Saturday, January 2, 2010

I Don't Go Crazy On New Years Anymore

Once upon a time, I would do something insane at the drop of a hat. That was before I had a career and a child to think about. Now, my creative insanity happens in a more controlled environment. I've spent the past few years avoiding the craziness of New Years Eve parties, opting for more laid back affairs on December 31 such as dinner parties. I don't want to have to deal with the gaggle of drunken idiots on my way home. Plus, I already had an epically crazy on New Years Eve. It was 10 years ago and I still shudder when I think about it.

The Winter of 2000 was a harsh one. When I arrived at Brock and Larry's place in the early evening hours of December 31, there was a foot of snow on the ground already. We went out and had dinner at Hooters and then proceeded to party it up at some other bar nearby. We rang in 2001 there wearing cheap plastic party hats. By that time, both Brock and I were majorly drunk. By the time Larry drove us back, my BAL was 0.13 and Brock's was 0.15 according to the breathalyzer Larry had gotten for Christmas.

Outside of Brock and Larry's apartment was a basketball court. It had not been tread upon since the recent snowfall, and so it pristine. Brock got it in his head that we needed to remedy that situation. After all, what worth is a basketball court if nobody plays upon it, even in winter? Brock drunkenly challenged me to a game of one-on-one basketball. I drunkenly accepted and the craziness accelerated. We ran out, beers in hands, wearing athletic shorts and T-shirts. Larry yelled out "Shirts Vs Skins!" and Brock removed his shirt. We dove into the snow and ran to center court. I fell over during the jump ball, which allowed Brock to take possession. Dribbling was impossible in a foot of snow, which meant that my already atrocious basketball skills, now hampered by the snow, would put me on a par with Mark Madsen. Brock would fare a little better, perhaps emulating Ryan Bowen.

Brock, taking advantage of my fall, quickly scored a goal. In the midst of his victory dance, however, the bitter cold suddenly cut through his drunken haze and he ran off the field in agony. I declared myself the winner by forfeit and began to jump around the snow covered court, gloating. I then slipped and fell again and ended up making a snow angel in a foot of snow.

I ended up catching bronchitis and pneumonia soon after. I watched the video footage of the whole event recently and I continue to marvel at what a colossal drunken idiot I was. It was still fun, though.


  1. I need to cut the length down from 15 minutes to around 10 in order to fit it on Youtube. The actual game is short, but the build up, with all of our drunken gloating to the camera is pretty damn funny.