JERK OF THE WEEK: Walt Goes to the Super Bowl, Part 4
Last week, I wrote Walt Goes to the Super Bowl, Part 3, which involved almost breaking my back at the actual Super Bowl party I went to, nearly getting poisoned at an eatery, and trying some Mexican food at an exotic restaurant called Chipotle. Charlie and I were invited to two parties the night before the Super Bowl once we got back from Chipotle: the Ebony party and the Playboy party...
I'll be honest with you. I had no idea what the Ebony party meant when we were first invited to it. I was actually just grateful that Charlie and I would have something specific to go to that was cool the night before the Super Bowl. After all, it would have been kind of lame if all we did was stay in our hotel room and do something like play Scrabble the entire evening. Call me crazy, but that's not something that cool NFL players like Jared Goff were doing during Super Bowl weekend.
I actually didn't think about what the Ebony party actually meant until we were in the Uber heading to the event. I immediately wondered if Charlie and I would stick out like sore thumbs, and surely enough, we were two of the six white people at this party. There were a couple of Asian girls as well. One must have thought I was staring creepily at her because she scowled at me. I'll admit that I have an extensive record of staring creepily at girls, but this was not one such occasion. I'm innocent, I tell ya!
Charlie and I waited in line to get into the party for about 10 minutes. Once some chubby guy scanned my ID, we walked up this long staircase, which nearly gave me a heart attack. I was seriously huffing and puffing halfway up, clinging to the railing for dear life. I don't recall reaching the top, but I did somehow. That's where Charlie and I waited for about 10 minutes. There was a line of people taking pictures, so we weren't sure if we had to wait, or if we could just walk around them and head in.
Me: Do we have to take our picture before walking in? I've never been to an Ebony party before.
Charlie: I don't know.
We stood there, completely bewildered. I didn't want to offend anyone by not taking a picture. Fortunately, Charlie mustered the courage and headed toward the door. No one said anything to us, and just like that, we were inside the party.
The Ebony party was packed. Some people might like that, but I enjoy moving around, talking to people and actually being able to breathe. Charlie and I walked out to the balcony, which made it better, but it took us half an hour to get a drink. Seriously. That's how many people were in line. And to make matters worse, I once again failed to receive the alcoholic beverage I requested. This time, the bartender was some weird-looking dude with an emo haircut instead of a supermodel.
Me: Can I get a Tom Collins please?
Emo Bartender: We don't like... have that... That sounds mainstream...
Me: Do you have anything like that?
Emo Bartender: I... uhh... I don't know... I feel pain...
Me: Grey Goose and Sprite?
He was able to create this concoction, and he predictably did a poor job. He must have mixed Sprite with like two droplets of vodka because it barely tasted like it had alcohol. On the bright side, it was free because it was an open bar.
Anyway, I saw three celebrities at the Ebony party. Two were former football players, Carl Banks and Keenan McCardell. The third was someone very unexpected. I was talking to an NFL trainer and learning a lot - this person criticized the league's practice schedule and said it was actually detrimental to players' health - when our conversation stopped in its tracks. The trainer stopped talking and pointed at someone.
"Holy s**t! That's Eddie Winslow from Family Matters!"
I looked, and indeed, it was! I watched Family Matters religiously when I was a kid. In fact, I did a mean Steve Urkel impression, which I used to impress the girls in my grade-school class. This didn't seem to get me any dates, and I have no idea why.
I desperately wanted to approach Eddie Winslow and ask him what happened to Judy, his sister on the show, who mysteriously disappeared after the first couple of seasons. This has always bothered me. She just vanished, and they never mentioned her ever again. What happened to her? Did she go to boarding school? Was she abducted by aliens? Did Carl Winslow accidentally eat her? This has given me countless sleepless nights, as I constantly wake up in a cold sweat, wondering what in hell happened to Judy.
I finally had the chance to find out, but suddenly, Eddie was gone! Eddie was surrounded by a bunch of people, and he walked toward the stage, and I lost sight of him. I looked around, and I couldn't find him. Like Judy, he had vanished.
Great. Guess I'll be having even more nightmares!
Charlie's friend found us soon after. We spoke to him for a while, and he later said that we'd be heading over to the Playboy party. Once there, he admitted something to me.
"Walt, I have to say that I forgot everything we talked about at the last party," he said. "It was so hot there that I was so out of it."
I completely understood because I felt the same way. Not only was I hot, but my back had begun hurting. As mentioned in my previous entry, I have the worst back ever because of muscle spasms, and standing for a half hour is painful. Well, I had been on my feet for two-plus hours in dress shoes, so you can try to imagine how I felt.
Anyway, I guess I should describe the Playboy party. It was like the Leather and Lace party, in that there were attractive women everywhere. Some of these women were the actual Playboy bunnies. I never realized this, but the Playboy bunny "suit" is actually just a black swimming suit with a bunny tail at the end of it. This was a bit of a letdown - one-piece suits suck - especially since the bunnies were just delivering drinks to people sitting upstairs most of the time. They were basically like the waitresses at Hooters. I thought they would give sex to everyone, but sadly, that was not the case.
I'd actually say the Leather and Lace party was better. The tie-breaker would have to go to the bar. At the Leather and Lace party, I didn't get the drink I wanted, but a supermodel bartender gave me a free vodka beverage. At the Playboy party, I volunteered to get drinks for Charlie and his friend. I ordered three vodka drinks - I had already given up on the Tom Collins - and that's when the bartender said something completely unexpected.
"That'll be $54."
What!? Fifty-four bucks for three drinks!? Are you f***ing kidding me!? I can get a vodka Sprite at Whiskey Tango for $3. Here, it was 18 freaking dollars. And don't tell me that it costs more because it was at the Super Bowl. Every other party we attended had an open bar. Why did the Playboy party charge?
Anyway, I had some interesting conversations at the Playboy party, and I enjoyed myself overall. Well, not overall, because my back was absolutely killing me. There was no place to sit, either. I tried to lean against the wall, stretch my back a bit, and bend down slightly, but nothing helped. It felt like there was a 50-pound dumbbell resting on my back, which seemed like it was about to snap in half.
I had some reprieve from the pain when the Playboy bunnies raised the curtain near the wall. It was now clear glass, so the other room was visible. I didn't think much of this until some dude walking right toward the glass almost bumped into it, realizing that he nearly hurt himself until the last second. A minute later, some cute girl also ventured toward the glass, and...
She face planted right into the glass, and she grabbed her nose in agony. I couldn't help but laugh. It was like a bird flying into a glass window, but this was actually funny because she, well, didn't die. She just hid her face in complete embarrassment.
At any rate, it was eventually 2 a.m., and the place started clearing out a bit. It was still crowded, but they had to stop serving drinks. This prompted some people to get up from their tables, and I sprinted over hastily. I finally sat down.
Minutes later, one of the Playboy bunnies, a hot blonde, walked over. She was no longer wearing her outfit, and she didn't look too happy.
"We can't f***ing drink, and we can't f***ing curse when we're in this f***ing stupid costume, but you know what?" she asked, looking at both me and Charlie. "I'm not wearing this f***ing costume anymore, so I'm going to drink some f***ing champagne, and I'm going to f***ing curse as much as I f***ing want to!"
Never mind. The Playboy bunnies were suddenly super hot again.
Leaving the Playboy party was quite the experience. We saw two members of the Dallas Cowboys near the entrance. One was a current player, while the other was an older gentleman. I'll just leave it at that, though I'll mention how weird it was to see someone like that at a Playboy party.
I wasn't going to snap a picture of these two individuals at the time, but realized this would probably get me beat up and/or thrown out. I did take one of the Cowboys' team bus, however, as proof:
That wasn't the only picture I took outside of the Playboy party:
This was a mass of people trying to get into the Playboy party at 2:45 a.m. Both Charlie and I were absolutely bewildered by this.
"They're not even serving alcohol anymore," Charlie said. "Why are they all trying to get in?"
It was absolutely stupefying, but whatever. I didn't care once my life was in danger. This happened when our Uber driver proved to be one of the craziest people I had ever met. She was a middle-aged woman, and she sped up to every single car in front of her, sometimes going as fast as 50 mph on a small street and then slamming her breaks. I immediately buckled my seatbelt the first time she did this, and Charlie immediately followed suit. We looked at each other, knowing this could be the final night we'd ever be alive, but we somehow made it back to the hotel.
The following morning, Charlie and I went to some sandwich shop. On the way there, we spotted something, or rather, someone hilarious:
He wasn't dead, because on the way back, he had shifted positions. The same dude was still with him, looking rather frustrated. I have no idea why he didn't try to carry his buddy off to wherever they were staying. He had the expression of, "F*** this, I'm just going to let this a**hole sleep on the sidewalk for a few hours."
The game rolled around a few hours later. Charlie and I were invited to a tailgate party, but after two nights of drinking, we weren't exactly in the partying mood. Besides, I wanted to run my live Super Bowl blog. That fun as always, except for when I lost 50 Twitter followers because I called Justin Bieber as "giant douche." I guess I had 50 followers who were giant douches as well. Who knew?
Charlie and I opted to go out after the game. We wanted to experience the post-Super Bowl environment, and it didn't disappoint. We went to some bar, which was packed with Patriot fans. Every time someone with a Tom Brady jersey walked into the bar, everyone would chant, "Brady! Brady! Brady! Brady! Brady!"
More importantly, there was an attractive girl there wearing a Rob Gronkowski jersey and the shortest shorts imaginable. In fact, her a** was hanging out of her shorts. I mention her because some guy took notice, as he grabbed her and rubbed his face in her buttocks. It was an incredible sight.
This was actually what I envisioned the Playboy party as. Hot chicks letting you snort your face in their a** cracks. That at least would've justified the $18 price tag on drinks.