Hold the mayo. A friend suggested last year I write more about downtown like I do when I'm out of town. That would be exhausting but in the case of last night I'm going to recap my Monday of Mexicanness.
A few of us claim there are four (4) four-star (****) nights out a year on The Rock that happen unexpectedly. This is part of the reason I go out so often as to not miss one of the amazing random nights like when the School At Sea docked here and there were drunk young chicks making out with each other at The Bar That Is Little. I missed it and have kicked myself every day since. Now 5/5, like 3/17, isn't that out of the blue, it comes with some expectations so maybe it doesn't count but nevertheless May 5th, 2008 was of that rare degree.
It started off around 8pm after getting a text (and two Red Hook Blonde Ales) that the KMXT Posse was entertaining a reporter from Dutch and I could join in. I went to the Alderwood Penthouse Subystall to mount my "Sober Bike" for duty as my "Drunk Bike". My Drunk Bike currently has a flat which reminds me I promised to explain this concept. A Drunk Bike is a thrashed, rusty piece of shiznasty. A BMX bike coming from the Army of Salvation or laying by a dumpster. The sole purpose of this bike is to get from the Penthouse to Anthony's Bar and No Grill faster than it would take to walk. Riding it back at the end of the evening is optional. The beauty of the beast is that in looks abandoned to begin with so you just ghostride it into a bush or dark corner between McDeathburger and Credit Union Uno. No lock needed which was my problem on this occasion because Wolfboy had my bike lock and I wasn't taking the Sober Bike (the one I ride to work with lights, fenders, and some monetary value) to the T-Bar without security measures. With the wall gone in Tony's the possibility of parking inside by the phone was also gone.
So I walked.
Upon arrival there was a perfectly positioned seat between Paul and Raider Jeff. Pattie was at the helm and yanked a PBR out of the cooler while asking me if I wanted one (sing: where everybody knows yer name....). For the south of the border celebration I had mine with a slice of lime. Raider Jeff soon rattled off some jokes as if he worked at Horizon Lines, all of them funny enough to make me actually laugh, not just smile.
The Big Carrot was chatting with the radio gal from Nopealaska. She tried on a new Palin Red bar hoodie that looked really good despite the Wasilla tint but she ended up getting a wine colored one instead. The street cred factor of a Tony's hoodie was discussed at length and its ability to give you rank in other fishing towns. They lay waste on that poser arse tourist trap hoodie out of Homer. I won't even say the name.
Raider Jeff bought me another PBR (minus the lime this time). BC inquired about the sandwiches Tony's has now that are pre-made by Gwen's Ripoff Wagon next to Mini Costco. $6.50 for a semi-fancy sandwich with no chips. Da(m)n it! From left field Pattie offers everyone a sandwich with a $6.50 discount. Mmmmmm. Free, my favorite flavor. I got the turkey and it was good but with the normal-for-an-airport price tacked on I don't think I'll be getting one very often.
Jeff took off. Then Wolfboy appeared with a fresh scouting report from The Cheeseball Burrito Bar, natural home of such a holiday. The word was packed house. And the Plankwalkers were in full effect. Wolfboy, the radio gal, and some dude I didn't meet headed back that way while I continued the JOTR preproduction meeting/rant with my Lord and Saviour. Talked to Packer Dave for a sec and then in walks Mudderphuttin' Jimmy The Knut with his greasy Jheri Curl and Son of a bin Laden face scruff, talkin' much smack that he can't ever back. The kid cracks me up. He says "f-wordin' Nick" about 20 times. He always does.
Oh, I almost forgot this and this. Yes, I'm intentionally leaving this part of the story out. David Stern was also compared to various world dictators. Not in a good way.
Its past 10:30pm by this point and I decide I better hit the big par-tay before in down shifts. As soon I'm by the longhorns I can tell it is papapapapoppin'. Through the saloon doors all I can see are wall to wall humans. Gonzo, Princess Sime and Andrew Dice Lovebaker, and the cute waitress who wasn't very friendly on Friday (but I have a theory). The cute waitress actually smiles and gave a pleasant Hi (now I don't have a theory). I spot Derby Queen and the Scrapsquad at the perfect point of the bar where you have a good 355 degree view of the insanity. It was a complete Who's Who of young local alcoholics.
Sitting at 12 o'clock is Miss Danielle who was sporting some short shorts and a teal t-shirt doing her best Valley Trash look. We were front row to watching a steady procession of f-tards asking her to dance, fairly amusing for awhile but I can't blame them. Maybe she thinks there is another bracket coming up so she put it in seventh gear with a supercharger that night. Her talent is really being wasted here in Kodiak. As a former international male supermodel I think she needs to exploit herself on a much larger scale than Alaska can provide and cash in on what we will simply call "a gift". An AMAZING gift. Corky Who Doesn't Hate Me also looked stunning I might add. Of course I had the Flip Cam in my pocket and never took it out. More yer loss than mine.
But as deep as the eye candy was, every hottie in the house took back seat to a discovery, a massive leap in the evolution of our bastard lil town.
A few of us claim there are four (4) four-star (****) nights out a year on The Rock that happen unexpectedly. This is part of the reason I go out so often as to not miss one of the amazing random nights like when the School At Sea docked here and there were drunk young chicks making out with each other at The Bar That Is Little. I missed it and have kicked myself every day since. Now 5/5, like 3/17, isn't that out of the blue, it comes with some expectations so maybe it doesn't count but nevertheless May 5th, 2008 was of that rare degree.
It started off around 8pm after getting a text (and two Red Hook Blonde Ales) that the KMXT Posse was entertaining a reporter from Dutch and I could join in. I went to the Alderwood Penthouse Subystall to mount my "Sober Bike" for duty as my "Drunk Bike". My Drunk Bike currently has a flat which reminds me I promised to explain this concept. A Drunk Bike is a thrashed, rusty piece of shiznasty. A BMX bike coming from the Army of Salvation or laying by a dumpster. The sole purpose of this bike is to get from the Penthouse to Anthony's Bar and No Grill faster than it would take to walk. Riding it back at the end of the evening is optional. The beauty of the beast is that in looks abandoned to begin with so you just ghostride it into a bush or dark corner between McDeathburger and Credit Union Uno. No lock needed which was my problem on this occasion because Wolfboy had my bike lock and I wasn't taking the Sober Bike (the one I ride to work with lights, fenders, and some monetary value) to the T-Bar without security measures. With the wall gone in Tony's the possibility of parking inside by the phone was also gone.
So I walked.
Upon arrival there was a perfectly positioned seat between Paul and Raider Jeff. Pattie was at the helm and yanked a PBR out of the cooler while asking me if I wanted one (sing: where everybody knows yer name....). For the south of the border celebration I had mine with a slice of lime. Raider Jeff soon rattled off some jokes as if he worked at Horizon Lines, all of them funny enough to make me actually laugh, not just smile.
The Big Carrot was chatting with the radio gal from Nopealaska. She tried on a new Palin Red bar hoodie that looked really good despite the Wasilla tint but she ended up getting a wine colored one instead. The street cred factor of a Tony's hoodie was discussed at length and its ability to give you rank in other fishing towns. They lay waste on that poser arse tourist trap hoodie out of Homer. I won't even say the name.
Raider Jeff bought me another PBR (minus the lime this time). BC inquired about the sandwiches Tony's has now that are pre-made by Gwen's Ripoff Wagon next to Mini Costco. $6.50 for a semi-fancy sandwich with no chips. Da(m)n it! From left field Pattie offers everyone a sandwich with a $6.50 discount. Mmmmmm. Free, my favorite flavor. I got the turkey and it was good but with the normal-for-an-airport price tacked on I don't think I'll be getting one very often.
Jeff took off. Then Wolfboy appeared with a fresh scouting report from The Cheeseball Burrito Bar, natural home of such a holiday. The word was packed house. And the Plankwalkers were in full effect. Wolfboy, the radio gal, and some dude I didn't meet headed back that way while I continued the JOTR preproduction meeting/rant with my Lord and Saviour. Talked to Packer Dave for a sec and then in walks Mudderphuttin' Jimmy The Knut with his greasy Jheri Curl and Son of a bin Laden face scruff, talkin' much smack that he can't ever back. The kid cracks me up. He says "f-wordin' Nick" about 20 times. He always does.
Oh, I almost forgot this and this. Yes, I'm intentionally leaving this part of the story out. David Stern was also compared to various world dictators. Not in a good way.
Its past 10:30pm by this point and I decide I better hit the big par-tay before in down shifts. As soon I'm by the longhorns I can tell it is papapapapoppin'. Through the saloon doors all I can see are wall to wall humans. Gonzo, Princess Sime and Andrew Dice Lovebaker, and the cute waitress who wasn't very friendly on Friday (but I have a theory). The cute waitress actually smiles and gave a pleasant Hi (now I don't have a theory). I spot Derby Queen and the Scrapsquad at the perfect point of the bar where you have a good 355 degree view of the insanity. It was a complete Who's Who of young local alcoholics.
Sitting at 12 o'clock is Miss Danielle who was sporting some short shorts and a teal t-shirt doing her best Valley Trash look. We were front row to watching a steady procession of f-tards asking her to dance, fairly amusing for awhile but I can't blame them. Maybe she thinks there is another bracket coming up so she put it in seventh gear with a supercharger that night. Her talent is really being wasted here in Kodiak. As a former international male supermodel I think she needs to exploit herself on a much larger scale than Alaska can provide and cash in on what we will simply call "a gift". An AMAZING gift. Corky Who Doesn't Hate Me also looked stunning I might add. Of course I had the Flip Cam in my pocket and never took it out. More yer loss than mine.
But as deep as the eye candy was, every hottie in the house took back seat to a discovery, a massive leap in the evolution of our bastard lil town.
El Chi's now serves Stella Artois on tap!
My friend, we have arrived. However, it was SIX BUCKS A GLASS and not the usual gold rimmed goblet you get with it Outside. Still, this is up there with Captain Cook, the Exxon spill and Good Friday 1964. Historic, straight up, fool. I had one before changing to Liquid Sunshine. It was either that or break into an ATM for a refill.
Tommy Gunn hinted that there might be a massive blowout called Morganapolis at an exotic local location. It sounds like our version of Mitchpalooza or Burning Man. Stay tuned.
The only thing missing was some of the recent observer chicks. One in particular.
Derby and Scrap went homeward but I stayed to soak in all the loveliness. By 1am Trapper Joe spotted (trapped) me and I knew I was in for another long, bizarre conversation. He is like a cross between Art Bell and Jimmy Swaggart who shout-talks. Most people I know can't tolerate him at all but I can never stop listening to the crazy bull that comes from his mouth. This time it was the USCG antenna field (that has been there my entire life) is actually part of HAARP and being used to control the weather. If so they are doing a really lousy job. He went on to say 'Merica is doomed (no argument there) and listed his top five places to move to including Germany and South Africa before going on his usual Obama-is-going-to-die rant. Yeah, heard that one last time, new material please.
At a quarter to two I slid out the main gate and headed home with 3c on Mack's clock. Toasty. Got home in 20 minutes, had a can of 99 cent Texas chili, and turned on Transformers. Got about 70% of the way through it before giving up. You can do the same now.
Tommy Gunn hinted that there might be a massive blowout called Morganapolis at an exotic local location. It sounds like our version of Mitchpalooza or Burning Man. Stay tuned.
The only thing missing was some of the recent observer chicks. One in particular.
Derby and Scrap went homeward but I stayed to soak in all the loveliness. By 1am Trapper Joe spotted (trapped) me and I knew I was in for another long, bizarre conversation. He is like a cross between Art Bell and Jimmy Swaggart who shout-talks. Most people I know can't tolerate him at all but I can never stop listening to the crazy bull that comes from his mouth. This time it was the USCG antenna field (that has been there my entire life) is actually part of HAARP and being used to control the weather. If so they are doing a really lousy job. He went on to say 'Merica is doomed (no argument there) and listed his top five places to move to including Germany and South Africa before going on his usual Obama-is-going-to-die rant. Yeah, heard that one last time, new material please.
At a quarter to two I slid out the main gate and headed home with 3c on Mack's clock. Toasty. Got home in 20 minutes, had a can of 99 cent Texas chili, and turned on Transformers. Got about 70% of the way through it before giving up. You can do the same now.
