I was on the phone with a friend that I volunteered in Africa with this week. We were reminiscing about the time we went to a rally race in Uganda. Rally races in Africa are similar to rally races elsewhere in the world, except there were no stands or seats - just space on a hillside. There were probably 10-15,000 people in the crowd at the king's palace that day. Only two of them were white. To say we "stuck out" is like saying the Pope is "spiritual." After watching two heats on a track that was shaped, for lack of a better comparison, like a dog bone I had had enough of not being able to see. "Let's go and see if they'll let us into the pit area [where the teams and owners were]," I said to my friend. "We don't have tickets," he replied. Not only didn't we have tickets, but the entrance was guarded by suspiciously un-official looking men with fully automatic weapons. And then I uttered the famous last words of every Canadian who's ever died doing something stupid: "What's the worst that could happen?" It turns out, nothing. No questions were asked as we walked past the guards with the guns. "Lets go on the track!" I suggested. I was full of great ideas that day, it seems. I even have a picture (below). The picture is deceptively non-descript. What you can't tell from it is that the car in the background has just peeled around a corner and by the time it reached where I was standing it was clocked at 80mph. What you also can't tell is that directly behind us, the same distance away, was another car. You see, we weren't on the sides of the race...we were in the middle of the track. I'm sure the Africans in the stand were asking each other in their local languages, "Who the fuck are THOSE GUYS standing there waiting to get killed?" We were literally the stupid people you see on World's Wildest Videos who are standing there when the car flips over and explodes, killing 10 people. Focus: Talk about something you've done where strangers probably asked, "Who the hell is that guy (or, in my case, that girl)?
Whenever my friends and I are in public, I'm the one who makes a scene/embarrasses all of us. For instance, today we took the city bus and it smelt like rancid urine. Everybody's face was in a grotesque grimace on account of this fetid feature. I took it upon myself to apologize for "smelling like that" to every single person standing near us. Some laughed, most of them glared at me and went about their awkward city-bus business. There are many other accounts, but this is the most recent.
Tweak and I from the old board have a few stories, but the one that probably made people wonder "who the fuck ARE they?" was at a party in Santa Clara. We were with several other friends at one party that got broken up by the cops, and we decided more partying was in store for the night. So we decided to use the Booze compass to scout out another party. As we were following the pull of the party, we found a drunk person's dream. An abandoned shopping cart. Tweak got in the cart, and we pushed him along to a party populated by well dressed people. As two of us were wearing ties, and had a shopping cart, the naturally let us in. We pushed the cart in with us, and left it in the living room as people stared at us. Tweak hopped out, started mingling, and I decided to wander around the house to check the structural integrity. No one seemed to want to talk to the strange people with the shopping cart though so we bailed. (I also may have peed in a closet) We left the cart in the living room, so the next morning they would wonder, "Who the fuck were those people?"
I think I posted this on the old board, but I'll tell it again. I got drunk at a local hockey game and took a shortcut through about 50 yards of mud to get to the shuttle bus. My shoes were completely caked in mud and the bus driver almost didn't let me on the bus. Anyway, we get dropped off at our car which was in the parking lot of a mexican restaurant, so we decide to go in for a couple margaritas. I stumble into the building and made a b-line for the bathroom, leaving a trail of mud behind me. I was washing off my shoes in the bathroom sink, but there was so much mud and rock that it started to clog the drain on the sink. Every minute or so I would have to scoop up a handful of mud, walk to the stall and flush the mud down the toilet (In my drunken stupor I couldn't find a garbage can). All this is happening at about 9:00 at night. It's still early enough that families are having dinner in the restaurant. And as I'm cleaning my shoes and flushing mud down the toilet, these 2 guys are having a conversation 3 feet away from me. Neither of them were pissing or washing their hands or anything. Just bullshitting in the bathroom like 2 long lost buddies who run into each other in the grocery store. And they didn't seem too concerned with what I was doing, almost as if it's perfectly normal to fling mud in a restaurant bathroom at 9:00 on a friday night. I was too drunk and too focused on my task at hand to pay any attention to what they were talking about, but I'm sure it would have been a glorious conversation. Anyway, I like to think that a lot of people were wondering who the hell is that guy about me. And those dudes who were bullshitting in the bathroom, who the hell were those guys?
I was driving in the parking lot at a grocery store and came to a complete stop where a bunch of pedestrians were. As soon as I thought I was clear, I hit the gas a little and then, a split-second later, I saw the most gorgeous, smokin' hot "Oh my god I would lob off my left nut to bang her" woman walking right next to my freaking truck! I didn't see her because she came from behind and was walking literally inches away from my truck in the direction I was turning (dumb bitch). Fortunately for me, my reaction wasn't too slow because I slammed the brakes and didn't hit her. However, that didn't stop her from turning around, looking at me and yelling "What the fuck!?!?". As I continued to drive, I noticed several onlookers glaring at me, pointing at me, and no doubt saying "Who the hell is that guy?"
a tad off focus: I've done my share of stupid shit. But once I was waiting on a bus in downtown Seattle when I looked across the street and saw this tall black guy in pajamas saunter into a high end hair salon staffed with young hot dipshits. He started doing this insane dance and waving his arms and when he turned around dancing there was this huge brown shitstain all over his ass and none of these chicks would go near him. Eventually he just danced himself outside. Before the bus came I wondered: "Who was that guy?"
When I was 17 or 18, I went to an A's-Giants game with three of my friends and we tailgated with one of my friend's families who met us there. There was tons of alcohol and food, I got completely hammered before the game. It was in Oakland, and I HATE the Giants so I thought it was going to be a blast. I was obscenely drunk before the first pitch, and wound up sitting next to a hilarious Mexican dude that kept egging me on to be a moron. I started out with yelling about how Barry Bonds sucks more dick than a prostitute on a Saturday night, all while families were sitting around me and giving me glares. This Mexican dude thought I was hilarious and was laughing it up. I asked him if I gave him money if he would buy me a beer. He responded saying, "Bro, I'll fucking buy you a beer dude you are cracking me up!" So I went and got in line with the guy and he got my beer [the largest one, which was like $8] and he handed it to me. Everyone who was within close distance shot both of us a look because on top of being underage, I look younger than I am so it probably looked like this dude was helping a 14 year old kid get more wasted than he already was. The rest of the game I scared away any families that were sitting next to me as I tore into every Giants player that came up to the plate. I will say, though, that I am a responsible drunk when it comes to my friends because on the way home, while we were on a road going 30 mph I had to puke and it was my friend's parents' Lexus so I opened the door and leaned my head out and puked out the door as not to get it on the inside of the car.
If the court will allow it, I'd like to take a moment to merge these tales to tell my own. The section of this story that is relevant to this thread is part of a larger story, so I'll write up the relevant section and put the rest of the story in spoiler tags so anyone who doesn't care can continue to not care. M'kay? M'kay. Spoiler Haloween night was one helluva drunken ordeal. I'd planned it out to consist of two fundamental epochs: the drinking stage, and the partying stage. Let me take a second to clarify the reason why the drinking and partying stages are not one in the same. It's because where I live Halloween is such an orgy of insane outsiders wrecking people's shit and attempting to leech alcohol from the local population that every local becomes exponentially more isolationist in their distribution of party-fueling ethanol. Outsiders feel an expectation of, an entitlement to, coming in, partying their asses off in costume, and having alcohol gush forth into their faces faster than they can drink it. This is one of the main reasons the immigration rate is so high for this single night, but in fact their sheer numbers and abrasive nature causes exactly the opposite to happen. I was well aware of this. I expected no drinking to occur at the parties I attended. I planned to get so hammered before I set out so that it wouldn't matter. The plan was to make a drinking game out of Paranormal Activity as a Halloween-themed method to the madness of alcoholism to pregame for setting out for awesome at about 10 PM. What actually happened was a little different. This happened. Once we were all blasted drunk we set sail for awesome on the streets. We wandered drunk and saw shittons of people in insane costumes. At one point three different people dressed up as greenman met face to face and a ragtag wrestling match broke out between them. It was like watching a bunch of green gimps trying to out-gimp each other as hard as they could. After a while we made port at another friend's house in hopes of refueling our alcohol tanks. Unfortunately, after convincing the hairy 6'8" pink tutu'd fairy with glitter that we actually knew the people inside, we found out it didn't matter since they had no booze. We left as three multicolored guys in black basketball singlets argued with the fairy because he let them in but would not let in the green one. Further troubling us was the fact that not only, as referenced above, was that girl now blacked out in her friend's apartment, but also that all but one of my party of adventurers had disbanded and dispersed. I was left with one colleague of alcoholism, although I believe he should be worth at least two partiers since he was wearing a top hat and top hats are fucking awesome. I made the executive decision at that moment to set sail for my apartment, since I knew I had at least one handle of vodka in the freezer. So my apartment is where we went. Another aside. Two weeks before all this I had gone out partying all night and come back to my apartment for sleep. Un/Fortunately my whole apartment complex was abuzz with partying. In itself this wasn't such a strange occurrence, I mean it was later than most of the partying usually goes to but in itself this wasn't enough to cause a second look. What took me by surprise was that every single partygoer was black, which was unusual considering the underwhelming percentage of black students at this school. My exceedingly inebriated intel gathering discovered that it was in fact a black frat from some other college come down to party at my neighbor's apartment. I was the only non-black person in the entire crowd, even my housemates and other roommates were just staying in their apartments. I couldn't really understand why my roommates were being so prude. The kicker though, and I am not making this up, was the fact that there was a garbage can in front of the apartment in the gated plaza of the apartment complex full to the brim with purple drank, and I know it was purple drank because it tasted like cough syrup. In addition they were barbecuing chicken, cooking chicken on the stove, and had trays loaded with chicken in the oven, I know this because I saw them pull a tray loaded with chicken out and then they yelled at me to get the fuck out of the kitchen. I even had the good spirits to inform a couple of girls I was chatting with how incredibly dangerous it is to mix codeine with excessive alcohol consumption, as it has a bad habit of stopping your heart and/or your breathing after you pass out. As I sipped on my drank, I told them cheerily that I'd probably be dead by morning. They told me I was an idiot and to stop drinking then. I ignored her. Eventually I got kicked out for staining most of the floor in my vain attempts at remaining in a vertical standing position and for pissing off my neighbor by repeatedly mistaking another partygoer for the owner of the apartment despite his misguided attempts to convince me he didn't even live in the same city as me. Also after getting kicked out of the apartment proper I started chatting with a fat guy who claimed to be the fat black Tucker Max. He showed me a bunch of pictures on his phone that he claimed had been sent to him by women he knew, but the production values were far higher than a girl with a phonecam would have, so even two kinds of drunk I doubted him. I also for some reason brought up the fact that I'm from South Africa, and made the argument that I am more African than him. I also somehow wound up talking about the apartheid, which in retrospect seems like a poor choice when standing in the middle of an entirely black party. Spoiler Well, when my fellow Halloween companion and I arrived at my apartment, guess who was having a second round of partying? Except this time there was no chicken. And nothing to drink. And it was a rave with the lights off. On the other hand I did run into and high five the fat guy who claimed unconvincingly to be the fat black Tucker Max at the last round of partying. Deciding the second round of the black frat party was vastly inferior to the first, we went up to my apartment. It turns out that my housemates had cleared out completely and were roaming the streets themselves, but they'd been kind enough to leave us their improvised beerpong table (it's a front door on a couple of stools) loaded with two handles of vodka and most of a case of natty. My classy top hatted friend exclaimed with gentlemanly delight as he took swigs from the handle and chased with shitty beer. We did this for a while, reloading our alcohol reserves with what was available. At one point a buttfuckingly ugly girl appeared in our doorway accompanied by a strikingly gorgeous girl in a bunny suit. "Want some booze?" I asked the bunny holding out the vodka to her. For some reason this prompted the ugly one to outstretch her hand and say hello. I responded by taking the bunny's hand, kissing it, and saying hello. The bunny expressed approval for us and our friendly offer of booze. The ugly one pulled her away and said something about finding their friend. Whatever I was drunk so I was happy. The encounter with the bunny reminded me of the blacked out girl at her friend's house. We decided to make the trek to the friend's house at which she was passed out. On the walk over two exciting things happened: we walked past a flock of girls and one of them grabbed my scantily-clad ass, and we found a shopping cart on its side. I immediately flipped it and started pushing it down the street. I soon expressed to my sophisticated companion how I longed to ride in the shopping cart, to which he replied that if I desired it I should simply do it. I jumped in and he started pushing me down the street. I instantly started shouting genius slogans like "We're shopping for AWESOME" and "Kickass 50% OFF" while high fiving people left and right as we weaved around and along the road. Unfortunately there were police at the end of the road so I had to bail out, but luckily they didn't bother us and I got a pretty long ride. Spoiler After that was when I went to the friend's house with the girl in it. The people were home but nobody answered the door when I knocked. Annoyed I returned to base camp, the other friend's house where we'd all started out by watching Paranormal Activity. It was here that I made the startling discovery that I no longer had my keys on me, I'd left them in my apartment after unlocking the front door. Unfortunately my front door is retarded in that the door handle actually does nothing. If you want to turn the handle the key must be in the lock, so without the key I was fucked. My roommates weren't responding to texts, and I realized I'd be spending the night at my friend's house. This wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have work the next morning. I passed out on the second most comfortable recliner. I woke up when the guy in the most comfortable recliner got up in the morning, went to the bathroom, and walked out the front door. Seeing an opportunity to upgrade, if only for an hour, I jumped into the free more comfortable recliner. I was fairly pleased with my acquisition, but the chair was wet for some reason. As I lay in blissful comfort, slightly damp, I contemplated the moisture with my eyes closed. At first I thought it was drool, the wet side was the side he was hunched over all night. Then I realized there was far too much of it for it to have come from his mouth. Piss? Maybe, but it was up on the back too, he'd have had to have pulled his pants down to hit it so high. Puke? Ahhh, puke. That made sense. I still had my eyes closed as I realized I was lying in a puddle of someone else's puke, but I was so comfortable and hammered that I gave honest contemplation to just sleeping in it anyway. The only reason I eventually decided to get back into my own chair was the thought that "oh shit, I have to go to work and I can't change. I don't want to smell like someone else's puke all day." Eventually I had to get up to go to work. Still no response from the housemates to let me in. Great. I rode my bike over to the parking lot where my boss was loading up the van we were going to take up to the site where we were going to set up our experiments and take down the old ones. He saw me arrive and stopped walking, mouth agape. He stared at me for a while, laughed incredulously, took a photograph, and said "you can't go like that, you'll freeze your ass off. Go home and change." My roommate texted me a few moments after that saying that he was home. I rode home, changed, and rode back to the van. I caught them just as they were about to leave and jumped on. The other people were greatly amused by the picture and slightly annoyed that our boss didn't let me come dressed like that. We were going to the rocky intertidal, and the photo opportunities for a caveman on the rocks would have been fantastic. At one point we took a break from the work by visiting a seal beach. I just kept lamenting the lost photo opportunity of myself in costume running on the beach toward the seals swinging a a giant wooden club over my head. Truly mankind has been deprived. Holy wall of text, Batman!
Along those lines, I have done the same thing with a wheelchair. We were leaving a party and found a relatively nice abandoned wheel chair outside of the building that the party belonged to. So, being drunk, 21, and blantantly retarded, we decide this would be a great prop to use the rest of the night. When the cab we called 25 minutes prior finally gets there, I decide to punish him for his tardiness. I act like a belligerent cripple. I make the cab driver help lift me into the back of the cab, because of course I can't do this on my own. He then stows "my" wheelchair in the trunk. The entire ride to the bar I kept yelling "where's my wheelchair?". My friend was in tears at this point, laughing, trying to calm my hysterical self down. We get to Burrito Loco for some beers and burritos. I complain to the bouncer that the bar is not "wheelchair accessible" enough. After 30 seconds of threats of calling the authorities, I shut up and and go in, demolish a burrito and beer. It does not end here as tonight they have a makeshift dancefloor. I decide it would be a great idea to dance with my wheelchair, doing spins, wheelies, etc... I think I had a good 20 people at one point staring wondering what the fuck was taking place in front of their eyes. Cue the "ride" home, I fall over about three times because I'm drunk and can't wheelie for shit. On the last time falling over, a scale with coke residue falls out from under the cushion in the back of the wheelchair. Turns out the wheelchair wasn't so abondoned after all, it was a drug dealers wheelchair he used as a prop to hide his shit.
I have a habit of being noticed as "that guy" Rocking a mullet, handlebar mustache and duct taped sleeveless Metallica shirt to the local rodeo? Check Being too poor to afford a new hockey jersey, so choosing to convert an old one, using duct tape and black hockey tape into a "new" one? Check Deciding that a regular bike just isn't nearly awesome enough for me, and instead opting for a double-decker bike? Check The one time that comes to mind where a large group of people were wondering "Who's that guy?" due to my actions and not my appearance was probably the time I got a life-time "warning" at a major-junior hockey game. Me and some friends one night decided to head to a playoff game for the local major-junior hockey team (Vancouver Giants) one weekend night. On the bus/skytrain ride down, I'm drinking coke and tequila. Done about a mickey of tequila, along with a few beers before we get in, and I'm flippin' pumped. Being the first game of the post-season, I figured that a bucket along with a chunk of hockey stick as a drum would be needed to get everyone riled up. I had this in a backpack, along with some vodka in a water bottle to keep my "buzz" going during the game. To my amazement, they didn't even ask me to open up the backpack as I walk into the rink. I was actually a little pissed off because I had transferred the vodka to my crotch to sneak it in, warming it up. I also at this point realized I could have just brought in a handful of beers in my backpack instead of relying on hards. By the middle of the game, I'm shithoused (suprise, surprise) and the guy beside me is loving it, egging me on. At this point, I notice one of those min-blimps, flying around, dropping tickets (or coupons or whatever the hell they give away) into the crowd. Since I've got an order of fries that have now gone cold, I figure the only logical thing to do would be throw them at the blimp. It didn't occur to me though that, since we were in the upper deck, every fry that I threw would be landing on someone below. Well security sure did notice. After he sees a few people flinching and looking around confused in the lower balcony, the security guard then notices a few more fries sailing down. He stands at the bottom of the stairs, in plain view of me, and watches me throw a few more before shouting at me and telling me to come down. As I'm walking down, everyone's laughing and high-fiving me and cheering as I eat my last chicken strip and head off to face the music. The security guard was pretty cool, said if I ever do something like that again in the establishment again, I will be banned for life (put that theory to the test the next season actually, nothing happened) and then told me to calm down and watch the rest of the game politely. The cheer I got as I emerged from the concourse back into the stands was even bigger than when I was being dragged down. Being "that guy" isn't always a bad thing.
my girlfriend and I were the only white couple at a NAACP ball once... Everything was fine and we had a great time, but you could pick us out of the crowd a mile away.
I used to dumpster dive on a regular basis in and around the Santa Cruz area. In one of the alleys off Pacific Ave, coincidentally behind the Planned Parenthood office, I found 2 large bags (80 count/bag) of individually wrapped disposable vaginal speculums, like these: So what do I do? I stagger around in a drunken drug-fueled haze all over the entire downtown mall handing them out to random strangers. I'm throwing them in the planter boxes, clipping them to my coat, doing Donald Duck-esque puppet shows, sticking them in mailboxes, skipping them down the middle of the street, attaching them to car door handles, and on and on. Ya, I'm that guy.
There used to be a bar here in London called The Ridout that was essentially 6 night clubs in one building the catered to about 10 different crowds. It was a 2000-person circus of cheap beer, car sex and fights every weekend. One night, my friends and I stumbeled into the Goth/Emo bar hammered and went to laugh at them on the dancefloor. Without breaking stride, I marched out onto the dancelfoor, stuck my thumb in my beer, shook it up, and sprayed the entire dancefloor. It was to DIE for. Their make-up was running down their faces, but for some nobody would attack me. I just walked out scot free with one hundred evil pierced eyes being shot at me and my friends.
I was "That Guy" at a birthday party a few years back (I think it was '03). I had an unexpected Saturday night off, and a friend of mine was having her birthday party at someone's house with a pool. So I went by and started drinking and having fun. Well, one of the traditions for people who party at that house is that the birthday boy or girl has to go skinny dipping in the backyard pool. Others are encouraged to join as well. Well the birthday girl was a bit shy, so I took it upon myself to give her some moral support. I disrobed in a dark corner of the yard, then jumped out and did a cannonball right in the deep end. The birthday girl and some others did get in, but no one took their suits off (fucking candy asses)! I swam around for awhile and had some drinks in the pool, but when I decided to get out, I couldn't remember where I put my clothes. Luckily, there were towels available, so I wrapped myself in one and continued partying for the rest of the night wearing only a towel. I was in really great shape then, and got a lot of compliments on my physique, as well as a couple of girls' phone numbers, but they never panned out to anything. It was definitely a fun night to remember, but I have never been invited there again.
A couple summers ago my buddy Kev and I sailed from CT to ME and made a pit stop on Cape Cod, more specifically Provincetown or PTown. Gay and lesbian capital of if not the East Coast than at least New England. We docked the boat in the harbor, proceeded to get very drunk, and then stagger downtown to check things out. We stumbled into a packed bar, fought our way to the bar and started ordering drinks. It was awesome because there were tons of women. Tons. As drunk as I was I finally figured out that we were the only guys in there. Literally the only guys. We were getting some funny looks so I asked the bartender if it was cool that we were in there. It absolutely was but we were the first guys in a long time that had attended their semi-famous ladies night.