The Denver Chronicles

Part 1

Part 2

Day 1 – 5:45pm

As we stand around waiting for the Comfort Inn shuttle (of course the only one that has yet to come), I feel my toes beginning to numb.  I notice a couple next to us that was on our flight.  The over-tanned woman is wearing a hat that says “bride” written in glitter (a clear sign of a Miami/Jersey native).  Another 5 minutes or so go by, and still no Comfort Inn shuttle.  We see a shuttle headed to the Double Tree (which happens to be another one of our limited options) and decide to hop on it.  I call the voucher number and reserve our room for $59 ($10 more than the Comfort Inn).  As we commute, Benny and the Shuttle Driver discuss where to go out.  Shuttle Driver recommends a crossroad on Market Street (I believe it was 15th).  It is almost pitch black outside.  That, combined with our current traveling fiasco, makes it feel much later than it actually is.  Finally, we arrive at the Double Tree.

Day 1 – 6:15pm

We walk into the hotel, slightly rejuvenated.  I head towards the front desk to check-in and see if this reservation is even valid (doubtful at this point).  A portly lady handles our situation…

Portly Lady  “How are you gentlemen?”
Wild Bill  “Terrible.”
Me  “We have had some airline trouble, and we are stuck here for the night.”
Portly Lady  “Oh I’m sorry.”
Me  “It’s ok.”

I continue to tell her our entire situation, which I need not repeat again…

Me  “Yeah, we understand that shit happens, but everyone has been a complete asshole.”
Portly Lady  “I’m sorry about that, do you have toiletries?”
Me  “No, those pecker heads (United) won’t give us our bags.”
Portly Lady  “Hold on just a sec.”

After we quiz her about places to go and whatnot, she returns with a box…

Portly Lady (as she opens the box) “Here you go.  Toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shaving cream, anything else?”
Wild Bill  “Yeah how bout a free steak dinner?”
Portly Lady (laughing) “Well, I can’t do that, but let me see what I can do.”

She leaves and then returns again, with a different box…

Portly Lady  “I can start you off with 2 free drinks each at our bar?”
Me (instantly visualizing Portly Lady naked) “That’s awesome, thanks!”
Amy (handing us the vouchers and room keys) “Here you go.”
Me  “Thanks a lot, you’re the first nice person we’ve met on this trip.”
Amy  “Well I hope the rest of your trip goes better.”

As we walk away, Wild Bill makes an unnecessary crack on how Benny is going to play “carnival” (having a girl sit on your face, you then in turn guess her weight) with Amy.  Before we even head to the room, we walk up to the bar in the lobby.  After several minutes, no one has appeared to serve us (shocker).  We hear roars down the hall, they are coming from the second hotel bar (more of the sports bar type).  Wild Bill squeezes in between a few people to order a cocktail as I head to the restroom.  When I return, Wild Bill and Benny are still drinkless.  I notice 3 stools available at the corner of the bar, so I hustle over.  The Asian female who is bartending IDs all 3 of us, and then delivers the beverages (Crown and Ginger of course) in exchange for our first round of vouchers.  The man to my left is staring off at nothing, while the aroma from the pizza below him wafts its way into my nostrils.  Bored with Wild Bill, I decide to strike up a conversation with the random alone dude.  As with Dibs, I initiate the conversation by speaking intentionally too loud and waiting for a reaction (this method not only works when trying to pick up a girl, but apparently it is equally effective for someone trying to score some cock).  Random alone dude takes the bait…

Random Alone Dude  “Where you guys coming from?”

I tell him the saga, emphasizing the part where we received no compensation whatsoever from United, because our ill-fated scenario was “weather related”.  Wasting no time…

Me  “Wow, that pizza looks really good.  I wonder how the rest of the food here tastes?”
Random Alone Dude  “It’s really good.”
Me (scheming) “I might just have to order what you got.”
Random Alone Dude  “Oh please, take mine.  I can’t finish this.  Ask your friends too.”
Me  “Oh no, it’s ok, I don’t want to take your food (lie).”
Random Alone Dude  “I insist, if not it’s just going to waste.”
Me  “You sure?”
Random Alone Dude  “Positive.”
Me (to Benny and Wild Bill) “Do you guys want any of this pizza?”

They both dive in with little hesitation…

Wild Bill (to Random Alone Dude) “Thanks a lot man.”
Pizza Dude  “No problem.”

We continue to mill about with Pizza Dude as we cash in our second round of vouchers.  As we suck down the second round in record time, we make our peace with Pizza Dude and exit the bar (the bartender is not happy with Wild Bill’s inability to muster up a tip.  Benny later queues me in on high school stories of Wild Bill’s anti-Catholic (Jewish) tendencies).  Finally starting to feel high-spirited (drunk) again, we decide to run to a nearby liquor store before we head up to our room (which we have yet to visit).  A clerk alerts us that the nearest liquor store is only a block or two away, and points us towards the appropriate hotel exit.

As we head out, I realize the alcohol has only numbed my judgment, and has yet to take over the rest of my body.  By that, I mean it is freezing and I have just stepped into my first pile of snow with my open-toed sandals.  Yes, the liquor store is only 1 block away, but what the clerk has failed to mention is that we must cross an 8-lane freeway to get there.  I’m sure hobbling across a busy icy freeway, with sandals on, in pitch black darkness, is something my mother would appreciate.  Before I make my leap of faith, I have a mental flashback to my childhood, and the popular phrase, “We can buy a new ball, but we can’t buy a new you.”  Although now that I look back on my life, I’m sure if my parents could have foreseen the next 15 years of their child-induced misery, they would have bribed me to play kickball on the autobahn.  Anyway, we make it across safely (successfully) and dart out of the cold, and into the liquor store.

Day 1 – 7:00pm

I have been an avid liquor store patron since the age of 14, yet every time I am in one, I still feel as excited as my first time.  We rummage around the store, debating over which intoxicated figurehead will carry us into battle for the remainder of Operation Black Liver.  Will it be the Captain?  The Admiral?  Or perhaps the Sailor?  Apparently none of the above, as we decide to go with Wild Turkey, American Honey (the same beverage we started with back in Orlando).  We also grab 3 donkey dicks (23.5 oz cans) of JOOSE (sadly enough that is not spelled incorrectly).  On the way out, we see a couple of Denvernians (ugly chicks) and have them take a snap shot of us JOOSED up.  After making it back across the freeway, we head up to our room.

Day 1 – 7:30pm

As we slam down our JOOSE, we realize that it’s not even 8pm yet (although, appropriately it feels much later).  I call down to the front desk and have them arrange for a cab to pick us up at 9:15pm.  After downing the JOOSE, and finishing about half a bottle of whiskey, it’s time for the Denver bar scene.  By the time we make it out to the cab, we are locked, cocked, and ready to rock (wicked drunk).  As we did with Amy and the Shuttle Driver, we ask the cabbie where to go.  Again, in agreement with the others, he too says Market Street.  We ask him where to go to find some Denver women, and apparently he knows just the place (lie).

Day 1 – 10:00pm (estimate)

No longer cold (sober), I stumble out of the cab and hop into line for entry into the bar.  The first stop is called “The Front Porch” (I did not know the name at the time of the trip, but my credit card bill filled me in later).  The place looks very busy as we head inside.  We are falsely excited as the place is packed wall to wall, but about 1 minute into our excitement, we become very confused.  Nothing but dudes.  Literally two hundred people engulf this bar, yet there is not one woman in sight.  Luckily, we are pretty toasted, so our main concern has already switched from getting laid to Operation Black Liver.  Wild Bill (being tall) spots an opening at one end of the bar.  As we jolt our way through the crowd (swim through a sea of cock), we have also found the only 3 girls in the bar sitting on a couch right next to our bar spot.  As Wild Bill orders the first round, I scan the bar, still mystified, while Benny hits on the one hot chick out of the threesome.  Wild Bill turns around with excitement as he explains to me the liquor situation…

Wild Bill (giddy like a schoolgirl) “Dude, you flip for the drinks!”
Me (not really listening) “What?”
Wild Bill “You order a round and flip a coin to see if it’s free or not.”
Me (intrigued) “That’s tight.  Good luck!”

As Wild Bill turns around and waits to order, I reflect for a moment on this coin flip idea.  Allow me to digress for just a moment.

Several times in my life I have been to a bar where you flip for your drink, this is not entirely uncommon, but this place was a bit different.  Instead of ordering 8 drinks, and flipping the coin 8 times (statistically giving you a buy one get one free scenario), the bartender flips the coin only once for the entire round.  This makes the game much more risky, and rightfully so, much more exciting.  Back to the story.

Wild Bill turns around, no longer giddy.

Wild Bill (disheartened) “Fuckin bitch flipped it wrong.”
Me  “So you called it wrong?”
Wild Bill  “Well if you wanna be an asshole about it.”

After Wild Bill hands me a drink, I shift places with him and wait my turn at the bar.  Benny is still talking with the hot chick and her 2 nice (boring and unattractive) friends, now Wild Bill joins in on their conversation.  My focus has now turned onto the bartender that cost Wild Bill a cool 22 bucks.

Fuckin Bitch  “What can I get ya hun?”
Me (acting uninformed) “Yeah, uh what’s the deal here?”
Fuckin Bitch  “Well you order, I flip a coin, it’s either free or on you.”
Me (done talking, ready to risk all) “Let me get 3 Coronas and 3 shots of Jager.”
Fuckin Bitch  “Heads or Tails?”
Me (no hesitation) “Tails!”

Fuckin Bitch flips the coin, and without letting it teeter on the counter for even a second, smashes her hand on top of it.  TAILS!

Future Wife  “Looks like this round’s on the house!”
Me  “Sounds good!”

If I hadn’t gotten lucky here, this round alone, with tip, would probably be pushing near 60 bills.  I throw Future Wife 10 dollars for her troubles (being hot), then turn around and divvy up the drinks between me and my pals.  We slam the Jager, and are now double fisting with a Corona in one hand, and a Whiskey concoction in the other.  Before Benny shuffles in for his flip, he introduces me to Hot Chick and her friends…

Benny  “This is our buddy.”
Me (staring only at Hot Chick) “Hey ooooooo!”
Hot Chick  “Hey, my name is Montana, this is my friend [not important] and my other friend [equally as unimportant]!”
Me  “Hey Montana (that was either her name or where she was from, again not important), what brings you all to his great city (dump)?”

As she speaks, my hearing fades in and out as I am more drawn to the pink bra she is wearing which is visible through her grey sweater.  I finally tune back in…

Montana  “Hair?”
Me (um) “Um what?”
Montana  “Do you having long hair?”
Me  “Yeah, right now it’s up in a stallion (pony) tail underneath this hat.”
Montana  “Do you ever wear it down?”
Me (feeling like I belong at this bar (gay)) “Uh yeah, sometimes.”
Montana  “Can I see what it looks like?”

This conversation sucks, but she’s hot, I’m drunk, let’s just go with it…

Me (taking off my hat and removing my stallion tail) “Here ya go.”
Montana  “I like it, you should wear it down all the time.”
Me (thinking) “Please shut up and take your shirt off.”

Before I have time to come up with some stale response, Benny turns around with a handful of shots.  A side note here, we are on round 3 and have yet to offer these girls anything (gentlemen we’re not).

Me  “Did you win?”
Benny  “Free shots!”
Wild Bill (frustrated) “Yeah, real cool.  Fuckin’ Bitch.”

This rotation continues for another hour or so.  Somewhere in the mix, I strike up a conversation with one of the No-Name chicks after she turns down a shot offer made by Wild Bill…

Me  “What’s the problem?  Are you afraid of a good time?”
No-Name  “No, I just don’t like shots?”
Me  “So you are afraid of a good time?”
No-Name  “No, I’m just a beer chick (lesbian).”
Me  “Ok, well what kinda beer do you like?”
No-Name Lesbian (confirming my previous suspicion) “Budweiser.”

I immediately abandon this conversation as it is my turn in the rotation.  Wild Bill is currently 0 for 3 on the flips, Benny is 1 for 2, and I’m still shooting 100%, going 2 for 2.  Future Wife comes over to take my order…

Me (still milking my hot streak) “Yeah, let me get 3 Coronas, 5 SoCo and Limes, and 1 Budweiser for the Bull Dyke.”
Future Wife (less enthusiastic than at the beginning of the night) “Heads or Tails?”
Me  “Always Tails.”

Again, she flips the coin, smashes it with her hand, gives me a smug look, and then announces the verdict…

Future Wife  “Tails.”
Me  “Wow, you are very lucky for me!”
Future Wife  “Yeah, whatever.”

I’m not sure why Future Wife is turning into an actual fuckin bitch.  I’m tipping her more than generous amounts for every round, which takes her all of 10 seconds to pour.  With all free rounds combined, I would be looking at about 150 dollars right now.  Instead, I have only spent 30 (20% tip, smile Actual Fuckin Bitch).  I turn around and pass out the drinks.  No-Name Lesbian grunts and opens her Budweiser with her eye socket.  This is the last time I will speak to any of the 3 girls.  All my attention is now zeroed in on Actual Fuckin Bitch.  I have consumed enough drinks, and she has copped enough of an attitude for quite a showdown.  I firmly hold my spot at the bar, neglecting the rotation, Wild Bill and Benny don’t seem to mind (or even notice for that matter).  I flag her back over…

Actual Fuckin Bitch  “What do you want?”
Me (wasting no time on getting foul) “What else can I flip for?”
Actual Fuckin Bitch  “What?”
Me  “Besides drinks, can I flip you for anything else?”
Actual Fuckin Bitch (not appreciating my new found beer muscles) “What are you trying to say?”
Me (throwing her a curve ball) “Like for money?”
Actual Prude Bitch (confused, but still not amused) “Money?”
Me (the truth comes out) “Or sex?  I just figured with the money, I’d pay you for sex.”
Actual Prude Bitch  “You see that large guy over there?”
Me  “Yes.”
Actual Prude Bitch  “If you say something like that to me again, you will be having sex with him.”
Me  “I think I love you.”

She may have been a bitch, but she burned me good, and I love it.  I order a round for me and her to bury the hatchet, and for the first time, I lose the flip (luckily it was just 2 shots).  I depart on cordial terms with Future Bitch Wife and turn back towards Wild Bill and Benny, who are now Hot Chick/Lesbianless.

Me  “Where did Snow White and the Dwarfs go?”
Benny  “Wild Bill said something to them, and they just left.”

I quiz Wild Bill, he just smiles and shrugs.  Regardless, it’s about time to leave this bar before all the shots catch up with us.  Right now I feel great and look like this, but it’s only a matter of moments before I black out and look like this.

Day 2 – 12:30am (complete guess)

As we jolt our way back out the front door and into the streets, it is absolutely freezing.  I can feel the alcohol taking over my brain, I try to shake it off but to no avail.  We see a bar across the street and decide to dive in before last call.  The bar looks busy, but there is no line outside.  As we get ready to walk through the front door, we are stopped.

Bouncer  “I’m sorry, I can’t let you in?”
Wild Bill  “Your sister let me in!”
Bouncer  “Excuse me?”
Me  “Nothing.  What’s the problem?
Bouncer  “You’re not wearing shoes.”

I can tell this is going to end poorly.

Me  “Yes sir, quite an observation.  Do you realize that I’m standing in snow right now?”
Educated Bouncer  “Yes.”
Me  “Alright, and do you think I would intentionally choose to stand in the snow while wearing sandals?”
Educated Bouncer  “No.”
Me  “Do you not see where I’m going with this?”
Educated Bouncer  “No.”

I explain to him the story; he shows no remorse.

Dickless Cocksucker  “No shoes, no entry.”
Me  “Did you not just hear the story?  How bout some fucking sympathy?”
Dickless Cocksucker  “Even with shoes, I don’t believe you need anymore to drink sir.”
Me  “What are you my therapist or something?”
Not My Therapist  “No.”

Alright, I wish Not My Therapist wasn’t half my IQ and 3 times my size because I would love to knock him out right about now.  I’m not really sure what Wild Bill and Benny are doing at this point, but I’m trying my best to keep it calm.  Unfortunately, I was in fact blacking in and out during this conversation, so there’s a chance that when I thought I said…

Me  “I apologize for the dress code issue kind sir, but the airport has my luggage and refuses to give me access to the appropriate footwear.”

I actually said…

Me  “I’m wearing sandals because your whore of a mother wanted to keep my shoes as a souvenir after I finished pounding her from behind like the junkyard dog that she is.  Oh yeah, and she also wanted me to tell you that you’re adopted.”

Either way, we will not be getting into this bar.  Furthermore, I’ll never know the name of this bar because I have no paper trail to confer with, but I believe it was directly across the street from The Front Porch.  This is the last thing that I remember from the night.  Apparently Wild Bill and I found it appropriate to harass everyone in our sights.  Benny finally managed to stuff us in a cab, which I’m told we made stop at 7-11 so we could grab one last unnecessary beer before the night’s end.  Next thing I know, I wake up haggard as hell in our hotel room.

Day 2 – 8:15am

Feeling completely sober (yeah right) after 6 hours of sleep, I waste little time before waking up Wild Bill and Benny who are spooning like a high school couple.  How we divvied up the sleeping situation, we will never know.  It’s freezing cold outside, so I find it to be an appropriate time to leave my mark on this city.  Wild Bill gets up, shakes off the cobwebs, and then sits in a chair which proceeds to crumble to the ground.  After Gulliver brushes himself off, we decide to go down to the lobby and check out the breakfast buffet.  I order an overpriced orange juice and an undercooked omelet from an underage chef who I make a pass at anyways.  We fuel up and then head back to the room to grab our luggage.

Day 2 – 9:30am

Our flight isn’t until noon, but we don’t feel like depending on Denver to do us any favors so we head to the airport early.  We wait out front for the shuttle, and then hop on as it pulls up.  The shuttle is completely full, so when the driver asks if anyone is willing to give their seat up for a passenger with a 10:30am departure, we keep silent.  Hey, early bird gets the worm Fucko.

Day 2 – 10:00am

Back at Denver Airport (ew), we hop into a very long security line.  The line moves smoothly, and as I look to my left, I see a familiar face.  It’s our old friend, Pizza Dude from the Double Tree sports bar!  We say hey to Pizza Dude.

Us  “Hey!”

He says hey back.

Pizza Dude  “Hey!”

As it’s my turn to go through security, I surprisingly pass with very little harassment.  While I await for Wild Bill and Benny to clear through, I catch a sight of something very odd over by security.  Ok, I understand that ever since 9/11 airport security has been appropriately tightened, but where do we draw the line?  Do these two strike you as a security threat?  I mean seriously, this would be one hell of a spy getup.  As Benny laughs coyly in the background, I continue to be amazed as Airport Scientists (security) feel up Granny’s fanny.  As Wild Bill passes through, I shake off the disturbing image and we head towards are gate.  We are a couple hours early, so of course we stop in at our favorite watering hole, and low and behold, Byron is on duty!

Me  “Byron my man!  What’s up buddy?”
Byron  “Back so soon?”
Wild Bill  “Never left.”
Byron  “Figured.  How’d Denver treat you?”
Wild Bill  “3 pints of 2 Below and 3 shots of Jack please.”
Byron  “Wow.  Rough night.”

As Byron loads up the glasses so we can in turn load up ourselves, I catch another familiar face, this time to my right.  It’s Hip Asian Kid!  But wait, wasn’t Hip Asian Kid suppose to be outta here at 8:51am?  What’s he doing drinking alone at 11:00am?  I inquire…

Me  “Hip Asian Kid, what are you still doing here?”
Hip Asian Kid  “I’m on standby for the 12:00pm flight.”
Me  “Shit what happened, got drunk and overslept?”
Hip Asian Kid  “I wish, the Vegas airport wasn’t opened in time for my flight.”
Me  “Ah man, that’s no good.”

I hear the over the intercom…

Intercom  “Now boarding flight [whatever] to Vegas.”

Me  “Well, see ya man!”
Hip Asian Kid  “Yeah, see ya.”

I grab Wild Bill and Benny and we skip to our gate.  Again, the sad cloud has lifted as we smile ear to ear while boarding the plane.

The flight we were trying so hard to get on, the 8:51am, was canceled.  The first flight out of Denver to Vegas was the 12:00pm, and well my friends, we were on it.  After all of Denver’s (and United’s) bullshit, we made it to Vegas.

Let me tie up some loose ends for you.  First off, our luggage did not arrive until the next day.  The Vegas airport was a complete shit show and we spent a good couple of hours their dealing with the debacle.  Miraculously, my luggage was delivered unscathed to my hotel; Wild Bill and Benny, believe it or not had to go back to the Vegas airport to retrieve theirs.  But what about the rest of our crew, what did fate have in store for them?

Well Cola and Murph did not end up renting a car, but instead they hitchhiked a ride with 2 gentlemen whom had a lot of street cred all the way from Phoenix to the front door of Ballys.  Rizzo, Bonk, JP Money, and Roe were also dropped off in Phoenix while en route for Vegas.  They did in fact rent a car and Bonk drove 4 hours through darkness to the city of lights.  Dave in Atlanta caught a morning flight to Vegas, and Bonk’s cousin Joel caught a morning flight in from Michigan.  So that’s 11 out of 12 accounted for.  Our last buddy, Wingquest, lives in LA.  He drove about 3 hours towards Vegas, and was then forced to turn around due to road closures.  The next day he drove 11 hours (it usually takes 4, but heavy snow caused major delays) straight to the strip.  A 17 hour solo road trip to Vegas, now that’s dedication!

Ok, we get it, Denver sucks, but what about Vegas, surely Vegas doesn’t suck?  You are correct, Vegas is amazing.  I’ve been there 3 times, and when I can remember enough of a future visit, I’ll be sure to write about it.

The AFTERMATH.

For people who lead eventless lives, thus questioning the validity of my stories, this should help (as if the pictures aren’t enough).  Dec 17, 2008 check it out, also try The Front Porch.  I write these stories so my friends and I have something to reflect on in the future; this way when our lives have become sedated and meaningless, we can convincingly tell ourselves that we used to have a good time.

I’ll also note that on the way home, I again got stuck in Denver for a night, this time alone.  This is no joke, although I wish it was.  Joel, Bonk’s cousin, was delayed at the Vegas airport along with me so we drank together for a bit.  My flight left before him, but I still missed my connection in Denver.  The reason my flight was delayed was because some kid had gotten sick and vomited and they had to clean it.  Once stuck in Denver, again, I had to deal with United Douche Bags, again.  Honestly, they tried so hard not to comp my room, I almost lost my fucking mind.  They also told me that it would be 2 days until I could get a flight home (this means that I would be spending Christmas in Denver, sorry, not gonna happen).  After A LOT of bullshit, I was placed on a 6am flight for the following morning and put up at a Westin hotel.  I slept for a few hours before my 4am wake up call.

Once at the airport, I had no boarding pass.  All I had was a piece of paper that said I was “suppose” to be on the 6am flight.  After being “randomly selected” for a security screening (seriously), I made it to the gate only to realize that my boarding pass was not secure and that I’m on a waitlist of an overbooked flight.  After an hour of nervous tension, my name is announced over the intercom and I do receive a seat assignment.  Once again, the big guy in the sky (not United) has got my back.