03-19/Ho-Broken, Chapter 3

The three of us began our Wizard of Oz-like quest searching for the house party. I was the bloated tin-man, Phil was the thin green t-shirt wearing scarecrow, and Colin was just known as "The Face."

We walked through the forest of puke, then the forest of piss, then the forest of drunk 15 year olds. Fighting our way through, we could finally see the Emerald City, or I believe it was called Hoboken Manor. As we approached the locked fence, our first Rose of Tralee appeared.

She was guarding the gate, looking for a cigarette. After she declined our alternative, we threw her on the ground and approached the gate. From the ground she yelled in a leprechaun voice,

"Stawwwp!! Or yee shall go to jail and perish!!"

Phil had noticed the gate was unlocked and was already way inside the courtyard. But he heard the word jail, and ran back towards us. The leprechaun demon vanished back to leprechaun hell, leaving behind a trail of ashes, oddly in the shape of a letter C.

We walked around the building and found our way to the real gate. Waiting for us there was our host, who brought us in. The building was party central - the lobby filled with good looking professionals, draped in green. I took the service entrance.

We went to the terrace courtyard, walking through the gym. Admiring the equipment, I asked one of the die hards working out,

"What you got on there, 45? I usually go with 47 and half. It's no big deal."

I spotted him real quick, then I secretly wished that he would eat a ridiculous amount of Corned Beef later.

We went outside. It was lovely. The warm, sweet air reminded me of a long safe embrace of a loved one. I opened my eyes and let go of a now frightened and scarred Colin. I grabbed a beer and commented on how pretty Newark looked for such a dumpy city.

"For a dumpy city Newark looks pretty."

"That's Jersey City."
I paused.
"Jersey City looks pretty."

We gathered in the corner of the courtyard and gazed out at the world to the east. NYC could be seen in the background, laughing at me. I was sneering back at it, when I realized the ruckus below.

A drunken gentleman was being restrained through a headlock from attacking another friend. Just then he got away and squared up to his friend as if he was going to wrestle him. Sure enough, they started wrestling. Phil came moseying on over, and his eyes lit up when he saw the sight below.

The drunk had his friend in "the sharpshooter," prompting Phil to scream from the terrace,

"He's got him in the sharpshooter!! Sharpshooter! Sharpshooter!!"

A small crowd had amassed below, and one of the dudes heard Phil's exclamation. You could hear him from the street chiming in, "Yeah, Sharpshooter!!"

Then Phil yelled, "Boston Crab!! Boston Crab!!"

After we had enough with wrestlemania, we collectively decided to go upstairs to the host's apartment. Gathering around the coffee-table we started playing drinking games. I tried to sink into the couch because the family dog kept eyeing me. I can't lie, there was some chemistry between us, but there really wasn't any privacy.

We kept on drinking and laughing, fun times. To make things better we ordered 2 of the world's largest pizzas. I proceeded to have a pizza eating contest with myself. Unfortunately, I lost.

All of a sudden I heard, "Nice watch" in the background. The next thing I knew I was on the Path with Colin pretending that we were very masculine lovers.

It was another nice day with friends. Good times, fun, grand.

The sun set that night on Hoboken, only to rise with an order that the city would never host that parade again. I doubt that next year, a lack of a parade will keep away the party-goers that so desperately need this holiday to prepare for the summer.

Summer, where every weekend and Tuesday/Wednesday is a holiday.

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