Lost in Cleveland

That was quite possibly the longest feeling weekend in history.  And I can’t believe it’s still only Monday.  And I have no concept of time right now.  Making a foray into the eastern time zone less than a week since the fall back was just damn confusing.  But, in the end, I think it has helped me adjust to falling back.  Or something like that.  Anyway…I have much to relate.  Strap in, and prepare to be…well…typed to, I guess.

Friday, I went into work at 7:15 a.m. in an effort to get out the door as soon as I possibly could.  I was hopeful to leave by 11:30 (as my stepdad wanted to leave no later than noon), but I got fed up with clockwatching and left right at 11 a.m.  I got to my mom’s house, and it was off to Ohio for myself and Randy (that would be my stepdad…duh).  Yeah, C.J. was supposed to come with, but backed out gradually over the course of the week (which, in turn, pissed off Jason and Jenny because he never bothered to tell them that…or me for that matter).  We were going to stay with Jenny at her apartment in Columbus so’s we could hit the tailgating scene for the Ohio State game on Saturday, and because it was a free place to stay.  We had to go get her key from her where she was working (Sears…it’s become a family affair, it seems).  After we got to her place, it wasn’t long before Jason and his two friends (J.D. and Andrew) showed, as did Jenny’s friend Tara (who had recently been dumped by her boyfriend…a fact Randy didn’t know when he asked how the guy was…Tara’s response?  "Fuck him."  Classic social awkwardness).  Jenny was the last to arrive, and the full-on bullshit session was in progress.  This part of the family (and its friends) tend to love sitting around and relating old, hilarious stories that are even funny after a million renditions.  Eventually, we all crashed, knowing the early morning coming ahead of us.

Saturday was memorable.  Except I don’t think all of us could remember the next day.  The tailgate began at 8 a.m. local time.  Immediately, J.D. cracked open a beer.  I shook my head in disbelief.  I’ve never understood northerners and some of their drinking habits and/or abilities.  It’s like most of ’em are born to drink, and they do it quite well…and often.  By the time 10 a.m. rolled around, pretty much all had followed suit.  Except me, of course.  I was to be the designated driver.  Then I let loose that I had, about a month ago, just sat down and started drinking beer for the simple reason of testing out my tolerance.  Jason then declared he wasn’t drinking another beer until I had one with him.  So I gave in and had one.  Then another.  And, eventually, another.  At about 3 p.m. (the game started at 3:30, mind you), we started getting ready to go over to Hiney Gate (which is a huge gathering in front of a Holiday Inn across from the stadium where people go to watch the game on a huge screen and get drunk as fuck).  Right before leaving, Jason and Andrew were going to do a double-shot of Jager.  Aided by the few beers already in my system, I decided being DD was for suckers.  I was going to join the party for reals.  "I’ll do one with you!" I declared.  Jason looked at me, surprised as hell, and said, "Fuck yeah!"  He knew that meant it was on.  So we all three downed half a plastic cup full of Jager, poured a beer in our plastic mugs (32 oz. mugs that Hiney Gate refills for you), and were off.  At this point, JD is drunk, Jenny is smashed (which Will can attest to, as I called him walking over and she started yelling about how hot she is into the phone to him…which was hilarious), and Tara is beyond obliterated.  Over the course of the game, I had a couple more mugs full of beer (2?  3?  Beats me…), shared a Captain Morgan and Coke with Jason (which was basically just Captain on the rocks) and had Tara pour most of her margarita in my cup…which I drank most of before walking back to the car.  Actually, it was more like I tried to keep her from falling over all the way back to the car.  My God was she drunk.  I mean, I was, too, but I had nothing on her.  She was just….gone.  We were the last ones back at the car, and walked into the middle of one of those meaningful drunk talks between Jason, Jenny, and Randy (he is their dad, afterall).  They pulled me into it because part of it was about C.J. not coming, and not calling them back when they call him, and all that kind of shit.  Eventually, Tara walked over and started sobbing to Jenny about her boyfriend.  So me and Jason started having the drunk talk marathon about….something or other.  Finally, we all piled into the van and went back to Jenny’s place (yes, we did have a sober driver…the one person who went to the actual football game, since they don’t serve beer at college games).  The moment we unpiled from the van, Jenny and Tara wanted to go to a bar.  And so did I.  Why the fuck not?  So Justin (the sober one) drove myself, Jenny, Tara, and Jason over to a bar they frequent when the rest of them are in town.  Jason, Justin, the bartender, and I had a nice "real or fake" discussion about a girl at the other end of the bar wearing a barely there shirt.  And I had three more beers…at least.  Something like that.  Eventually, we went home and crashed out (but, oddly enough, not passed out).

Then, at about 5 a.m., the fun started.  I had to piss, so I wandered into the bathroom to do so.  Immediately, I didn’t feel so good.  Then, I puked.  Just once.  I figured, "well, how could I not after all that?"  Went right back to sleep.  Around rolls 6:30 a.m., and I hear Jenny get into the shower (after puking a few times herself, not so coincidentally).  Soon as I wake up, the back of my head is killing me, much more than usual.  "Great, a hangover," I thought.  If only I were so lucky.  I found myself bent over a small sink mere feet away from the air mattress I’d slept on puking my guts out.  Something like 4 or 5 times.  Then I was fine.  After my shower, I sat just trying not to aggrivate the headache, when the urge hit me again.  Back to the sink.  After 5 or 6 heaves later, I ate a couple popsicles at Jenny’s suggestion.  Finally, we left out for Cleveland, to go see the Titans vs. Browns game.  Not a half an hour down the road, "I think you better pull over," I said to Randy.  Before he had fully stopped, my door was open.  So much for keeping the popsicles down.  And, yes, yellow and blue really do make green (I’d eaten a yellow popsicle and a blue one).  Thankfully, that was the last time.  Of course, the nausea came and went thinking about exactly how much I’d consumed the night before.  Honestly, I’ve never been nearly that drunk, including the 19 beer binge way back at Jenny’s high school graduation party in 1999.  I couldn’t eat a think, for fear of seeing it again, in slightly disfigured form.

We didn’t get to the game in Cleveland until nearly the end of the first quarter. 

Before leaving out on Friday, I’d checked to see what the weather was going to be like for the weekend.  It said 70 degrees with a slight chance of rain.  Inside Cleveland Browns Stadium, it was more like 45 degees, with a wind howling between 25 and 50 miles per hour…and a bitter cold wind it was, coming right off of Lake Erie, which is right next to the stadium.  And it rained hard the whole third quarter.  And, oh by the way, the Titans fucking sucked.  The Browns, who had just handed Houston their first win of the season the week before, beat the Titans 20-14…and it shouldn’t have been that close.  The Titans absolutely sucked.  That mean’s we’ve lost to the Arizona Cardinals and Cleveland Browns in the same season, with games against the Houston Texans and San Fransisco 49’ers still to play.  If we lose to those two?  Oh, gawd…  That would be the ultimate in pathetic.  The team looks lost as fuck, and sometimes seems to not care.  Steve McNair suddenly looks like he’s 100 years old and can’t make any quick decisions.  If I wasn’t so proud to be a fan, I’d wish for them to tank the season to get the first pick in the draft.  But I don’t want it.  Never do I want that first pick, just because of what it symbolizes.

But enough about that.

This morning, Randy and I left Jenny’s place in Columbus at 7:15 a.m. (still talking eastern time, mind you).  We got back to Gallatin at about 1:15 this afternoon (and that’s central time).  After all that (and picking up either a cold or some nasty sinus problems…thanks to making a 35 degree shift in temperature from departure to arrival and the crappy weather yesterday).  And I haven’t mentioned yet the fun part:  I had to go to work!  See, all my statistics are calculated through the end of business on Monday, so if I didn’t go in and just process the returns from the weekend, my numbers would be fucked (which would, in turn, make me fucked).  I ended up sticking around for a couple of extra hours to help out some other guys, since it was short staffed tonight.  And I have to be back at 7 a.m. tomorrow.  Guh.  This is going to be a long week.

But damn did I have fun this weekend, despite all the shit and the puking of guts.  It was all worth it.  I told Jason and Jenny I’d be back next year at least once…if not twice (they say the Ohio State vs. Michigan game is ten times more fun, even…so I wanna try for that one next year since it’s in Columbus).  The main thing for me is that I can now quote Homer Simpson’s college entrance essay, and mean it.  That quote?

"…it was the most I ever threw up in my life."

Sayonara.