Chapter 1: Hit and Run
Cole, Squirrelly Steve, Kehly and I loaded up the family van early Friday afternoon, picked up enough booze to drown a Mongolian army, and began tearing through the streets of Iowa toward ISU. Kehly and Steve guzzled wine in the back seat the entire way, while Cole and I gushed over how much damage we were going to cause to ourselves and the city of Ames over the course of the proceeding 48 hours.
So we’re on the interstate, hauling ass in the left lane, when suddenly a giant white 4×4 starts comin’ on in to our lane like we aren’t there. I scream and lurch toward Cole, death gripping his arm and screeching like I’m giving birth. Cole lays on the horn while the truck continues to get closer and closer, literally coming within 10 inches of our right side. Finally the dumb ass driver notices he’s about to lose a game of Chicken with our Jeep, and returns to his lane. We speed by flipping the old man off and mouthing “FUCK YOOOOU!” out the windows. Near death experience #1, and we hadn’t even started drinking yet.
Chapter 2: D.O.A. (Drunk On Arrival)
We get to Ames around 3:30 p.m. After settling in a bit, we decide it’s time to die. Kelli, Kayla, Kehly, Steve, Cole, Jamie, Zach, Rich and I start boozing. Katie comes home shortly after and joins the party, along with a billion other folks from Council Bluffs. We get nice and shitty and then head out with the intention of attending a party at Legacy, followed by the Eve 6 concert.
Chapter 3: Road Rage
Cole, Steve, Richard and I exit the apartment at about 11, except for some reason Cole sprints into the middle of the street and runs along side a Ford truck banging on their windows and doors. The truck angrily swerves toward Cole and then peels into a driveway. Cole bolts into the darkness. Richard runs toward the truck in effort to back up Cole, just as the driver jumps out with a three-foot metal rod and two other guys leap out of the back. Shit.
Richard blitzes by the metal rod man and shoves him. The assailant drops the metal rod. Steve grabs him. Richard then proceeds to run around the back of the truck just in time to meet assailant #2, who he punches in the mouth. Unfortunately this gentleman gets ol’ Richie in a bear hug. They punch the shit out of each other. I bolt toward them and shove the angry man off, yelling that he’s got the wrong guy. Meanwhile Steve is holding off metal rod boy on the other side of the car. As if by an act of God, a cop pulls up and jumps out of his car.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demands.
Cole suddenly pops out of the bushes and starts whining, “It was meeeee I’m sorry,” I grab his arm really hard and lie, “No, no, no, some random ass guy ran across the street in front of these guys’ truck here, so they nearly hit him; obviously they were pissed and jumped out of their truck. We happened to be walking down the sidewalk at the exact same time, and they thought it was us, so everyone got pissed at each other. It was just a big misunderstanding.”
Surprisingly I convinced not only the cop of this fabricated story, but also the boys from the truck. Next thing I know, Richard and the angry mob are high-fiving and complimenting each other on the good hits they each got in. The cop checks our IDs and lets us go. Thank god.
We continue on our way toward the party, but at some point, Cole, Steve and I get separated from Richard and the rest of the group, and find ourselves in an arcade where I inappropriately yelled out some racial slurs around several minorities. We leave out of fear. After deciding we would never find the party now, we ask strangers how to get to the concert, and begin walking there. Along the way, a woman sells me french fries for $2 instead of $5, and Cole gets free cheese curds. It begins snowing. Hard.
We arrive at the concert grounds and stop outside some bathrooms to tinkle. The grounds were EXTREMELY muddy and soaking wet. Cole high-fives me in a fit of joy and knocks me flat on my back into a giant puddle of mud. The night has certainly begun.
We make our way across the field toward the stage, and arrive to join no more than thirty people to catch the last 45 minutes of Battle of the Bands which we had no intention of seeing, but they were running behind schedule. Cole, Steve and I become very bored watching them, and get antsy for Eve 6. Suddenly Richard comes out of nowhere with a Bud Light in his hand.
“Where the hell did you get that?” we inquire.
“A cop gave it to me. He had a case of beer, and I asked him why he had it. He said he confiscated it from some kids and said he was probably going to drink it. Then he asked me if I wanted one.”
hahaha. Oh, you po.
Chapter 4: Tickled Pink
We continue to stand around and wait for the show to start. Meanwhile, I go, “Hey Cole, check this out–” I begin tickling the man in front of me. I’d stop abruptly and look around as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Then he’d turn back around and I’d tickle him again. And again.
Chapter 5: Surf’s Up
Finally the concert began. Tons of people showed up. The snow was coming down hard. It got real rowdy. Richard, Cole and I began a long night of crowd surfing. Unfortunately the security guards kept pulling people off the crowd and kicking them out for surfing, and Richard was one of those people. The good news was that you could just come right back in, so he did. On several occasions I began getting pushed to the front of the crowd toward security who would reach out and try to grab my legs to pull me out. In desperate attempts I flipped over and started “swimming” toward the back, reaching out and grabbing onto people to pull me backwards. I avoided being kicked out all night. Then we sent Cole up again. Someone yanked his trousers and panties down, and he literally rocked out with his cock out, as they say. Then he got kicked out. We never found him.
Richard and I start to head home. He was complaining about how his shoes were completely ruined as they were covered in an obscene amount of mud. We pass by a park fountain. He jumps in. Bad idea, seeing as it was only 33 degrees. We part ways. I walk home in the blizzarding snow alone.
And so ends Chapter 1 of my Veishea experience. Saturday night is for the next note.
“It’s not firm, but it’s not, like, flacid.”