Man’s Weekend, Part One
By Wyatt Earp | October 25, 2006
Despite what you may read over at The MoxArgon Group, I am not gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But, there seems to be some confusion about Man’s Weekend that does not involve sexual orientation. Not that there’s . . . never mind. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?
Man’s Weekend was created by Deathlok and his brothers thirteen years ago as an escape from the women folk as well as a chance to get together with friends we don’t see as often anymore. Every year it is held in Sea Isle City, New Jersey, where we usually tear up the town. The first MWE was an actual weekend, but since then it has been lengthened – for the less P-whipped of us – from Thursday afternoon through Sunday afternoon. In between bouts of binge drinking, we golf on Friday, play football on Saturday, and recover on Sunday. Sometimes we also hit the casinos in Atlantic City on Thursday nights. Despite what Mox thinks, there are no “I love you, man” moments . . . except when Vincent Antonelli gets really toasted.
Here’s the first in a series of recaps from this year’s festivities. The names have been changed to protect the drunkenly stupid.
Thursday, Day 1: The Jameson Effect.
Vinnie has a saying about Jameson Whiskey: “Everything is better after some Jameson.” that slogan would be put to the test on Day 1. When we arrived in SIC, we jetted out to the worst bar on planet Earth: LaCosta. This is the same white trash bar that made me a clear-colored Alabama Slammer last year! (For those not in the know, Slammers are red . . . and yummy!) Any hoo, we started drinking and playing 3-ball for money. (That’s billiards, not some quasi-sexual game of chance.) It was about this time that Vinnie started ordering the shots. First up: Jameson. He ordered one for The Badger and one for himself. I was the wussy, and deferred.
Fast forward a few hours. Vinnie and Badger haven’t learned their lesson, even after I told them about the time I drank five shots of Jameson one evening – long story short, I parked on my front lawn. Not good. They continued drinking shots of Jameson, while Badger was also drinking vodka tonics. That’s frakkin’ hardcore, man!
Fast forward to just before closing. Vinnie and Badger just downed their seventh shot of Jameson. NEW LEAGUE RECORD! Badger – all 6’2, 140 pounds of him – was picking fights with the local toads, and Vinnie was arguing with Badger’s brother Sean about the “shotgun” seat. We somehow escaped that decrepit Hooverville and arrived at the MWE staple: WaWa. (WaWa is the local food mart. The Philly area’s version of The Circle K, I reckon.) The guys line up to order hoagies and other food-to-stave-off-vomiting when Vinnie declares it a race. Not noticing the disgusted looks on the workers faces – think Clerks – Vinnie anxiously awaits his order. Luckily for him, he gets his food first; the clerks used the If-we-get-this-drunken-idiot-out-of-here-soon-we’ll-be-much-happier theory. Here’s the best part:
Vinnie turns to us, holds up his sandwich in our faces, and yells at the top of his lungs, “LOOK AT IT! LOOK AT IT!! LOOK AT IT!!!” As if there was a prize for getting your food first. Yutz.
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