Speedos, Water, Couches, and a little bit of Shamone (long-ish story post) (722 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: 1.89 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by calbearspolo (View user info) at 2005-06-01 15:40:03 EDT
Imagine, if you will, four guys in Speedos.
Wait...
Okay, I am getting ahead of myself. Imagine a pledging activity that involves copious amounts of the finest malt beverage King Cobra can produce. Yes, now you understand me, on with the story:
It was early fall. The weather was still nice and warm, as fall typically is in Berkeley, and school had been in session for a few weeks. My teammates and I were practicing twice a day, once at 6:00 am and again at 3:00 pm, and as the freshman, we were trying to make a good show of it for the coach who would be controlling our lives for the next 4 years. He was mean, he would yell a lot, and he was 6'6" and 360 lbs. To call the man 'big' was like saying Bob Marley 'experimented' with pot.
So one Thursday after practice, when he called a meeting and went over some of the captain's (senior's) duties to the team, our commitment to winning the championship, and personal responsibility, it was no surprise that there was to be a player's meeting immediately afterwards lead by the newly appointed captains. I, in my naïve hope that the meeting would be quick and I could finish my date with the dorm room bed, was eager for things to start.
The meeting was relocated onto a fraternity house on Piedmont Street, the Greek boulevard that forms the eastern and uphill border for the campus. 30 minutes into our meeting it was clear what the freshman role on the team would be—entertainment of upperclassmen through alcohol consumption and stupid drunken ideas. There were to be plenty of both that year.
"Wassa fur mein tuff en mu foomenini?" I asked at one point.
"What?" Someone asked
"WASSA NOOF TIEN "EN MUUF" MEN-INI!" I screamed, trying to add air quotation marks and emphasize the appropriate parts to clarify.
"<calbearspolo> is wasted" snickered a senior, and it's only 40 minutes into the evening.
Things looked dismal. Like emo party with nothing but JMG in costume and ghey menz in bowties.
The consensus was made that the four freshman, myself, Otto, Dorno, and Yo-yo would have to provide some sort of spectacle for the crowd at hand. While drunk. In our Speedos. (I should take this moment to point out that the Speedo is actually part, if not all, of out team uniform as we are water polo players, not some half attempt at pure humiliation. Well, I'd be lying if that wasn't the ultimate goal, but the point it we didn't have to go out and hunt for Speedos specifically for this occasion. I'll kick my own ass later.)
It was determined that the best course of action would be to add rolling casters to one of the couches out on the sidewalk and use it as a delivery vehicle for a bucket of water balloons at unsuspecting targets. With the fevered pitch of a crack-whore earning a dime-bag, we went to work.
Our flight path was simple, start the couch on Piedmont, and let the force of gravity take control, hurling us down Bancroft St. (the southern border to campus and the "front entrance to the infamous Sproul Plaza). It wasn't until the moment that we were actually about to let the couch go that I got a chance to truly survey my crew:
Otto was standing on the cushions, whooping it up for the crowd. He had borrowed some lipstick from a female and had applied war paint to his cheeks and chest. With a crumpled can of Natural Ice in one hand, and a defiant fist of water-balloon throwing rage in the other, he was making pirate calls. We had our captain.
Yo-yo had determined that he was in the perfect place to take a nap. Sprawled out and snoring, his attention to our mission was a bit more relaxed. It was an admittedly passive approach, but I must admit I was envious of his confidence.
Dorno, instead of focusing on which side of the street to throw the balloons, was busy vomiting over the side of the couch, desperately trying not to splash himself with backwards digested hotdog and beer. He was in charge of the awkwardly fashioned brake-stick that was bolted to the side of the couch.
And then there was me, dead middle and clutching a tub of balloons, too drunk to do anything but smile and wave. I'd like to pretend I had a headband on with bright feathers or something, but I didn't and I'm not much of a liar. We were ready.
To the chanting of a small crowd of people, the couch was released. We picked up speed immediately, barreling through the College St. intersection without even slowing. Pedestrians would stop, staring at the spectacle of a couch rolling down the street at night baring its spandex enshrouded passengers--they were the first to feel our watery wrath. Children, old people, sorority girls in tight fitting white shirts were not spared the misaligned throws from our bus of the bizarre. We couldn't hit much of anything, but our drunken taunts were enough to cement our immortal status. At least to ourselves.
We were belligerent, loud, and feeling powerful as we zipped down the street. Few cars were out during that time of night, so our total inability to navigate wasn't a huge issue, but we would warn those who came close—if by we I mean Otto and by warn I mean yell obscenities and pirate jargon.
What we, as new freshman to the town, had failed to realize, is that Bancroft, right before Telegraph St., has a police station on the right side that services the campus. So as our couch-of-death-and-pirate-screams passes the station, a police cruiser is just pulling onto the street.
Now I m not much of a believer in fate, karma, voodoo, or cosmic retribution, but this could have been the most mistimed appearance of an officer since Hugh Grant got his knob polished. "No really officer, she's my sister and I dropped some chap-stick. She's helping me find it."
Three things happened once we saw the cop. Otto let's out a bellowing "ARRRRRGGHHHHmotherfuckerweresodead." Yo-yo freaks out and pisses himself, knocking water balloons out of my bucket and all over the road (it might have just been from a balloon, but it's funnier if he actually pissed himself). Dorno pulls the brake lever with such force that the couch actually spins almost 180 degrees and we are all now staring down the headlights and revolving blues of the police cruiser—which promptly makes him puke again. I think some got on the cruiser's front grill. We were Shamoned for sure.
We knew we were busted. There was no way we could possibly talk our way out of trouble, I have seen COPS on TV. We didn't have IDs, license to operate a couch on public streets, up-to-date tags or smog certification, or a sober person to take control and act as our police "representative." Hell, we were all underage. Then it dawned on me, they have no idea who we are. So I did the only thing I could think of, I ran. The others had no problem with my theory and followed suit (ha ha, get it? Speedo... suit... ha eh, never mind). Here we are, four guys, clad in nothing but triangles of fabric, sprinting away from a puke-speckled, water logged couch and an overweight, thoroughly confused policeman.
I guess it could have been worse, if we had been caught.
Word got back to my coach on Friday that four unknown guys of the water polo team were "under suspicion" of engaging in felonious activities the prior evening and the whole team had a punishment swim set. To their credit, none of the rest of the guys gave us up.
And now, Erik Estrada in a Speedo:
User Reviews
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2005-07-18 08:34:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Crap, I was just checking to see who you are. Man, I sense another first round boot in my future.
Submitted by tehgareh (user info) at 2005-06-02 01:50:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-06-01 22:07:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I gigglesnorted.
Submitted by Kamargo (user info) at 2005-06-01 18:20:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I laughed a lot
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2005-06-01 17:27:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
"I'm into sports mom."
hehe
Submitted by Dead_0hi0_Sky (user info) at 2005-06-01 16:55:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
original.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-06-01 16:46:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
fan fucking tastic
Submitted by insanedoc (user info) at 2005-06-01 16:10:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I love you.
Submitted by Zoidberg (user info) at 2005-06-01 15:58:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I will admit, I only read halfway through, but the image of a water polo team in speedos was enough to secure a +2