01 June 2007

WW07 Part Three of Three: Pool Party (and Noise Violation #2)

So, as I mentioned in my last post, Bob is one of my favorite SCAD grads (behind Mike Dell, the groom…I forgot to mention that). He was one of Mike’s groomsmen and we all had great times partying together at Penn State. So needless to say, he was one of the people I was most stoked to see this week for Mike and Sarah’s wedding. Normally, Bob is pretty laid back and walks with a normal swagger. But if he’s in a hurry, he doesn’t run. He shuffles like Fred Flinstone powering a prehistoric car. It’s more of a “scurry.” Jeff is Bob’s BFF and was also a groomsman (also in our party crew at PSU).

With that in mind I am going to preface the following story with Sarah’s remarks during breakfast the morning after the wedding:

“Around 2 am I heard a loud crash, so I went to the window and all I saw was Bob speed shuffling down the sidewalk topless. And then Jeff ran into our room wearing only his underwear.”

Luckily, there was one bridesmaid still standing at 2am to witness (and take part in) the events firsthand: me.

Let me start from the beginning.

The ride from the reception back to the hotel was an effing quest. Everyone was calling everyone to get beer/to get directions/to ask where their pants were (just kidding. Although it wouldn’t surprise me). About an hour and a half after we closed down the reception, everyone finally showed up to the hotel for the afterparty. Probably one of the most amusing things was that Mike totally just passed out in the honeymoon suite and Sarah was like, “LET’S PARTY!” Just about everyone who attended the wedding came into their room and saw Mike laying on the bed and he has no recollection of anyone coming into the room whatsoever.

Another obstacle we faced was that upon check-in at the hotel, we were required to sign “No Party Agreements.” I’m sure hotel management realized they did the responsible thing when Shamra yelled across the lobby “YO! Leslie! No Parties! Shit!”

I’m not really in the habit of closely reading things like that before signing them, but this one I carefully examined. Especially after our first noise violation in NYC Thursday night/Friday morning. The agreement said that we get one warning call before being “evicted.” But we had a simple solution to the “No Party Agreement.” Move the party to the hotel lawn. It's rooted in the philosophy that if they can’t blame the ruckus on a room, they can’t evict us.

We got away with this for about 30 minutes before "noise violation 2" for the weekend was issued. We were asked to leave the lawn. At this point, most of us had lost the ability to participate in two-way communication, but we did have enough sense to at least move to another part of the lawn.

Meanwhile, there was another party going on in Groomsman Greg’s suite. Apparently at that party, Greg and Kristin played Rihanna & Jay-Z’s “Umbrella” (ella ella eh eh eh) 32 times. It was not played 33 times, thanks to Groomsman Bruce who finally pulled the plug on the laptop and forced the "room party" to merge with the newly relocated (about 100 yards from previous spot) "lawn party."

I noticed that “Room Party” had fused with “Lawn Party (location 2)” when Greg walked by me sitting on the lawn and I heard music coming from his pants. This could be a perplexing situation if you're 17 drinks into the night, but I finally figured out that Greg was DJ’ing the afterparty from his cell phone. Then all of the sudden I heard a “yelp” and a miniature person yell “LESLIE!” When I turned around I saw Kristin pointing to a bloody elbow. I just shrugged and went back to my conversation. This seemed to pretty much be par for the course. I did find out later, though, that Jeff had been carrying Kristin--just for fun--and ended up dropping her on the sidewalk. Then he called her a “prissy bitch.” Although Kristin agreed with his assessment, and maybe in a way respected the fact that he just came right out with it, she went inside to patch up her scrape and go to bed.

Meanwhile, I will note that this entire time, Shamra is nowhere to be found.

So I am left at the lawn party with most of the groomsman and a shitload of SCAD! Grads. Then Bob turned to me and said, “Wanna go in the pool?”

At 2am, taking off your clothes and scaling a fence to go drunk swimming with a bunch of loud a-holes sounds like an EXCELLENT IDEA.

In order to not get caught, there was a lot of whispering and “shhhhhush-ing,” but all that pretty much went to hell when somehow Bob knocked over a table onto the cement, loud enough to wake up Sarah, in “building two,” who promptly went to the window to check out the scattering of SCAD! Grads trying to not get evicted from the Saddle River Residence Inn. That included Bob's topless speed shuffle and Jeff barging into the honeymoon suite in his underwear.

The next morning, before everyone headed home, we all met for brunch and to say our goodbyes. And to ask Shamra where the hell she was all night.

Her boyfriend of just over a month explained:

“Well, we didn’t get back ‘til about 12:30. At which point she vomited on me. Then punched me in the balls. Then wrote all over my stomach with a Sharpie.”

Sham’s Residence Inn roommate, Kris (the maid of honor), told him that he “hit the Irish Girl Home Run.”

Indeed he had. Welcome to the "Shamra vomited on me" club.

3 comments:

Kristin said...

that is the "sex and the city" picture.

and i never want another scab again. this SCAD! scab is enough for this lifetime.

Jeff: Um. Yeah. Left my watch at the pool. Get it.

LG said...

Oh I guess I left out the part where Jeff called me at 3am from a taxi to go BACK to the pool and get his watch. That's an accurate quote from the phone call I received from him. If there is one thing I can say about Jeff, it's that he is a man of few words.

Shamra said...

That club is not as exclusive as one might think.