THE WEEKEND OF FAT - Part 2
This portion is going to have to be told from two different points of view for a while, so we'll have EG segments and Ox segments.
Yams and I go to try to wrestle the chicks off of the dance floor and take them somewhere else, but they're not having it. They're in the club and they want to stay. We realize that Yams has a key to the hotel room and even though it's their room, we can get in it. So after failing to extricate them, we finally realize we can just kick up dust, so we beat a retreat from the dance floor and go to retrieve the Ox so we can abscond. Oddly, he's nowhere to be found, he never came back from the bathroom. We go look for him in the bathroom, go back to the dance floor, to the bar to see if he's getting a roadie, nothing. No sign of him anywhere. After about 15 minutes, we come to the realization that he's definitely not in the club and rather than staying put and hoping he'll return, we take off and figure he'll catch up to us later.
The Ox was waiting on line for the bathroom with some musclehead ########, probably in an Affliction shirt if they existed back then, was running his mouth in front of him, talking about how he can beat anyone in the world at arm wrestling. Now, the Ox is a freakishly good arm wrestler. He's a big dude, but not absurdly large and doesn't have the type of musculature you would associate with a champion arm wrestler. In other words, he doesn't look like much to this guy. However, he has insanely long arms and huge hands which give him a tremendous amount of leverage. I've seen him crush guys with arms like tree trunks without breaking a sweat. So naturally, he sees a money making opportunity here and as loaded as he is, he challenges the guy to an arm wrestling match for $100. They find a flat surface and begin and the Ox wins rather quickly, but the guy is keeping his fist pointed toward the ceiling and claiming he hasn't been beaten even as his entire arm is on the table. Now, I don't know the vagaries of arm wrestling so I have no idea if this guy is legitimately keeping the match alive or not, but in any event, after 30 seconds of this, the Ox declares the match over and demands his $100. Predictably, the guy claims he hadn't lost (although even his buddies say that he did) and refuses to cough up the cash. Ox says something to the effect of : "Yeah, that's what I figured" topped off with an emasculating epithet and of course the meathead makes the mistake Homer never would and pushes him in the back. The Ox turns and throws a bomb and nails Musclehead right in the chin, knocking him back into the cigarette machine, touching off a huge brawl that Yams and I never knew had occurred. For his troubles, the Ox is escorted off MGM property and tossed onto the Strip. At this point, he just starts walking and ultimately ends up at a liquor store, where he purchases a pint of Wild Turkey in a brown bag and begins swigging at it as he goes north on Las Vegas Blvd.
Yams and I bail and decide to try to find the Ox. We grab a cab from in front of the MGM and the driver asks where we're going. We struggle to think of where he might be when it occurs to me : "O'Shea's !" I call out. The cab driver looks at me with puzzled disgust and I ask him why.
"Usually....people take the BUS to O'Shea's" he says, voice dripping with contempt.
We had a good laugh at that, arrived at O' Shea's and began a fruitless search for the Ox. He's not here. At this point, we realize he could literally be anywhere so instead of searching the strip clubs one by one, we pull up seats at a $1 roulette table and get a couple of complimentary cans of Busch. We play roulette for a while and then decide to move further up the Strip. So, where's the next place we might find a cash-strapped Ox? Why, Slots-A-Fun, of course ! We get a taxi up there and... nope, no Ox. So, we sit down at a $3 blackjack table and start getting as many comp drinks as we can get our hands on. Shortly thereafter, we decide our best bet is to go back to Palace Station and gamble there, so we stop by the bar on the way out of Slots-A-Fun and order up two yard-glass cocktails. Usually, what they serve in those 3' monstrosities are the frozen frou-frou drinks like pina coladas or frozen margaritas, but we asked the guy to make us yard-long gin & tonics. I was expecting him to tell us to go F ourselves, but instead he gets right to it. He's got a gun dispensing gin in one hand and tonic in the other and is leaning on both... when the tonic fizzes up, he beats back the foam with the gin gun. The gin never stopped flowing the entire time the drink was being made. Have you ever looked at a shot and said to yourself : "If I drink this, I'm going to throw up?" It was like that, only replace "throw up" with "get arrested."
So, we take these beasts out onto the north end of the Strip and start walking around aimlessly in the general direction of Palace Station. Now, I'm not sure how familiar you are with the environs up on the northern end and off the beaten path, but let's just say, it's not a neighborhood I'd recommend meandering through drunk. At one point, Yams challenged me to a chug off of the remainder of our 3 foot G&Ts and naturally, being a born idiot, I accept. I honestly can't remember who won, I just remember thinking... well, now we have no drinks, that was stupid. Naturally, to rectify the problem, we stop at a liquor store and buy a plastic 750ml of Old Crow, a 2 liter Coke, and a bag of crushed ice and proceed to go outside and mix Crow & Cokes with ~12 oz of whiskey in each drink. People actually stopped to watch us make these. So, we start wandering around with these things; at one point, a crackhead stopped us and asked what was in the cups - Yams replied in a thick-tongued drunken stupor : "Well, it used to be a gin & tonic, but NOW it's an Old Crow and Coke." Even the crackhead looked at us funny.
The Ox wandered up the Strip and crushed his entire pint of Turkey 101 in the process. He had enough presence of mind to grab a cab and ask the driver to take him back to the Palace Station, but passed out cold before the cab was even in motion. The cabbie took him back to the entrance to Palace Station and then saw he was unconscious in the back, so he started poking Ox and yelling : "Hey !" Not even realizing they'd move, Ox woke up and started barking at him unintelligibly:
"ASADTAKMEPALSTACHEGODAMIT !"
"What?"
"I SAID TAKE ME TO PALACE STATION, GD IT !"
"Sir...."
"WHAT ?"
"You're AT Palace Station."
"Oh."
Ox got out of the cab and went up to the room, but realized he had no room key. Knocking prompted no answer. He did remember that our room was on the ground floor and that out the window of the room, you could see an open space, like a courtyard at a motor lodge. He started wandering around the outside of the Palace Station looking for this courtyard so he could see if a window was open that he could climb into.
Not too long after the Ox arrived back at the Palace Station, Yams and I did too. At this point, we were about half way through our yards of Crow & Coke and we sat at a blackjack table, putting the drinks at our feet. The cocktail waitress came by and we ordered beers to go with them for some reason. So, we're two-fisting and we go on the single best blackjack run of my life. We must have won $500 between us in less than an hour playing essentially $5 and $10 hands, so we're talking a major heater. As this is going on, we meet two girls from Canada that were amused with our "dedication to alcoholism" (their words) and blackjack play. We hang out for a while and ultimately take them up to the room, for which we have a key. My brother smoothly throws in-room porn on the TV and before too much longer, we're both making out and it's finally looking like a f--kfest is about to begin. That's when we were reminded that this wasn't our hotel room.
The door swings open and Amy and Monica walk into the room to find Yams and myself on the beds with two girls they had never seen before. Oh boy. This turns into the predictable "Hell no, this is our room, what the f--- do you think you're doing?" yelling. These poor Hosers had no idea that this wasn't our room, they figure this is our wives/girlfriends busting in and they're horrified. They gather themselves up quickly and get the F out of Dodge in a hurry and Amy and Monica are displeased. They're giving us the third degree, but we're WAY too hammered to truly process what they're saying, and further, we don't really give a ####. I'm thinking "OK, so I'm going to have to go downstairs and spend $29 of Palace Station's money on a room to sleep this off and we drive home tomorrow." Amy and Monica walk off to the corner of the room and are speaking under their breaths, presumably deciding whether or not to kick us out and I turn to Yams.
"Damn, those girls were pretty hot. I really wanted to f--- the one I was with, she had nice funbags."
"Dude....it just wasn't meant to be. It's the Weekend of Fat."
I started laughing so damn hard I almost choked, which naturally sparked Amy & Monica's curiosity. They asked what we were laughing at and there was literally no good answer I could give that was going to satisfy them. I just kind of warbled "WOF" which made Yams start laughing harder. I literally got up off the bed at this point and was about to start gathering up my stuff to leave, when I was pushed back on to the bed. Amy towered over me and started unbuckling my pants. I was in such utter shock and disbelief that I didn't even know how to react. I strain to see around her and notice that Monica is doing the same to Yams. Now, even as plastered as I was, I had no real interest in Amy, she was not my type AT ALL, but if I get up, not only is Yams not getting laid, but we're going to have to go downstairs and get a room... the Ox is going to have no idea where we are (this is pre cellphone era,) etc. etc. So, I figure I'll just go with it. Next thing you know, Yams and I are both balls deep and the Weekend of Fat is living up to its name.
Meanwhile, Ox is staggering around outside, drunk off his ###, looking into people's windows trying to find our room. How he didn't get arrested or beaten up, I'll never know. After a while, he looks in a window and sees Yams and me whomping away on Monica and Amy. He starts knocking on the window, but they have some weird trance music on pretty loud, plus there's the sound of our massive schvantzes fracking their shale layers, so we hear nothing. He knocks louder, nothing. Louder still, no response. In his drunken stupor, he figures there's only one avenue of recourse left, so he slowly begins walking backwards, marking the distance. Finally he stops, takes a deep breath, then sprints towards the window, launching at it from a few feet away and curling himself into the Daniel Larusso "crane kick" posture.
I'm mid coitus and trying desperately to get a nut off and make this rare hogging expedition worthwhile when I hear the crash. At first, I was in a blind panic as it seemed the entire wall was caving in. This was quickly replaced with blinding agony as Amy spun and half-leaped away from the window, nearly yanking my johnson out at the root. When I finally realized what was going on, I just started crying laughing. Luckily, the Ox's foot didn't go through the glass, which may have cut his leg to ribbons, but rather hit part of the frame of the window and essentially launched the entire window and frame into the room. Some of the glass shattered when it hit the the floor but no severe cuts, just banged himself up a little when he landed on the sill, half in and half out of the room. He crawls/limps in and just says "Hey guys," grabs a beer and sits in a chair. I was laughing so hard I barely felt the pain from my bent and gnarled penis any more. Soon, Amy started bouncing up and down again and both Yams and I finished our respective jobs while the Ox looked on and cheered.
After about 3-4 hours of sleep, I woke up and surveyed the damage in the room and figured it was time to escape. I woke up my brothers and the three of us snuck out of the room, went downstairs, got in my car and took off for SLC. We bandaged the Ox up and spent the day recovering. That night, as we all laid down to sleep in our respective rooms, I opened up Doctalk Text to Speech and entered on simple phrase in the British accent and played it at top volume through the huge stereo speakers :
"Do you remember the Weekend of Fat?"
We all laughed ourselves to sleep. And now, 15+ years later, once a year or so, I will get a voicemail or leave a voicemail on one of their phones using any text to speech program we have that just says ; "Do you remember the Weekend of Fat?" I suspect it will go on forever.
THE END
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