Tucker "I gotta agree with her on this. What's the saying: Beer is like anal-you don't know you won't like it unless you do it so much you pass out."
I'm not exactly sure when he did this, and I definitely cannot tell you why he did this, but at some point Hate left the strip club and went next door, bought like five pints of Jack Daniels, came back into the strip club, and passed them out to all of us to drink.
Tucker "Dude, they have alcohol here."
Hate "They aren't bringing it fast enough for me and El Bingeroso."
Pretty quickly after that, shit got out of hand. I was staying pretty sober because I was driving, but Hate and El Bingeroso were not. Hate bought a dance from a girl, and while she was rubbing her ass in his face, he smacked her butt. It was HARD. It was bad. Even I thought it was out of line. You wanna hit a stripper, that's fine, but you have to make sure she's OK with it and work out the price.
And of course, El Bingeroso is hootin' and hollerin' and carryin' on, and before I know it, in a strip club stuffed with illegal Mexican immigrants, union factory workers, and farmers, all the bouncers were watching us. And not even being subtle about it. There were five big dudes, standing within 20 feet of our table, staring at us.
Right around this point was when I think PWJ ended up bailing. He even snuck out quietly, he was that afraid of getting arrested the night before his wedding. Then, one of the bouncers sees something.
Bouncer "Hey, what is this? Is this a Jack Daniels bottle?"
Hate "That's what it looks like."
Bouncer "You can't bring these in here! Whose is this?"
Hate "I have no idea, they were here when we got here."
Hate argued with the guy for at least ten minutes about the bottles being there when we sat down. He had him convinced that we were just victims of circumstance, and the dude was going to buy us a round of shots as a apology, when El Bingeroso decided to get up on a chair, pull a JD bottle from his blazer pocket, and take a swig in front of everyone while screaming at the top of his lungs: El Bingeroso "YYYEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!"
And that was that. SlingBlade left with PWJ, so it was me, El Bingeroso, Hate, and GoldenBoy who would be driving back in my car. I'd stayed pretty sober, so I was fine. Out in the parking lot, El Bingeroso was not. He was having problems walking, ping-ponging off of cars, garbage cans, people, everything. That is, he was having problems until the sight of my rental car clicked in, and a series of bachelor party-related memories triggered an adrenaline rush that propelled him on a straight line sprint in cowboy boots that ended with him kicking one of the door panels on my rental car as hard as he could. Apparently trying to kick a field goal with a Ford Taurus is a lot like playing pool-the drunker you are, the better you are-because he put a huge fucking HOLE in the side of the door panel.
Tucker "Dude ..."
GoldenBoy "Shut up you asshole, you have walk away insurance!!"
Hello karma, and fuck off.
We finally get El Bingeroso to stop kicking the car and get inside of it. He gets in the car, but he doesn't calm down. He's in the back next to GoldenBoy and Hate is up front with me. He rips the headrest off Hate's seat, and starts using it like a hammer to break the rear passenger window. Well, auto glass is difficult to break, and after a couple of minutes of exhausting and unsuccessful work, El Bingeroso gives up. He drops the headrest, then leans his head against Hate's seat.
El Bingeroso "I don't feel good."
GoldenBoy "Tucker, pull over!"
Hate "YOU FUCKING PUSSY! YOU HOLD THAT SHIT IN!"
El Bingeroso "I'm gonna puke!!"
GoldenBoy "Pull over Tucker, pull over! HURRY!"
Tucker "Hold on, hold on!"
Hate "DON'T YOU PUKE YOU PUSSY! DON'T YOU FUCKING DO IT!"
Strangely, he went silent for a second. There was no "puke" scream. Then I clearly heard the distinctive splash of vomit. A LOT of vomit. Like when you pour out a five-gallon bucket from the top of a ladder.
GoldenBoy "Too late."
Hate "YOU FUCKING PUSSY! EAT IT UP YOU PUSSY!!!"
El Bingeroso "I don't feel good."
Because Kristy wasn't coming until the next day, El Bingeroso didn't even get a room for Friday night. I had a double, so he passed out in the other bed in my hotel room. I made sure he lay face down with his head over the edge of the bed, put a trashcan beneath it, and went to sleep.
Since I didn't drink much that night, the next morning I woke up relatively early. I got up, checked El Bingeroso's trashcan-there was pretty much nothing but drool in it-and then went to pee.
As I walked back from the bathroom, I saw something on the floor, right at the edge of the El Bingeroso's bed: A big, round black ball of ... something. I looked at it and looked at it, I even got down on my knees and got up real close to it, because I honestly could not figure out what it was-picture a big meatball sitting there on the floor, but hard and dry. PWJ called me: Tucker "Yeah, El Bingeroso's still asleep ... no vomit in the trash, but there is something on the floor by the end of his bed ... that's got to be vomit I guess ... I mean, it has to be vomit, it can't be poop ... I mean, it's right here on the edge of the bed, and there's no trail of anything to the bathroom or any liquid around it and it's all dry ... has to be vomit, or food I guess."
Hearing my conversation, El Bingeroso starts to wake up, pauses, then shoots up in bed in utter confusion: El Bingeroso "Where am I? Why am I naked!"
Tucker "Uhh ... you're naked?"
This was pretty awkward. Neither of us really knew what to say at that point; I'd had no idea he was naked until he said it, because he was under the covers. He couldn't figure out why his clothes were off.
El Bingeroso "What happened?"
Tucker "You don't remember?"
El Bingeroso "No!"
Tucker "Anything?"
El Bingeroso "I remember throwing a champagne glass at your car."
I recount the whole night to him as I throw a towel at him.
El Bingeroso "Wow. I did all that? I was out of control."
Tucker "And then there's this on the floor over here. I guess you decided to throw up off the edge of bed instead of into the trash can I set out for you."
He took a shower and, after finding his clothes tangled in the covers of his bed, got dressed. Apparently he had taken them off in the middle of the night. Then he started to clean up the puke at the end of the bed.
El Bingeroso "Uhh ... Tucker ... I don't think this is puke."
Let me tell you something: There is nothing more disturbing than a pile of shit where it doesn't belong.
Tucker "Wait a minute. Wait wait wait. That is poop? YOU TOOK A SHIT ON THE FLOOR!"
El Bingeroso "I guess so. This is definitely poop."
Tucker "How ... why ... oh my God ... it all makes sense. That's why you didn't have clothes on this morning-you took them off in the middle of the night to take a shit! But why did you shit on the floor?!?!"
He just gave me a sad, pitiful look. I lost it.
Tucker "The bathroom is FIVE FEET AWAY!! And why is it right off the edge of the bed? Look at the shit-it's like, three inches from the bed! So let me get this straight: you woke out of your drunken stupor, realized you had to take a shit, took your clothes off, but decided that the bathroom was too far, so you copped a squat on the edge of your bed, balancing yourself as you squeezed out a huge turd, then just got back under the covers and went to sleep? And you don't remember any of it???"
El Bingeroso [sheepish shrug] "Sorry?"
These are my friends. As he was cleaning it up, he still had the gall to ask a favor.
El Bingeroso "Hey, can we not tell Kristy about this?"
Forget Kristy, I'm telling the WORLD about that shit.
The wedding was pretty basic. I can't remember anything at all noteworthy or funny happening before or during the ceremony. It was just a very nice, normal wedding. And PWJ's wife either didn't have any hot single friends, or didn't invite them to the wedding, because there was literally not one unattached woman between the ages of 21 and 51 there to hit on at the reception. No big deal, that's why God invented alcohol-AND FULL OPEN BARS. After the wedding I met up with some friends from high school, and then we got REALLY housed.
The next day was far more eventful than the wedding.
I woke up feeling like I needed to apologize to everyone I've ever met. There was a small Hispanic woman shaking me, I had french fries in my mouth, and I was lying in the hallway of my hotel with a room service tray next to me. I never really figured out if it was room service that I ordered, or if it was someone else's. Let's just say it was mine. Either way, I woke up in the hallway outside my room, with food still in my mouth that had come off a room service tray. Classy.
I crawled into my room and plopped down on the bed at like 6:30am. At 10:30, my phone rang, waking me up. I had a 5pm flight, and I was WAY too hung over to board a plane. So I decided on the most obvious solution: at 11:01am, I rolled into the convenient store.
Tucker "We can buy beer at 11am on Sunday, right?"
Clerk "Yeah ... sure."
I grabbed a sixer and a gallon of water and strode over the counter.
Clerk "Uhh ... why do you have a tuxedo on?"
Tucker "Wedding."
Clerk "Starting early?"
Tucker "No, the wedding was yesterday. I'm on my way to return the tux."
I wish I had a picture of his facial expression. You'd have thought I farted on a toddler.
I drove to the mall and sat in the parking lot alternating drinking beer and water, until noon when everything opened. They had barely unlocked the door when I stumbled into the tuxedo store.
Employee "Can I help you?"
Tucker "I need to return my tux."
She looked at me confused for a second, and then it clicked.
Employee "The one you have on?!?"
Tucker "Yeah."
Employee "You're ... you're still wearing the tux."
Tucker "So? Is that like, bad or something? I'm not supposed to wash it, am I?"
Employee "No ... but, well ... what clothes are you going to put on?"
Tucker "You don't have, like, stuff for me to wear out?"
Employee [look of complete shock and disgust] "No."
Tucker "Oh ... well ... I'm in a mall, I'll just go buy something."
I was still really hung over, so it wasn't until I was paying for my new clothes at the sporting goods store that I realized what had transpired. Initially, I was kinda confused by her reaction. It literally didn't even occur to me as I was doing it that wearing the tux when I was going to give it back would be an issue. At the store, I asked her about this.
Tucker "Does this not happen often?"
Employee "In the seven years I've been working here, you're the first person to ever bring the tux back while still wearing it."
Tucker "Really?"
Employee "Oh yeah. That is definitely a first. I've never even heard of this happening."
I then proceeded to eat enough Chick-Fil-A to kill a small child, and drove back to the hotel to pick up Hate and go to the airport. The car STUNK. If you've never smelled day-old vomit that's been cooking in a parked car-don't. We had to put all the windows down just to drive it. At the airport I dropped the car off at the rental place, and Hate was already laughing.
Hate "Max, I don't care what kind of insurance you have, there is no way they're letting you out of this. No chance."
Tucker "I'll be fine."
At the drop off place, I am behind like three other cars getting checked in, so I just leave my keys in it and walk into the airport. I go through check-in and like ten feet from security, over the loud speaker we hear: "Tucker Max, Tucker Max, please report to the Budget counter immediately. Tucker Max, to the Budget counter. Thank you."
Hate "AHAHHAH-Oh boy Max, I knew it! I knew they weren't going to like that. I'm coming back with you, I want to see this showdown."
We get to the counter, and the woman has a look of shock on her face.
Agent "Are you Mr. Max?"
Tucker "Yep. What's the problem?"
Agent "The car is destroyed. There is vomit on the floor, the headrest is missing and there is a hole in the door! How did this happen?"
Tucker "I don't know. I have insurance, right?"
Agent "Well, yes, but if it's intentional, it's not covered."
Tucker "It's not intentional. Can I go now?"
Agent "No, we need a police report or something."
Tucker "I'm confused. I told you I have no idea how any of it happened.
It just appeared. There is nothing to report to the police. And I have walk away insurance, right, so it's covered, right?"
Agent "Well ... yes."
Tucker "It's not walk away insurance, if I can't just walk away, is it?"