. I fell asleep in my bed. I was awakened by Elram at 6am. He came up to the bed and tapped me to wake me up. I looked at him and told him to go to bed. He said: “wait wait wait. Gabe Pruitt is such a nice dude.”
Confused, I told him to go to bed. That was where my night ended.
I was waiting for Elram to explain to me where the hell JGant was, when his phone rang. JGant was calling. Elram picked up and started talking, then he started laughing. I grabbed the phone from him.
“JGant man where are you?”
“I don’t know,” he answered me.
“Well, why don’t you look at a street sign or something.”
“I don’t see any street signs.”
“Jason, seriously go walk outside of wherever you are and look at a coddamn street sign!”
“Bro, I’m trynna tell you that there are no street signs. It looks like Afghanistan. All I see is dirt.”
I started laughing. I told him to get a cab or tell whatever girl he was with to get him home. There was nothing Elram and I could do. JGant ended up getting a ride and meeting us at the hotel McDonalds. It was time for them to tell me what exactly happened the night before.
JGant explained that they waited for that girl to pick them up while they drank at the lobby bar of the Mirage. The girl came to pick them up a while later and took them to the Hard Rock. From what I was told, she had a bottle of liquor in the car that she offered to JGant. He claims that there had to be roofies in the bottle because he requested to go back to the Palms a few minutes after arriving at the Hard Rock. He passed out in the car on the way and woke up in “Afghanistan,” in her bed. That’s where JGant’s story ends.
Elram arrived at the Hard Rock with one goal in mind: he wanted to sneak into Body English. He was hanging around the lobby, drinking, when a woman began to give him the eyes. He started talking to her, and, before he knew it, he was on the way up to her hotel room.
When he arrived at the hotel room, she put her key in and opened the door. As he began to walk in, he noticed someone down the hall walking in their direction. He didnt pay any mind. He let the door close behind him when he entered the room. Right before it closed, though, a hand pushed it back open and a guy walked into the room as well.
Elram whispered to the woman.
“Who the hell is this?”
She answered him at regular volume.
“Oh, that’s my husband. He likes to watch. Don’t mind him.”
Elram looked over at the guy, who was now seated in one of the chairs, legs crossed, watching SportsCenter. The woman started kissing Elram on his neck and attempting to unbuckle his pants. Elram was feeling uneasy because the guy was just staring right at him. Elram described the watchful husband as “all swole with hella tattoos.”
It became too much for Elram to handle. He got up and took off. He went back downstairs, had some more drinks and somehow, walked into Body English. When I say walked in, I mean that he didn’t sneak in. He just waltzed right in through the regular entrance.
After he was tired of dancing by himself, he decided it was time to head home. He went out front and hailed a cab. The cab driver suggested that Elram go to a strip club before heading home (we later found out that cab drivers in Vegas get paid by strip clubs for referrals). Elram, too drunk to use his better judgement, decided to go to take the taxi drivers advice and head to the strip club.
When he got to the club, he walked in and realized that he didn’t have any I.D., so they sent him right back out. He walked back to the cab. The cab driver suggested ANOTHER strip club. Elram went. Elram went into and was denied from 5 strip clubs, not realizing that his lack of I.D. would keep him from being able to enter.
Finally the cab driver told Elram that he knew of a place better than any strip club. Elram ended up at some place called “The Redroom.” He walked in and there was one beautiful woman sitting there behind a desk. Behind the desk was a long hallway.
“What is this place?” He asked curiously.
“Here at the Redroom we offer full relaxation,” the woman answered.
“I’m sorry, but what exactly does that mean?”
“It means that we offer full relaxation.”
Elram, wanting to explore further, rephrased his question.
“Different people have different opinions on what fully relaxed is. Can you be more specific?”
“Specifically, when you leave here you’ll be fully relaxed,” she answered once again.
Elram left. He got back into the cab and FINALLY got back to the Palms. He paid his cab the $70 fare for driving him all over the city and walked back into the hotel. He walked over to McDonalds and, while waiting in line, struck up a conversation with Gabe Pruitt (Celtics guard). After all of that, he walked back to the room, woke me up, and told me how nice Gabe Pruitt was.