ADDED 12/29/12 6:35pm EST
Fantasy Fest!
Let’s start with the Open Mic. I called the Improv earlier that week and asked what I had to do to get on the list for the open mic. The lady was pretty brain dead, but gave me this guys “Will” cell number and said to call him. This is kind of weird, why wouldn’t they do it through the club? But then I thought, maybe Will is a promoter or part of production or something, so whatever. I call Will and it goes to his voicemail, and the last thing on it is “if you are calling to reserve you place for the open mic leave your name and number”. So I do that, and go about my week. It gets closer to Tuesday and still no word from Will, so I try calling again, and same result. So dad & I show up on Tuesday night and he goes to the ticket booth, and tries to buy tickets, we’re glad to find out if you are there to see a specific performer you don’t have to pay the $10, awesome. So he says that he’s here to see Matt Collins, and gets put on the guest list and when she pulls out the list I see they’re about 8 names on it. Not bad, only 7 comics in front of me. So I’m told to wait outside and Luther will be out soon. The scene outside is pretty funny. A group of guys, no women, that either have their bits on paper rehearsing to themselves, sitting anxiously, or trying to make small talk with the other guys. Judging by the wardrobe it was like a meet up for hacks - some guy was in a royal blue three piece suit, a handful of super “witty” and “hysterical” tshirts, a guy with a beanie on even though it was 85 degrees out. So out comes Luther and he has to be 400lbs, dude was massive. So he waddles up and announces that the only comedians that will go on stage are the ones that brought 10 or more people and then names the 12 comics going on stage. Uh what? I go up to Luther and plea my case, I just moved here, no one told me we had to bring people, my dad came down from Virginia to see me perform, etc. Luther could give a shit. This really freakin sucked, I was definitely ready to go on. So I wish Luther a happy cardiac arrest and go in to join big Bill. Well at least we got in for free, and we can still see some comedy. Now the best part about all of this is that 75% of the comics are HORRIBLE and just completely bomb. I mean crickets throughout their entire set, one comedian after another, it was bad. A couple guys forgot their sets and just awkwardly ended, some guys went on for 10 min when they were only supposed to do 5 min, and some guys just went on stage and tried to awkwardly improv with crowd for the 5 minutes. It was so bad. I’m not being bitter, and my dad can vouch, out of the 12 comedians, only three were any type of funny, and only one of the three (the guy who closed who is an actual touring comedian) did real well. So yes very shitty situation because I know at least some of my material would of gotten some laughs. Oh well.
NOW ONTO FANTASY FEST!
Fantasy Fest was by far the best time I’ve had while being in South Florida. Utterly AMAZING.
I found out about Fantasy Fest a couple weeks ago and had been foaming at the mouth in anticipation. It is a huge festival on Key West that is a week-long and happens every last full week of October. Pretty much when you look it up on the internet you read that it is an “anything goes” type of atmosphere and brace yourself for all the nudity that you will witness. You also find out that 70,000 people flock to the island every year to celebrate. Holy shit 70,000 people on a tiny island is pretty impressive. After reading a few more blogs (ugh that word still bothers me) and reviews it is apparent that everyone dresses up, mainly something involving paint, and that both young and old take part in the festivities. One thing was made clear is that if you don’t dress up you look like the weirdo just trying to get pictures of naked people, sort of like going to a nude beach by yourself with a camcorder wearing a t shirt and jeans. After further investigation I find out that the whole week is madness, but the big blow out is the last night, Saturday, and that is where they have the huge float parade and everyone goes all out. So with that information I plan my trip for Saturday. I don’t have a car and Key West is 4 hours away, so I start checking out busses. There is a bus that goes for $50, not bad, but it picks up at 6am from Miami and leaves Key West at 6pm that night. This was not going to work. There is an option to get picked up the next day, Sunday, at 6pm for an extra $30. Eighty bucks isn’t terrible, so I start looking for rooms and go to my trusty airbnb.com. Clearly all the locals are very well aware that it is Fantasy Fest and places that were charging $75 a night all of a sudden were now charging $400-500 a night! So I search the hostels, motels, hotels, everything and the cheapest thing I can find that is available is $350 a night. I’m on a pretty tight budget for this trip and there’s just no way I can swing over $400 for transportation and board for one night. I’m pretty bummed that it looks like my trip is not going to happen. I’m on the phone with my mom explaining my woe’s and how my life is terrible because I’m not able to party in Key West for the weekend ;) Being the genius that she is, she suggests that I just rent a car and head down and then just sleep in the car and drive back the next day. YES! Sure enough, I find a car on Priceline with unlimited mileage for $55 for the day. Done.
Fast forward to Saturday morning, and I haven’t come up with a good idea for a costume, and I’m suppose to pick up the car at 1pm. Around 11 am, I am going over the math and finances in my head and I’m arriving in Key West at 5pm, and the party starts to slow down at 4am. Hmmm, 11 hours of drinking may put a dent in the wallet. So I can limit my drinking to only a few hours OR I can find a way to drink for 11 hours on the cheap. Channeling my college years, what did we do when we had no money, but still wanted to party all night? Jungle Juice! So I rush to the liquor store and pick up a liter of Aristocrat Vodka, which should be more appropriately named Homeless With Urine Soaked Pants Vodka for $6 (I could of gone with Everclear grain alcohol, but let’s face it I’m no longer in college) pick up a container of powder fruit punch Kool Aid for $2.50, a 2 litre of Publix Seltzer for $1, add some water and before I know it I have a gallon worth potent booze for under $10. So that’s settled, but how am I suppose to consume this concoction? I can’t be walking around the festival with a giant jug of booze, haphazardly taking swigs. A point of pride, or shame depending on how you look at it, I’ve always been able to sneak booze into places, mainly sporting events and concerts, because fuck your $10 beers. I have done this many ways utilizing a surplus of methods. Stadiums are tough because they do searches and pat you down so some of my favorites are: creating a false bottom in a girlfriends purse then stuffing the dead space with airplane bottles, or filling up a large One Zip Ziploc with liquor and taping it to my crotch-al region, or the ol’ plastic bottle full of booze between the butt cheeks. Immoral maybe, but no more immoral than charging $10 for something that you only paid 70 cents for. So how can I drink a gallon cocktail inconspicuously, or at least not blatantly obvious? The first idea that came to mind turned out to be the best - – make a ghetto camel back. Put the gallon of booze in my back pack, poke a hole on the top and run a tube from the jug to my mouth. Great! Now there are no Home Depots in South Beach and I’m suppose to pick up my car in a hour, so no way to get tubing, but I know that I have duct tape, and I know that 7 eleven has crazy long straws. Walk to 7 eleven, buy a small fountain drink, and awkwardly grab 6 large straws, and as luck would have it they had these plastic bendy Slurpee straws that worked great for the contour of your shoulder to your mouth. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked like a charm! I don’t know how strict they were going to be about open container, but technically my container was concealed in my back pack, and it wasn’t open because I duct taped the top so it only fit the straw. Regardless, cleary I have an amazing rapport with cops, so I will easily be able to talk my way out of any trouble I get into.
Let’s start with the Open Mic. I called the Improv earlier that week and asked what I had to do to get on the list for the open mic. The lady was pretty brain dead, but gave me this guys “Will” cell number and said to call him. This is kind of weird, why wouldn’t they do it through the club? But then I thought, maybe Will is a promoter or part of production or something, so whatever. I call Will and it goes to his voicemail, and the last thing on it is “if you are calling to reserve you place for the open mic leave your name and number”. So I do that, and go about my week. It gets closer to Tuesday and still no word from Will, so I try calling again, and same result. So dad & I show up on Tuesday night and he goes to the ticket booth, and tries to buy tickets, we’re glad to find out if you are there to see a specific performer you don’t have to pay the $10, awesome. So he says that he’s here to see Matt Collins, and gets put on the guest list and when she pulls out the list I see they’re about 8 names on it. Not bad, only 7 comics in front of me. So I’m told to wait outside and Luther will be out soon. The scene outside is pretty funny. A group of guys, no women, that either have their bits on paper rehearsing to themselves, sitting anxiously, or trying to make small talk with the other guys. Judging by the wardrobe it was like a meet up for hacks - some guy was in a royal blue three piece suit, a handful of super “witty” and “hysterical” tshirts, a guy with a beanie on even though it was 85 degrees out. So out comes Luther and he has to be 400lbs, dude was massive. So he waddles up and announces that the only comedians that will go on stage are the ones that brought 10 or more people and then names the 12 comics going on stage. Uh what? I go up to Luther and plea my case, I just moved here, no one told me we had to bring people, my dad came down from Virginia to see me perform, etc. Luther could give a shit. This really freakin sucked, I was definitely ready to go on. So I wish Luther a happy cardiac arrest and go in to join big Bill. Well at least we got in for free, and we can still see some comedy. Now the best part about all of this is that 75% of the comics are HORRIBLE and just completely bomb. I mean crickets throughout their entire set, one comedian after another, it was bad. A couple guys forgot their sets and just awkwardly ended, some guys went on for 10 min when they were only supposed to do 5 min, and some guys just went on stage and tried to awkwardly improv with crowd for the 5 minutes. It was so bad. I’m not being bitter, and my dad can vouch, out of the 12 comedians, only three were any type of funny, and only one of the three (the guy who closed who is an actual touring comedian) did real well. So yes very shitty situation because I know at least some of my material would of gotten some laughs. Oh well.
NOW ONTO FANTASY FEST!
Fantasy Fest was by far the best time I’ve had while being in South Florida. Utterly AMAZING.
I found out about Fantasy Fest a couple weeks ago and had been foaming at the mouth in anticipation. It is a huge festival on Key West that is a week-long and happens every last full week of October. Pretty much when you look it up on the internet you read that it is an “anything goes” type of atmosphere and brace yourself for all the nudity that you will witness. You also find out that 70,000 people flock to the island every year to celebrate. Holy shit 70,000 people on a tiny island is pretty impressive. After reading a few more blogs (ugh that word still bothers me) and reviews it is apparent that everyone dresses up, mainly something involving paint, and that both young and old take part in the festivities. One thing was made clear is that if you don’t dress up you look like the weirdo just trying to get pictures of naked people, sort of like going to a nude beach by yourself with a camcorder wearing a t shirt and jeans. After further investigation I find out that the whole week is madness, but the big blow out is the last night, Saturday, and that is where they have the huge float parade and everyone goes all out. So with that information I plan my trip for Saturday. I don’t have a car and Key West is 4 hours away, so I start checking out busses. There is a bus that goes for $50, not bad, but it picks up at 6am from Miami and leaves Key West at 6pm that night. This was not going to work. There is an option to get picked up the next day, Sunday, at 6pm for an extra $30. Eighty bucks isn’t terrible, so I start looking for rooms and go to my trusty airbnb.com. Clearly all the locals are very well aware that it is Fantasy Fest and places that were charging $75 a night all of a sudden were now charging $400-500 a night! So I search the hostels, motels, hotels, everything and the cheapest thing I can find that is available is $350 a night. I’m on a pretty tight budget for this trip and there’s just no way I can swing over $400 for transportation and board for one night. I’m pretty bummed that it looks like my trip is not going to happen. I’m on the phone with my mom explaining my woe’s and how my life is terrible because I’m not able to party in Key West for the weekend ;) Being the genius that she is, she suggests that I just rent a car and head down and then just sleep in the car and drive back the next day. YES! Sure enough, I find a car on Priceline with unlimited mileage for $55 for the day. Done.
Fast forward to Saturday morning, and I haven’t come up with a good idea for a costume, and I’m suppose to pick up the car at 1pm. Around 11 am, I am going over the math and finances in my head and I’m arriving in Key West at 5pm, and the party starts to slow down at 4am. Hmmm, 11 hours of drinking may put a dent in the wallet. So I can limit my drinking to only a few hours OR I can find a way to drink for 11 hours on the cheap. Channeling my college years, what did we do when we had no money, but still wanted to party all night? Jungle Juice! So I rush to the liquor store and pick up a liter of Aristocrat Vodka, which should be more appropriately named Homeless With Urine Soaked Pants Vodka for $6 (I could of gone with Everclear grain alcohol, but let’s face it I’m no longer in college) pick up a container of powder fruit punch Kool Aid for $2.50, a 2 litre of Publix Seltzer for $1, add some water and before I know it I have a gallon worth potent booze for under $10. So that’s settled, but how am I suppose to consume this concoction? I can’t be walking around the festival with a giant jug of booze, haphazardly taking swigs. A point of pride, or shame depending on how you look at it, I’ve always been able to sneak booze into places, mainly sporting events and concerts, because fuck your $10 beers. I have done this many ways utilizing a surplus of methods. Stadiums are tough because they do searches and pat you down so some of my favorites are: creating a false bottom in a girlfriends purse then stuffing the dead space with airplane bottles, or filling up a large One Zip Ziploc with liquor and taping it to my crotch-al region, or the ol’ plastic bottle full of booze between the butt cheeks. Immoral maybe, but no more immoral than charging $10 for something that you only paid 70 cents for. So how can I drink a gallon cocktail inconspicuously, or at least not blatantly obvious? The first idea that came to mind turned out to be the best - – make a ghetto camel back. Put the gallon of booze in my back pack, poke a hole on the top and run a tube from the jug to my mouth. Great! Now there are no Home Depots in South Beach and I’m suppose to pick up my car in a hour, so no way to get tubing, but I know that I have duct tape, and I know that 7 eleven has crazy long straws. Walk to 7 eleven, buy a small fountain drink, and awkwardly grab 6 large straws, and as luck would have it they had these plastic bendy Slurpee straws that worked great for the contour of your shoulder to your mouth. It wasn’t pretty, but it worked like a charm! I don’t know how strict they were going to be about open container, but technically my container was concealed in my back pack, and it wasn’t open because I duct taped the top so it only fit the straw. Regardless, cleary I have an amazing rapport with cops, so I will easily be able to talk my way out of any trouble I get into.
I head to Budget rental car to pick up my sick whip and am ready to cruise to Key West in style. I laughed out loud when it was brought around the corner, turns out $55 gets you a clown car. It was the Mazda 2, which is tiiiny, we’re talking slightly bigger than those Smart Cars. Annd this is what I am supposed to be sleeping in tonight, awesome. I shrug it off and convince myself that I am going to party so hard, that I’ll be able to sleep on gravel and be fine. The drive is four hours which seems like a drag, but surprisingly the first two hours flew by with good tunes and just the anticipation of all the debauchery that will ensue, and then the last two hours you hit the keys which are amazing. Windows down, sun shining, and having gorgeous scenery of iridescent teal water and palm tree filled islands. It really is as beautiful of a drive as someone can hope for. You drive through the little beach towns for a couple miles and then you are on these super long, low bridges. The entire time I was having flashes of the movie “True Lies” waiting for marines to shoot missiles at the roadway and hear Arnold screams “THA BRIADGE IS OAT!!” I make it to Key West just before 5 and it is already packed with people! Parking is mayhem, everything is filled. I pull into the one lot I see that still has open spots - $55 for the night, fuck your mother, reverse. Circle, circle, circle, nothing. After 45 minutes I say screw it, and just park a mile away from where the parade will be, convincing myself this is actually best because it will be quiet when I sleep.
I did some research and found out that Key West has the Southernmost Brewery in the United States, so of course I have to stop in there. Kelly’s Caribbean Bar, Grill & Brewery is really big and cool with half of the bar/restaurant being outside and the other half inside. Turns out I’m there for happy hour and all house brews are only $2. Score. I shuffle my way through the crowd and order the Havana Red Ale. The bartender let’s me know that he already called last call because they are closing for the night for a private party. I plea with him that I came down from Virginia (not a full on lie) and if I could just have one beer, I will drink it fast. Reluctantly he submits and pours me a beer. Crap, I really wanted to try the two other house brews they have, I grab a seat outside and try not to sulk. 6:15pm hits and they kick everyone out of the bar, I head out, find an alley to “put on my costume”. So never really came up with an idea that I was happy with and that was cheap, that I could throw away (don’t have room in my luggage). Time was running out so before picking up the car I just went to Walgreens and bought a four color palette of face paint for $2 and a vile of fake blood for $1. Checking out pictures online a bunch of people do face paint and body paint, so I would just fit in with them. I was planning on doing a skeleton face, white face with black eyes and black mouth, and then just taking an old under shirt ripping it some and splattering blood on it. I was planning on putting the paint on in the bathroom, but since I got kicked out I had to settle for my cell phone camera (finally got a iPhone where it actually works) and using that as a mirror of sorts. I’m the furthest thing from artistic and the skeleton idea proved to be A LOT harder than I thought. So I just decided to go with red paint around the eyes, and black around the mouth, which somehow turned into a ridiculous handlebar mustache, I’m still not sure how. Of course I forget my under shirt in the car and there was no way I was walking back, so I just throw the fake blood on the infamous yellow rodeo shirt and head to the parade. I guess I’ll go as a zombie rodeo clown?
I did some research and found out that Key West has the Southernmost Brewery in the United States, so of course I have to stop in there. Kelly’s Caribbean Bar, Grill & Brewery is really big and cool with half of the bar/restaurant being outside and the other half inside. Turns out I’m there for happy hour and all house brews are only $2. Score. I shuffle my way through the crowd and order the Havana Red Ale. The bartender let’s me know that he already called last call because they are closing for the night for a private party. I plea with him that I came down from Virginia (not a full on lie) and if I could just have one beer, I will drink it fast. Reluctantly he submits and pours me a beer. Crap, I really wanted to try the two other house brews they have, I grab a seat outside and try not to sulk. 6:15pm hits and they kick everyone out of the bar, I head out, find an alley to “put on my costume”. So never really came up with an idea that I was happy with and that was cheap, that I could throw away (don’t have room in my luggage). Time was running out so before picking up the car I just went to Walgreens and bought a four color palette of face paint for $2 and a vile of fake blood for $1. Checking out pictures online a bunch of people do face paint and body paint, so I would just fit in with them. I was planning on doing a skeleton face, white face with black eyes and black mouth, and then just taking an old under shirt ripping it some and splattering blood on it. I was planning on putting the paint on in the bathroom, but since I got kicked out I had to settle for my cell phone camera (finally got a iPhone where it actually works) and using that as a mirror of sorts. I’m the furthest thing from artistic and the skeleton idea proved to be A LOT harder than I thought. So I just decided to go with red paint around the eyes, and black around the mouth, which somehow turned into a ridiculous handlebar mustache, I’m still not sure how. Of course I forget my under shirt in the car and there was no way I was walking back, so I just throw the fake blood on the infamous yellow rodeo shirt and head to the parade. I guess I’ll go as a zombie rodeo clown?
Before the actual float parade started the streets were barricaded off and anyone could walk the streets showing their “costume” for the crowds. This was AWESOME. Saw a lot of female/male, young/old nudity and a lot of funny and clever costumes. Maybe it is just the weirdo in me, but the whole old obese guy in a g-string thing didn’t bother me at all, I think it is the funniest thing on earth. It is just my sense of humor, for instance, I was that awkward guy laughing his head off during the naked fight scene in Borat. There were also smoking hot girls in either full body paint or maybe pasties over the nipples. Really the only way to sum it up was WILD. Everyone was just strutting their stuff and didn’t give a fuck. I’m not much of a picture taker, but I tried to get some of the costumes of the people as they walked by. (Click on pictures to get a clearer view)
So after all that, the float parade started. Now I wasn’t excited for this it all, when I thought of a float parade I thought of stupid floats “made by the community” and the local high school marching band. This is definitely not the case for Fantasy Fest, it was MAYHEM. Super high energy, blasting rock or techno music, and people in full costume partying and losing their minds on the floats. Half of the floats had live bands on them, had fire hoses that shot foam, and the surrounding entourage would pour booze into the crowd’s mouth. It was incredible. I mean it was entertaining enough that I stood there for three and a half hours, slurping from my Jungle Juice and just having awesome time.
One of the highlights was I started hanging out with these three guys from Georgia, and judging by their accents, chances are they were from a more, let’s say rural, part of Georgia. By this time, I had been at the parade for about an hour and a half and had a pretty solid buzz going. So like Mardis Gras, the people on the floats were throwing beads into the crowd, typically they weren’t just throwing aimlessly and you had to catch their attention. So you would holler and cheer “Over here!” or whatever and then they would make eye contact with you and toss you the beads. So somewhere along this exchange a really busted old lady threw Chris (one of the Georgia guys) a beaded necklace, and I jokingly said “Uug, maybe you should throw that one back” and the next thing I know Chris hurls the beads back at her. At the time this was the funniest thing any of us had seen, ever. Next thing we know we have a new game to keep us entertained. Every time one of us caught beads, we would confer with our peers, and if she was a babe we would cheers and chug, and if she was busted a chant would ensue as if the visiting team had just hit a homerun “THROW IT BACK! THROW IT BACK! THROW IT BACK!” he would then fling the beads back and we would all cheer. This game was hysterical, mainly because for every hot chick that threw beads there were three old or fat people. The “WTF?” faces that we got from some of the people on the floats were priceless. They had no idea why or what just happened. By the end of it we had a group of about 15 of us chanting and playing along.
So after the parade ended I drank three fourths of my jug and couldn’t take any more sweet. There was no open container enforcement of any kind be done, and people set up bars on the sidewalks. So I grab 3 beers for $6 and started to roam around Duval Street taking in the sights. By this time, let’s just say I am not sober. I’m having a great time just wandering and bearing witness to what was going on around me. Somehow during this wandering, I end up back in front of Kelly’s, and I have not forgotten that there are still two house brews I have not tried. This is where the “mission phase” of the night started. My first mission was to sneak my way into Kelly’s and try those two other beers. There is security and a door guy in front with a clipboard with a list of names on it. My drunk theory: this bastard has to go to the bathroom sometime. I am now waiting across the street, sort of in the bushes, waiting for him to leave his post. I wait and I wait clearly this guy has an iron bladder because I’ve already gone twice. Clearly I have to adjust to the elements, there will be no perfect time, just one that is optimal. Luckily, the streets are packed with scantily clad women, and sure enough a couple minutes goes by and a group of six, I guess they were firefighter chicks, stop and talk to him. They are hammered and getting all of his attention, I make my way across the street hoping for a time where he is completely distracted. Just then one of them takes out her camera and asks for him to take a picture, luckily there was no light in front so he comes off the stoop and comes out in the street where there was plenty of light. As we all know when one girl gets a picture the rest of her posse decides that they want one too and before he knew it he was holding three cameras. I simply walked right in and no one batted an eye. Success! The indoor bar area is packed so I make my way to the outdoor bar and find an opening. The bar is full, and is mainly older adults with some young adults interspersed. I order their hefeweizen and am given a plastic cup full of beer, take out the cash to pay the bartender, and lucky day it’s an open bar! Not only did I make it in the bar but it turns out that it was free booze. Big win. So I have two or three more beers and just revel in my accomplishment. I am keeping to myself and trying not to draw attention. This gets really boring, and I then adopt the attitude that I really don’t care if I get kicked out because I’ve already tried all the beer I wanted and am now just boozing for free, so whatever. The outside area has long picnic tables and since we already have plastic cups I suggest to the three young people near me that we play flip cup. They enthusiastically agree and we start playing. Next thing I know Team Toothbrush has 8 players going hard, screaming obscenities and bullying the other team. It was awesome. We had built a little crowd around us and all of us were having a great time. Don’t ask me why, but I felt the need for an alias, but one that I wouldn’t forget so for the next three hours I was going by Brandon (my middle name). Brandon was on flip cup fire, rarely missed and Team Toothbrush was on table for many games in a row. In between games and while we were getting beers you would talk and mingle and I figured out that this wasn’t so much a private party, but rather a ticketed event that sold out forever ago. So, no reason people weren’t like who’s the painted face drunk kid yelling “OPEN YOUR THROAT, YOU HAVE TO OPEN YOUR THROAT!” So after game four or five, the three “hotties” of the party make there way to the table and start playing. It is suffice to say, that at this point I was hammered. Not black out, but definitely wasted. It was also around this point that the fact that I was going to have sleep in a car the size of a small closet was starting to set in. Mission 2: Don’t Sleep in the Car. Yes, Brandon was going to have to find a way to finagle his way into one of these jezebels hotel room. I truly wasn’t looking to hook up, just a bed, and if the night progressed to that, well that’s just collateral damage one must endure. Now again, I was hammered, and in a condition like that I tend to put logic and reason aside and depend soley on animal instinct. And as if a lion on the Serengeti, I survey my potential prey. First, Brandon had to narrow down what part of the herd would put up the least amount of struggle. Zeroing in on the three girls that were mermaids? with starfish over their nipples seemed like the easiest quarry. Now when you see a lion go after its prey it doesn’t go after the strongest or the fastest, it tries to tackle the wounded and defenseless, and this the protocol that Brandon adopted. Yes maybe the nobler attempt would be to go after the cunning and speedy gazelle, the lion could brag to his lion buddies about the size of her antlers and boast how he showed her why he was king of the jungle, but going after the sick wildebeest missing a leg just makes more sense. Not only was this wildebeest wounded, but might of taken a number of blows to the head as well.
So after the parade ended I drank three fourths of my jug and couldn’t take any more sweet. There was no open container enforcement of any kind be done, and people set up bars on the sidewalks. So I grab 3 beers for $6 and started to roam around Duval Street taking in the sights. By this time, let’s just say I am not sober. I’m having a great time just wandering and bearing witness to what was going on around me. Somehow during this wandering, I end up back in front of Kelly’s, and I have not forgotten that there are still two house brews I have not tried. This is where the “mission phase” of the night started. My first mission was to sneak my way into Kelly’s and try those two other beers. There is security and a door guy in front with a clipboard with a list of names on it. My drunk theory: this bastard has to go to the bathroom sometime. I am now waiting across the street, sort of in the bushes, waiting for him to leave his post. I wait and I wait clearly this guy has an iron bladder because I’ve already gone twice. Clearly I have to adjust to the elements, there will be no perfect time, just one that is optimal. Luckily, the streets are packed with scantily clad women, and sure enough a couple minutes goes by and a group of six, I guess they were firefighter chicks, stop and talk to him. They are hammered and getting all of his attention, I make my way across the street hoping for a time where he is completely distracted. Just then one of them takes out her camera and asks for him to take a picture, luckily there was no light in front so he comes off the stoop and comes out in the street where there was plenty of light. As we all know when one girl gets a picture the rest of her posse decides that they want one too and before he knew it he was holding three cameras. I simply walked right in and no one batted an eye. Success! The indoor bar area is packed so I make my way to the outdoor bar and find an opening. The bar is full, and is mainly older adults with some young adults interspersed. I order their hefeweizen and am given a plastic cup full of beer, take out the cash to pay the bartender, and lucky day it’s an open bar! Not only did I make it in the bar but it turns out that it was free booze. Big win. So I have two or three more beers and just revel in my accomplishment. I am keeping to myself and trying not to draw attention. This gets really boring, and I then adopt the attitude that I really don’t care if I get kicked out because I’ve already tried all the beer I wanted and am now just boozing for free, so whatever. The outside area has long picnic tables and since we already have plastic cups I suggest to the three young people near me that we play flip cup. They enthusiastically agree and we start playing. Next thing I know Team Toothbrush has 8 players going hard, screaming obscenities and bullying the other team. It was awesome. We had built a little crowd around us and all of us were having a great time. Don’t ask me why, but I felt the need for an alias, but one that I wouldn’t forget so for the next three hours I was going by Brandon (my middle name). Brandon was on flip cup fire, rarely missed and Team Toothbrush was on table for many games in a row. In between games and while we were getting beers you would talk and mingle and I figured out that this wasn’t so much a private party, but rather a ticketed event that sold out forever ago. So, no reason people weren’t like who’s the painted face drunk kid yelling “OPEN YOUR THROAT, YOU HAVE TO OPEN YOUR THROAT!” So after game four or five, the three “hotties” of the party make there way to the table and start playing. It is suffice to say, that at this point I was hammered. Not black out, but definitely wasted. It was also around this point that the fact that I was going to have sleep in a car the size of a small closet was starting to set in. Mission 2: Don’t Sleep in the Car. Yes, Brandon was going to have to find a way to finagle his way into one of these jezebels hotel room. I truly wasn’t looking to hook up, just a bed, and if the night progressed to that, well that’s just collateral damage one must endure. Now again, I was hammered, and in a condition like that I tend to put logic and reason aside and depend soley on animal instinct. And as if a lion on the Serengeti, I survey my potential prey. First, Brandon had to narrow down what part of the herd would put up the least amount of struggle. Zeroing in on the three girls that were mermaids? with starfish over their nipples seemed like the easiest quarry. Now when you see a lion go after its prey it doesn’t go after the strongest or the fastest, it tries to tackle the wounded and defenseless, and this the protocol that Brandon adopted. Yes maybe the nobler attempt would be to go after the cunning and speedy gazelle, the lion could brag to his lion buddies about the size of her antlers and boast how he showed her why he was king of the jungle, but going after the sick wildebeest missing a leg just makes more sense. Not only was this wildebeest wounded, but might of taken a number of blows to the head as well.
Surprisingly I remember her two smoking hot friends names, Alison & Lindsey, but draw a complete blank when it comes to hers. We’ll call her Hopkins, because even though she is 27 has crustaceans covering her nipples and still a under grad at Central Florida, she is pre med, so John Hopkins is undoubtedly the next step. Now I won’t bore you with all the details of the laughable game that I was spitting, all you need to know is that it was working. Whatever Brandon was selling, Hopkins was buying. Things could not of been going better, had her convinced that I lost my friends who had my hotel key, and that my cell phone had died (which is actually true it died pretty much right after the picture) and the millions of other things that went wrong that resulted in me being stranded and left to sleep on the streets of Key West. Within a hour or so I specifically remember hearing the lines “Well that’s ok you can just sleep in my room.” Double Success! We carry on for another hour or so at the bar drinking and enjoying the night. Then I do a very, very stupid thing. I tell the truth. No idea what possessed me to tell her that I actually snuck into the party and that I never got a ticket, but I did. She did such a 180 that it made my head spin (or maybe it was the hours of drinking). She loses it on me, calls me an asshole, and that I’m terrible person, and blah blah blah. I mean psycho girls are usually a specialty of mine, but WTF? Keep in mind this broad still has some white and black face paint on her from when she pulled me into a corner no more than 15 minutes ago. Turns out that her mother was one of the organizers (the lady that she is posing with) and that a large amount of the ticket proceeds are going to charity. BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THAT. I mean probably still would of done the same thing, but would of felt a little bit bad about it. Next thing I know I am being “escorted” out, I am still trying to register exactly what happened. In retrospect I probably should not of said, “Calm down, it’s a party.” But what can you do?
Final thoughts on Fantasy Fest: it is spectacular and I would go back in a second. It is definitely one of those crazy things that you should experience. I’ve never been in a more care free, uninhibited atmosphere, where people just don’t give a shit who’s looking and what they are thinking.
Now, my body has a two day break until Halloween in New Orleans, which I hear is just nuts. Yikes.
Final thoughts on Fantasy Fest: it is spectacular and I would go back in a second. It is definitely one of those crazy things that you should experience. I’ve never been in a more care free, uninhibited atmosphere, where people just don’t give a shit who’s looking and what they are thinking.
Now, my body has a two day break until Halloween in New Orleans, which I hear is just nuts. Yikes.
