« Back to Debauchery Rules Log Bay Day 2009, Part 1
The tradition of Log Bay Day started when one of my friend's parents bought a house up in Lake George. We used to visit a few times a summer, but have since been banished from their house after continuously leaving it looking like Gavin Pitt's asshole after it's been fisted by a football team. We now rent a hotel room for the first night, and then a camp site on an island for the following two.
This story is a prequel to Log Bay, and the actual island/camping stay. I know I said I'd write about the island, but I just took 30mg of Adderall, and my brain has already made up its mind what I'm writing.
Our last night that we ever spent in our friend's house was certainly interesting and well worth the future banishment. Everyone was fired up about LBD, so we decided to make it a nice and easy bar night. We all took way too much money out of the bank and prepared to not remember spending a dime of it. Our token black friend, who we've aptly named "Spook," had the most interesting night out of all of us. We were all pounding shots of Jameson, and ripping on any girl that would walk our way. It's not like we didn't want to get ass—I'm pretty sure a number of us did—but the supply was dryer than Bea Arthur's decomposing snatch. It was also a lot more entertaining to make fun of the toothless local girl behind the bar than to feel her Gerber baby gums wrapped around one of our helmets. It would've gotten the job done, but for some reason I'd always be reminded of my grandpa.
Spook was putting on a fucking show, screaming at any nurse that walked by in the ER.We were all laughing and having a good time when someone spoke up. "Where the fuck is Spook?" This wouldn't normally be cause for concern, because we're all relatively well-built guys who can handle themselves. However, we were in upstate NY, which is the last place besides Alabama you want to lose track of your black friend. We all stumbled out of the bar and walked up a ramp towards the main drag. I was the first to notice the reflection of police lights at the top of the road.
As we approached the scene, I saw Spook sitting in the back of a cop car with blood covering his entire face. We continued towards the cop, and I saw there was no life behind Spook's eyes. There was clearly nobody behind the wheel as he was telling the cop, "You ah nawt a hawt shawt cawp!" (A quote from the movie The Departed. Leave it to our black friend to quote a movie about racist Irish cops.)
The cop turned to me and said, "Your friend here just took a nasty spill off that four foot ledge.
"What do you mean, what happened?" I said.
The cop replied, "Well for some reason he climbed to the top of the steps to the post office, and continued to take a swan dive off of them, using them big ole negro pillow lips to break his fall." (Spook's actual giant pillow lips at right.)
Spook started muttering, "I'm a cop. I'm a cop. I'm on the job."
"Is your friend here a cop?" the officer asked.
"No sir, I don't know why he's saying that."
"Well tell him to stop or else I'm taking him in."
While I was talking to the cop I realized exactly how drunk I was. I was borderline spinning off the planet.
The cop explained that it's police procedure to take Spook to the hospital and report his injury. Three of us decided to follow them in a taxi. We all had very little money left so instead of going directly to the hospital, we stopped in a McDonald's drive-thru. Fuck it, we'll figure out the money situation later.
We got to the hospital and my fat friend "Sloth" collapsed and fell asleep across several chairs in the waiting room, while my other friend "BTags" loudly flirted with the morbidly obese, middle-aged receptionist. I went into the ER to visit with Spook and see how he was doing. He was putting on a fucking show, screaming at any nurse that walked by.
"Whoa you're looking REAL good, REAL hot, good enough for a POKE! Making me ROCK hard!"
The girls were surprisingly amused; however, they told me they needed to release him into the custody of a sober adult. I asked them to give me a breathalyzer test on the spot to determine my level of toxicity. I blew good and hard (no homo), and the nurse looked at me with an expression I've seen many times. "Not even close," she said. Whatever, looks like darky's staying the night.
I woke up Sloth and pried BTags from his linebacker receptionist. We jumped back in the taxi that had been waiting there for us the entire time. Five minutes down the road, the taxi got a call on his radio. "Head back to the hospital. This kid is a retard. They want him out of there." Sounds about right.
We turned around and picked up Spook, who was laughing as if he didn't look like he had the devil's money shot splattered on his face. When we got to the house, we again realized that nobody had money to pay the cab driver. We all sprinted into the house, and woke up everyone that didn't come to the hospital. I'm pretty sure we knocked over quite a few lamps and lake oriented trinkets.
"We needsth fuucckingssth moneeyssth!! Whosethh gotss it?!"
We finally scrounged together about 8 bucks, approximately 50 short of what we owed. Sucks for him. The cab driver sped off angrily. At least we bought him a number 1 at McDonald's. No need to be an ungrateful prick.
BTags, Sloth, Spook and I sat on the porch to digest what had just happened. Spook felt something in his pocket and to his surprise, he took out his bowl and a large bag of weed that he had on him the ENTIRE time. It baffles me to this day that neither the cop nor the hospital workers ever thought to search him. We said fuck it, and blazed ‘til we were all autistic.
