Tag Archives: roadtrips

Vegas Recap

2 May

I know I said I would post on Monday about my weekend in Vegas, but sometimes after hurting your liver the last thing you think about is logging onto your blog and trying to be clever. So here it is some days later. For those counting at home, I will give myself a win for this trip , which brings my all time record against Vegas to a respectable 2-2. I did not win exorbitant sums of money, or go home with Kate Uptonesque girls (Hippos!!!), but I learned a lot about myself this trip. The theme for Vegas 2012 was called Getting Older. From watching 20/20 specials sipping whiskey in my room on a Friday night, to I’ding girls who claimed they were 21 on the strip, to bringing a Dave Eggers novel poolside and actually reading an entire chapter, to shopping for a nice dress shirt at Zara, to asking strippers about their health benefits, it all tied in to that inevitable clock-ticking truth. And I could really care less. I raged hard this weekend, don’t get me wrong. I drank unhealthy amounts of Jack, hollered at girls, bet on stupid things, and saw the sunrise because I know that won’t last, and I’m pretty happy about it. I embrace the fact that Vegas allows me to act like a degenerate for 2 days, but I also embrace my more mature proclivities. So let’s raise our Hennessy and flat red bulls and have a toast. To Vegas 2013! May it be filled with expensive steak houses, spa treatments, and The Blue Man Group.

8:37 PM Friday: Arrive at Treasure Island in an overheated ’65 Mustang. Pit stains non-existent because I’m wearing a Turquoise tank. Swag?

8:59 PM Friday: Fatigued from the hot ride, drink Gatorade and watch the last half of Speed in the room, friends tell me I’ve changed.

10:45 PM Friday: Guy in Ed Hardy shirt asks me “How do you play craps!” Turns out to be an all right guy.

12:25 AM Saturday: Make out with questionable looking drunk girl. (Or does she think she’s making out with questionable looking drunk guy? Wig out mind meddler)

1:40 AM Saturday: Next “Too Close” might be on, but I’m in a full BO so its’ hard to tell. Girl asks me to hold her Iphone, I pocket it and forget, and she accuses me of trying to steal it. I leave the club. #Lightweightjealouscause Ihaveaflipphone

3:17 AM Saturday: Make a terrible order at the Bellagio café such and such. Eat Fish and Chips with drunken 21 year olds from Tacoma. Feel old.

4:10 AM Saturday: Win $300 dollars in Craps; think I know how to win at Craps.

4:25 AM Saturday: Seriously contemplate seeing Carrot Top live.

5:45 AM Saturday: Painful rest.

9:45 AM Saturday: Awoken by friends who convince me to bet actual money on a three team parlay involving the Knick to cover, Pacers to cover and Celtics to win straight up. Good lord that went poorly.

10:30 AM Saturday: Watch first two quarters of the Heat game, want to cry and take a nap.

11:18 AM Saturday: Go to pool, apply sunscreen, look like a geisha girl, and listen to Flo Rida.

11:45 AM Saturday: Flo Rida is still on, and that red German is still dancing in front of the DJ, how is this possible?

1:54 PM Saturday: Stripper asks me where I get my haircut. I reply “At Rudy’s on Sunset” She gets up and walks away.

4:27 PM Saturday: Mustang won’t start for 2 hours. Saved by a redneck. Leave Vegas slightly sun burnt in the company of good friends.

Spring Break Throwback: Willits Edition

11 Apr

...and also lots of weed

While most College Seniors are planning their epic trip to Cabo, I was convinced to spend four wild days in Willits. For those unfamiliar, Willits is a small town in Northern California that is notable for being small and full of weed (to be fair this can aptly describe any town north of the Bay Area, CA). I like to compare it to the shire from Lord of the Rings, but instead of Hobbits, its inhabitants include ganja farmers and Woody Harrelson type dealers.
With the appropriate iPod playlist at the ready, two friends and I hopped in the whip and reggae free-styled our way up state. We arrived at our destination in high spirits, and pretty much kept those spirits for the next four days. It’s difficult to be a Debbie downer when you’re a guest on a weed farm. The next 96 hours were admittedly a blur, but I remember four things that were way more awesome than anything I could have done in Cabo.

Shooting AK-47: Shooting an AK is like playing a video game. I honestly felt like I was just pressing R2 the entire time. I stood on top of a bluff overlooking the Eel River, and shot the crap out of boulders while laughing softly. It’s creepy how powerful you feel with one of those tucked under your armpit. I pretended I was a Russian guard who finally got the best of Bond and Natalia in the Stacks. It was glorious.

Rafting down the Eel River: Looking back this was pretty sketch. My friend and I literally took turns blowing air into a tiny children’s raft that clearly wasn’t meant for two grown men. With our compromised lung capacity, we failed to properly inflate the raft, but that didn’t stop us. Like a couple of veteran Oregon trailers with no Indians in sight, we chose to cock the raft and float it. We started sinking immediately, the currents were wild and the water freezing, but somehow we navigated that river for 5 minutes with our friends Cyborg dog paddling by our side. Just one of those “I can’t believe this is working moments.”

Racing Through the Woods: Weedy McGee (farm owner) wanted to show us how beautiful the sunset was from the ridge. We were losing light quick, so clearly a dirt bike/ATV race was in order. I was tripping the hardest so I sat bitch on the ATV. Unbeknownst to me, Weedy McGee was born on a dirt bike because he smashed through the woods like Bigfoot on a bender. My friend valiantly tried to keep up, but we hit a steep uphill and ended up flipping the ATV and had to use our Zeus like quads to flip it behind us. Normally, a near fatal ATV crash would stop me in my tracks, but we had a sunset to catch and Weedy McGee was right, it was beautiful.

Playing Every Instrument Ever: Apparently when you run a weed farm you get lonely, and when you get lonely you buy every instrument imaginable. I played no less than 32 instruments in a circular room for 9 hours. I thought I was the shit. Gamelans, Djembes, Obos, it didn’t matter, I awkwardly played them all, high as shit in a dimly lit room.

I have never been back to Willits, and I will never go again. I want to keep my epic senior spring break enshrined in its proper haze of AK’s and questionable river rafting. So if you are off to some sun burnt slosh fest this spring break, kudos my friend, but everyone should have their Willits. Get weird.

Let's avoid being this guy

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