Minivan Hotel
Grand Prix weekend in Montreal is an absolute war zone. For one weekend, the high rollers bring out their hot shot cars and line em' up on Crescent street in the heart of downtown for the people to "oooh" and "ahhh" at. High class hookers line the streets as they are ogled by drunken men and petty, jealous women. It is a yearly scene that draws in hundreds of thousands of tourists to this city and is easily one of the most depraved shitshow weekends of the year. So the fellas and I decided to go take a look see at the Saturday night mayhem.
It was me, BrownTown, his girlfriend CinBad, Ukraine, his girlfriend at the time Ram, CG13 and two acquaintances Robo and Roxy. We met up at a Dimsums condo where The Real Deal and DMilz were hanging out to smash a bunch of beers before going up to Crescent for a taste of the real mayhem. We got liquored up for a few hours then took off to find the real party.
Somehow on the way there, The Real Deal, Dimsum and DMilz got sidetracked and we got separated. The rest of us walked Crescent looking for a place to get into but everything was packed. We knew what to expect but like the assholes we were, we figured there'd be no problem shooting into a night club at midnight on one of the busiest club/bar nights of the year. So, as usual when we soil ourselves on our timing, we turn to Sir Winston Churchill's, land of the cougars. It's a safe bet you'll get into this place unless you can't stand up and somehow, I managed to fool the bouncer into thinking I was reasonably sober. He let me loose into the bar and things began to deteriorate from there.
Ukraine was on one of his fucking shooter night vibes and he was filling my mouth with anything ranging from vodka to some fairy stuff that tasted sweet, like an angel. Well when Ukraine gets me all liquored up on shots, I become the most generous person in the world and rounds were bought. I’m sure some lucky, unsuspecting bastards standing next to me got a few shots and a hug from me during the night. Anyways, at this point, I'm fucking flying on a new previously undiscovered drunken cloud. I'm leaning against the bar talking to BrownTown and Ukraine about something unimportant when the girls start laughing. We turn to check out what was so funny when we see this goofball dancing it up on the dance floor.
This guy was wearing some weird pants, a sparkling silver shirt and a skull and crossbones bandana. Even as hammered as I was, I knew this guy looked ridiculous. So without much thought, I made my way over behind him and started dancing in a mocking way. My dancing is a mockery in itself but the fact it was geared at this guy had my friends laughing hysterically by the bar. Pretty soon a few strangers took notice in this ugly scene and found it funny. Sure enough, my target eventually caught on and kept trying to catch me doing whatever was making these people laugh around him. Like the idiot I was, the second he'd turn to me I would stop moving completely and scratch my head as if I had some intense idea I was trying to wrap my brain around. Keep in mind we were in the middle of the dance floor so I just looked like I might have been retarded or maybe gay.
Closing time was around the corner so we got out of the bar and went to a pizza place next to Concordia University, at the corner of Mackay and De Maisonneuve. I managed to order a slice, bumped into an old buddy from my days at the movie theatre, shot the shit (maybe he understood some of it, who knows), made my way up the seven stairs to join my buddies and tried to sit down on a chair. Now, at this point, everything went into slow motion. I sat on the plastic chair, which could not handle my drunken way of sitting, propelling me backwards. My slice of pizza went airborne, and in the middle of my fall, a convertible filled with four smoking hot girls drove by. I landed on my back next to my slice of pizza and the sound of four of the hottest women I had ever seen laughing their asses off at me as they drove off.
This upset me. What the fuck kind of chair was this? Who did those dirty bitches think they were? What the fuck is your problem? Unfortunately, most of these angry remarks were directed at a bunch of police officers about ten feet away. Someone managed to hail a cab before I really got us all into a bucket of shit and started us on our way home. As it turns out, we didn't have enough for the full fare and this jerk off cabbie didn't trust us enough to let us off at a bank (I might have played a role in that). He dropped us off a good ten minutes from BrownTown's. I got out of the cab and promptly passed out on someone's lawn.
Now, this is the last I remember from the night. I blacked out the moment I stepped out of that cab. The rest has been either told to me or I pieced it together. I woke up the next morning completely reclined in the passenger seat of a minivan parked in a random person's driveway. I had no idea whose van this was, I didn't recognize the house that was towering in front of me and I barely recognized the environment. What was even more alarming was that I was wearing nothing but my boxer-briefs and my socks. Where the fuck are my clothes? My cell phone was lying on my stomach and it was nearly 7 am. I texted The Real Deal to let him know of my predicament then looked out the passenger window.
On the front steps of the house were all my clothes, neatly folded. My shoes were placed together right in front of my clothes with my wallet and lighter sticking out of them. Everything seemed to be carefully placed and handled with the utter most care. I was perplexed...did I neatly fold my clothes and check for unlocked minivans to fall asleep in? Imagine the horror on the owners face had he/she opened the driver’s door to find a half-naked drunk passed out in their own vehicle? This was by far one of the weirdest places I had ever woken up in after the madness of a full blown drink fest.