Just what we needed...

...yet another excuse to get drunk and stumble around town.

Sunday was the annual Superbowl Pub Crawl in Ventura. My day began with a 9:15 am phone call from a club member asking where I was with the beer for the start. Of course, the "run" was to begin at 10:00 and I was still home in bed. Silly me.

Upon arrival I was greeting with demands for better beer (people expect a lot for $5 these days...) and then kudos for bringing Jello shots in the colors of the teams competing that day. Is there really any other way to kick off a Sunday morning than chasing a tequila with lime Jello shot with a Miller Lite? There is something about Jello, cheap booze and whipped cream that makes everything all right. After the cooler was emptied by the participants we headed off on the pub crawl. I was staying sober as I was driving the beer and bag wagon so I followed along on foot for a few miles then turned back to go pick up the truck and meet the frightening crew en route for round two of the Jello shots. Five or six bars later, the group arrived (barely) at a sports bar just in time for kick off.

I have never actually watched the Superbowl and let me just say I was more confused than anything. First off, when you are in a sports bar for the game, you can expect not to hear anything. So when I saw Michael Douglas on screen I wasn't sure we were on the right station. I still don't know what his role was in the game. Then there were Bill Clinton and George the Elder. What the heck were they doing there? I couldn't hear a thing until the bartender screamed for silence so we could hear the national anthem. I felt very American as I sat at the bar drinking my imported beer surrounded by drunks with a lottery game on the screen next to the one playing the anthem while displaying a flag billowing in the wind. Rarely have I felt so patriotic.

I missed the kick off because someone was painting my fingernails green to show support for the Eagles. The game itself was lame. Men in tights and knee highs running a few feet then hitting eachother. Oh, and the dances in the end zone were priceless. Don't these men know how stupid they look? Because I couldn't stomach watching the game I took to watching the spectators. Highlight of my experience included dispatching a search party to locate one inebriated club member only to find him walking out of the women's restroom. When we pointed out that he had been in the women's restroom he merely commented, "No wonder is was so clean and quiet in there."

Another highlight was watching three club members vie for the affections of a cross dresser. Three of us sober folks watched as the three men made advances toward the 6'4", wearing-a-choker-to-hide-the-adam's-apple, large handed vixen. Of course, we encouraged their antics so we could watch things unfold. At one point we caught a new guy, J, propped up against a pinball machine by the she-man. Later, he was seen in the parking lot with her, er, him, er, whatever. I just wonder how he's feeling this morning...

After the game we parted company. I was starving and stopped at my favorite pizza place for a slice. They were so slow they had no slices so I had to get a whole pie. While waiting I chatted up the two boys that work there. They were upset at having to stay until close and bored out of their minds. After checking their ID's, I took them out to the truck and gave them some of the leftover beer from the days' events. You'd have thought I was Santa Claus, well maybe not if you were their employer. Then you'd have thought I was an evil cheap-beer-donating employee ruiner. Either way, it was fun and they were grateful.