August 13, 2019 at 10:25 pm #46629
I think we have some interesting people in this group. It would be fun to read about some of the crazy shit you all have done in your lives.
One time (at band camp) when I was a young kid, I was visiting my Mom and Brother in Illinois. My brother and I stole some cigarettes from her husband at the time. They were those Vantage cigarettes that have a hole in the filter to allow more smoke in your lungs lol. For some reason I remember this.
Well, we would sneak off to smoke them. We took off on a long bike ride to the baseball card and memorabilia store like 5 miles away, maybe even 10 miles, it seemed very far at the time.
Anyways, somewhere along the way we smoked our cigarettes and then flicked them into a field that had dried up hay everywhere. It was so hot out that you could see piles of grass smoldering and catching fire along the side of the road.
After we flicked the cigarettes into the field we peddled off to the store and got our baseball cards and whatever else we got at the time. Then we went back the way we came.
When we got to the spot we smoked out cigarettes at we saw fire trucks everywhere and they were putting out a fire in that field we flicked our butts in, catching several acres of this field on fire.
Nobody ever caught us. So don’t tell nobody! 😂August 13, 2019 at 11:47 pm #46633
As crazy as we all are this tread going to be a real ”MoStoke”
Either Jr. or Sr. year in High School in Bethesda, we all hung out @ the hippie bars in N.W.D.C., drinking age was 18 for beer & wine and bars rarely carded plus drivers licenses didn’t have pictures on them in those days. So it was Jerry’s turn to drive, pick up 4 of us and off we went trolling few bars around Tenley Town N.W. D.C. Then after midnight we were ripe after evening of 25 cents drafts so now the fun begins, Jerry’s Mustang was a 1969 Mach 1 with a 351 Cleveland! He started slamming gears/laying rubber down Wisconsin Ave through N.W.D.C. then after we entered Bethesda pick up a Montgomery County police cruiser in tow, then another cruiser, then a total of 4 were chasing us with lights and sirens. Then Jerry turned down Georgetown Rd, fairly straight, traffic lights were blinking yellow, so opened it up from 90 to 110 mph, those County Chevy’s barely kept up with us. Then Oh Shit, Jerry said the rest of County Police are waiting for us, looked like a parade of police cars, they had block off the road so we couldn’t get on the capital beltway . Those 1969 Mustangs were so fast but couldn’t out run police radios. Jerry gave up, pulled over, cops thought we were harden criminals but just 4 drunk teenagers. The shock of it all we didn’t kill ourselves but the cops commended Jerry on his driving that they had not had such a great police chase in months. The cops had the least drunk guy drive and warned us to stay below the speed limit and that was not uncommon in those days. Growing up during the muscle car era was fun as street racing was fairly common including setting up Christmas trees on Friday nights.August 14, 2019 at 8:04 am #46637
Me and a friend took his brother’s old Mustang out for a joyride late one summer night. It sounded like a good idea after we drank a bottle of Rumple Minz. If you don’t know what Rumple Minz is, it’s 80 proof German schnapps that tastes like mint mouthwash. We were 16.
The area was all farmer’s fields… and I drove first. We got about a mile and half away from the house and I was headed for a 90 degree turn doing oh God miles an hour. “SLOW DOWN, MAN!!” says my buddy. “I GOT IT!!” says me. Famous last words.
The car spun out in truly dramatic fashion, missed a big fat oak tree by about a foot, and stalled out in some old farmhouse’s front yard. I go to start it up again and break the key off in the ignition. We pushed it a mile and half back to the house, and hung a half a key back up on the hook in the kitchen.
Work the next day sucked.August 14, 2019 at 1:37 pm #46662
In the long, long ago, I shared a house with 3 other miscreants. One night in early January we all dosed and proceeded to party up a storm. You know the drill; full steam ahead with the stereo cranked, bongs, beer, etc…we were rockin’ into the night.
Around 2 in the morning another friend showed up unannounced and drunk off his ass. He had apparently noticed on his way over to our place that it was trash pickup day in the morning and that many of our neighbors had put their (formerly) live Christmas trees on the curb for pickup. He asked us rather innocently if we had ever seen a Christmas tree set on fire? Not knowing what we were getting ourselves into we all had to agree that we had never seen that before.
Dude proceeds to go in the street, pick out a tree and set it alight. It was a pyro’s wet-dream. I mean, holy shit, that thing was blazing! He was running up and down the street swirling it overhead and screaming like a banshee. The flame and flying sparks lit up the night sky projecting at least 30 feet in the air! Needless I say more, our drug-addled minds loved that spectacle and called for an encore performance. Soon we had moved the stereo’s speakers into the yard and set up chairs to watch the electric light show. Who knows how many times he performed his trick but we kept calling for more.
As you know: what goes up must come down, so as dawn’s light was breaking we shut the party down and passed out hard. At around 6pm the next evening somebody starts pounding on my bedroom door saying, “Dude you gotta get up right now.” Still needing more recovery time I yelled for him to leave me alone only to be told that this was an emergency and to get my ass up!
I joined my roommates on the front porch where we were confronted by literally half of the neighborhood who were understandably not pleased with our behavior. It was like that scene in Frankenstein where the townspeople show up with torches and ax handles looking for blood. They took turns berating us and telling us we were the worst people on earth. It didn’t help that having just been awoken I was standing there shivering in my underwear!
The final straw was when the leader of the lynch mob asked us what we had to say for ourselves. We all just looked at each other and shrugged. I told my roommates that my brain hurt and I for one desperately needed a bong hit. As one, as if choreographed, we just turned around and walked back inside closing the door behind us. Dick move? Oh hell yeah; but that’s what dicks do!
Moral of the story? LSD is a helluva drug.
Slide On!August 14, 2019 at 1:52 pm #46664
😂😂😂 Oh man, this is some funny shit guys, keep the stories coming!August 14, 2019 at 3:51 pm #46685
Junior in high school at one of those Friday or Saturday night keg parties at some random guy’s house whose parents are gone for the weekend.
One of the guys from school whom I’d never surfed with before asked if I wanted to surf Mexico in the morning (this was in San Diego, a 15 minute trip). Always down for Mex, I agreed. The caveat: “We need to get some gas though, dude.” I’m like, ok, I can pitch in a couple of bucks. He replies, “we’ll just wait a couple more hours and we can go siphon some.” Huh.
So around 1 or 2 am we’re off in his 1974 Chevy Caprice or Impala or whatever, looking for a good place to suck petrol without getting shot. His car was massive and could probably fit half of Mexico in his trunk alone.
Finally find a car not too far from our school…and IIRC, pretty well lit too, just like 2 teenaged morons. So my pal sets up his shop and starts sucking away and gets the gas flowing when yup, you guessed it, a local cop drives by. Our lame attempts to hide under a lit streetlight failed, and the cop rolled up on us quickly.
We thought we were so busted, but the young cop took pity on our stupidity and let us go after admonishing us.
After collectively shitting our pants and praising our good fortunes, I was ready to pack it in. Not my buddy though.
So we went down about 3 streets and sucked it out of somebody else’s tank, and went to Mex.
The surf sucked.August 14, 2019 at 8:42 pm #46707
Speaking of siphoning, once we were skateboarding Hamburger Hill and afterwards we were running on fumes and coasted to a gas station by the airport, and the lights go off as we coast in. So we ask the manager if we can get gas, he says he can’t turn the pumps back on. So we ask if we can siphon a bit from a parked rent a car he had on the lot and he says sure, and we give him a $5 bill and he closes up and goes home.
As we siphon gas from the car a cop pulls up and busts us. He searches us and finds a bag of weed in my buddy’s bag with his skateboard in it, and we all go downtown and my other buddy offers up his Mom’s phone number and she comes down to get us.
Before she arrives, the fat ass boss hog asks Dawson if he paid for the weed (it was FINE Colombian Red – this was 1976) and Dawson said yes, and the cop said “Did your friend who sold you the bag kiss you?” and my buddy all confused said no.
So Boss Hog laughs real loud “Haw! Haw! Haw!, You got fucked and you didn’t get kissed!” and stuck the weed in his pocket and let us go when Momma showed up.August 14, 2019 at 9:05 pm #46710
One of my earliest memories of pulling shit and getting caught (I was the one who always got caught) was when they built the Big House at the foot of the street (it took up two lots on the Intracoastal Waterway). We used to play in it when it was being built, it was like a private castle for us kids. Then when the mini-mansion was finished and the husband and wife plastic surgeon couple moved in, I decided to welcome them to the neighborhood. I was 12, and my younger brother was 5, and the Wainbrights had a kumquat tree in front of their house and it was full of fruit so I grabbed a couple handfuls and threw them at the front door and when I reloaded and threw the next batch the old lady opened up the massive wooden door and got pelted by ripe kumquats.
My brother and I furiously ran down the street back home. When my Mom got home from the grocery store we were sitting down drinking soda and watching TV, and I thought all was good. Then my stupid brother sez, “Guess what Mom, we threw kumquats at Mrs Wainbright and she got hit and we didn’t even get caught”
He’s still a moron to this day.August 15, 2019 at 10:18 am #46740
One of my Puerto Rico surf trips I think it was 2001. I have been on 11 surf trips to PR & a couple of times as a stop on a cruise. It was late season in early February & made the trip because I knew with the huge front with 30+ MPH NW winds that we were forecast the big swells would be headed to PR in 3-4 days. Flew solo to Ramey AFB & Colin Herlihy picked me up. I had printed out the wave model for the next week & asked Colin how the waves were & he said windy & waist high @ Marias. I showed him the map & said not for long. We went to the Lazy Parrot where my buddy Matt Naylor (Smiley for most) was bar tending & who I was staying with for the trip. Grabbed some food & beers until he got off work & then headed home to his house @ the top of Bummer Hill in his Hoopty car think it was 80’s Chevy Caprice or similar he bought for $300 for the season. More on the Hoopty in a bit.
Early the next morning we stopped by Puntas bakery as we always did for breakfast & coffee & chatted with some friends. When we left & were headed toward Tres we got to where The Beach House restaurant/bar is now overlooking the ball fields, Tres & Marias & huge waves & lines wrapping into Tres. We watched for a bit while talking to the boys & eating our breakfast & headed out. Was solid 8′ & Tres was glassy & fun for the few hours we were out. Came in & grabbed lunch @ Calypso to refuel & paddled back out @ Tres & the sets in the afternoon were getting bigger pushing 10′-12′ with more West than NW & clean up sets were hammering us that weren’t way way outside. The last clean up set that caught Matt & I we both went as deep on the duck dive as possible & ended up doing under water tumbling backwards for 20 yards or more. Came up with my hamstrings & calves locked up & puking saltwater. Limped in & called it a great day.
We got in the Hoopty & back to the house to grab a nap before Matt had to work for the night. Headed to the Lazy Parrot for Matt to work & me some beers & grub. Matt ordered his medium rare burger right before getting off work. Went back to his house & some friends stopped by for a while. Matt didn’t eat that burger until they left which was probably an hour and a half or longer after ordering. Woke up around 3 AM to him puking his guts out & liquid shits rattling the house. His color was Grey & hurting for sure. After expelling everything he probably ate or drank for 2 days we crashed until about 6 AM. This is where the Hoopty comes back in. I was so tired I left my stuff in the trunk of the car overnight. We walk out of the house to head to Tres again & no Hoopty. Asked the neighbors who were awesome & nobody new where it was. I went back in the house & grabbed my other board & gear & we walked to the bakery. We asked some of our friends in the bakery if they had seen Matt’s car & one of them said he waved to who he thought was Matt about an hour earlier but headed towards Wilderness & was wondering why he didn’t wave back. We walked to Tres & the swell was back into the 8′-10′ range and swell direction was better NW again. Surfed until lunch & talked while in the water the whole time of where in the hell was the Hoopty. Ate lunch @ Calypso & talked with a local PR couple who were friends of Matt’s & they went with us to file a police report & took us back home. Same routine of walking to the bakery, surf, dinner & work for Matt the next day. Had the police call the Lazy Parrot for Matt to say that a cow farmer in Aguadilla called & said the Hoopty was blocking his lane for feeding his cows & we needed to get the car out of the way. The same friends that helped file the police report took us to the car. Car was fine but no keys & Matt didn’t have a spare. They then took us to a local gas station & for $60 the gas station towed the car back to the house.
Now we have the car back but no keys. The neighbor said there was one man near the Lazy Parrot that had shoe boxes of old car keys & see him. Found some old worn out Chevy keys and went back to the house/car. Luckily one of them worked the ignition & but not the trunk or the doors which the doors didn’t really matter because only 2 of the four doors had windows in them. Went back to the man with the keys & paid him $5 & thank you very much. We ripped out the back seat to see if my gear was still there & to our surprise it was. Called it a day & celebration beers for the evening. Surfed Marias on a fading swell for the rest of the trip until I was to fly back home.
I was due to fly back February 13th to be home for Valentine’s Day with my ex-wife at the time. Matt took me to the airport in the afternoon before he had to work. Went to the pizza shop & bar @ Ramey AFB airport & ordered some beers & food before my flight later on. I was flying Quantas & no trouble on the way down. This is also when I think @ the time American Airlines went on strike that same week. I sat @ the bar for a while talking to the local family who owned it & they said some of the flights earlier that day had been delayed. I didn’t worry about it too much because I was driving myself home from Newark, NJ airport. The staff said our flight was going to be delayed a couple of hours so I went back to the bar. Two hours later & no sign of when our flight would be arriving. The family @ the bar was so cool that they offered a place for me to stay but I told them I would sleep in the airport in case it did come in & slept on my board bag & gear for the night. Woke up & checked the status & they said it would be 10 PM that night before our flight would be back. I rented a car & drove back to Matt’s house for a shower & decent rest & to hear Matt say what the hell happened I thought you left last night & I said I thought so to. Waves were shit so we just hung @ Calypso. Say goodbye again & head back to the airport, check the rental car in & check on the flight & place was packed with flights cancelled after ours & ours was the first cancelled. Airline staff still said 10 PM for us so off to my new best friends @ the bar.
Checked my bags in around 9 Am and closed the bar around 11 PM. Got on the flight @ 3 AM slept until Newark, NJ & drove straight home to Delaware. Went to sleep for a while & woke up to unpack my stuff. Locks on my bag were changed & had to cut them off. All the great photos I had captured during the trip on my 35MM with lenses, digital camera & a few kodak disposable underwater cameras were gone. Called Ramey AFB & they said they had no idea what I was talking about. Called Quantas & the same thing & I could file a claim but they were filing bankruptcy so nothing would likely be resolved.
Even with the craziness of the trip & the stolen cameras it was the best waves & most memorable trip I have ever had. Better than the Hawaii, Mexico trips I have taken.August 15, 2019 at 10:37 am #46742
One of my Puerto Rico surf trips I think it was 2001. … Even with the craziness of the trip & the stolen cameras it was the best waves & most memorable trip I have ever had. Better than the Hawaii, Mexico trips I have taken.
Hell yea man thanks for sharing. Awesome story. Nice little 10-minute getaway while i’m stuck at the office haha.August 16, 2019 at 5:39 pm #46824
When I was about 15-16 years old me and a group of friends went to a punk show in Downtown St. Pete at the State Theatre to see Guttermouth, Good Riddance, and Strung Out, one of the best concerts I have ever been to. It was a wild one, lots of drinking, smoking, and there were dueling pits that took up the entire room and people were getting smashed left and right. If you got knocked out of one pit, you ended up in the other and kept going, for what seemed like forever. Everybody was lucky to make it out of that one in one piece lol
After the show was over my buddy who was a year older was able to rent a motel room in downtown Clearwater smack in the middle of crack town. It had to of been the cheapest motel around, it was disgusting. But we just needed a room to party in and get more smashed than we already were. We managed to recruit a ton of friends for the party and this room was elbow to elbow with teenagers, alcohol every where, weed every where, and noise levels that must of had the entire motel pissed off.
Well, after a while we got a knock at the door. Thinking it was the cops we turned the music off and discreetly opened the door to see who it was. Turns out it was an older prostitute looking for “a good time”. One of my buddies thought it might be fun to invite her in, so in she went and someone passed her a beer. Next thing you know there’s another knock at the door. This time it WAS the cops. Busted! They had been sitting outside for hours watching everything unfold. They had been running a prostitution sting on this place.
As soon as people realized what was going on we all scrambled for the only way out of the room, which was a tiny window in the bathroom. Most of us managed to squeeze out of this window and out the back of the building and took off running into a neighborhood. Little did we know that they had the entire neighborhood surrounded with cops and the drove around rounding us all up one by one.
I remember one of the cops was this huge black lady the size of Robocop, only she sounded like Shaniqua from the ghetto. They brought us all back to the scene of the crime and decided to let us all call our parents and have them pick us up. My friend who rented the room had to wait until everybody else was let go. They threatened to lock him up and pin it all on him but in the end he was let go too. They just wanted to scare the crap out of everybody.
My Mom came and picked me up and was actually very cool about the whole ordeal. I thought I was in for a beating when I got home from both Mom and Dad but they just shook their head at me and to my surprise they didn’t tear me a new one. They just expressed their disappointment in my getting caught and said next time don’t throw a motel party in the middle of crack town. In other words, be smarter if you want to be delinquent.August 17, 2019 at 2:01 pm #46884
It’s August, 1996 and I am in full bloom as the asshole that was LOL my buddy Chris and I have been out all day Saturday going from bar to bar drinking tequila sunrises… It was a very long day. We then decide in our infinite wisdom To go to a bar, officially named ups and downs, but affectionately named the room of doom or the total recall bar. At last call. To scope for lonely women. Or blind ones…
We find the lovely Sandra tending bar to a pretty much empty bar so we’re like super friends showing up. Or at least we think so. Side note is Sandra is a hot older woman in her mid thirties… so we immediately start trying to woo her for mating rituals later on. She returns the favor and decides to show us her scooby doo pez dispenser while leaning over to jam cleavage together -YESSSSSSS. Or so my Cabo wabo sodden Brain says so I decide to show her MY pez dispenser in the form of the SIG P220 large cap magazine I had on my hip keeping my other gun happy, and so i pop out the mag and begin “dispensing” .45 cal hydroshoks onto the bar top while giggling like a school girl.
Yyyep. I ever tell you guys I’m a Mensa student?
Fast forward to both Chris and I finding out the Fire escape behind the building did indeed pass inspection safety standards…And that prick still managed to get Sandras number, who met us after the police left, and we all had egg McMuffin sandwiches for breakfast the next morning. Although I spent the night on the couch watching porn because as my friend Chris said, “he’s the star of his show and doesn’t do buddy movies..”
Of course he didn’t know Sandra came downstairs to tuck me in after her became John Q snoozenboozer because he passed out on her before he got his jockies Bahahahahahah
sadly, the Room of Doom is no longer with us, but it was like a pirates of the carribean scene inside or on mid week nights it looked like the bar in the movie Total Recall. Scary but dependable when in a pinch.August 18, 2019 at 10:45 am #46893
I need an attorney to determine statute of limitations before I start spouting stories!!!
Good stuff fellas
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