11.27.07

The Most-Wonderful Time of the Year...

We're merely hours until the first weekend of December, which means that I'm stretching 14 hours a day and have an IV hooked up to prepare my liver for my friend Erik's Christmas Party in San Francisco. I know this week will lead to a plethora of predictions, thoughts and comments about the impending weekend (culminating with my best attempt at a recap blow-by-blow chronicle of the first twenty-four hours of what has an opportunity to be the most ridiculous of this sixth annual event.)

So--to put you guys in the mood, I thought I'd reprint last year's recap...which really wasn't so much a recap of the weekend as much as it was a recap of my friend McCaw's first thirteen hours of the weekend. That's really all the prep you need...enjoy...

(Note--this blog was originally published in December, 2006. I've added a few notes, which are emphasized by italics.)


As usual, I wuss'd out and didn't do what I said I was going to do. I don't have NEARLY the time, nor the remaining brain (and liver) cells to explain our entire weekend in San Francisco…but I can chronicle our friend McCaw's first 13 hours of the trip. I hope you enjoy…



4:12 McCaw calls with his first meaningless grunt of the trip. He makes noises instead of identifying himself or saying words…we know him well enough to understand him most of the time, and seeing as how it is 4 am on a Friday, I know who is calling…apparently there is some confusion as to where I'm picking he/Mo up…he did inform me however that I needed to hurry up because he's "freezing his baguettes off."

4:19 I've successfully picked them up, but have also spilled 1/3 a bottle of Taking Rain all over the front of my car…time will tell whether the sugar content in that stuff is as low as they say…I have odds on my seats being even stickier than normal. McCaw is asking whether the bar at the airport will be open when we get there…this is going to go WELL.

5:09 Time for my first round of Airborne…I'm freakishly hot and sweaty. This is a theme for the weekend…maybe it is the "getting over the cold" and maybe it became the "massive amounts of alcohol", but I kept getting this odd pins/needles feeling where I'm about to break out in a sweat. Not pleasant…in other news, McCaw has successfully put "867-5309" into my head. Great.

6:02 We've boarded the plane and with the Southwest cattle call, take an exit row for the three of us…turns out there are only about 19 people on this flight, and we're the three homos sitting next to each other. And I'm pretty sure McCaw is already asleep.

6:44 Airborne round II…I think my urine could cut through diamond it is so acidic.

8:01: After an uneventful flight, we land in Oakland. This is the sh*tt**st airport on Earth (Sidebar--apparently I used to print swearing in my blog...I've cut it out for my new, tamer audience)…the ceiling is all exposed and has random wires hanging from it…this can't possibly be up to code. Fortunately, we flew Southwest and have baggage pickup in the new portion of the airport…we get there, start waiting for our bags. "Dollar bet on whose bag is out first?" ABSOLUTELY.

8:02: I've won two dollars…this town is expensive, but frivolous bets like this could keep my inevitable $700 bar bill within reason.

8:10 My brother is late…or we are early, so the three of us are sitting on a skycap cart…McCaw is on his third cup of coffee of the morning, farts and tells us about it…as always, we wait to smell it before moving. It's the fartgame son, you'll play it some day!

8:19 McCaw is sitting next to me and says, "Check this out" I look, only to see him exposing the fist-sized hole in the crotch of his jeans. Lovely. Can we start drinking yet?

8:27: (Browsing the Internet) McCaw says from nowhere, "Wow…that snowstorm really came all over Texas' face." (Note to my normal readers…this blog may be exponentially crasser than others…but I promise you that I'm quoting.) (That note was from the original text...I really can't come up with a way to clean it up and keep the hilarity of the comment that I'd subsequently forgotten.)

8:34: My brother picks us up; McCaw calls him a douche bag and then compliments him on his "California shoes". Yeah, I don't understand either.

8:40: In the car now, my brother questions McCaw about his new girlfriend who is coming down for the weekend that evening…McCaw describes her as "good sh*t" and then begins to describe this one time where he was taking a sh*t.

8:42: Continuing to talk about his girlfriend, McCaw says that she's "really one of the guys" but assures us that she, "Doesn't have a d*ck—so it is cool." (If you want to continue reading and understand…just realize that McCaw's sense of humor has two pieces. One is stating the INCREDIBLY obvious, and the other is saying something that has no possible way of being understood logically. But trust me…he's priceless.)

8:58: My brother starts talking about the creativity of Berkeley MBA students when it comes to getting the University to fund their independent projects. He and a couple others, after hearing that the "Women In Leadership Forum" had been granted a couple thousand dollars the previous week, created the "Men In Leadership Forum" that gave them a little bit of gas money for their trip to LA for the USC/Cal game. (Genius obviously…but even MORE genius when you realize what acronym their new group creates.)

9:10: Arrive at my brother's apartment…McCaw finally cracks the seal, and after four cups of coffee that morning, has the day's first beer. If it lasted 30 seconds, it lasted a month.

9:27: McCaw explains to us, that via about 7 different tactics, all of which are probably enough to have you arrested for stalking in most states, you CAN in fact track who has been looking at your myspace page. I'm frightened. And the worst part is that we're pretty confident that he's done all of these things…and RECENTLY.

9:44: Walking down the stairs to go grab a mid-morning snack, McCaw, completely unprompted, suggests that we should make a movie about the four of us called, "Best Detectives" where we'll "go find stuff and people." He's one beer deep…this is going to be an absolute sh*t-show.

9:58: At an Italian Bakery/Deli, Mo orders a meatball sandwich, we all follow-suit, despite knowing that we'll be having lunch in about two hours. McCaw finds the smelliest piece of cheese that he can in the refrigerated case and starts shoving it in my face (think clowns with a cream pie.) I fight it for a while but realize that he's so bored that he will continue to do this until I smell it. I do. It smells like bad breath…this could ruin the entire weekend.

10:08: Still in the deli, eating our sandwiches, McCaw starts singing The OC "California" song at the top of his lungs, frightening the staff of the deli. He explains to us that the song, "really hits hard in a capella." What does that MEAN? (Sidebar--in hindsight this is my second-favorite quote of the weekend from McCaw. My favorite comment followed immediately after this one...)

10:15: Walking back to Nick's place, McCaw asks the group, "If you could have any superpower, which one would it be?" Mo decides he'd like super strength. Nick decides he wants the ability to become invisible. I want the ability to look at a book and suddenly retain every piece of information in it. McCaw says, "I'd just want gigantic balls." (You seriously can't make this stuff up. It is all true, I PROMISE.)

10:51: Nick is reading the Economist while the other three of us are playing "I spy" in his apartment. He says, "There is an article in here about ram sperm. It's called "Ramalamadingdong." (Oh…Mo has drank his first beer and McCaw has now downed three…we're well on our way to pumping his stomach.)

11:59: After driving to San Francisco, dropping our stuff at Erik's place, then driving back downtown, we show up at a restaurant that could only be described as "Appleby's for Berkeley graduates." The menu is so-so, the beer is expensive and highly encouraged, and there is Cal stuff EVERYWHERE. Add to that the "Big Game" is tomorrow, and all of the obnoxiousness of the alumni of that university is shining through to full-tilt. We order our first round of beers (Erik and Josh are with us now) and I miscount and order seven. Erik says, "Don't worry, whoever finishes their beer first will get the award of having a second." On cue, despite not hearing Erik's comment, McCaw grabs his beer and pounds it, right in front of the server. He's halfway-down beer two before we remind him that his lady friend is coming into town in less than 7 hours. Bets are now being taken on whether he'll be a) awake and b) alive when Jenny shows up.

12:40: Pete has now joined us…we have an extra chair at our table, which he informs us will be filled shortly by "a guy named Bob." Five minutes later, as we're ALL about 3 beers deep, and McCaw is sitting on number 8, Bob shows up. He asks, "Are all of you guys in town for Erik's party?" McCaw responds, "No, I'm just here to anally rape this guy" (points to Erik.) It was at this point that we are informed that Bob is Pete and Erik's boss. God help us.

1:15: There are a group of about five obnoxious Cal alums, all about forty, all drinking heavily on their lunch break. Four guys, one blackish-chick with really short (1/2 inch) bleached blonde hair and a business suit. Somehow one of these DB's makes eye-contact with me and he starts giving me sh*t, saying that I "must be a Stanford fan"…I act confused and wonder why he's even talking to me…so he says, "What are you guys drinking?!?" "Beer" I respond. "Okay funny guy…a round for these guys!" As he says this, he turns back to the bartender he's just ordered from and tries to hide the fact that he's holding up a "1" finger, saying that he's only buying the round for me. VERY faux paus. Regardless…the beer comes, and before I can get to it, McCaw has pounded it. He's going to die of alcohol poisoning…I promise.

1:28: The table has received their meals and is drinking a little more, and conversation has come to a near halt. Out of nowhere, McCaw says, "My boss is an assface." (Sorry...again, some of these I just can't edit.)

2:07: McCaw just pounded another beer, unprompted. Keep in mind…he's about 6'1", 165…not a big guy. He's GOING to puke at the table…it is only a matter of time. Last year on the same trip when he got to this point of drunkenness, we were at a sushi place and after we'd finished eating dinner, he started pounding people's soy/wasabi cups. (The next morning he woke up and his first words were, "Man…I'm thirsty." NO KIDDING????) (We're going back to that sushi place this year. His girlfriend will be with him the ENTIRE weekend, so it could mitigate some ridiculousness...but he'll be an absolute failure if he doesn't repeat the stunt.)

2:08: McCaw explains in detail how excited he is for this beer and food to travel through his body and out his bowels. And no…he's not this strange—we're completely egging-on a guy who has now probably had 13 drinks…we just can't get enough of it.

2:48: We've now changed locations to a bar called, "The Old Ship". In our abundant creativity, we call it, "The Old Sh*t." Laughter ensues…the first game of "Spoof" is called. (Drinking game…all you need to know is that the first person to win picks the type of round (ex: Bud Light, shots of tequila, etc.) and we slowly wind down until two people are left…they square off, and the loser BUYS the round that the other person has ordered. It is fun, strategic, and VERY costly.) I end up in the final two the first game, which frustrates me because I'm not as drunk as some of these people, and I'm much better at this game…fortunately, Josh, a rookie, tips his hand and I capitalize.

3:16: McCaw is singing the "til the night closes in" line from "Endless Love" in soprano at the top of his lungs…we're going to be removed from this bar…likely by force. He goes on to explain to us that he feels, "warm and fuzzy." (He's had about three more beers now…I have him pegged on or around 17 drinks.)

4:06: Some jackass picks tequila when they win at Spoof…to no surprise, when the salt spills, McCaw throws the whole shaker over his shoulder (ala Dumb and Dumber), hitting another table full of people. He's at about 20 drinks now…Jenny will be here in 2.5 hours.

4:51: After hearing that he is, "Cooler than eastcoast McCaw" (another guy we know who looks and acts very similar) he celebrates by pounding two beers. (This doesn't make much sense to outsiders. There was a college friend named Homchick...for two years we'd been calling McCaw "Westcoast Homchick"...six months previous to this, at my brother's bachelor party, when both were there, we decided that Homchick was now "Eastcoast McCaw".) (Wow...you guys must feel at ease after that lengthy explanation.)



At this point, I grabbed a cab and met up with some friends in the Marina. I have him at about 22 drinks…apparently he didn't slow down that night, and I promise you that he didn't the rest of the weekend. I don't think I'd be exaggerating to say that between 9 am Friday and about midnight Sunday morning, when he finally vomited he had somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty drinks. We're now on the plane home…he's somehow still alive and somehow still has a girlfriend. A tour de force performance really.


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