shitona stick
Twenty-Four Hours In My Life, a short story.
01/06/1999
Last weekend was the weekend of responsibility. The MS SuperRoll is the first big skate event I participate in for the season and it's a worthy cause. My responsibility is to wake up at an ungodly hour and MC the event at Chelsea Piers. Myself and the director of the pier get the 2000+ skaters stretched and ready for their 8, 15 or 26 mile skate through the Lincoln tunnel and then turn over the mike to a celeb to start the roll. This year was Police Commissioner Howard Safir on skates. I take this very seriously so I planned my weekend around it. This turned out to be easy. Friday night wasn't an issue and Saturday Glennis had a bar-b-que for her roommates birthday. This started at 6 and would allow me to hang out until 10 or so.
At 6pm I pulled out my fiddle and led a large group over to Glennis'. Several other people headed home first because Tanja had invited us to another party that was three blocks away. We got to Glennis' new apartment (new to me since I blew off her first party) and enjoyed a great bar-b-que. Except for being on the Eastside, her apartment is great. Two bedrooms a stall shower, jacuzzi bathtub and a huge backyard.
It was a great party except for couple of incidents. One was after I received a phone call while sitting next to Glennis in the backyard. After giving directions I hung up and said. "That was Roscoe, he's on his way." The problem was Glennis Ex's name is Roscoe (A thin white yuppy) although I was referring to Roscoe (the older black blue collar guy). At this point, Glennis goes ballistic grabbing my phone to try to call him back but in her nervous panic can't dial. She goes running into the apartment yelling and screaming when intelligence agent Rich (he lost his double-0 status after an incident with the Spectra agent known as Kitten). Anyway, intelligence agent Rich yells over to me "The other Roscoe!" and saves the day. Besides, I'm not taking any blame for the confusion. I mean what white family names their son Roscoe anyway. You don't see us naming our kids Biff. The other incident was with Tara's roomate who was drunk, on skates and falling all over the place. Glennis and Laurell have nickednamed her bitch, I mean RollerGirl. "Where's that damn delete key. Oh well." If you're reading this RollerGirl, you owe Glennis and Laurell a few glasses. Seven Degrees Of Separation:
At the MS SuperRoll, Doug and Rich are marshals. Tara's skating and has raised a lot of money and her mother has MS. And Glennis wants skate with Tara and is putting in her own $75 minimum donation after seeing the effort the rest of us are making.
Meanwhile it's 10 now and I feel the pressure building. More of my friends are arriving and their all going to the next party which is on the roof of a 40 story apartment building with an amazing view. Then, I get the call that that start my fall from grace. My friend Eric whose Mark Wahlberg's personal manager calls to tell me to come to Life for Marks birthday party in the VIP room. "I can't go, I've got to get up in the morning. Rich has got to get up, Tara has to skate, Doug's even staying in so he'll wake up." (Really, Doug stayed in) "But I want to hang out, I want to go to the roof party and I only need 5 hours of sleep. OK if I can get Tara to go, I'll go. She's fun to hang out with and she's got to get up also."
The plan. Consult with Rich who agrees saying "Convince Tara to go and you're set." My intelligence agent wouldn't steer me wrong. Right? I mean he just got demoted from Double-0 license to kill status. He's got to make points. "Tara" I say "We each go home and take showers, meet at the roof party for half an hour, grab Rich and hit Life from 12 to 1. I'll have you in bed (I meant she'll be in bed) by 1, I promise." It took a little coaxing, begging and pleading but then we headed off. IA Rich went straight to the party. He had his previously issued TRANSPACK with him (standard agent issue) and pulled out a black shirt, black pants and black shoes.
I call Doug whose heading home. He panics because he knows if he doesn't make it to the SuperRoll to marshal the small credibility he has in the skate community (all due to the fact that he's my friend) will be gone. So being an expatriate, he calls his intelligence agent in Canada for advise. Michelle somehow convinces him to stay home and he declines. Really, he didn't go out. He won't be mentioned again until tomorrow.
Shower, shit and a shave and we met at the roof party (I took the shower, Rich took the shit and Tara shaved). The view was fantastic and then we got the boot. Down in the apartment we realized it was time to head south. We got to Life at 1:30 (I know Tara should've been home 30 minutes ago) where immediately, after his recent break up, Rich was back in training. We hadn't ordered our first drink and a women was talking to him. She turned out to be psycho and his previous double-0 training came in handy. He took her out to the main dance floor and ditched her. She was persistent though and back in the VIP room found him after about half an hour. It was a great party and after a few more psychos, Rich got smart and started hanging with Penny Marshall. She was there in her pajama dancing the night away. She directed one of Marks films and was in charge of the birthday cake. She then delegated the responsibility of lighting the candle to Rich who did a superb job. It's Not My Fault: All of a sudden it's 3:30. Well as we all know, we might as well just stay up. So we leave Life and head to Siberia for a nightcap. Of course Tracy is there drunk off his ass and before we can get through the door there's chronics in our hands. 4:30 rolls around and Tara's skating career is over. Now I know what you're going to say about her not skating and her mother having MS and all. But, she collected the money and the good will still be done. Anyway, send all hate mail to Rich at RichWolf@hotmail.com
Tara went home to sleep, Rich went home and made breakfast and I took a 30 minute power nap. Rich started ringing my phone off the hook as my alarm went off and Glennis followed looking for Tara. Except for Tara not skating and Doug not marshaling the event went off without a hitch. Oh, did I say Doug didn't make it?
The story goes something like this. Doug goes home and cries himself to sleep wondering if he needs a yes man as an intelligence agent. He wakes up on time at 5 am and proceeds to puck his brains out. The night before, he had been to dinner where he ate sushi, escargot and a raw steak. They had a fight with each other and I think it was the sushi that won with some Bruce Lee moves. He did make it to the bar-b-que and open bar volunteer party at 3pm where he immediately starts drinking chronics. And that's what I did from 3pm Saturday until 3pm Sunday. Any questions? Ungie
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