The Plan: Fly out of Madison on United Airlines at 6pm on Sunday night.
The Reality: Get fucking plastered on Sunday night and fly out of Madison North-fucking-west Airlines on Monday morning at 6am.
And now, the rest of the story.
Wirkus generously picked us up from the airport after the United lady threatened to leave me stranded in Madison forever. First order of business, go sit on a couch at 933 Jenifer St. and figure out just what in the hell we were gonna do with ourselves. Wirkus put Ewaz on food duty and in no time at all we were eating brats, cheddarwurst, and the delicious cousin of the brat, the brat patty. All with a side of Tater Tots. Damn, we’re so international. So after dinner, the MTV Movie Awards, and episode of Punk’d, and about 1/3 an episode of Jackass, we finally get our asses over to the hotel to check back in. I demanded my tip back from the bellman who took us to the airport earlier in the evening. We actually were checked back into the hotel room that we had all weekend, which prompted the following exasperated picture from me:
Back for the very first time.
We tried to figure out where to go, but the thinking hurt out brains, so we just said “The Great Dane” and headed over there. The game of the night, which I don’t think ever got used, was that we were a touring hip-hop act that got stuck in Madison because we drank so much liquor we couldn’t afford to pay for the fuel for our private jet. The idea is that we’d go around asking people if they knew of any gigs we could play to raise the money to fly home to The Bay. Madd was Madd Scientist, and Scott was his partner. Judd was their DJ, and I was the business manager. My sole job was to carry around a Two-Way pager and enter girls numbers in it. The first girl whose number went in, I was supposed to ask her her name. “Katie,” she’d answer. Then I’d respond with, “aw, sorry, we’ve got too many Katies right now. Do you have a friend?” The plan was going perfectly until we walked in a the grand total of patrons was 3. We played darts instead. I thought that learning how to play Cricket was a college class just like Math and Condoms 101, but Judd and Scott proved me wrong.
Wirkus, Bellgirl, and the rest met us at Great Dane and we quickly decided that it sucked. So we headed over to State Street. Along the way 3 things happened: Judd got stuck in a bicycle rack, Madd and Scott and Judd had a leapfrogging contest, and Bellgirl put her jean jacket on the Madd Scientist. Another thing, Scott chased some ducks. Another thing, Judd got on Madd’s shoulders, and then Scott tried to jump on Judd’s shoulders. It was like the Ringling Brothers/Absolute Vodka World Tour.
We hit up Paul’s Club in style, and everyone had a grand old time. Living up to bizarro Madison’s new steez, Paul’s Club now caters to hippies rather than easties. I thought at any moment Rip Taylor would come crashing through the door and announce a tax increase for the wealthy from George W. Bush while waving a smoked salmon and clutching a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in his paws. We had a good time at Paul’s Club.
Next stop: Irish Pub for an MGD light-in-a-can. Me, Judd, and Casperson had an entire conversation about lifting weights, supplements, and ab workouts. I have no idea what the rest of the gang was doing. After this short stop we headed down to Wando’s because it was Hospitality Night there. It was pretty packed, and the only thing I really remembered was that me and someone were talking with a pretty hot girl there, and then me, Judd, Sean, and Some Guy had an hour-long conversation in the men’s bathroom. We were talking about how much we hate our jobs and such, when Some Guy turns around and says his mom lives in the Bay Area and he goes out to see her every once in awhile. Me and Judd got excited and I think I gave the guy my cell number to call me next time he was out visiting and we’d all go get drunk. I just remembered right now that I did that, and I am positive this guy may call and I’ll just go, “huh?”
After-party was in the goddamned street in front of the key shop on Johnson. People were running, screaming, singing, kissing, and all other sorts of shit. It was all kind of a blur until I yanked Madd’s shirt off his shoulders and ran with it. I was running my ass off, but then a voice in my head said, “dumbass, you’re being chased by the Madd Scientist.” I slowed down. But then another, creepier voice said, “but Judd may be behind you too.” I fucking ran for my life. See, Judd runs fast. He’s a goddamned gazelle. I make it to the front door of Laundry 101 and throw the shirt on the ground to take a leak on it. Madd runs in at top speed and shoulderblocks me out of the way. Oh well, at least I got a picture of the shirt.
I grabbed Judd and Scott and we headed up the street to go to La Bamba’s. I hadn’t been there in years, so it was interesting to be back in there for burritos again. Living in San Jose, I’ve had lots of burritos in the last 2 years. La Bamba’s burritos aren’t nearly as big as I remember them. We finally finished and were on our way back to the hotel when Judd had to piss. Now, living in a city for 4 years kind of institutionalizes in you an sense of where it’s a good idea take a leak and where it’s not. Therefore, when Judd walked up to the front door of the camera store next to Community Pharmacy on Gorham St. with the intention of pissing all over it, my spidey-sense started tingling. I yelled at him not to, and I can’t remember if he listened or not. I just kept walking.
We get back to the hotel and I pass out. It is 3:15am. Our phone rings for the wake-up call. It is 4:30am. I am tired and hallucinating. Bellman Rich took us to the airport and I gave him the last of my money as a tip. We flew to Detroit, and I serenely accepted my fate of standing on a moving sidewalk for 45 minutes. Me and Judd had a great time staring at a little water fountain while the airline was blaring our names over the airport intercom saying, “Last call for boarding: Moneypenny, Jacobs, Fournier, Kristopeit.” I slept from Detroit to San Francisco. Madd Scientist fucking smelled. Bad. ~BAD~! Seriously we were feeling for the guy in a suit sitting next to him on the plane. Madd was in a pair of basketball shorts (no underwear), a T-shirt, and his Ramblers with ~NO SOCKS~. The dude was comprised entirely of stink lines Monday morning.
In the end we made it back and no one got fired. A good time was had by all.
Onto the photographic representations of our evening:
Area Man Bested By Bicycle Rack.
Part of the Main Street Olympics on Sunday night was the Madd Jump.
Ehh, I have nothing whatsoever to add to this. It’s just a mess.
Bellgirl, Madd Scientist, Bellgirl’s Jacket, and French Connection.
Selected scenes from Paul’s Club.
The After-party in the street. Madd has that T-shirt. It would soon be mine. There is some kind of transaction happening here. I really don’t know more than that.
Casperson loves Wirkus.
The birth of the Vagg Scientist.
Bet that muthafucka Madd Scientist don’t know his shirt on tha flo.
Now you all share your stories.