Fred Garvin
12-24-2008, 03:07 AM
This being a picaresque dream you shouldn’t be surprised our first stop is the Lion’s Den. This being erotica I really don’t want to know what this crowd is into. Still I’m impressed when Snipe is the first to make his way to the checkout. He has a shopping cart full of merchandise and other “marital aids.” He see my expression and leans in, “don’t worry, I’m paying for the whole trip on Simon Ogunlesi’s stolen credit cards.
I do some more wondering and see Kahn’s Krazy studying midget porn and waxing nostalgic about his college days in Oxford. I decide this is a creepy crowd. I get my copies of Barely Legal and Stump Love and get out of there.
Back on the bus some guy named DAllen swears he saw images of Darelle Porter in the gay S&M section.
And we’re rolling now. There is a sense of impending arrival and the drinking has kicked into overdrive. A rum-soaked Snipe is slurring and shouting that Duquesne will “mell the love” and declaring Xavier the “flagstrip” of the A-10. Kahn’s Krazy is soused and clutching a glass of what he calls “Jedi Juice.”
We’ve got one last stop before barreling down on the city; one last piss break. I think this is the exit for Carnegie-Mellon but then this narrator is far beyond the point of being trusted. When the driver stops he leaves the door open to air out the bus.
Upon my return I sit down and begin to shiver. Some old guy next to me named Ron says “see, I told ya there’d be a draft.”
We pull in front of the Palumbo Center. There is no alcohol in the Palumbo. So now we’re in Chug Mode. Ahead of is an RV. A bitter old man, by his lonesome, stumbles out mumbling “they can take my board or leave it." I’ve no idea who this man is.
We see MOR and get to our seats. He’s unhappy about Palumbo’s alcohol situation. He’s decided to blame Linda Bruno. The game begins and is uneventful though the commentary is standout. I hear someone say, inexplicably, “Alvin Brown will lead us to victory.” And another “I’m wearing no pants. Really, no pants.” The joker next to him tells him “nudity is your manifest destiny.”
At halftime I see Stophorseabuse. We plan to meet up later in the hotel bar. This is risky as SHA is the second coming of Keith Moon when it comes to trashing hotel rooms. I’m worried he’ll toss a television into the hotel’s indoor pool while the Smydras are in there showcasing their mad, aquatic skillz.
Ten minutes until second half and my buzz is starting to wear off. Amazingly, Pablo has access to Palumbo’s version of a luxury suite. He has somehow gained entre to a PNC function teeming with XU mba’ers. It’s not a suite and it sure ain’t luxury, but it does have beer. We empty the fridge.
The Musketeers begin to pull away and a Xavier fan claims that Ron Everhart wears women’s underwear. A disapproving Carlos says something about our “puerile and profane fan base. These Visigoths are crude, rude and socially unacceptable.”
The undefeated Muskies emerge with the victory and Pablo and his brother are dancing all over the Duke logo. The nudist has run out on the floor while Snipe yells “Streeeeak!” at the top of his lungs.
I walk out into the cool Pittsburgh air to see Willie Deluca balancing our entire bus on his bulbous nose. I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be.
I do some more wondering and see Kahn’s Krazy studying midget porn and waxing nostalgic about his college days in Oxford. I decide this is a creepy crowd. I get my copies of Barely Legal and Stump Love and get out of there.
Back on the bus some guy named DAllen swears he saw images of Darelle Porter in the gay S&M section.
And we’re rolling now. There is a sense of impending arrival and the drinking has kicked into overdrive. A rum-soaked Snipe is slurring and shouting that Duquesne will “mell the love” and declaring Xavier the “flagstrip” of the A-10. Kahn’s Krazy is soused and clutching a glass of what he calls “Jedi Juice.”
We’ve got one last stop before barreling down on the city; one last piss break. I think this is the exit for Carnegie-Mellon but then this narrator is far beyond the point of being trusted. When the driver stops he leaves the door open to air out the bus.
Upon my return I sit down and begin to shiver. Some old guy next to me named Ron says “see, I told ya there’d be a draft.”
We pull in front of the Palumbo Center. There is no alcohol in the Palumbo. So now we’re in Chug Mode. Ahead of is an RV. A bitter old man, by his lonesome, stumbles out mumbling “they can take my board or leave it." I’ve no idea who this man is.
We see MOR and get to our seats. He’s unhappy about Palumbo’s alcohol situation. He’s decided to blame Linda Bruno. The game begins and is uneventful though the commentary is standout. I hear someone say, inexplicably, “Alvin Brown will lead us to victory.” And another “I’m wearing no pants. Really, no pants.” The joker next to him tells him “nudity is your manifest destiny.”
At halftime I see Stophorseabuse. We plan to meet up later in the hotel bar. This is risky as SHA is the second coming of Keith Moon when it comes to trashing hotel rooms. I’m worried he’ll toss a television into the hotel’s indoor pool while the Smydras are in there showcasing their mad, aquatic skillz.
Ten minutes until second half and my buzz is starting to wear off. Amazingly, Pablo has access to Palumbo’s version of a luxury suite. He has somehow gained entre to a PNC function teeming with XU mba’ers. It’s not a suite and it sure ain’t luxury, but it does have beer. We empty the fridge.
The Musketeers begin to pull away and a Xavier fan claims that Ron Everhart wears women’s underwear. A disapproving Carlos says something about our “puerile and profane fan base. These Visigoths are crude, rude and socially unacceptable.”
The undefeated Muskies emerge with the victory and Pablo and his brother are dancing all over the Duke logo. The nudist has run out on the floor while Snipe yells “Streeeeak!” at the top of his lungs.
I walk out into the cool Pittsburgh air to see Willie Deluca balancing our entire bus on his bulbous nose. I can’t imagine anywhere else I’d rather be.