Sunday Rivaah (Part 1, 2, 3 & 4)

And so, the adventure began.....

It was just about 2am Friday July 17th when I was able to leave work and hit the road for the Sunday River Golf Trip. It began well, my Jeep started and I was on the road...in fog that allowed for about 20ft of visibility. Barring all the headaches of driving to Boston in the middle of the night, in pea soup fog, with white knuckled terror... I made good time. As per the rules when driving to Z's place in Waltham I stopped at Funkin' Gonuts and ordered some donut holes. This isn't an odd order seeing as how they have trays of the little bastards sitting for the customers to see. Apparently ordering donut holes at Dunkin Donuts is like ordering a large coffee at Starbucks. Apu behind the counter did his best deer in headlights impression. I tried by best using a pidgin form of American Standard Sign Language to let him know what I was ordering, wait for it, wait for it.... nope no dice. Before I decided that 6am after a white knuckle drive was a good time to get heated and bitter I just said "give me 6 donuts and mix'em up". done and done...then on my wauy out I looked at the menu and thought huh... munchkins (effin Wizard of Oz Bullshiite).

I let myself into Z's place and hit the spare room for some snoozers. Around noon I was up and showered and we prepped for the trip, water, keys, smokes: damn it.. outta smokes we'll stop on the way. We hit the road. When we arrived at the smoke shop I pinched my dome in the car door on the way out...how? damned if I know but I pinched my head just the same. This is going to be an awesome trip, smashed melon and no donut holes?!


After getting on the highway, we quickly realized that stop and go traffic is not cool. Willem and Pinto were shooting a practice round and we were still 2 1/2hrs from our rendezvous. The trip did go quickly with the great tunes and catching up with the Big Bro, we even passed the Superstar Billy Grahm on a Harley. (now if you don't know who he is either, A. you're really young and shouldn't be reading this blog due to some questionable content, B. you didn't grow up in the 80's hay day of WWF watching goodness or, C. YOU'RE NOT AMERICAN, turn in your card and get out!). I found on the trip that the iPhone is a really neat piece of technology. I'll never buy one, but that's beside the point... GPS helps. We ran into some major construction listening to Five Finger Death Punch, got off the highway, blew through some reds and made it to Willem's place in one piece.

Once at Willem's we loaded the monster truck and hit it for ME. Great tunes, moose sightings, backwoods drivin, and oh yeah Absinthe wrapped in Bacon. Mmmm Bacon, bacon bacon...BAAaaaaaacon!!!!

After great deliberation and more talk of bacon we all thought hunger needed to be sated so in Conway or N.Conway we tried to narrow down the choices for a place to eat. Mexican?, Pub food?, F-ck Applebees, lets eat at the first place that has a giant Angus bull on the sign, lucky for us it was right there on the way. A family restaurant, bonus. We were immediately shuffled to their upstairs dining area overlooking dead trees, a Cemetery and the main drag. The ambiance was amazing, crooked pictures on the wall, "family" all around us. We ordered drinks from (we'll call her Sara McTellusAgain) and dropped some random F-bombs. Sara informed us that she would be right back to take our order, get our drinks, go downstairs and be right back...and she did, then she told us she'd take our orders, get us more drinks and go down stairs to get the food, bring the food back to us, ask us how our meal was.(we didn't have a meal yet, she was just letting us know the order of her thought process) Repeat an unnecessary number of times while we were dodging flying kids platters, screaming babies and Sara's inability to not think out loud. I'll have another beer thankyou. The food was really good though.

Kick IT! Back on the road, picked up cheap beer for late night after the brew pub... stopped to whiz on Mt. Washington. We were there in no time.

Rally Car racers? we don't need no stinkin Rally Car racers. Nice flame retardant suit ass clown. We checked-in and were off to the Brew Pub.(Stoo the brew master kinda shoot his head when we walked in, we horrified them last year, this year, and will again undoubtedly next year).

On to the horrification....(to be continued)
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PArt 2.

The horrification wasn't immediately apparent when we got to the Sunday River Brew Pub. The place was jam packed with racers and the egos that tagged along for the ride. I would have a big head too if I could drive; my suped upChevy Nova with the duo over cam underhook deer slayer engine sans the two handed reverse threaded flywheel wing-nut: on a logging trail at 70mph. I'm just sayin'. So, Pinto and Willem ordered pints from the get go, Z and I ordered the sampler (it came all prissy like on the end of a ski, with hollowed out grooves for the baby glasses, go figure => ski resort). Any way. There were 6 selections. They seemed for the most part to get darker as they progressed toward the end of the ski and I'm not going to lie... the taste got exponentially better in that direction as well. I don't remember the names so I'll just describe the tastes as they went.
1.) Used Hockey bag smell with jockstrap. I don't lick jockstrap but this would be how I imagine it tasting. [Pinto HAHAHAHAHA Ordered a pint of this swill, more about that later, effin trooper that guy is, effin trooper]
2.) Feet and corn chips with a hint of vomit. Think the soggy rug of a fraternity house and there you have it
3.) Bearable, but hinting at something you can't find in the refrigerator that you know has definitely spoiled. Fungi MIA
4.)..... no reason to go on from here to number 6. They were good, but nothing super memorable. Worth another pint, and another and another.

~Aside~
Apparently in small town USA, when patrons go to a pub, and sit down...some f*cktard named Jesse tries to monopolize tips from the bartender by pretending to be your server. Bad news bruther, no tip for you. It's not that I don't tip (<=insert lines from resevoir dogs here.) It's that you're really obnoxious and terrible beyond belief at your supposed "job". Send over the cute one, and go away. Example: A standard pitcher takes lets say 2min to fill, we were sitting 10ft from the bar, throw in 30sec of order time it shouldn't take 35min for a pitcher to make it round trip back to the table. I'M JUST SAYIN, F*CKTARD.

So after we tasted Stoo's Brews we got a pitcher, Pinto ordered a pint of domestic draft, I think the first beer melted something in his brain, or maybe his pancreas.He choked it down though... air high five for effort Pintos & Cheese. In any event. We had beer, I was wearing the party in a vest, containing a deck of cards, dice, shot glass, quarters, survival tool, duct tape and band-aides. We were good to go. Some number of pitchers later.... um yeah about 7 maybe more ?! the place had cleared out. We closed the place down in similar fashion last year. Owing to the fact that Stoo was gracious enough to do a Carbomb last year with our drunken asses, Passing the bar one of us had the bright idea to order carbombs.

*clink* CarBomb.........(Fade to black)

At this point I guess there was some wrestling, throwing of punches, overall stupidity and consumption of the cheap beer we purchased on the way up. Damned if I know, I basically had a car bomb and then woke up for breakfast thinking Why does my entire body feel like it's been hit by a train??? As Pinto howls like a speeding locomotive down the hall.

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Part 3.

After a thorough ass kicking at the hands of Pinto the Steam Locomotive we were off to sleep. A quick yet lagging wake up in the morning would have us at the Golf Course. We lagged, and lagged and lagged some more before heading to the breakfast thing.[for the second year in a row nobody had to step on my head to get me up and moving... not to shabby for a person that on average wakes up 6hrs after the itme I needed to get going] Last year we had vouchers for a breakfast sammich and morning drinks in a quaint little nook of the hotel complex. This year they changed that to a breakfast bar. Full spread, pancakes, breakfast burritos, eggs, an ommlette station, and (as per our ranting on the night previous....BACON) Bacon, and more bacon, just enough in the tray to hold down two separate sets of tongs and barely enough to fill my plate. I grabbed a burrito, sausage, scrambled eggs and piled the bacon over the lot. One could have said it may be too much bacon.... if anyone had uttered those words: I'd take my friend card back. SO, it was earlier than I wake up on a regular basis, I had 8lbs of bacon, 3cups of coffee and we were late for our tee time (factoring in the drive to the course proper.)

We made good time to the course, another couple of people were early for their tee time and we switched. The weather was a bit muggy, overcast, and damp. Let's Do This!

The first hole was difficult, I sucked, hit the ball a million times and got my first sandal full of festering bog water. Can't really say there was another direction to go at that point... things were looking up.

We all played fairly well throughout the day, some better than others and I think we all had that one shot that makes you want to play more even though the golf gods were kicking you in the testicles all day. At one point on a down hill par three, we noticed a fox running around the fairway. (Nocturnal animal in the day time isn't ever a good thing. But luck would have it that this particular fox was drinking coffee, I saw him carrying the cup around.) He even pooped in it and left it in the middle of the fairway. This particular hole sticks out in my mind not only because there was a coffee cup with fox shit in it, but it was down hill shot from the tee, like 500ft of elevation, steep angular fairway that a boulder could have rolled down. Boulder yes, water not so much. After I shanked my tee shot and bushwacked to find my ball, I had a great lie for my approach, the ball was sitting on a burm of grass surrounded by foul smelling stagnant muddy water. I wasn't hidden by trees, bunkers or any other hazards so I was definitely going to take a whack at this one. Judging by the depth of the mud, the funk that was up to my ankles, and the angle of my Pitching Wedge I decided to strip down. If you've ever tried to hit a ball from a situation like this you know that you're going to need a towel, steam cleaner and and a winch to get yourself out. I'm glad that the cloud cover didn't break because I would have flagged down the nearest plane with the reflection off my body. Half naked no practice swing, I gripped the club and screamed like William Wallace closed my eyes and let it rip... I picked the ball cleanly off the burm and wasn't any worse for the wear. I lucked out, I thought I would be eating some of the mud.

The front nine was a great time, my only complaint would be the encroachment from people playing behind us, I don't golf well.. but I'm relatively efficient and hate to be hurried. We let a 4some play through after they were riding our asses for 3holes and wouldn't you know it, they slowed right the fuck down and played aweful while we were waiting behind them. Such is life I guess.

At the turn we headed to the clubhouse and you other monkeys got something to eat. I dined on liquid bread, and figured it couldn't possibly hurt my game at all. I was right in the long run.

The 10th Tee is monsterous, there's a gully/ravine/gorge that you have to clear to even get to the fairway. I've never been good when there is open air between me and a bit of grass 150yrds away. Mr. Shanky bit down hard on my tee shot and after clearing the "expansive nothing" hooked back to the right on itself and did it's best suicide jumper impression, without hesitation. That was the start to the rest of the round for me. (I could give a play by play per hole, but it would be impossible to keep my facts straight, like that one time Pinto went off into the woods to take a leak and a sasquatch bounded out of the woods carrying a shaved woodchuck).

The sun had been out earlier in the day and in the afternoon it was hot, we finished up the day tired, thirsty, sunburned, thirsty, and ready to hit the pool/hottub and or shower, maybe all three. We discussed bacon on the way back to the hotel.

Hot tub....Pool.... Showered, and hungry.(To be continued.....)
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Part 4.

After much debating and an overall lack of options we decided to head to the brew pub; once again, to snag a bite to eat. The place had a decidedly different crowd from the gearheads that were there the previous night. In fact, the majority of the patrons were a good 10yrs from a learners permit. The bar was relatively empty and they had a special running...20oz beers with dinner. It may not have been written on the menu or special board, but that was the special we were interested in and god damn it, it was what we were going to have. We mugged up some more of Stoo's Brews with Megan behind the bar and looked at the menus. Mind you I hadn't eaten since the plate of bacon at breakfast so I wanted it all. (I have a difficult time when not famished ordering from a menu with more than 1 page). A platter of pulled pork nachos was definitely ordered with a few burgers and stuff. I finished my 3rd pint and decided on the fish & chips. Why the hell not. Willem Pinto and Z had all but finished their meals when the fish & chips were cool enough to actually eat. There should have been a radiation warning with my plastic basket of breaded whitefish a la the sun. After the 5th pint and a blistered mouth we were ready to plan out the next bit of the evening.

Stay or not stay at the pub? They had a little game room area and Willem decided a roll of quarters and a few more beers were what the doctor ordered. While He and Pinto were getting ready to hit the machines, Megan's friend cozied up to the bar a few stools down and Z and I mopped up drool off the bar for a couple of minutes. Cute, tats, smoker, drinking an ice cold beer..... (fades out for a sec...ok I'm back) Willem and Pinto had returned in a less than pleasent mood. Apparently some of the younger Pub goers and their parents had parted ways and pool cues were buzzing the towers. "Here's some quarters Mommy and Daddy need some alone time in public, go horrify those people over there and throw fits" <=Done. Before anyone got more bitter we decided that maybe a night of poker or some other card game would be fitting for a early night. We had to leave in the AM and it only made sense.....so (I ordered Jager Shots) When the shots hit the bar, some asshat asked if we should do Jagerbombs ..out came the larger glasses and red-bull. Bombs away. I never was really in tune with the Jagerbomb, JaggyB and I really had never crossed paths too often. That shit tastes like Pez Candy. I dig Pez Candy. Willem on the other hand was driving and was being responsible, no bomb.

Jagerbombs down we left, found a gas station, replenished the cheap shitty beer and headed back toward the Hotel. (1 minute away from the Brew Pub, uh, those jagerbombs were pretty good) (30sec out... yeah they were) (10seconds out...??JagerBomb??) "JAGERBOMB", the truck steams back into the Pub parking lot we exit the vehicle unceremoniously, help a biker chick pick up her helmet that she had just dropped, bound up the steps blast through the frontdoor and Scream "JAAaaaaaaaGER BOOOOoooMB" Megan behind the bar [I shit you not... deer in headlights, until shaking her head she turned to the Jager Machine]. There were a few more people in the place, and we were a bit louder than when we had left the first time. It's Amazing what 10minutes can do for the liver. People were staring wondering who brought the drunk kid. We did, but it's OK Timmy We can forgive you. (no really, hahhahahah) "JAGERBOMB!!!!!!!" KaBLAaaam, we bound back out the door and unceremoniously get back into the truck, steam out of the parking lot toward the hotel, gut laughing the whole time.

The rest of the night was an exercise in sleep depervation and alcohol consumption. A wedding party had descended on the hotel and people were being rowdy. We passed Poker did not collect $200 and went straight to Asshole. Get 4 ridiculous Fraternity brothers on vacation, pump them full of a few Jagerbombs, give them a coolerful cheap beer, and just imagine how; dirty, underhanded, and downright evil this game of asshole was, multiply by 2 and add 10 for good measure. It was a fun game! after a good many hours of asshole nonsense the other three mutts hit the rack. I was up, wandering the hotel, hanging out with the wedding folks still up that late in the morning, throwing beers at people on the floors above and below us, and generally just doing what I do at 3am....I was awake. Just about the time I went to sleep it was breakfast time, and also time to get moving. K&J had to be in Boston, Timmy had to get home, I had to work in 8hrs - 8hrs away, and Willem had to take Pinto to the airport.

We packed, hit the road, and were off. I slept on the ride back, woke to transfer bags and clubs to Z's ride, K&J piled in, W&P shot off for the airport, and we were off again toward Boston. I slept a bit more.... I'm definitely no fun before noon or even 2pm. After a brief layover at Z's Place and a much needed shower I was on the road toward Albany. I was late for work, and I dozed most of my shift.

I don't know about the other guys, but I'll tell you what...."I'm not as young as I used to be, it takes a good 48hrs to fully recover from that.