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Old 01-24-2010, 02:56 AM   #1 (permalink)
Wes Mantooth's Avatar
Location: Tennessee
Legendary Drinking Stories

No no, we're not talking about having a few too many beers and puking all night in your dorm room I want to hear about your legendary drinking stories. Stories so grand people will say "No, I won't hear of it! That's BS!" Run ins with the law, waking up naked in a cornfield in Nebraska, accidentally calling your Aunt at 3 am instead of your girlfriend and confessing your undying love in very graphic terms or maybe hanging over you steering wheel and singing Angel of the Morning at the top of your lungs while your car slowly rolls into a lake. Did anybody end up in the hospital? Perhaps you got expelled, fired, deported, or divorced? Is a warrant still out for your arrest?

I got into this topic last night over way to much Wild Turkey and Bulleit and had a pretty good laugh over it with my friends so I thought it might be a fun thread to start here. Although at the moment I'm both way to tired and drunk to start posting stories go ahead and get them started and I'll hop in after a much needed nights sleep.

Have fun and for god sakes don't take it too seriously.
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Old 01-24-2010, 09:22 AM   #2 (permalink)
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On three occasions, I made my own absinthe. I've also had the commercial stuff and it's a bit lower proof and tastes a little less harsh. I have to say right now that everything you've heard about the stuff is false. There are two things I can tell you about it: first, placebo is soluble in absinthe in quantities approaching infinity. Second, the difference between absinthe and any liquor of the same strength is that absinthe doesn't burn as much as straight grain, but grain doesn't taste like Pine Sol and diesel fuel.

That said, it's still potent stuff and of the 5 or 6 parties I've brought it to, the hosts were evenly divided between "oh my God, you have to bring that stuff next time" and "if you bring that stuff next time, you're not allowed to come in." A sign someone has had too much is when they ditch the sugar/water/fire absinthe ritual and start drinking it straight from the bottle; this means you have to get that bottle away from them.

When people ask me if I know anything about absinthe, my response is simple. Been there, done that, fell down a spiral staircase.
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Old 01-24-2010, 10:17 AM   #3 (permalink)
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When I was 19 I convinced my mom to let me go with friends to Florida for spring break. It was her money so hence I needed the permission. When I was there I got arrested for drunk in public because I was walking down the road to a house party and tripped over a pothole....I was drunk but no real need to arrest me but florida's finest spotted me and handcuffed me (first time).

Worst part was that I had no idea who's name the house we were staying at was under, nor did I know the phone number of who to call....so I had to call home to my mom and get her to track down someone to bail me out...yep that was fun...

Also once I went out east to New Brunswick with a few mates to visit his mom. First night there I picked up a chick at the bar and went home with her. In the morning I realize again that my buddies mom is remarried so last name has changed and i have no idea where they live or who to call...yep....

I never go anywhere now without knowing all the details...

Also I got so drunk once I shit my pants, I don't drink much anymore....

Alcohol and me are just not made to hang out.

edit- I guess not that legendary.... I was once drunk everyday falling down drunk for about 6 months....more loser-ish that legend. I am all better now!

Last edited by canuckguy; 01-24-2010 at 10:24 AM..
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Old 01-24-2010, 01:20 PM   #4 (permalink)
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Location: Tennessee
I've never had Absinthe MSD, sounds like it has rather a nice kick to it. Its distilled from wormwood isn't? About 80-100 proof? I'll have to give it a shot sometimes.

Canuckguy, there is nothing on earth worse then having to call your mom when you get a little too rowdy. When I was younger (around 17 or 18) I was out drinking with some friends at the University of Maine during an ice storm. The power was out, everything very dark and I decided for what ever reason in my drunken stupor that that a small tree laying across the road would be fun to take home. While we were dragging it across the parking lot the campus police show up and for some reason go ballistic. It was just a small tree...wtf right? So the guys trying to get everyone's name, threatening to call the cops and such, but then he says something along the lines of "if your underage I'm going to need to start calling parents." We just booked it at that point and lost him and yet for some reason I was more concerned about him calling my parents then the police. Go figure huh? Yup the police are less of a buzz kill then my parents. Yes I realize the police probably would have done the same...I was young and drunk...didn't really connect the dots on that one.

Anyway glad to hear your doing better, thanks for sharing and don't worry if its legendary or not I just want people to have fun with it.

About 4 or 5 years ago I was working with a small jazz act that got booked an early show at a club in Montreal. For some reason after the set the consensus was to just head home but after we crossed into the states (Vermont I think) everyone decided it would be a shame to waste a good night on the road so we looked for the first bar we could find. After a few hours in a nice amber haze of whiskey and cheap beer I notice this smoking hot red head sitting at a table near the back of the bar and decide in my drunken stupor to go over and chat her up a bit, much to my surprise it worked! For the next few hours we sat drinking, flirting and making out before she finally leans in and whispers that she wants to go out to her car. Who am I to refuse right? Once outside we get in the car and she decides she wants to take a drive, I roll my eyes and reluctantly agree... after all taking a late night drive in the country wasn't what I had in mind but I figured I'd see where all of this was going.

At some point on the road I must have either fallen asleep or blacked out because the next thing I remember is waking up in a cold car parked between two buildings, pants around my ankles, t-shirt in the front seat and no girl. I get dressed, stumble out into the cold night and notice a gas station a little way down the street. I was informed by the gas attendant through large fits of laughter that I was a good 30 miles south of where I had started! I ended up calling my buddies, one of whom was still sober and he agreed to come and pick me up...after many fits of laughter himself. I still don't know to this day weather I got lucky that night or not but you can bet I went and got tested for every disease in the book.

Okay maybe not legendary either...my first post kind of set the bar a little high didn't it? Anyway keep them coming and have fun with it.
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Old 01-24-2010, 02:03 PM   #5 (permalink)
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I've had some that I recalled portions of only days later. And they won't get repeated.

The really great drinking stories can't be repeated.

The very best can't be remembered.
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Old 01-24-2010, 03:51 PM   #6 (permalink)
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Location: Tennessee
hahah indeed Craven indeed. Whats the old saying? "If anybody says they remember that party they weren't really there."

The funny part about them is how unbelievably inaccurate they usually end up being (which is why I thought this would be a funny thread). Heck for all I know the story I told above is only about 10% accurate and all the holes were filled in by some alcohol induced dream later that night. You never know.
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Old 01-24-2010, 04:22 PM   #7 (permalink)
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Location: New York
My brother had a high school graduation party about 35 years ago when the drinking age was 18. I had a Firebird which lost its muffler that day and was therefore quite loud. My brother's friend had a Camaro.

We stopped at a package store to pick up several cases of beer then spent a couple hours racing around the back roads of town, finally ending up at some property my father owned on a quiet dirt road. My father's property was fairly overgrown. A neighbor's property was more open so we set up camp there. A bunch of my brother's buddies showed up for the party.

We decided that we needed a campfire. We noticed a dead tree maybe 10 feet tall so we dragged that where we wanted the fire and lit it on fire. We were on top of a small hill, so when we finished a beer, we would launch the beer bottle as far as we could down the hill and listen for the smash, on somebody else's property.

Sometime that evening somebody decided we needed to go get more people and somehow I was selected to go get them. About 5 minutes after I got back, flashlights go on and somebody asks who was there that wasn't there before. It was the cops. So I and whoever I brought with me gave our names to the cops.

The cops asked who brought all the beer. Nobody said anything so I told them I did. Then the cops asked why some girl was drinking because she was under 18. Oops. The cops said the party was over. I asked if we could stay on my father's property since nobody was in shape to drive and the cops said ok as long as it was on my father's property.

I had a small starter's pistol, basically a glorified cap gun that looked like a small pistol in the back seat of my car. When I got in the car one of my brother's buddies thoughtfully warned me to be careful with the gun. Oops again. Thankfully the cops realized I wasn't going to shoot anybody or anything with it so they didn't do anything.

When I started the car, I guess it gave the cops a clue just who might have been racing on backroads earlier that day, so they warned me that if I was racing that I shouldn't do it any more.

I went to sleep in the front seat of my car. I woke up during the night and saw everything spinning. I woke up at daylight and one of my brother's buddies was sleeping in the trunk of my car, which was pretty clever since the trunk was so small.

My brother and I asked the guys still there if they wanted the rest of the beer since we didn't want any more, then we went out for breakfast.

So nobody went to jail and that was when I decided it would be a good idea for me to give up drinking for good.

Last edited by dogzilla; 01-24-2010 at 04:26 PM..
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Old 01-24-2010, 05:32 PM   #8 (permalink)
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Location: Tennessee
Good story Dogzilla, it sounds like the cops were pretty cool about it all things considered. I can't imagine they would have been so forgiving today, just the site of that starter pistol would have gotten you at least a jolt with the taser or not worse! Yikes.

Great story, thanks for sharing it
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Old 01-24-2010, 06:38 PM   #9 (permalink)
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Location: Redneckville, NC
Legendary drinking stories? I don't know if any I have fall into "legendary" but I've got a great geeky one.

I went to a local anime convention with 2 of my friends with plans on being really fucking geeky, hitting on hot anime girls, and get really fucking drunk. We bought a bunch of "single guy" food and two half-gallons of rum. Went spent the first day (of a 3 day convention weekend) hanging out, watching anime, and buying overpriced japanese things in the dealer room.

Saturday we woke up, made breakfast, hung out at the pool and decided that we should start taking shots at 1pm. We break out the half gallon and fill a water bottle with rum. We head back to the pool and finish off a 20oz water bottle of rum in about 1.5 hours between the 3 of us. We are feeling good so we go back and eat a few hot pockets to keep us going (and I smoked a big fatty). Back at the room, we decide to to fill 3 water bottles up with rum and carry them with us at the convention. We head back to the convention and start wandering around the place doing all sorts of geeky things.

Fast forward to night time and I've finished off my bottle of rum and ended up in the hotel bar drinking with a group of people I met walking around. They think I'm hilarious and start buying me rum and cokes. I somehow end up with two rum and cokes in my hands and think to myself, "I should finish both of these and so someone will buy me another one." This is my last conscious thought of the night. I down both glasses and black out.

The next part of the story is patched together by different accounts from friends and people who saw me the next day who recognized me from my antics. Shortly after finishing my two drinks I got up and left the group of people at the bar. My friend found me and led me to the dance that was going on. I proceeded to woo the girls with great pickup lines as, "Hey baby, want to see my Rod of Power +3?", "Didn't I see you do a striptease on web cam once?", and "I will love you so much more than your internet boyfriend." At this point I lost my friend in the crowd of people and ended up meeting up with a group of people I knew.

I walked the floor with them a bit until the point that I grabbed a stack of plastic cups sitting on a table and threw them at one of the con security guards. I immediately start running at full speed as three security guards started chasing me. My friends apparently looked around for me for a bit and found me outside a set of doors, hiding in the bushes around the hotel. When they found me they asked how I got away from the guards. My responce was, "I'm a mother fucking ninja!" At this point I jumped up and ran away from them yelling, "You can't catch me, I'm a fucking NINJA!"

After this I called my fellow hotel room mate and told him to meet me at the room. I hung up on him then called him back yelling at him for hanging up on me. He headed back to the room (he was only buzzed) and waited for me to get there. 30 minutes later he heard *Thunk* *Thunk* *THUNK* on the hotel room door. He opens the door and sees me standing in the hall way wearing a Chinese worker straw hat (which I apparently stole from someone) and a road cone I picked up on the way back to the hotel room. I handed him the road cone, walked over and lined up two shots. I forced my friend to take one with me and poured two more shots. He told me I might want to sit down before I took the next one, which I agreed I should do. I sat down on the bed, fell backwards, and passed out. I was so far gone that they apparently poked and pushed me around without me even waking up.

We woke up the next morning (with me in my hat hugging the road cone) and thought that I did enough damage that night to go back home without going back to the con. Leaving the hotel room we see one of the potted plants that had been ripped out of the base and thrown across the hallway. I sat there wondering if I did this as one of the people that stayed in the room across from us came out of the room. He told me that they saw me rip the plant out of the base and try to break the hotel window with it at 3am. I apparently didn't say a word to them as I walked over and knocked on the hotel room door (with the road cone).

Needless to say, I was incredibly hungover and fell asleep in the backseat of the car on the way home. It took me two days to get over my hangover.

I have a lot more stories, but this is my favorite from my set of drinking stories.
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Last edited by LordEden; 01-24-2010 at 06:43 PM..
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Old 01-24-2010, 07:00 PM   #10 (permalink)
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Location: Tennessee
Thats an amazing story Eden! Two thumbs up. Any drinking story the ends with "I woke up in a straw hat hugging a road cone" is getting pretty close to legendary status in humble opinion.

I would love to hear more if you feel like adding them.
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Old 01-24-2010, 07:25 PM   #11 (permalink)
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Location: The Windy City
My problem here is that I've never been a big drinker. I enjoy the taste of alcoholic beverages, and I have an enormous tolerance for alcohol, but I don't enjoy being drunk that much: it makes me rambunctious, and I prefer to be chill. So I don't have a lot of "I was so wasted" stories. But I do have zillions of "I was so stoned" or "I was so tripping balls" stories. Let me give you one of those, instead.

My sophomore year of college, we had a huge dorm party for Halloween, and I volunteered to host the green room. Some dorms were big enough to have more than one, but we were a smaller dorm, so generally, any two people with a double room could host the green room. Through a fluke of housing, it so happened that I was assigned a double room without a roommate, so I had a lot of room and not too much stuff packed into it. I was a natural.

So, the rule was, everybody either donates a nug at the door, or tips a couple of bucks into the herb fund, then comes in, stays as long as they like, and can smoke off anything lit in the room (no in-and-out privileges). But the green room host has the right of first tokage off of anything that gets lit. I took advantage of that rule. A lot. We opened the door to folks at 7:30pm, and closed the doors at 12:30 am. In that five hours, we never had less than 40, maybe 45 people packed into that little dorm room, and I was taking first tokes like they were going out of style. I had a couple of bongs and pipes, but people brought a lot of their own-- including a huge 4'5" blown glass bong that was just ridiculous. It took me two huge pulls to fill and three tries to empty the chamber on that thing.

One of my friends, who was helping me run the show, said according to his count, I had a good 56, maybe 58 tokes over the course of our five hours. I don't remember much after we closed the room down. I don't even remember a whole lot about how we acted or what we did in the last hour or so my room was operating. But I remember how much I laughed, and what a great time I had.

My friends tell me that I came out of my room after we closed, and I laughed quietly for about ten minutes. Then I tried to get my breath, and apparently I couldn't really distinguish sounds, and had a certain difficulty distinguishing visual features, also. I am told I spent some time outside, looking at the sky and mumbling things like "Oh, wow, the moon is so cool!" and "The ground just fuckin' rules!"

I woke up the next afternoon with drymouth like no one has had since God woke Adam, naked, clutching an unlit doobie in one hand, and a porn mag in the other. Don't recall going to bed. Don't recall what happened once I got there. Don't recall if anyone was ever with me. That was the only time I ever had a serious weed hangover, and it lasted three days.
Dull sublunary lovers love,
Whose soul is sense, cannot admit
Absence, because it doth remove
That thing which elemented it.

(From "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" by John Donne)

Last edited by levite; 01-24-2010 at 09:57 PM..
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Old 01-24-2010, 08:38 PM   #12 (permalink)
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Location: Tennessee
Nice, Levite nice! As far as I'm concerned pot is ALWAYS welcome in the discussion. I love smoking up but I always get SO mellow nothing ever happens...maybe I should switch. Anyway great story, getting that high always leads to hilarious consequences. I mean c'mon I woke up naked, clutching a doobie and porn mag? Those are the kinds of stories your tell your grand kids when you hand them their first beer.

Great stories all, it helped pass the time while nursing a monster hang over, so thanks. I'll have to add a few more of my own tomorrow.
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Old 01-24-2010, 08:45 PM   #13 (permalink)
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Location: Manhattan, NY
I have too many. I don't like talking about them normally, but I'll try to pick one that seems to be worth retelling to mixed company.

My tales made me scared to travel internationally because... well, it got crazy from time to time.
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Old 01-24-2010, 11:33 PM   #14 (permalink)
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Rounding up the stray friends and piling them in the back of my truck.

There's no place like home.

Last edited by ring; 01-24-2010 at 11:38 PM.. Reason: pixelated
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Old 01-25-2010, 09:01 AM   #15 (permalink)
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Location: S.E. PA in U Sofa
I got to the party late and "had to catch up" with my friends who had been partying for a couple hours already. So as the shit talking gets deeper somone suggests that I "down the whole bottle" and then that idea degrades to "how fast can you drink the whole bottle" and then we decide the goal is "less than one minute". The betting starts, people are throwing their entire wallets in the pot since they know "you can't do it", people are even throwing their car keys in since they know it can't be done. Because it was near Christmas time and available, I chose a widemouth holiday bottle of Four Roses whiskey thinking that it might give me a better chance at getting it down fast since if I hesitate along the way I'm sure I'll throw it all up before it all gets down. The drama builds as my Navy medic buddy at the party points out the dangers of shock and death, and he offers to mix up a batch of some liquid that will make me throw up fast in case it doesn't happen on its own. So as the drums roll I take a deep breath, lift the bottle, and suck it dry in less than 10 seconds!...official count was 8 seconds. Now that I'm pumped up to continue the drama, I say "wow, that's not bad maybe I have time for another one"...but my Navy buddy hands me the nasty throwup liquid and I belt that down and proclaim "hmmm, that's good can I have another one with vodka". And a couple seconds later he talks me into going upstairs to clear my stomach before I die, which I do...throw up that is, not die...and I could barely stand up after a couple more minutes and it was not one of my more pleasant drunks in case any of them are.

So this is still a somewhat "legendary" story among my friends.
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Old 01-25-2010, 10:57 AM   #16 (permalink)
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Location: The Cosmos
I have/had a friend just over the internet, she's hot, we flirt. But we kept it very light. No real chance. She lives far away. We'll one night I got really drunk. I wouldn't have remembered this but for the IM log and texts, but apparently I convinced her to give me her cell phone number. We chatted a long time. Confessing our romantic intentions, apparently planning a tryst (never happens). OK, not so bad. Just slightly embarrassing so far. We hang up. But I go back to IM.

She leaves but doesn't log off. I keep drinking. Apparently she leaves her IM logged on and her computer out (she was staying at her uncles beach house or something). Her 8 year old nephew proceeds to log on. Ahem. Instead of logging off the little bugger lets me go on and on as we chat. I just think she's drunk and playing some kind of game. Woops!

The worst part is I remember none of this. I don't find out till weeks later as I read my logs. So I'm completely sober when I figure out what happened.
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Old 01-25-2010, 02:23 PM   #17 (permalink)
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Location: Tennessee
Good stories all! Don't worry about the story being "legendary" I was pretty drunk when I wrote that and just wanted to be funny. If you have a story you think everyone might enjoy post it, no pressure here.

Anyway I happened across this one in one of my old journals, I shortened it up a bit...hopefully it still reads well.

In the summer of 2005, the last year I worked with my jazz combo. We found ourselves booked at an insufferably snooty upscale restaurant in Portland. Honestly this was the worst of the worst, pseudo sophistication for annoying summer tourists, weak $10 beer, and items like Smoked Salmon Pininos and goat cheese lobster burgers or something equally dreadful. The manager was some snot head who wore a purple beret and let the smoke from his Virginia Slim filter up through is neatly groomed moustache. We were informed upon arriving that we should keep it simple, which is slang for be as boring as possible. Yup a night full of Jazz standards, Star Dust, Summertime, Polka Dots and Moonbeams, you couldn't gentrify an art anymore if you gave John Rockefeller an electric guitar.

We mucked through the first set, hobbled like a runner on a broken ankle before heading out back to tuck deep into a bottle of Jack (I drank about 3/4 of the bottle during our time in the parking lot) and vent our frustrations over a pack of camels. We returned to the stage about as uninspired as musicians could be. Our drummer looked like he'd fallen asleep and about half way into Body and Soul I just stopped playing altogether, sighed and leaned over my double bass to stare at the audience in a drunken stupor. The audience at this point was completely oblivious to the fact that half the band had stopped playing, or maybe they though we nodded off on heroin something, I don't know. Anyway the rest of the band slowly stops playing and we gather around the drum kit passing around a flask, letting down our ponytails and discussing just packing up and going home. Then one of us suggested we just be as abrasive as possible until they throw us out. Now in rehearsal we had a habit of playing music we weren't accustomed too, it kept us on our toes, so we had build up quite a catalog of rather bad music to play.

I grabbed my electric bass, stepped to the mic and the band launches into a fierce version of Love Gun. I fully admit that I can't sing a lick...but that just really made it all the better...and besides the song sounded great with brass and piano and our guitar player could smoke when he wanted too. As I'm shrieking away at the mic, I notice out of the corner of my, one of the funniest things I've ever seen. The snot head manager comes tearing out of his office like a sprinter, trips on a trash can and goes flying like superman behind the bar. We'd gotten about half way through the song when I looked out at the audience to see room full of dropped jaws glaring at the stage, grumbling ensues and people start throwing down money and heading for the door. We just kept on playing.

We decided to take it up a notch after that and launched into some song by Pantera. The alcohol was really starting to set in and the band had more or less lost any interest in playing as the song descended into a maelstrom of off beat riffs and feedback. It was some point during this song I notice a cop walking through the front door. Yup the bastard called the cops on us...didn't ask us to stop or anything...I don't know maybe he did, I was pretty drunk at this point. The officer comes over to the stage starts waving his hands to get our attention, we stop playing. "Whats going on here?"

"Just playing our set officer" I smiled back.

He sighs and rubs his eyes, "Well hold tight, I have to get to the bottom of this" And heads over to the seething manager seated at the bar. We sat on stage passing around a flask behind their backs, kind of laughing at what we had pulled off, when the cop walks back over.

He sighs again obviously annoyed at being in the middle of any of this. "He says he wont press charges if you agree to just leave."

"Charges? You know he could just ask us to leave."

"Yeah, that's what I was going to suggest"

For a moment I wanted to be a dick and demand payment...but half the band was roaring drunk and I guess we didn't feel like pressing our luck. The scene began to calm down as the officer left, we packed up our equipment and customers began filing back in. We drove down to the coast after that, found a nice little quite beach to sit on, drank and had a good laugh over the whole thing.
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Old 01-25-2010, 05:43 PM   #18 (permalink)
I spent Easter Weekend of 2007 in a tiny village called Smerzice, in Moravia; the south-eastern 1/3rd of the Czech Republic. Smerzice is a -tiny- place, with fewer than 1500 people; or, as my Czech roomate put it, "Two pubs, one church, no school." My roomies were both from this little place, and they invited me into their family homes for the holiday. I should have asked what I was in for.

We arrived by train on Good Friday, already intoxicated. A note for those who aren't familiar; Czechs drink. A LOT. In terms of beer consumption, Czechs lead the world at 600+ liters per person per year. Ireland is a close 2nd, with Germany a distant 3rd and nobody else even in the running. Couple this with a relaxed attitude towards social cannabis use and a distinct habit of celebrating every imaginable holiday by drinking/smoking/eating everything in sight for several days at a whack, and you have a recipe for some truly epic drinking. And so it went with us.

Naturally, upon arriving in Smerzice, we paid our respects first to the two little pubs. One served food, the other did not. In any case, all it took for the fun to start was for my roomies to mention that I was an American. All of a sudden, there was an unsolicited glass of beer before me, which I drank and immediately had replaced. This happened several more times, without the barkeep ever making a single mark on my ticket. When I tried to pay, he refused my money.

Odd. I thought. I'd heard of fellow Americans who'd had humbling and somewhat disconcerting encounters with oldsters who thanked them profusely, sometimes in tears, for WWII; this didn't seem like the case here. After stumbling our way to the second pub, where I was met again with free beer along with a free dinner, I began to wonder what was going on. I asked my roomies, and was informed that I was in fact the very first American to ever visit their little village. Ever. Oh dear. Said I to myself. This will go well and end poorly.

And it did.

A few hours and many liters of beer later, the four of us (Me, my two roomies, and an old school friend of theirs) staggered back across town (getting briefly lost while circumnavigating the church) to the first pub, and this is where things got nasty. This old friend of Z. and M.'s decided it was time to get serious. It was Easter Weekend, an American was in town...obviously, this situation required More Alcohol.

More Alcohol was provided in the form of a quadruple-round (4 shots apiece!) of a neon pink liquer which I discovered went down very easily with a taste like cotton candy and no burn. It was also very cheap, as evidenced by the fact that it was consumed in multiple rounds. I discovered later than this drink was known as a "Russian Agent" (because it is very beautiful, but -very- dangerous!), is 100-proof, and is a popular way to get socially shitfaced because, just as Tequila makes people mean, the "Russian Agent" makes people relaxed.

24 shots later, I somehow managed to stumble back to the home of Z. and M.'s high-school friend, who promptly made the situation worse by skinning up a joint the size of my little finger, liberally spiced with home-made hashish. The result was as may be expected; I awoke the next morning on the couch, in precisely the same position as I last recalled being, with reruns of "Letiste" ("Airport," a popular Czech comedic soap-opera) on the TV. My host, who -really- should have been more accustomed to such baccanale, was still asleep.

After a shower and breakfast, my host and roomies and various personages all over town simply kept plying me with drink. Homemade wine, regional beer spiced with cloves, various local liquers, and a thick coating of THC to keep me good an' hungry combined to ensure that I could celebrate the weekend in style even Jesus might have envied.

And then came Easter Sunday...and the horse.

In the course of all this chemical insanity, I was invited to attend Easter Brunch at the home of the Mayor and Deputy Mayor (a husband-and-wife team).The result was very nearly catastrophic. After several hours of very good food lubricated by several liters of home-made wine and plum brandy, the Mayor decided to ask a few questions about what I did for a living back in the US. I informed him that, among other things, my family owned a small farm and raised beef cattle.

Now, I should -really- have been smarter than to mention that. Czechs -love- American culture, especially "cowboy" culture. You wanna be everybody's best friend in a Czech pub? Throw some Cash, maybe some Hank Jr. or Conway Twitty or Loretta Lynn on the jukebox. The Man In Black is an especial favorite. What I should have realised was that this meant they were familiar with cowboys, and what cowboys do. When I mentioned that I, an American farmboy with an affection for firearms, also raised beef cattle...well...you can see where this is going, although -I- didn't see for several more liberally libated hours.

After brunch and a few bottles, it was decided that the whole family (me included) should go for a drive. I got the impression that I was being set up somehow, but not speaking very good Czech (a devilish language to learn) I wasn't quite sure how. After a while of driving around seeing the local sights, we stopped at an open-air BBQ stand and beer-garden in the middle of a pine wood. We had a nice dinner of ribs, roasted chickens, sausages and, of course, more beer.

And then I was informed that this was, in fact, a Dude Ranch. My hosts had generously decided to give me, the doubtless homesick American cowboy, the chance to ride a horse. They wanted to watch, and besides (they reasoned), I must be homesick for my old life. An afternoon on horseback, no doubt, would be a balm to my expatriated soul.

Now, I -had- mentioned that I could ride horses. I can. However, I had also been very careful to mention as well that I was -badly- out of practice. I was. My hosts, however, seemed at the time to have misconstrued this as false modesty, because they promptly ordered up a horse for me to ride. However, they made a crucial error of omission which I'll get to in a moment.

The horse himself was magnificent. 16.5 Hands or more of jet-black pure muscle, an uncut Stallion with a look of intelligence in his eyes that I liked. I swung up into the saddle with a slightly drunken self-assurance that, out of practice or not, Stallion or not, I was at least enough of a rider to handle a Czech dude-ranch horse.

I was wrong. Badly. And here's where that little omission came in.

I gave the horse his marching orders, and he marched. Then he sped up. Then he sped up some more, so I gave the reins a gentle tug backwards: "hang on a second, fella, let's you and me figure each other out before we start tearin' all over Hell and half of Moravia" was my intent. The horse, inexplicably, sped up even more and made for the hurdles in the middle of the riding rink. I pulled backwards again, at which the horse broke into a head-down gallop, plainly intending to take the jumps which now lay before him. I, half in a panic, tried reining him in and managed to steer him around the first hurdle, but only just. As he headed for the second hurdle, I yanked down and to the left, HARD, on the reins and finally managed to head-brake him and turn his charge. In the space of just one lap, I had nearly managed to kill myself; if he had -not- stopped when I head-broke, my plan was to bail out with my tongue in the roof of my mouth, my teeth together, my arms crossed and fists clenched under my chin, and pray.

It was only after I got the bloody horse stopped that I was informed, by the slightly panicked and very impressed mayor of Smerzice, that this was in fact a Steeplechase horse. A horse trained for racing over hedges and fences, for the hunting of foxes, and the entertainment of people who's underwear is worth more than my own sweet life. The problem this created was this:

A normal horse, -any- normal horse, regards a pull back on the reins as a "slow down and stop" signal. A Steeplechaser, on the other hand, is trained to interpret a pull on the reins as a signal to speed up, since the rider is "shortening" the reins to prepare for the coming jump...a jump for which the horse will need lots of speed. Hence, every time I pulled back, the horse thought Oh cool, we're going jumping! and both accelerated and turned for the hurdles.

I was terrified. My hosts were both terrified and impressed; I later discovered that they thought the entire episode had been a performance for their benefit. My shouting, the head-braking, all of it; to them, there was no way a gun-toting American farmer could possibly be doing any of this in any way other than intentional.

I spent the next 36hrs as the toast of Smerzice, despite the fact that I had no idea why. My near-manslaughter at the hooves of a confused racehorse had confirmed my Cowboy status with the locals, and I was -still- not allowed to buy my own drinks, food, or admission to Plumlov Castle. In fact, the situation was so bad that I spent all of Easter Monday recuperating at the suggestion of my bosses. Word of my exploit reached the office before I did, and when I called into the office on Monday to check on the status of my work, I was told to stay home, drink lots of water and beer, and recover.

I had several more such exploits while living in the Czech Republic, which I shall have to type up tomorrow. I gave up both cannabis and truly excessive drinking upon return to the States, where such things are frowned upon, bu have more than a few such stories squirreled away. Tomorrow maybe I'll write up the birthday party in Letna Park; the difficulties of drinking with Gypsies, the honor of drinking with Russians, and why one should always have the route home written down.

Last edited by The_Dunedan; 01-25-2010 at 06:26 PM..
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Old 01-26-2010, 12:16 PM   #19 (permalink)
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Location: Tennessee
Wow! That story is...well awesome Dunedan! I had no idea that the whole country/cowboy thing was so huge in the Czech Republic, I guess you learn something new every day. I'd love to hear more if you feel like adding them (need to add a few more myself but I've been horribly busy the last couple of days). Anyway Smerzice sounds like a great place...and what a great setting to get messed up in and just enjoy life. Small towns have a certain charm that way I find.

Thanks for sharing that, a great story AND a look at a different culture.
“My god I must have missed it...its hell down here!”
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Old 02-01-2010, 04:23 PM   #20 (permalink)
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OK I debated for awhile over whether to post this or not, because it makes me look like a pretty large douchebag, which I maintain that I most decidedly am NOT. But you wouldn't be able to tell that from the following story. So let me insert a disclaimer: I know some of the things I said are horribly offensive and not things to joke about, but I had adrenaline flowing like crazy, I was talking shit, I was fucking BLITZKRIEGED, and I felt really bad about it all for days thereafter. OK......

So seven friends and I went to the Titans-Ravens game in last years playoffs. We thought this was our year. Nothing can stop the indomitable 13-3, number one seed Titans, obviously. So we were, to say the least, fired up. I was drinking copious amounts of whiskey and beer while tailgating. The last thing I remember is being in a bar across the street from the stadium before the game, taking a Jager Bomb with three of my friends. Literally the next thing I remember after that is being in the stands, roughly half way through the third quarter, with my friend Brigg right in my face saying "Dude, seriously.....you have got to stop with the AIDS shit, man."

The rest is pieced together from multiple eyewitness accounts. When I go to football games, I like to talk shit to the opposing fans. Usually pretty harmless, fun-loving stuff that we just spew back and forth. Not so this evening. At one point I apparently said something mildly offensive, at which point some Baltimore fan said "Man, you better be glad we're not in Baltimore.".......

SERVICE. I mean seriously, he really set me up for all this. I immediately responded with "I'm fuckin THRILLED we're not in Baltimore right now!!! The only things in Baltimore are a high crime rate and motherfuckin AIDS!!!". Yeah. I know. Apparently at this point section 303 of LP Field fell pretty silent. The Ravens fans (of which there were many) in the area craned their necks to stare at the drunk redneck fratboy douchebag making jokes about fucking AIDS. Did this deter me?.......What do you think?

I proceeded to spout countless AIDS-related quips that I'm sure were neither funny or like, you know, remotely coherent or anything. I then focused my attention on a very large, very bald, very tattooed, very scarred biker guy about two rows down from me wearing a Todd Heap jersey and apparently thought to my inebriated self: "Pussy."


And despite the fact that I was obviously way over the line and even my friends were cautioning me as such, I was on cloud nine. I was convinced I was handily winning the shit-talking battle and everything was just peachy.

And then we god damn lost. 13-10. None of the Baltimore fans, obviously possessing....what's that called??...oh yeah, class...physically assaulted me. Not even the Hell's Angel in the Todd Heap jersey. But never have I received such a vicious verbal slogging. Well deserved. No doubt about it.

Again, let me reiterate that I completely acknowledge how ridiculous I acted. If you're from Baltimore, I sincerely apologize. If you're a Todd Heap fan, I sincerely apologize. Hell, you're a human being, I sincerely apologize. In my drunken mind, I was just trying to get under the opposition's skin a little bit, as I always do, and obviously, I took it way too far.

But yeah, that's definitely the worst I've ever done. My friends told me afterward that it was a God's-honest miracle that I didn't go to jail or the hospital. Hell, they said it was a miracle that I got through the fucking gate. Apparently on the way to the game, I accidentally bumped into a little girl and knocked her down, and passed through security hanging on to my friend for support, being completely unable to support myself. Jesus......

I have since quit drinking whiskey.

---------- Post added at 07:23 PM ---------- Previous post was at 07:19 PM ----------

Another quick one. The other night I was at a bar for way too long for a friend's birthday. After my girlfriend finally convinced me to go home I pronounced to the entire bar: "Alright guys we're going home. Yeah! We're going to have SEX!!!!!"

Much laughter ensued, none of which was emitted by my girlfriend. I feed off of laughter.......(while pointing at my girlfriend, who is no more than a foot away from me)"Hey guys, not only that, but I'm gonna knock the BOTTOM out of that shit tonight!"...........(turning to actually face my now thoroughly unamused girlfriend) "You ready for me to knock that BOTTOM OUT OF THAT SHIT babe?"

Luckily, she still took me home. I love that girl. I don't deserve her.
"We each have a star, all we have to do is find it. Once you do, everyone who sees it will be blinded." - Earl Simmons
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Old 02-02-2010, 07:58 AM   #21 (permalink)
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This is one of my things that I do while drinking. This one was pretty weak, from the video it looks like the fireball was only about 8-9 feet long at the end. I also usually improvise a better torch to keep the fire off of my hands.
Originally Posted by Wes Mantooth View Post
I've never had Absinthe MSD, sounds like it has rather a nice kick to it. Its distilled from wormwood isn't? About 80-100 proof? I'll have to give it a shot sometimes.
High proof alcohol steeped in wormwood and other herbs, ends up anywhere from 80 to about 196 proof (mine was at the upper end of how much water you can remove from alcohol without distilling over benzene.) It's not really worth the premium you pay for it.
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