Sunday, February 04, 2007
BIANNUAL ISLE OF STATEN PILGRIMMAGE
Saturday, February 3, 2:04PM - Familiar refrain--getting a slow start today. Lots of long nights. That's ok though, cause there's no need to rush today. Need to be good and primed for the Biannual Isle of Staten Pilgrimmage. It's colder than I expected today, might be a rough crossing of the Harbor. I just hope we all make it. [Ed note - foreshadowing: indeed it was a decidedly rough crossing, but coming back, not heading out]
4:36PM - Applebee's. I don't really need to say more than that, but I will. 2 for 1 Killians. Not complaining. Little done already. Real S.I. talent hasn't presented itself yet. I'm talking about the robotically hot 13yr old from America's Ballroom Challenge now, of course. Bus ride wasn't too bad. Shamefully failed to complete the crossword from the Staten Island Advance. Babies crapping. Corn chips forever. No speedos at Champs Sports.
6:23PM - We've moved into hour 3 at Applebee's. [Ed - is there an apostrophe in that?] Giant frozen margaritas. Check. Gold chain worn on top of a t-shirt. Check. 40yr old douche with a blue tooth thing in while eating. Check. Me and Devon fighting for the right to annihilate the vagina of our waitress, whose name is Jennifer. Check.
7:23PM - "This is kinda cool. Never been in a mall drunk before." "Let's follow him. I got no place else to be than right here." Got to stop giggling. Just ripped some awesome ass right outside a Sephora.
8:28PM - Asked a big fat black dude with a seriously unkempt tie at a Bed Bath & Beyond in a strip mall next to the mall where to find some bars. Tells us Forest Avenue. We say--huh? He says, after looking us up and down, "Wait a minute......y'all aint from Staten Island, are you?" To the Eltingville bus depot we go.
10:17PM - S.I. Bay St. Sleepy bar. No darts. $9 Bud pitchers. Just flatulated. Hope everyone respects my feelings now. Hell of a scene here. Anti-scene is more appropriate. Butt ugly drunk chick singing with a jacketed fellow. She's got an underbite.
10:30PM - Eltingville Special--69 a chick, with the man on top. Man sharts. Woman licks the shart off man's balls. Valducci--any premeditated sexual shart.
Time unknown - "I have no waste to expel from my body. Just beautiful whispers of gas from my anus." - Dave
2:37AM - This night has officially entered the surreal. Actually that happened about 90 min ago. What's just happened is really beyond words. I'm the hero of an S.I. dude. Some lady asked me to open her bottle of champagne. That is not innuendo. She claims to be married to the owner of Scores. Yeah and she's giving us a ride back to Manhattan. Devon is dancing slow-style with giant Hell's Angels rejects. I could go on and on but cause I have the shakes and am questionably about to vomit, I won't.
2:41AM - One of the Hell's Angels rejects just looked me up and down and asked, "What the hell is that all about?" I said, "What?" He laughed like he just heard and in-joke and said, "Nevermind." Apparently the locals don't appreciate the sweater/tie/jacket/scarf/crossed-legs combo. Oh well. Sic transit gloria.
2:43AM - "That foot-stomping is making me fart." - me, to Dave

Sunday PM - Last night, during one of several step-outsides at S.I.'s The Real McCoy bar, necessitated by the sheer ridiculousness inside, requiring a little solemn solitary digestion--such as would happen to a principled gentleman while viewing a snuff film--I was approached by two nerds. Nerd One asked me something about someone sitting in his bedroom, hoping that my opinion would settle an argument. During this, Nerd Two laughed, stopped Nerd One and said, while gesturing at me, "Hey this guy kinda looks like you.......Haha........Man, that's you in five years." Sic transit gloria, indeed.