shitona stick
The PLANNER in collaboration with Craven Entertainment is hosting the PGA GolfCrawl VI in the East Village, NYC this Saturday, October 25th.
This is one of the highlights of the drinking year and is our official kickoff to the fall cocktail season. As this is right before Halloween we are expecting everyone to dress up. We’re making a spectacle of ourselves anyway, so we might as well do it in costume!
Video from PGA IV High Res
Video from PGA IV Low Res
Photos from last year
Click here for the full size map*
Click here for a landscape version that's easy to print*
*these maps may look fuzzy because of your screen resolution but will print perfectly.
Some highlights for this year's event:
Our usual kick-off at the Driving Range (McSorley's)
9 (well, 7) holes of grueling competition
"Joke Time" at Swift
The presentation of prestigious awards such as the Ted Colgate Ejection Certificate, The James Totten Bleeding Head Award and the much-coveted Ray Passant "I Don't Want this F@#$ing Award" Award.
Driving Range [1:00 - 1:45]
McSorley's Old Ale House - 15 E 7th St btw 2nd and 3rd Ave
1st Hole [2:00 - 2:45] Bleecker St. Tavern - 56 Bleecker btw Lafayette and Broadway (south side)
2nd Hole [3:00 - 3:45] 288 (a.k.a. Tom & Jerry's) - 288 Elizabeth St – NE Corner of Houston and Elizabeth
3rd Hole [4:00 - 4:45] Swift - 34 East 4th St btw Bowery and Lafayette (south side)
4th Hole [5:00 - 5:45] Fuel – SE corner of Bowery and 4th St.
5th and 6th Hole [6:00 - 7:15] Black Star Lounge - 92 2nd Ave btw 5th and 6th St (east side)
7th Hole [7:30 to 8:15] Ace Bar – 531 5th St. btw Ave A and Ave B. (north side)
8th and 9th Hole [8:30 to 10:00] The Flat – 16 1st Ave btw 1st and 2nd St. (east side)
Looking forward to seeing you on the fairway!!!
GREENS FEES: The voluntary donation for the pubcrawl is just $5 a head. That helps us pay for the scorecards and prizes.
DINNER: We're ordering a bunch of pizzas for Ace Bar (our mid-course dinner hole). It’ll be $2 a slice and it’s from Rosario’s (Orchard and Ludlow), which was recently voted the best pizza in NYC!
THE BIG DANCE PARTY at the final hole: Best of all, we're finishing up with a great party at the just opened “Flat” (the old XVI) where the DJ will be pumping PGA-approved beats, so bring your dancing spikes. NO COVER for players with GolfCrawl 2003 scorecards.
WEATHER: It's going on rain or shine and the weather report says Saturday 10/25: Partly cloudy. High temperature 63. Forecast
Get your scorecard and pencil from one of the judges. The scoring itself will be done on an individual basis. Try not to lose your scorecard or it may result in a one-stroke penalty.
As usual there are two ways to score points. The first is on-pace drinking and the second is performing random acts of silliness. We call these Drinks & Dopes. Remember, this is golf, so after you have a drink and make par at each hole, the points/strokes you earn count as under-par for that hole.
You can receive a maximum of 1 under par per hole for drinking. The first drink each hole makes par and your next drink after that per hole gives you one under par, but you can’t get more strokes off for drinking at that hole.
(And wer’e off to a new hole every hour so you’re not gonna go thirsty, nor remain sober for long, at that pace). If you have more than two drinks at any hole, the drinks after the first two no longer count toward your score.
Drinks will conform to the following qualifications: a 12oz non-light beer, Pint of draft, glass of wine, or hard alcohol drink. Shots may be consumed for the second drink per bar, but must be pure alcohol (vodka, rum, whiskey, etc.).
The other way to score is to perform crazy antics in front of the judges and be awarded DOPES. In the past we’ve awarded golfers DOPES for costume achievement, recruiting new crawlers, dancing like N’SYNC, telling jokes, singing opera, flashing, dancing like Hoover, piercing body parts, making out with multiple partners, etc. These are not idiot points, so use discretion. Remember, this is not Punk’d. DOPES are given out at the discretion of the judges. They are accumulated over the course of the day and deducted from your score at the end of the day.
We’re gonna penalize your score for harassing the judges and over-grubbing for strokes, so keep your cool. And if you’ve been whining all year about last year’s outcome, you start out at 2 over par.
The top male and female crawlers at the end of the crawl with the most points win valuable prizes!
Also, The Ted Colgate Ejection Certificate The James Totten Bleeding Head Award The Ray Passant "I Don't Want this F@#$ing Award" Award.
Endurance (makes it start to finish and can still speak) Swift Talent Award Best Costume Awards (Male, Female, Couple, Group) Rookie of the Year Scouting Coach (to the player who recruited the most first-time crawlers this year)
COMPETITION: Here are our predictions for the singles competition.
James - 2-year PGA reigning champion (and BaseCrawl champion) has moved to Richmond, but he is making the trek back to the NYC to reclaim his crown. Odds 2-1
Gary – He showed great potential last year and should give James a run for his money if he follows the rules and doesn’t burn out too early. Odds 3-1
Crystiina – Always a strong contender. Not one to let a silly costume get in the way of consistent performance. And anyway, Aussies rule! Odds 7-2
Hoover and Devon – If Hoover can stay awake and if Devon can get his costume together on time this year, they should place well. However, the odds of this happening are slim to none! Vegas isn’t taking money on this duo.
QUESTIONS? Email me (defnyc@hotmail.com) or call the judges
Craven 917-744-2215
Doug 917-494-2032
Ken 914-588-1254
Scott 646-662-9639
Ungie 212-866-8717
Here’s the review from PGA IV (because I'm too lazy to find las years):
PLANNER REVIEW: Drinkin’ for Damage IV: The 2001 PGA Halloween Pub Crawl KEN - I donned my well-used (2 million vertical feet) all-weather garb, transmogrified into the Ski God, and cruised to the first hole at the venerable McSorley's around 2 where I found the not-so-Reverend Josiah Craven and his naughty, knocked-up pupil, Lori, hobnobbing with Marty and James, who came dressed-to-drink, and Bombers' slugger J. Barkat. Everyone was aghast at the sight of Ungie madly flirting in 1979 dirty Times Square ho-drag (or was it washed-up prom queen drag?). And I thought I made an ugly bitch -- damn. DEF was a dapper devil in horns, tux, and tail. Cowboy Rich wins the Ungie Scooby Doo Award for getting the most use out of a costume in multiple years and the Ted Colgate Ejection Award for nearly getting thrown out of the FIRST bar before getting in. Maybe they couldn't deal with his glow-in the-dark tongue ring. Rick and a devilish Gina were there early, knocking back the first of many beers. April toyed with the boys in her blue boa. JP and X soon strode in with many rookies in tow. At first glance we weren't sure, but this steadfast crew of 10 newcomers lasted to the bitter end. Kent made a winning Super Mario but I think someone told Maggie that it was a Pube Crawl (cellular static perhaps?) because she came as a crab.
Ungie did her announcing thing and we made the long trek to Bleeker Bar. En route, Ung' and I ducked into one of the few porno shops that the megalomaniac Rudy hasn't shut down and raised a few eyebrows when we strode out into our passing crowd.
At Bleecker bar, Chrystiina showed up and I declared her costume to be Donna Karan. She winced, then rolled with it for the rest of the day. Many more revelers showed up and started scoring on their orange Halloween-themed scorecards. Most of us were still coherent at this point; this wouldn't last for long.
We made it to the third hole at 288/Tom & Jerry's where that one chick behind the bar knows how to MOVE and hustle some drinks. Unbelievably, even with all those people there (by then at least 50 or 60), she was coming by asking if I was ready for a refill of my Belgian White. Damn she's good. Tip your bartenders, ladies and gentlemen. Heidi showed up after an all-nighter at the home-Avid. Sven lurches into the cool of the bar fully wrapped as a drunken mummy. Impressive.
Off to Swifts where the beer is really, really good. It makes you remember what good beer is like even if our teeming throng overwhelms THREE bartenders at this sleepy enclave. Good beer doesn't come fast. Fortunately, they brought in some waitresses to bring the drinks to us. The official count says that 34 MORE people show up at Swifts (and that's only those who registered). This is getting out of hand.
We assembled our now-huge crowd in the back room and filled every table. It was standing room only for the talent show, which no one heard above the considerable din. I diligently awarded judge's strokes to those who got up and performed, like James and X. Where's Hoover? I'm jonesin' to give him extra strokes for his much-revered boy band act. Craven shows the impressive championship trophy for the first time ever. The crowd is in awe. Some naughty blonde chick accuses me of touching her ass multiple times. She wishes.
The Laines finally fvcking show up. Scott's hysterical and Amy's pretty (what else is new?) as the ancient Chinese warlord and princess. The Laines deserve the best couple costume award, the Cravens, second. Third goes to Ungie and Rich.
Michelle and friends, Kerry and Aimee, make a fetching trio of Charlie's Angels, complete with Farrah hair and pistols.
Two words – Hooter’s Girls. Devon meets and spends the entire pubcrawl with them.
JP and I decide we want to stay under par for every hole, so we each knock back a shot of Jagermeister.
Then JP gets bonus strokes for flagrantly coppin' a feel on a honey in full view of everyone. She didn't get any strokes. I'm the judge and that's my ruling. The dancing begins.
I call JMOC on the mobile wondering where her ass is. It's on the LIE and she ain't comin'.
We make it to Jack Dempsey's (a new spot for the double hole, and where I don't get any fvcking pizza goddammit. DEF reports that 80 slices were gone in under 10 minutes.) The sole bartender, Phil, considers letting Ungie help him sling drinks, but then sees his costume and reconsiders. Astrid and Jim cruise in all nonchalant and nondrunk. The other James is amusing as Eminem and Elton John's lovechild. Josh and I talk computers and broadband – even fully lit, I'm a technically adept. Heidi screens her hysterical record of last year's drunken nonsense to a staggering crowd. Ungie passes around 60 glow sticks and there aren't nearly enough.
X and Crystiina work on the stoopid points. X started the day as a non-competitor, but was quickly swept up in the event and was soon seen miserably begging for strokes at every hole. The sight of Ungie drunk in that dress makes a few people lose their pizza. At least 15 more people show up. This is getting ridiculous.
The Reedys and I hit San Loco for a taco or 2 and lay the groundwork for this week's drunkfest at Ace Bar (our 40th). I'm too drunk to read the card so when Jim, Astrid, and I return to an empty Jack Dempsey's (100 leave in 2 minutes, must suck to be Phil) we trek back to Black Star where we find famed Crawlers Totten, Ray, Julie, Jen, Chris, and more, fresh in from all-day drinking at the Breeder's Cup. At least 16 more bodies join this stupendous crew. Even Black Star is overwhelmed and the worst is yet to come. It takes 15 minutes to get to the back of the bar at 8:15 – and it's all US.
All 100+ of us mash ourselves into the tiny, sleepy “The Scratcher” where they are clearly in shock. We spill into 5th street and make so much noise that we can't hear the fvcking Beatles music they're playing in this clearly better as a first hole bar. Lorilee chews my ear incoherently about fvcking geopolitics for an hour and I can't hear half her words because she's drunk, I'm drunk, she's Australian, and the crowd noise is now so overwhelming in this tiny subterranean spot. I know she's drunk because she thinks I'm 28. JP sez they make a nice, if tiny, chronic. We've stopped counting people as it's impossible. Our hour's up and we head for the last hole. Gina's feelin' no pain.
Astor Lounge was the killer move and we can once again thank Mr. Scott Laine . . . . for taking DEF and Craven's advice. We take over the huge basement dance room where they have a Hip-Hop DJ set up spinning on the one and twos for us for hours and hours. They make one FVCK of a good chronic. Where is Ted anyway? X transforms from the light-skinned Richard Roundtree to the fake black Denny Terio when the beats drop. He's buying drinks for non-pub-crawlers, throwin' money around like Trump. Dancing gets wild and that ass-chick from Swift's is up on the table, pole dancin' and putting on a show.
Now the ugly side of competition is really sinking in as judges are bombarded and harassed mercilessly for strokes. Some famously big drinkers are spewing conspiracy theories and the desperate grasp for bonus strokes starts to get graphic. Some vitriolic little blonde chick who I don't even know rips me a new ass about her and her girlfriend not winning the women's drinking competition and how that's fvcking impossible. I consider suggesting that she try blowing a judge, but think better of it. Craven is mercilessly besieged by inexorable supplicants. The judges convene, vowing forthcoming scoring reform, and the awards are presented:
Best Costume: Sven as the mummy Rookie of the Year: JP for bringing the huge crew that lasted from hole one to the end. Ted Colgate Ejection Award: Cowboy Rich James Totten Bleeding Head Award: Neil Ray Passant "I Don't Want This Fvcking Award" Award: Sri Women's Drinking 1st: Chrystiina Men's Drinking 1st: James
The dancing continues for hours more. Declarations of *best-ever* bounce off the ceiling. This crew still knows how to drink for damage. I'm still hung over on Monday. Nice job, everyone.
And next year can we see a few more fvcking costumes, please?
