The Philly Trip

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You would think with my outlook on strippers the last place you would find me is in a strip club. Although I do not agree with the lifestyle of a stripper, those nights at the club are some of the best nights of my life. When ever we hit up a strip club in Pittsburgh its always after being out downtown. As a result I am probably walking like a marionette puppet and talking like a deaf person on an unnecessary amount of muscle relaxers. Hell, we took Domenico Nesci from the original “A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila” to a strip club when he was in town and I had no idea that happened until a week later. It’s no wonder that strip clubs account for some of the craziest nights of my life. In September of 2008 someone we have previously worked with invited us to a Strip Club in Philadelphia; there was no need to ponder consequences or alternative options, we were taking that trip!

The story begins months before with a beautiful girl named Brianna Frost. Frank, Isaac, and I talked many times of bringing her in for one of our nightclub events but it never seemed like the right opportunity. It then was as if the stars aligned, in July she was booked at a Strip Club downtown in Pittsburgh and it was the same weekend as the kick off of our X-Rated Nights at a nightclub in the Strip District. The night was a huge success and we were very excited to finally meet her. A few months later, Dan her manager, invited us out to Philly to Club Risqué for her 21^st Birthday.

Chapter I

Manifest Destiny

Our journey begins in the early morning at my house; everyone meets up and is surprisingly on time. Great tits can unite a nation and apparently make some of our pothead friends punctual. There were eight of us, a limo, and a destination on the eastern side of the state. It seemed as if the PA Turnpike was a yellow brick road to naked girls. Chrizzo was our driver, I was sitting shotgun, and Suspek, Andres, Frank, Rege, Nikki Lu, and Barbaro all piled into the back.

Sheetz was our first stop, we needed to fill up on gas and grab some food for the trip. Typically a stop at a gas station should not take an hour but why would we not be blessed with problems right from the start?

Our limo was purchased off of a fifty-year-old stripper from Cleveland, it’s a 10 passenger, 94 Lincoln Towncar and we just fix the problems as they happen. The battery in the car was probably about as old as its previous owner, that being said it was no surprise that the battery died while we were filling up the gas tank. Someone (Chrizzo) left a door open while we were filling it up and the time spent open was enough for the interior lights to kill the battery.  We asked everyone at the different gas pumps for jumper cables but they were all dicks. Finally a Sheetz employee comes out with a pair to assess the problem, thank you noble servant. Rege, the only guy out of 6 who knows about cars, decided to check the oil just to make sure we were safe. Initiative like that is what saved the trip; the oil was bone dry. I ran inside and got some oil, hit the engines G-Spot and now we needed the jump. An older gentleman was waved down and he generously helped us out. Sweet, we are ready to get on the road and venture East. I call it the Curious Case of Manifest Destiny. Two bad omens are not going to stop us from awesome tits.

Video: Jumping the Car

To my surprise, nothing really went wrong on the trip out. I thought for sure we would have some type of vehicle problems but I guess luckily we snagged those problems in the beginning. Andres was already wasted, he started off his morning with Red Bull and Patron. A few others were relaxed due to the inhalation of an herbal supplement and the rest of us chilled for the trip out.

Video:Taken the Drive
Video:Patrick the Starfish
Video:Yea, John is fine

About half way out we stop at a Rest Stop and park our limo over by the Semi-Trucks. We rolled into this place with quite the motley crew. I am rocking a pair of gym shorts with some dress shoes on, Franks hair is like the top of King Leonidas’s helmet, Andres and Suspek look like those little Homies figurines, Nikki Lu’s tits are falling out of her shirt like the Hoover Dam broke open, the back of Barbaro’s neck is like a little furry animal, Rege’s shirt could buy the place, and Chrizzo looks like a registered sex offender. Needless to say, the middle of the state is very uneventful so we stuck out like a hamster and a ferret getting it on in a Wendy’s drive thru.

Back on the road Andres passes out. We decide this is a good time to mess with him. Chrizzo rolls down the window Andres is leaning against and the entire car screams real loud as if we are about to crash.

Video:Waking Andres

Getting close to Philly we almost run out of gas. We stop at a Wawa and fill up, for those of you from Pittsburgh reading this, a Wawa is like a Sheetz, for those of you from Philly reading this, a Sheetz is like a Wawa. Anyone who does not know what a Sheetz or Wawa is that is reading this – use the Internet. For anyone reading this who thinks this paragraph is pointless – you are correct. All we did was fill up, leave, and drive to our motel.

Chapter II
Discombobulated Series of Events

There are a couple Club Risque franchises in the Philly area. The one where the event was being held was in Bristol that is a little north of Philly. Before the trip I went online to look for a cheap motel we could all stay at, the only one I found was called the Keystone State Motel and it was right next to Club Risque. Great, now we can pre-game in our room and crawl over to the club without the hassle of a DUI. Chrizzo pulls the limo into the motel and right away I say to myself, “The bed I am going to sleep on has probably been home to multiple rapes.” The Keystone was the only place within 10 miles of the club; we were pressed for time so we had no other option. As we pull into the parking lot a strange fella approaches the limo.  This sparkling gentleman looked like the resurrected corpse of Rodney Dangerfield. He approaches driver side window, his one eye is fixed on Chrizzo and I, the other eye is looking at the group in the back of the limo. Rege pulls out his video camera and documents what happened.

Video:Meeting Rodney Dangerfield

There was no other option at this point, we had to check into the motel.  I walk around the front of the building looking for an entrance to check in, I can’t find anything. Around the back I notice a door is open, I use caution when approaching. I look through the screen door and I see kids sitting on the floor in a kitchen putting little round green things into a bowl and then the smell hits me. It was not a pleasant smell; it was Indian food. Have you ever smelled Indian food? It smells like a goat is cooking bacon. The smell makes you say, “It seems like I can eat this but will it hurt me?” Are you picking up what I’m laying down? I do what ever I can to escape but I fear the smell has already locked into my clothing like the HIV virus attacking white blood cells. Rounding the corner I find the check-in desk.

The group was a little timid about staying at this place. Time was still dwindling away and I wanted to start drinking so I walked into the door. Inside I found myself standing in about a 4×4 room, there is a little window with no one behind it. All I can see is a lamp, a calculator, a blue pen, and a clock on the wall from the movie Cape Fear. In hindsight I should have noticed the clock as a “Get the fuck away” sign. When you see memorabilia on the wall from a movie in which Robert DeNiro plays a rapist stalker who is after a young Juliette Lewis, it is probably not the right motel to check into. I on the other hand I just thought to myself, hey, they must have a good taste in movies. I rang the bell and waited for a few minutes until the man appears who will be responsible for checking us into this death trap. He was from India, he wore a dark cardigan with a terrible design on it, stood about 4 feet tall and weighed around 79 to 80 pounds. If I had to guess his age I would say he was easily around the age of 35 when the Titanic set sail. The lamp did not help my first impression of him, the room was dark, I was looking through a plastic window at a little Indian gentleman and he appears to be made out of clay. His every movement reminded me of the old California Raisins animations. The claymation guy does not understand English very well but after many hand gestures and pointing I finally get it through to him that we want to see the rooms.

Video:Check In
Video:Check In 2
* Rege tries to be sneaky with the camera, the claymation guy is sneakier and catches on.

Only three rooms are available and the first one we look at is closest to where their family was cooking the semi-edible food. I walk into the room and all the sudden the smell of Indian food is like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. This place was horrifying, it looks like where prisoners got their Conjugal visits. There was a stain on the floor that I am sure was cleaned up blood from a gunshot wound. I said to myself, “Yea, Ill just sleep in the limo.” The little claymation guy then has the audacity to look at me and say, “Do you like?”

Video:Checking out the 1st room

Quickly exiting in fear of being the next stain on the ground we check out some rooms down towards the end of the building. These ones were not as creepy but still they were not a place a normal human should feel safe staying. Making a quick decision we take the two rooms. Unfortunately they were not next to each other but separated by one person’s room, Rodney Dangerfield. I go back into the check-in room and the little old man tells me we have to pay in cash. I figured that was because using a credit card would link the police to our whereabouts days after our murders, the claymation man was sneaky. I collect $15 from everyone for our transaction, I hand him money and he hands me keys. Claymation guy then hands me a card to fill out with all my information so we can finish our check-in and I can start drinking. I try to make up a fake name and address but he then asks for my ID in which I then ask for a new card. Again, he was sneaky.

Rodney Dangerfeild intercepts us on our trip to the rooms to sing more songs about Bush and Cheney.

Video:Rodney Dangerfield Singing

The group of us gets settled up in our rooms and we start to drink. Number two was calling like an obsessed ex-girlfriend so my next step was the bathroom. While pondering on the porcelain throne I noticed that there is a window by the shower and the only thing locking that window was a piece of wood. The window slid open like a sliding glass door in the back of someone’s house. To this day I still never understood how the universal trick to locking a sliding glass door was to place a piece of wood in door track. Does the wood come with the door? How do people always find a solid piece of wood that is the exact measurements required for locking the door? At what point did the glass door companies decide to put real locks on the doors? [Sorry for the unnecessary ramble] Sitting there in fear of a spider attack I try to make my stay in the bathroom quick like a bunny. I left the bathroom but then needed to check on that window, it was the only flaw in the design of our impenetrable room. When I grabbed the wood that was locking the window it was cracked in half in my hand. It did not crack due to my awesomeness and strength, it cracked due to the fact that the shit was about as strong as a cell phone signal in Wyoming. Sweet, we have iPods, laptops, cameras, cell phones, and many more expensive items and our motel room doesn’t even properly lock up! To be safe, we put all of our valuables into the limo that also doesn’t properly lock up. This motel was a terrible idea.

I was drunk by this point and it was around 7pm, we had to get over to the club soon. I was sitting outside talking to Rodney Dangerfield trying to make friends; our return to the motel would not be pleasant. Eight drunks stumbling back in the middle of the night has the ability to wake a few people up. I let him know that we would be loud and we would be partying possibly with some strippers. He did not care, his only concern was if we were going to take the limo or keep it at the motel.

Rodney Dangerfield: Its a short drive ya know but you guys are drunk and I would hate to see something horrible happen to you.”

Me: Yea, we are going to leave it here, would suck to get a DUI and only be on the road for 30 seconds.

What a considerate insane person I thought to myself.  Even though his eye was melting off his head, his heart was made of gold and beating strong.

The sun was making its decent and soon night would be upon us, we start our walk to Club Risque. It only took us about a minute and a half to get to the club.

Video:Walking to the club

As we walk up to the door the bouncer tells us, “Absolutely NO cell phones.” This was a huge inconvenience, now we have to walk back to the motel and put our cell phones in our rooms that we were certain was going to get robbed. This is the point where everyone realized what was going on, as we turn we noticed that Rodney Dangerfield was standing on the sidewalk peering around a bush looking to see if we entered the club or not. He quickly disappears as if he never followed us over. On the walk back to the motel we discuss what is going on and realize that our limo was about to get robbed by an insane dead actor. Approaching our motel rooms Rodney Dangerfield walks towards us and asks why we are back. No one really gives him a direct answer; everyone just grabs their belongings out of the motel rooms and puts it into the limo. Chrizzo gets into the driver seat and starts the car. Rodney Dangerfield pleads with us not to take the limo, reiterating all the dangers he discussed with me. The Fuck You expressions of our faces were all we had to say to him. 

Peace was upon us knowing that our valuables were safe. No longer was there worry of

crazy people breaking into our rooms or limo to steal our valuables. We drove over to the club. The parking lot of the club was small and we are directed by a bouncer to the back of the club, he finds us a spot and helps us parallel park Moby Dick. I get out and thank the bouncer for his help. He is a large black gentleman who reminded me of the UFC referee, Herb Dean. Herb Dean, which we will now call him, asks me why we drove a limo, I explain our magical tale.

Me: We drove out from Pittsburgh.

Herb Dean: Where yall stayin?

Me: The Keystone State Motel, right next door.

Herb Dean: Whoa, really, thats a crack motel.

Me: Really? (Knowing damn well that it is not on any 5-star list)

Herb Dean: Hell yea, bunch of the girls from here go over there after their

shift, that’s where they get their drugs & make a little bit of extra money.

Me: Sweet, anyone get killed there recently?

Herb Dean: Na, but that place aint safe, you should find somewhere else to

stay.

Me: How bout you just come over when you are off your shift and work

security for us, we are gonna be party’n all night…..invite some of the girls.

Herb Dean: Hell na, you ain’t finding me over there.

Herb Dean and I chatted it up for a few and then Brianna and her people pulled up. Dan called us over and we walk in with all of them. She was filming a segment that night for a MTV reality show she is on called The Girls of Hedsor Hall. One of the guys from the show From G’s to Gent’s was also there for the filming with her. Although we arrived at the club early, the place was already insanely packed with drunk horny old guys. It was literally hard just to get into the door.

This was a tiny strip club, we walk into a sea of people all lined up around the main bar. The stages where the girls danced were behind the bar, I did not like this. So the idiots who actually give the strippers money would line up at the bar, the girl would do a dance 10 feet away from them, it wasn’t full nudity, and then they would get down off the stage and walk around the bar asking everyone for $1. What kind of ridiculous bullshit was this, in Pittsburgh, the girls are only wearing Stilettos and a headband around their thigh for a makeshift money clip, and they rub their muff on your face. I can see how someone could value treatment like that at $1.

I sat at the bar for the better half of the night drinking. Every so often a stripper would walk up and ask me for a dollar.

Me: For what, are you getting me a drink?

Stripper: No, I’m not allowed

Me: Well you have provided me with no service worth a $1 of my own money.

Get me the bartender.

This went on for the entire night, I am pretty sure I pissed every girl off in that club, and it would not be the last time it would happen that night. We stayed posted up in our corner drinking and having fun, by this point in the night I figure it is my time to venture out and meet some people. Any opportunity you have weather you are local or out of town it is always a good idea to mingle and meet people. You never know who you are going to run into. I went down towards the middle of the bar, very drunk I start talking to the people around me. I have no clue what was talked about or even who I met, but I know we were having fun.

The club did a contest where a group of guys all got on stage and were only wearing white boxers. They sat in a chair and some of the strippers had to give them a lap dance. The process of elimination went like this, first guy to pitch a tent, loses. Last guy standing, not erect, won cash or something like that. My new friends and I laughed and drank. Thinking back on it now I really hope I was talking to people and not just sitting at the bar talking to people who didn’t even exist, that would be embarrassing.

Brianna Frost now took the stage; it was everything we have been waiting for. From my previous stories you know how I feel about strippers, but Brianna is different. She is one of those types of girls that is so hot you say to yourself, “Whoa, she needs to always be naked.” I want to take this opportunity and give a shout out to Jesus for making her possible. She got on stage and did her birthday dance and the club erupted with cheers.

Risqué got way too packed and everyone saw what they came to see, it was time to leave. I don’t remember leaving the club, it was like BAM, now we are outside. Our group was just a bunch of crazed drunks walking around in tiny circles in the front parking lot. We didn’t have our cell phones so no one realized exactly what time it was but it seemed late. We piled back into the limo and left the parking lot.

Chapter III

The Oscars & the Moon Man

On the way back to the motel Nikki Lu realized that she lost her key to the motel room. That is now a huge problem for us. This place of course did not have the credit card style keys for your room, we had an actual key attached to a piece of plastic that was cut into a diamond shape with rounded edges and with a sharpie was written our room number. You know, the kind of motel key you only see in the 80’s horror movies. I was not about to have little old Indian man tell me that we had to pay for a new key. We of course had a much more complicated and unnecessary plan.

Before I start into this part of the story it should be very known that what the three of us did was completely off the cuff. We all just fed off of each other’s bullshit stories and to tell you the truth, we deserved an Oscar for our performance. Maybe even a MTV Movie Awards Moon Man.

I walk into the check-in room frantically ringing the bell like a diabetic in desperate need of insulin. The little old Indian man appears and asks what is wrong. I begin to explain to him that the girl who was in our group was just attacked and her key to her room was stolen. How could anyone not believe that? The argument continues outside and luckily for them, the little Indian man had two sons around our age who I found out were in med school. Sneaky again Claymation guy. They defiantly sensed our bullshit. We were not going to back down or accept defeat; we were getting our fucking money back!

Video: Me and Frank Arguing with the Motel
*This is all Rege got of the argument

Frank and I argue with the sons while the rest of the group is huddled in the limo just waiting for all of us to get taken to jail. Nikki Lu dips her fingers into a vodka and diet Coke mixed drink and starts splashing it in her eyes to make herself cry. That is how she won the award for Best Supporting Actress. A frantic Nikki Lu comes barreling out of the limo in a dramatic womanly rage screaming and crying about getting us to leave the motel because the place is fucked up! The sons are concerned and ask her what happened. She explains that she walked over to her room, was putting the key in the door and a crackhead ran up, fondled her gigantic boobs, stole her key and ran off into the darkness. It was hilarious seeing her reenact her own lie.

Indian Son #1: Im calling the cops

Me: Great, get them here so they can see how fucked up this place is!

Nikki Lu: I was violated and they stole my key! I do not feel safe here! He’s going come back and attack me in my sleep!

Frank: Rabble Rabble Rabble!

The police arrive and now it was serious, we could not back down from our bullshit story. Nikki Lu puts it into overdrive and turns up the tears, she demonstrates on herself what the imaginary crackhead did to her chesticles again to show the cops. I try my best to hold back the laughter.

A black cop pulls me aside, he was younger and reminded me of Xzibit. He had to be in his late 20’s and he even had cornrows. I could tell that he was going to level with me on the situation.

Xzibit: What the hell are ya’ll doin stayin here?

Me: We drove in from Pittsburgh to check out Club Risque.

Xzibit: Man, this aint the type of place for you, I made sure I came with backup just to check on this situation, you guys need to get out of here.

Me: Really? This place is that bad?

Xzibit: We here about three times a week all for some different shit.

The cops assessed the situation and told us to get our things and leave; any financial discussion was between the motel owners and us. The argument continues and is now just going around in circles. I demanded our money back but they will not give, finally, the Claymation guy gives me $15 and I ask for my info card back. I tell them that they have to sign the information card to verify my refund. Indian Son #1 does not understand why I am making them sign the card. I wrote on the card, “They refunded $15 and we are checked out.” I forced him to sign next to that statement and then I turn to Indian Son #2 and tell him to do the same.

Indian Son #2: Why am I signing this?

Me: Cuz you’re the fucking witness, sign this shit or I’m calling the cops again!

There was absolutely no reason for them to sign the card, I was just fucking with them because everything was hilarious. Frank, Nikki Lu, and I get back in the limo, and bust out in laughter. We tell the story to everyone who was watching as we depart the crack motel.

Chapter IV

Quantum Leap

It was now time to find a new hotel by the interstate and post up for the night. I know that The Drunk is in full effect when I have to use only one eye to text. I was trying to text my cousin Kyle about what just happened and I didn’t even realize I was texting my sister Kayla complete nonsense. Then a bomb is dropped, I looked at the clock and realized that it was only 10:30. No one had their cell phones in the club and no one was wearing a watch hence not realizing the actual time. Club Risque was some crazy drunken time vortex where 5 hours was only 5 minutes. A quick recap of the night, we pre-gamed at the hotel, met the resurrected corpse of Rodney Dangerfield, went to the strip club, drank our faces off in the club, called the cops on ourselves about imaginary crackheads, got a refund from the motel of $15 and all of that happened before 10:30pm. I thought the night was nearing completion and I come to find out that it hasn’t even started yet.

As we left Bristol it started to rain pretty hard. This makes driving around in a limo extra hard. Drinks continue to flow and we decided to check out the Club Risque that is in downtown Philly. After a long blurry drive we arrive at our destination.

Chrizzo parked the limo in an alley a few hundred yards away from the club, it was raining so we ran to the entrance. Of course the inevitable happens, we come up to the door and find ourselves in a drunken argument about the cover. “We just drove all the way from Bristol because that club sucks, we want to see new boobs!” I still do not know why they let us in. We were what the state refers to as V.I.P’s. (Visually Intoxicated Persons.) It is against the law to serve a person at this level of The Drunk. They still granted access and I was happy about that.

The group spread throughout the club. I sat at the bar waiting for drinks. I love it when I am at a strip club and I find myself sitting next to the biggest loser in the club. That one guy who is sitting at the stage by himself, eyes fixated on the closest naked girl holding a one-dollar bill extended out towards her like a petafile luring a child with a lollypop. The type of guy that thinks every stripper likes him and is known on a first name basis by the staff.  This one in particular was young, foreign, and unable to handle my conversation. I talk his ear off out of shear boredom and after he slips his dollar bill in the stripper’s tits, I proceed to verbally harass him.

Me: If you are going to spend all of your time and money in a strip club why not open one? You can profit and still see naked girls, I’m sure your boss would be very disappointed to know that the paycheck you receive from him gets spent on naked girls. Watch this, I think this one is Russian…

When the stripper makes their rounds for their one-dollar bills they worked counter clockwise. Seeing how I was sitting to his right, I was always next in line to him.

Me: (Now talking to the stripper who is shaking her tits for his dollar) You are cute, are you from Russia? Only the cute ones are from Russia.

Stripper: Yes, I am

Me: Popochka! (That means nice little round bottom or something along the lines of a nice butt)

Stripper: (Her mouth drops open and she smiles) Thank you

Me: No, you say, Spicebo (Which means Thank You in Russian)

She leaves him and comes and talks to me. We chat it up for a little bit and I tell her that she needs to quit striping and become a model.  The loser next to me is upset because he feels that I have cock-blocked him, ease up there buddy, I just saved you a dollar. The stripper spends about 5 minutes talking to me and I give her my business card and tell her to hit me up. She then leans in towards me pushing her tits together and asks for her tip.

Me: I just told you that you are better off as a model, you receive no money from me until that happens.

She moves on to the next client and never calls.

Me: (Talking to loser again) So what country you from? Are you on vacation or are you just visiting our strip clubs?

He is still very unresponsive but I keep talking. I wonder if he could even understand me. Did he even speak English? This series of events goes on for a while. Every time the bartender comes over to me I yell “Thank God! Someone who can serve me a drink!” I make sure the strippers that are around see me tipping the bartender. Suspek just sat there cracking up next to me.

After a few hours of drinking we decided it was time to leave the pit of sin and find shelter for the night. The group stumbles back to the limo now at about level 5 of the Drunk. Andres grabs a Corona box and puts it over his head to shelter himself from the rain as he pisses on a pile of garbage. Back on the road we go!

The simplest of tasks are insanely difficult when (A. You are submerged fully into The Drunk)(B. In a city you have never been in) and (C. Its 3am and you need to find a cheap hotel.) I came in and out of consciousness during the ride. Chrizzo kept saying, “Dude, where are we? Wow this place looks dangerous! Holy fuck, we gotta get out of here!” I just figured the little bitch was PMS’n because we went to two different strip clubs and not one of them had a section that guys were dancing in. Apparently though, we actually were driving through a part of Philly that a group of eight white kids in an old stretched limo shouldn’t be caught at 3am. If you have ever seen the movie Judgment Night then you know what I am talking about.

Eventually Chrizzo finds us a hotel to stay at. This was not as scary as the motel but it still had the makings of a hooker’s apartment. Chrizzo, Frank, and Rege go to check into the hotel, we parked the limo along the side of the building so once we got the key to the room we could sneak the rest of the group in.

I guess the hotel had cameras so the front desk clerk saw all of us sneak in the side door. I get into the room and immediately pass out on the floor next to the dresser. Frank, Chrizzo and Nikki Lu leave to get food at the Wawa. Upon their return they entered through the main lobby. The clerk stops them and tries to sell everyone condoms. Apparently the clerk who was watching the cameras thought that we were sneaking Nikki Lu into the hotel for something more than a good night sleep.

Chapter V

We took the Lincoln to the Lincoln

Everything about the check in to this hotel was very unclear to me. I was woke up the next morning by Chrizzo’s iPhone alarm. The ringer was “Sci-Fi” (If you have an iPhone or know someone with an iPhone, listen to this sound to get the full effect of the story) and it was very loud. I jump up and the room is pitch black. The sky was overcast that morning so minimal sunlight shined through the crack in the blinds. I had no idea where I was or how I got to this hotel room and to me, the sound I was hearing only meant that something really bad was happening. Everyone was just sleeping through it and my brain cannot even work fast enough to process what is going on, “What the FUCK!” I scream. The sound was like a crazy alarm for a nuclear fallout, I thought we were in trouble and going to die.

Chrizzo wakes up and turns his alarms off and by that point everyone else in the room woke up. We all start to recap the night and all the craziness that took place. I walk into the bathroom to take a piss and there is a picture of Abe Lincoln on the shower curtain, this freaked me out at first but when we left I realized that the hotel we checked into was called the Lincoln.

I do a head count and realize that we are missing Andres. Of course all I can think of is the story “One Night in Vegas” and immediately freak out. Rege tells me that he is passed out in the limo and he runs outside n grabs him.

*Rege waking Andres in the Limo the next morning.

It was time to pack up and get back on the road we had a long drive ahead of us and everyone was hung over. Rege shows back up at the room with Andres, this only meant that the trip was a success. We made it on time to Brianna’s birthday party and everyone was accounted for with no arrests, fights, deaths, or STD’s.

As we are leaving the hotel room Nikki Lu reaches in her purse and grabs something, it was our room key to the Keystone State Motel. “Oh, I found the key!” she says. Now rewind the tape, imagine how different our night would have been if she never lost the key. A lot would have been avoided if that key was never lost. I find it kind of weird how the key became the key to unlocking this magical drunken tale. We get on the road and head back to Pittsburgh, good-bye Philly. 

One Night in Vegas

 

Las Vegas, the motto behind the city is “What happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas.” The underlying message of that statement is tell your wife you are in Boston for work, go to Vegas gamble away the mortgage and sex it up with an underage cocktail waitress. The city is an adult playground. Look at the differences for a young aspiring woman entrepreneur in Pittsburgh compared to Vegas.  A hooker in Pittsburgh gets arrested for hand-jobs on Liberty Ave; a hooker in Vegas gets a marketing team of Mexicans standing on a corner handing out their business cards. Flick-Flick-Flick! Welcome to the Party. Welcome to Vegas!

*Side Note

Jaywalking is very frowned upon in Vegas. You can walk around the streets hammered out of your cranium but if you step outside of set designated walking lane you will get a fine. Be careful.

Back on Track

Our day starts out atop the Venetian, Frank, Andres, and I were hanging out at Tao Beach. Tao Beach sits on top of the nightclub Tao; during the day the pool is set up with cabanas, VIP bottle service, a DJ, and European style tanning. First things first, European style tanning equals awesome. Have you ever been at a pool or beach and thought, whoa that girl is very hot and I want to see her naked? I guess Tao Beach is like a genie that automatically answers your wishes before they are even wished, like a psychic genie. I rounded the corner as we walked in and without even wishing or asking, titties were staring right at me. What is even more amazing to me is the concept of a day style club party at a pool. I loved every minute of it. The music was bump’n, people were party’n naked, and 105 degrees and sunny does not make for a bad day at the pool. At that point, life couldn’t get any better.

The host at the entrance of Tao Beach sets us up with a couch back near the bar. Ironic that we were by the bar because Vegas drink prices can suck my furry beanbag, I will not pay $20 for a mid-shelf Vodka Sprite at 2pm in the afternoon, I was rocking a flask. Its Vegas, I got to save my loot for the roulette tables.

Tao Beach itself is surprisingly not that big of a place. Cabanas and couches line the outer wall on all sides of and chairs for tanning fill the middle section. There is only two things to do at Tao Beach, get drunk and lay out or get drunk, hop in the pool, and throw beach balls back and forth while hitting on girls. Here I am, in a day about to turn 24 and I’m playing with beach balls in a pool having the time of my life. Thank you alcohol.

After a day of poolside drunken erotic fun it was time to get ready for the night. We stayed at the Hard Rock hotel that was about a mile off the Vegas strip. Our reason for the stay, the pool is amazing and I also wanted to put $5 down on the same exact Roulette table that Vince does on the episode of Entourage when they got to Vegas. I did not hit which in turn only meant that I was not going to win at all during my stay in Vegas.

Pre-gaming is vital in Vegas, drink prices suck, like mentioned before, and it will take you about $70 just to catch a buzz in a Vegas nightclub.  The plan for the night was to link up with Tony and C-Walk and hit up Tao Nightclub. The two of them arrived in Vegas while we spent our afternoon with boobies in a pool; they were staying at the Tropicana.  

*Side Note

If you have a big group going to Vegas it’s always smart to split everyone up in different hotels or stay at 2 or more different spots while out there. That way you can use the pools at the nicer hotels. On the other hand, you can be like my friend Bud, drive up from LA over night, sit by the elevators and wait for an Asian family who is checking out at the MGM Grand and grab a room key off of them for the pool access.

Back on Track

Of course Tony and C Walk were running late, so the three of us decided to go wait in line for Tao. You would have thought that Justin Timberlake was blowing the Perez Hilton in the club. The line was like Times Square during an episode of TRL. While contemplating our decisions, a friendly gentleman hands us passes for Jet Nightclub which is right across the street, fuck it why not. A quick text to Tony & CWalk, “Meet us at the Mirage.”

Black ropes separate the crowd from the bouncers in front of Jet Nightclub.  The ropes make a 40 ft. square in front of the doors to so the Secret Service wannabe bouncers can choose the crowd at their discretion.  Andres leaves for a piss break and upon his return some how now processes a bottle of Captain. The crowd around the ropes seems to grow as our night progresses deeper into “The Drunk.”  We make friends with the people around us by shoving straight Captain down their throat. Strangers will really warm up to you when given free liquor. Tip for the kids reading this story who are forced to move to a new school, show up with a bottle the first day of class and hand out free shots in the cafeteria.

Finally after finishing off the Captain the bouncer comes over to us, he asks if we have any girls with us and a before we even said anything I knew he sensed the problem. The bouncers at the clubs are supposed to let in a 2 to 1 girl to guy ratio and we were three guys who just made friends with a bunch of other guys in line. It was early in the night and at that point there was only guys in line. The bouncer avoided the inevitable drunken argument and let us in anyways.  

C Walk and Tony met us inside the club, Operation: Do the Drunk was about to commence. I was not impressed with Jet Nightclub personally, I sat at the bar ordering drinks and just about every VIP host in the club came up, handed me a business cards, and gave me the same scripted sales pitch about getting a bottle. VIP at the other clubs for the most part are sold out but here at Jet there is an entire team of dedicated bottle slanging employees offering deals for me to get VIP. The rest of our short stay at Jet I talked to a club promoter out of Orlando we happened to meet. The two of us shared tips and ideas about each other’s businesses but the fellow was a little hard to understand, the music was loud, I was drunk, and this kid was possibly speaking straight Spanish. All I really know is el biblioteca.

Tony decides to leave without us, I think he was sick or something but he probably used that as an excuse so he could go spend some quality time with a hooker.  So it is now down to C Walk, Frank, Andres, and I. Leaving the Mirage we aimlessly set out for the Vegas Strip letting the Drunk take us to where we needed to be. That is exactly what happened, standing next to a limo was and interesting French gentleman. He spoke like Jean Reno as Leon in the Professional and gave us a deal we could not refuse.

Leon: “You guys want free ride in the limo?”

Me: “Whats the catch?”

Leon: “No catch, No catch, free ride in limo to the Strip Club”

Enough was said, all of us with out saying a word agreed and advanced towards the limo door. Andres decided to throw a curve ball at us; we only met him in the Spring and did not know too much about him.  

To describe Andres in a nutshell he is a hyper Guatemalan, who drinks dark liquor like a fraternity house drinks beer, and is a marine. The kid is pretty intense. Watch Scarface in Fast Forward and that is Andres. I was amazed the first time he spoke Spanish, I’m American, I know one language so when I find out a friend of mine is bi-lingual, I am amazed. While walking around the hotel I would ask him what all of the maids were talking about, one conversation actually went like this.

Me: Andres, what are those maids talking about?

Andres: (Listens) Well you see the lady maid needs some towels and the guy said he would go get them.

Back on Track

Why we got so thrown off was Andres busts out French and starts talking to the limo driver. All I am thinking is Holy F, our new found friend is a secret agent. They blabber words back and forth, the three of us in the limo sit silent not knowing how to react. Andres leans in the car and reiterates what the driver had already told us, to him, hearing it in French really legitimized this venture.  So we set off for the strip club.

Any time you are in a limo and drunk, it is fun.  The trip takes about 15 minutes from the Mirage to the Strip Club. We pull up and Leon walks us inside, we pay a cover but also get two free drinks so it equaled out.  The four of us grab our drinks, sit down, and let the rest of our night happen.

*Side Note

I later found out that the limo driver gets paid for each one of us he brings to the strip club. The cover we pay goes right into his pocket so if you ever take a free limo ride in Vegas, do not tip the driver.

Back on Track

The room was pretty large and open, a bar sat on the back wall and a stage shaped like a + sign sat in the middle. There was another room blocked off by a large red curtain that we noticed when walking into the club. Comfortable little couch chairs surrounded the stage so we found a spot and set up camp. I may have forgot to mention that Andres loves the female, if you get him drunk enough and tell him that the microwave said he was cute, he would figure out a way to get on it. It was no wonder that within minutes of being in the club, Andres went hunting.

Within minutes of us sitting down we had girls on our laps. Strippers are financial vampires, although seductive, they will suck the life out of your wallet and leave you with nothing. Frank, C Walk, and I ignore them and just blabber on about drunken nonsense. C Walk drifts away from the conversation and finds himself lost in a deep conversation with the stripper on his lap. The two gaze deep into each others eyes and look like a nervous couple at a 7^th grade dance. Frank and I bullshit while strippers try to dry hump our awesome man spots. I make it very well known that I do not tip strippers or pay strippers for anything, I just do not do it. That theory does not change, even for Vegas.

After a few songs of this SlamPig rubbing against my crotch, she turns to me.

SlamPig “Twenty Dollars”

Pat “That’s nice”

SlamPig “No, you owe me $20”

Pat “Fuck off stripper, u sat on my lap, I did not ask you to do that, if I was going to pay for a stripper to sit on my lap I would have picked that hot Asian one, not you”

SlamPig “Fuck you, I am getting a bouncer”

Pat “Yes get him, because you owe ME twenty dollars”

The conversation was like in Deuce Bigalow when he demands the hooker for $5. She of course did not get a bouncer because she was full of shit and it seemed that Frank had a similar conversation with the girl that was on his lap. C Walk was still lost in puppy dog stripper love and Andres was still aimlessly exploring the club, his whereabouts were unknown. The Drunk pee was coming upon me so I found the energy to pull myself together and saunter my way towards the gentleman’s room, I then hear Andres.

Andres “Mr. Hanavan! Mr. Hanavan! Tell this bitch I am not paying her!

Stripper “Your friend owes me $100!”

Andres “Fuck you bitch, I don’t owe you shit! Mr. Hanavan get this bitch away from me”

Stripper “Your friend is gone, I’m getting a bouncer”

She stands up to grab a bouncer and I take Andres by the arm and lead him into the bathroom. The kid can drink but there is a breaking point for any human and Andres has met and exceeded his point. Due to my previous encounter with SlamPig I now knew this SlamPig was also full of shit and trying to scam him. I put him into a bathroom stall, sat him on a toilet and tell him to hide there until things settle down outside. The entire way to the bathroom he explains to me how the stripper was a bitch and he isn’t giving her shit. I leave him there and return to my chair. Upon my return I tell Frank and C Walk what happened with Andres not even noticing that C Walks love was still perched on his lap. This is when I noticed, she wasn’t even dancing on his pee pee, this stripper genuinely was into C Walk.

C Walk actually met a stripper who liked him, I even called her out on it and she did not disagree.  She was a sweet girl, told us the whole “Why I became a Stripper” story and about her other jobs she works to support her kids. Usually I would tell a stripper to fuck off with a story like that but she was not a vulcher out for the money in our pockets, she was just telling us what was up because I was interrogating.  C Walk’s stripper gets called on stage and we are excited to see her get naked, she was cute and we got to know her over the past hour of talking; HOLY SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT ANDRES!

I stood up and ran into the bathroom to check and see if he was still there. The night was getting late and we would have to leave soon. I go back to the stall and peek through the crack to see if he is still there, he is. Andres was sitting on the toilet passed out using the toilet paper dispenser as armrest and his arm as a pillow. I figured after an hour or so of him being there fifteen more minutes wont hurt. With a sigh of relief I walk back out to where we are sitting and tell Frank and C Walk we probably have to leave soon. C Walks stripper is not done being naked on stage yet so we wait. Fifteen to twenty minutes later we compose ourselves and get ready to leave. I walk back into the bathroom to grab Andres. (Insert thoughts on what you think I come to find.)

Frantically running out of the bathroom I run up to C Walk and Frank.

Me “Where the fuck is Andres!?”

Frank “You said you threw him into the bathroom stall!”

C Walk “I haven’t seen him all night”

The search for Andres starts. I run into the bathroom and ask the attendant if he saw a little drunk Guatemalan stumble out of a stall, he looks at me as if I am crazy. We ask the bartenders, bouncers, the girls at the front door, we check the empty room to see if he is passed out there, nothing. You got to be weary in Vegas, u never know who feels like being Old School and proving a point. Fear sets in and we are now under the impression that the bouncers took him out and beat the shit out of him. As much as we searched the club for him we could still not find Andres. The kid somehow like a ninja disappeared being seen by no one.

We searched as long as we could but he never turned up and we had to leave. Obviously our calls were going unanswered so god only knows where his phone is. We get in a taxi and head home just hoping that somehow he will be there when we get back. Of course upon our return, Andres was still M.I.A.

The next morning when I wake up I look at the other bed and see Andres, at this point he is dead to the world and I wait for him to wake up so I can hear what happened.

Lets put on the Andres goggles.

Apparently after I checked on Andres he woke up. His concept of time was out the window and he thought that the heat was coming down on him because of SlamPig #2’s antics. Without even trying to contact the three of us he runs outside and hails a cab. To this day he has no idea where the cab dropped him off at or where he told the driver to go. He apparently hit the roulette tables at some casino and was up a couple hundred.

Two girls must have smelled his inebriation also noticing the amount of chips he was carrying because they started hitting on him. Andres, like mentioned before, is a lover of females so he fed into their lies. They all gambled together, one girl would keep his attention while the other robbed him of his winnings. The girls leave and Andres now realizes that he has been robbed so the pursuit starts.  He chases them down the street, a guy tackles him thinking that he is going to attack the girls. The martyr becomes the douche. After the short wrestle on the sidewalk the girls are gone and Andres now has no money, phone, or credit card. The walk to the Hard Rock begins.

He stumbles through the streets of Vegas asking random strangers where the Hard Rock hotel is. Aimlessly he walks not even sure how far from the hotel he is when two girls in a cab pull up. From what he described these two girls looked like Compton. They were from the south, their mouths were accented with gold grills and he was afraid that they were dirty hookers. Apparently the term southern hospitality is true, apparent non-hookers saved Andres. He explained his story to them and they paid his cab fare back to the Hard Rock. 8am, Andres shows up at our room wearing less then half of a white wife-beater, falls on the bed, and is out quicker then an AIDS patient in a triathlon.

That morning was my birthday and our trip to Vegas was only beginning.

Latvia Part 1

A few years ago my friends and I started an entertainment company which is called Faded Industry Entertainment. Faded Industry Entertainment (fadedindustry.com) started out booking live acts/shows in the Pittsburgh area and quickly took over the nightlife scene as well. A little over a year into our business we were approached by a gentleman who goes by the name of Noah. His goal was to import various spirits from all over the world and sell them in the US. That company is Premier Innovations Group. (premierinnovationsgroup.com)

These are the chronicles of our adventures starting up an International Imports company. The tale starts with our main focus, our VODKA.

 

 

This story, like so many others, is one that I tell a lot. In June of 2007 I traveled to Latvia with my partners, Frank and Noah. At the time, we had no knowledge about the country and I am going to guess that you don’t even know where it is. Latvia is a Northern European country which borders Russia and the Baltic Sea. Our reason for going was to negotiate the deal and purchase of our Vodka from the distillery.

FastForward >>

Me Frank & Noah Depart NYC-Over Atlantic Ocean-Land in Sweden-Puddle Jumper to Latvia-Grab Bags-Check into Hotel-Eat food-Back at hotel-Time to drink

9pm Latvian time: We drink because we do not know what the streets of Latvia have in store for us and we want to experience the nightlife. Time goes by, shots go down, we want to wait until the sun goes down before we go out.

1130pm: I open the curtains in our hotel room and it is still light outside. Am I really this drunk? Where normal people live, it is dark out at 11:30pm. Completely dumbfounded we decide to walk out to the streets. The elevator is small and narrow in our hotel, it stinks of B.O. Around midnight the sun finally decides to check out what the other side of the planet looks like. The streets are desolate, the moon is happy to see us and we are hammered. We come upon someone who speaks English standing in the cobble stone town square, they explain to us that it is the first day of the Summer Solstice which, in Latvia, is a giant party. Excited to hear of this we ask about where the party is going on at. He tells us that the party happens out in the countryside so everyone leaves the city. I am not sure how they celebrate but I hope they were in the same state of mind that I was. We spend about 10-15 minutes talking to English speaking person and I look up in the sky and notice something- the moon is gone! When we first started talking I could clearly see the moon above the buildings. Remember this, I am wasted as well as jetlagged, Midnight looks like noon, and now the moon is gone. I take a few steps back while looking up in the sky and I find the moon only it was hidden behind a building we were in front of. Within the 10-15 minutes we sat there talking English speaking guy the moon moved a distance which from where we see it would take 2 ½ hours. I literally lined up the edge of the moon to the corner of the building with my eye and could see the moon slowly move behind the building. A few hours later the sun would be back up and it will be about 2:30 or 3am. The Sun is a greedy dick in that country.

ADVICE FROM PAT

When taking a trip to Europe, do not watch the movie Hostel before going. This was not only my first time ever traveling to Europe but also Latvia is not for tourists. How many of your friends that backpacked through Europe stopped in Latvia? Or for that matter came back and even knew that Latvia existed. For those of you who have seen Hostel, the way the town looked in that movie is the way the town looked where we were.

We walk through the honeycomb streets looking for a club to go to. The town looks fake, I feel as if I am on a movie set for a film that dates back to the 1800’s. Our search comes to an end when we come up a massage parlor, an intimidating gentleman is standing at the door and he tells us “20 Lat’s and Free Drinks and naked girls.” (20 Lat’s is equivalent to $40) He had a certain twinkle in his eye when he saw us, it was the type of twinkle that suggested, “Americans, very good, they will be easy to fuck over big time.” I did not give a shit, or even a hoot, when I hear free drinks you best believe that I am there. Also, certain members of the group were on a quest for “Hand Relief” and would stop at nothing until they got it. So we accepted and walked in.

I am not one who would ever pay for sexual favors. I don’t even like tipping strippers and unless they do something fantastic with a Racquetball and a wastebasket, they will receive nothing from me. For real though, if that happened and another girl got involved with a fly swatter, I guess I would tip them a dollar. Of course I would rip that dollar in half so they each get .50 cents. There have been many arguments about my not paying for SF statement. “If you take a girl on a date or you buy her drinks at the bar and you go home with her it is the same as prostitution.” All I say is get Elliot Spitzer on the phone and ask him about the subject.

Back to the Story

Intimidating Gentleman, which we will now call him, takes us inside and handles our financial transaction. We are standing in an actual massage parlor. I’m thinking to myself, where the fuck is the club? I can hear the faint sound of the bass hitting on the floor below me and I think to myself, shit, this place is in the basement. Intimidating Gentleman leads us down the steps to the club. All I can think about at this point is Hostel, we are going to walk into the basement be seduced by hot women, knocked out, and wake up while some rich guy is cutting off my tongue and burning my nipples with a blow torch. It made even more sense to me when I realized that this club would not pass any Fire Codes in the US. I did not clearly see my choice of possible exits, where we came in is where we go out, but my mind cleared free of worry as we turned the corner and walked into the club.

First off just to explain what we walked into, this place was about the size of a five car garage. Dead center of the room was one stripper pole with a beautiful girl swinging around on it. When I say beautiful I am saying take the best features of Cameron Diaz, Jessica Alba, and Emmanuelle Chriqui, rip off their clothes and swing them around a stripper pole six feet away from you. This girl could turn a flaming homosexual straight. At the door a waitress introduced us to the club and led us to our seats. We sat down and she asked us what we wanted to drink. I asked for the usual, Vodka & Sprite. We never saw a bar, when the waitress would take our drink orders she would disappear behind the same curtain that the strippers came out of. The room was dark but had a good lighting system set up, nothing but velvet looking couches hugged the walls making the single stripper pole the center of focus. We were also not alone, across on the other side of the room behind the beautiful sex pistol swinging around the pole were two local kids who could have not been a day over 14. Other then that, we were alone cuz those lil bastards left 10 minutes after we arrived.

The waitress, who we will call Waitress, hands me my drink. I found it odd, my drink had no ice in it. At this point I did not know that they don’t put ice in any drinks over there so I just said fuck it and began to drink anyways. Holy F, this bartender was good, I would say the ratio of Vodka to Sprite was about a 90/10 split. When you have a drink that strong and that warm you only have one option, drink large quantities fast and eventually you will not taste it anymore. So that is what I did. The three of us are happy, we are in another country getting ready to negotiate a deal to purchase our own Vodka from the Russian Mob, we have free drinks, and there are hot naked chicks. At this point what could possibly go wrong?

Approaching our third round of drinks it feels like an episode of Entourage. The three of us at this point are the only people in there and Waitress is waiting on us as if we are international celebrities. Round four comes and I am drunk. I remember sitting there and thinking to myself, “You have to stay a little bit sober because when Intimidating Gentleman comes down to knock you out and sell you to the death factory you are going to chop him in the throat, drop that mother fucker, and gouge out his eyeballs.” All of that is not something you can do when you are not even able to stand up on your own two legs.

The next thing that happened is kind of blurry. I don’t remember a formal introduction or greeting, it was like I blinked my eyes and then there she was sitting on my lap, the Sex Pistol swinging Stripper Goddess. It took me a minute to realize it was her, maybe because she was half dressed this time, but I couldn’t have been happier. I take a look over at Frank and Noah, they too have hot girls sitting with them. Whoa, did this night just do a complete 180? Are we cruise’n to AwesomeTown?

Sex Pistol attempts English with me asking where I am from and what brought me to Latvia. Her trying to speak English was even hotter than her naked on the pole. I introduce myself and she introduces herself in a hot Russian accent, “I am Oksana.” (FLASHBACK: A few people that have traveled to Myrtle Beach with me know that I have always dreamed of being with a girl named Oksana. In Myrtle Beach the one year, I had my chance at an iHop and I blew it, I thought my days of finding an Oksana came to an end.) I think to myself, “Holy Fuck!” Not only is this girl amazingly beautiful with a hot Russian accent, her name is also Oksana. My journey is complete!

I was still on guard though, I know what strippers are after, they come and sit on your lap and then they ask you to come in a private room and get a dance. They take you in the back, dry-hump the shit out of your private region, take your money and leave you with nothing but an empty wallet and soul. Oksana, you may be a bonerific babe but you are not stealing my money you Russian Hooker Monster!

With this beautiful girl still on my lap Waitress comes over and offers me another drink. I order and Oksana says to me, “Can you get drink for me?” In disbelief I ask Waitress if that is ok, she smiles and nods her head in approval. Oksana takes the menu, points to a drink, and in my head I quote the great Glen Q, “Dear Diary, JACKPOT!” I am so on edge thinking she’s trying to scam a dance out of me and now all I’m thinking is I am going to get her drunk and do the Happy No-No Dance. The only catch was her drinks were not free but I did not mind. It now seems that our little pay for Sexual Favors talk before is a lot more relevant.

Frank and Noah also have girls with them who they have bought drinks for; this is going to be a good night. Waitress brings Oksana’s drink over, it was in a large glass and very decorative. I do not know what was in it but it was neat and fun to look at. She thanks me for the drink and explains to me that it is her favorite drink and she usually gets drunk pretty quickly off of them. We sat there and talked for a long time, at certain parts in the night she would have to get up and do a dance. I will tell u what, after sitting there as long as I did bull shitting with her, seeing her get up and dance again was a true treat. This girl was a Pro and she knew how to dance, she wasn’t up there just doing a couple tricks for a $1 tip like all the soul-less strippers here “working their way through college.”

She was on her 4^th or 5^th drink and I can not tell you how many I have had. I am drunk and I know she is defiantly catching up quickly. At one point she raises her glass to me and says, “Nostrovia!” I ask her what it means and she explains that it is the same as us saying “Cheers.” Like a stupid American, I do not say “Nostrovia” with the correct roll of the tongue but again, it was very hot hearing her talk so I kept making her say it. The more she said it the more I started to realize that I have heard that word before. All of the sudden that word seemed very familiar to me.

Me: Why have I heard that word before?

Oksana: Ahhh, I know

Me: Why!?

Oksana: American Cinemas, I don’t know film?

Me: What is it about?

Oksana: The man cut off toe….

Me: HOSTEL!?

Oksana: Yes! That is it, you hear “Nostrovia”

(I lean over to Frank)

Me: Dude, Oksana has seen Hostel

Frank: (Who is drunk, leans over and is dead serious when he says) So, does that stuff really go on here? Like is it legal?

Waitress comes back and asks me for another drink, again Vodka Sprite, Oksana grabs the menu and points to her same drink. I grab the double sided menu and I ask her what drink she has been getting. She points to it and I look at the price, 20 Lat’s. That is equal to $40 in America! I don’t even know how many drinks I got her but it was about 5 or 6 at this point. I flip out, I grab the menu, flip it over and tell her to order from the cheaper side. As I flipped the menu over my ranting came to a sudden halt. Out of all the drinks that were listed, one of them looked right up at me from the menu and said, “drink me mother fucker!”

Me: Holy fuck, I can have this?

Waitress: (smiles) Yes!

(Oksana also smiles and nods her head in approval)

Me: And its Free?

Waitress: (giggles) Yes, I will be back!

For those of you wondering, the letters that caught my eye read “Absinthe.” This is the part of the night where everything changes. No longer was I upset about my insane drink tab from Oksana, I was going to get way more drunk and possibly hallucinate. Growing up you always hear about Absinthe but I never thought I would be in another country and able to drink it. How could I pass up this opportunity?

Side Note

Fuck foreign currency, when you are hammered and you have a bunch of that in your pocket it seems like Monopoly money and you do not care about what is spent. I had Nickles that were worth $2, a half a dollar bill that’s worth $50, and a flyer in my pocket that I thought was a $5 bill.

I like to call this part of the night the Climax. From this point on it was all down hill. Waitress brings over two glasses, one is a Wine Sniffer glass and the other is a normal Rocks glass. This was not the traditional way of drinking Absinthe that I learned but Waitress told me what I needed to do. I will explain.

The Wine Sniffer glass held the Absinthe and the Rocks glass held from what I recall a little bit of Orange Juice. Waitress lit the Absinthe on fire in the Wine Sniffer poured it into the Rocks glass and then I took the shot. Immediately after pouring out the Absinthe Waitress slammed the Wine Sniffer glass face down on the table. After my shot I then took a small straw, lifted up the glass a little so I could get the straw in and I inhaled the Absinthe fumes that were trapped in the glass. The fumes burn my throat.

The taste of Absinthe alone is something I will never forget. It is like a mixture of Listerine and Gasoline. I am not hallucinating, I sat there waiting for Oksana’s head to turn into a Venus Fly Trap and try to eat me, but it did not happen. If her head did turn into a Venus Fly Trap I probably still would have gone for it though, just stating that for the record.

“Waitress, I want another!” I say while probably slurring every word. My goal was simple, I wanted to see crazy shit from this magical banned potion! In the end though, all the Absinthe did to me was fuck me up.

It is now around 4am. The breakfast buffet at the hotel starts at 5am so we decide to be on our way. The night was ending so I just went for it with Oksana. We start to kiss, a choir of angels appears singing the most beautiful song you have ever heard, but she abruptly stops and says she will get in trouble. I tell her to come back with us but she doesn’t get off work until 7am and there is no way in hell my brain would be functioning by that hour.

We must now clear off, I ask her for her number so we can meet up again while I am there. Her brother works in a restaurant and she asks if I would take her there. On the back of a flyer for the club she writes down her number, it was a long confusing phone number with a plus sign for some reason, I trust her that it is correct.

What happens next really pissed me off. As I stand up to leave Oksana grabs my hand, looks up at me and says, “Wanna go in back room with me?” You Son of a Bitch! The whole night that was spent on a couch could have been spent in a private room!? I was very upset, I think I said something along the lines of “You take all of my money and then offer me the sex room!” That’s the same as giving an empty can of bug repellant to someone in Ethiopia.

We leave the strip club with my empty wallet and soul in route for the breakfast buffet. The selfish sun is shining upon us as we walk back through the town square. This is where we met Max. Max’s job was to stand in the town square all day and drag people to the clubs like the one we just left. Apparently there are a lot more of these strip clubs nestled into the different alleyways all over the city of Riga. He was frail and always looked high and was sporting a jean jacket with a White Versace shirt underneath. Max told us that what ever we needed he would take care of, we snapped some pictures with him and went on our way to the breakfast buffet.

I don’t remember too much from the breakfast buffet. The three of us were hammered and most of the people there were just starting their day. The food is different over there, everything has just a different taste, even Hienz ketchup! I am very displeased with the food and we are probably pissing everyone off. I know that I would go to the buffet, get one of everything and not eat any of it. The last thing I remember is there were bowls stacked next to the cereal. Like a drunk idiot I take a bowl from the bottom of the stack and they all come tumbling down like the conclusion of a game of Jenga. It was very loud.

The next morning we wake up. I look in my wallet and realize that every single dollar I took on our trip was gone. Frank is hungover and explains to us that he just drank a ton of water out of the sink. Apparently you are not supposed to drink the water, Noah and I informed him of the inevitable shitstorm that was about to take place. We even called the front desk to prove it. I also later found out that I drunk dialed my mom. On the message I left her it said, “I found the love of my life, her name is Oksana and Im not coming home!” Definatly something my mother loved to hear. We have been in the country for less then 24 hours and now it was time to negotiate with the Russian mob and get our Vodka.

To be continued……..
Max

Gettin off the Puddle Jumper

After the Strip Club & first Max encounter

On way to BREAKfast Buffet

Elevator

Wasted

Noah Frank & Max