Well me and my buddies from work decided we needed to take a guys trip out to the beach to go fishing. We planned it for two months, got everything set up, and before you knew it the day had come to get ready. My good buddy Kenny who had taken me fishing on the Neuse river a little while ago (here) would be driving us, but since he’s married with children now, we couldn’t drink at his house. Everyone else decided that was lame as shit, so we all went out to my boss’s trailer in Smithfield. For those of you not familiar with the Johnston county area, that’s what you might call the ass end of nowhere.
I had driven my scooter to work that morning with one hand, carrying my biggest cooler in my left hand out to my side the whole way, cause I hadn’t really planned any better way to get a giant cooler to work on a scooter. That worked out well for me though cause all I had to tote out to the country on my death machine that evening was a folding chair, a case of beer, and a bag of clothes and supplies for the weekend. (which still left me looking a lot like a pack mule)
Now you have to understand, the ride from Garner to the back side of Smithfield on a scooter that only goes 30-35 mph is a long, bumpy, and hazardous one. The winding country roads, especially on a Friday afternoon, are filled with angry, potential drunk rednecks in a big hurry to get home and have fun. (it’s a fun county) But this means I have to straddle the side of the road for dear life the whole way there. Often I found myself attempting to ride the six inches between the painted line and the edge of the pavement, my feet being rhythmicly slapped by the tall grass, occasionally dodging stray tree limbs and dead possums. But with the prize of a weekend of booze and bars, bikinis and surf, I kept on the hour long ride until I found myself barreling down a rutted dirt path winding between trailers and a pond, and finally pulled up to Drew’s house.
Now Lee, the oldest guy on the trip, was already well lit, and was polishing off his first twelve pack of the evening. I got to meet Drew’s retarded brother, his little baby grandchild, and a fair number of his woman’s family, who were visiting from West Virginia. Let me tell you, those are some wide open broads, cause every one from the youngest who was about my age, all the way up to the ancient grandmother who had to be pushin seventy five, all cussed like sailors, had filthy minds, and actually had more sass and attitude than I do. Let me assure you it is very rare to find one, let alone four or five women, who can give my motor mouth and vulgarity a run for it’s money, but these kick ass bitches left me in the dust wondering what had just happened. But I will tell you more about them some other time. They invited me out to their family reunion to meet the whole clan, so hopefully I’ll have some really badass stories to share with you then.
But two cases of beer later, Lee, Drew, and myself were all drunk as hell and hit the sack around midnight or so. Dark and early at four fifteen Kenny came a knockin’ on the door, wraslin’ us all out of our deep sleeps, and we packed up his truck, loaded in, and hit the highways headed for Topsail Island. Of course Lee and Drew, the old men, wanted to go back to sleep, and Kenny and I were ready to party like it was 1999! So he threw on some old David Allen Co. and some Johnny Rebel and blasted it as loud as it would go until they finally woke up about half way there.
We got to the Jolly Roger Hotel and Pier around six thirty, before the sun was up yet, and we couldn’t check in till around noon, so we packed our crap in the cab and hit the pier for some good old fashioned Man vs Nature. Beer’s were cracked, lines were cast, and we settled in for the less intense part of the trip. A front was moving in so we didn’t get much sun, but the wind whipped the ocean spray up past us and the smells of a thousand fish and fish ghosts wafted in the breeze.
- Lee on the left, Drew on the right (with his queer juice)
The Jolly Roger pier just before dawn.
I rock so hard it hurts. Also, I didn't realize that glow in the dark skeletons shirts were not as cool as camo when you are fishing. My bad. Apparently real fisherman wear camo shirts and hats to hide from the fish.
Well it turns out there are not only no fish in the ocean, but there are also hardly any women on the beach. It was rather disappointing. Later that evening as I was laying in the motel bed I described it, “that was fishing kind of like this is getting laid. I was in the right place but nothing was going on.” In fact, there were hardly any seagulls either. In fact I see more seagulls in the Walmart parking lot on a regular basis than there were on that beach. Bad bad Leroy Brown caught the biggest fish of the day.
We're gonna need a smaller boat.
Under the pier, Topsail, NC.
So drew and I ended up getting wicked hungover, and took a nap while Kenny fished and Lee drank. But we all woke up around seven to go out drinking for real this time. It’s kind of weird meeting your girlfriend on your blog because it kind of makes you edit your stories so as not to get in trouble. But this was an especially wild night and I think it needs to be told. (Don’t be mad baby, I can’t help it that I attract fun) There was a little grill and bar across the road, which also happened to be the only bar on the island. We had stopped in for some lunch because the sign said they had the best pizza on the island. Surprisingly they sure did, it was some of the best food I have ever slid down my gullet. I had some pizza and later a steak and cheese sub, and both were incredible.
So we rolled up in the bar side of this joint to check it out. There were two pool tables, a jukebok, two tables and a bar. It was a fairly typical ocean side dive bar. No AC, no fans, just a bunch of open windows around a dimly lit room full of smoke with a few sad looking old people hanging around as if waiting for Jesus to take them, and a crabby, overweight, college age bartender. The sign on the door said it was raggae night, but at the moment it was library-in-the-vatican quiet in there. That immediately went as soon as we walked in.
Now you know me, I get a little wild from time to time, as evidenced by my legal record. Well Kenny and Drew both worked as bartenders in that honkytonk I went to. Drew and Lee are both bikers. Lee’s a crazy alcoholic who was already almost blacked out by this point. And every single one of us is looking to cause as much ruckus and mayhem as possible that night. Kenny jumps on the jukebox and throws on a bunch of Disturbed, and a variety of eighties metal. Drew grabs a pool table and racks up, and we all get started playing some pool.
Well Kenny is an amazing pool player, and Drew plays in tournaments every week, and Lee picked up at least a respectable amount of skill over his many many years on this earth, but I however suck realy bad at pool. I mean I don’t just suck a little, I suck so bad it creates a breeze in the room. I really enjoy playing pool, but I’m terrible and I know it. That’s no problem though, because they used me to make them look a little less badass, and as people started trickling slowly into this sad little bar they began fleecing them for all they were worth. Within an hour we had a table full of mixed drinks bough in lost games, and we were all well on our way to hedonistic debauchery.
With the exception of a few of the braver and younger men, everyone else in the bar was huddled as far away from our table as possible. It was almost comical. We were shouting and cheersing and singing at the top of our lungs, jumping around like wild men. We must have been the liveliest thing that has hit that town since hurrican Fran. A few hippies came in to check out the raggae, saw us, heard the metal, and promptly left.
Now by now Lee was rip roaring drunk off his ass. If he hadn’t been holding on to that table he probably would have fallen off the planet. So Kenny comes up to me and tells me, “HEY MAN, I THINK LEE HAS AN ADMIRER!” Confused I look around as to who has been paying Lee any attention. “CHECK OUT THAT OLD MAN AT THE BAR, THE ONE WEARING JIM DANGLE SHORTS. EVERY TIME LEE GOES TO DANCING HE GETS A BIG ASS SMILE ON HIS FACE AND STARTS DANCING TOO.” I broke out laughing, cause I had seen this fag sitting up there by the bar, and had found him comical enough already, but that took the cake. Well to make matters worse, a few minutes later Lee called me over. “JOSH! JOSH! COME HERE MAN. HEY, HEY … UH HEY CHECK THIS OUT MAN. I DON’T KNOW IF YOU KNOW THIS BUT THER ARE SOME DUDES WHO LIKE DUDES IN HERE MAN! NO KIDDING, I JUST HAD TWO OF THEM COME UP TO ME IN THE LAST FIFTEEN MINUTES.” To say I laughed would be an understatement. I had to go to the bathroom cause I laughed so hard. And by the way, apparently dive bars at the beach carry single ply toilet paper that is rough enough to literally cut your cornhole, so watch you self if you end up there.
Shortly before the raggae mon came out, this crazy bitch named Esch walked into the bar. Earlier at lunch she had been with her boyfriend, but now she was alone, and drunker than all hell. I saw the shark fins pop up around the bar, along to the theme of Jaws. Drew just happened to be right next to the stool she plopped down at. Now Drew may be a little rough around the edges, but that man is a huge charmer and no woman can resist him, it’s insane. Skip ahead two minutes and the wildest woman at the beach is playing pool with the wildest dudes at the beach.
I wasn't allowed to take many pictures during this part of the trip.
She was on a team with Drew against me and Kenny. (cause I was apparently the closest thing to a bitch team mate for Kenny, insert my sincere laughter here) The testosterone started flowing, plenty of shit was talked, and before long, this bitch had her titties out distracting Kenny so he would stop kicking their ass. All the old people at the bar started getting pissed cause we were helping her get drunk and they all thought she was preggers. She was in fact not with child, she just had a little belly and a shirt that was poofy around the mid section, but we thought it was funny as hell. So she keeps getting wilder and wilder, and we keep thinking it’s funnier and funnier. She was (we think) pissed at her man and out to have some revenge, so she was trying her damndest to hook up with Kenny or Drew, neither one of whom wanted to bang her. They just wanted to have some fun, and didn’t give a fuck about her.
Lee on the other hand, who is 52 and single, and drunk, saw a twenty something hottie who wanted some action and began spitting his best game. In case you were wondering, his best game was horrible and offensive, but this chick was too drunk and stupid to care. Somehow it came out that one of the guys with us had a shaved dick, and at the top of her lungs Esch yelled, “drop your pants! If you shave I will suck your dick right now!” This was the second time in the evening the law was called on us. The bartender told us all to simmer down and stop making trouble. Esch started kissing random guys. I went outside to try and avoid getting arrested if they showed up again, and that was when Lee spit out this fucking gem. “Bitch, you better take four days, cause I will K. I. L. L. kill you. I won’t even bother unless you have four fucking days for me to fuck you to death.”
At this point the old women at the bar pulled the chick outside to get her away from us, and we all went back to the table to ask Lee what the fuck he was thinking exactly when he decided to communicate threats. We began gathering our shit up to leave, and Lee walked back over to Esch and the two old cock blockers with her and said, and I quote, “I’ve been with three women before, you could be the next three if you want. I’ll stick my dick in all three of your mouths!”
We dragged him out of the bar, stuck him in the hotel room, and told him if he left we would kick his ass. We hopped a taxi and headed to the next closest pair of bars. They sucked. We left and went back around closing time. Apparently the only fun to be had was in the deadest bar I’ve ever been in. We left for home the next morning and stopped for breakfast, some supplies, and then hit a tourist trap. What can I say, any building that has a giant gator on the front is cool with me.
I loves teh gatorz.
I wish I knew how they made this, cause it rocks.
I got a ton of things I shouldn’t have. By the time I left I had a slingshot, a pirate flag, a beer bong, two real gator heads, and a drivers liscence that says I’m Jesus. All in all a wild time was had by all, no one ended up arrested, or in the hospital, or cheated on their women, so I think it was a good trip. I’ve got some great stories about bosses being fired, upcoming halloween, and plenty of mayhem and madness, but for now I’m off to Mule Days in Benson, which is kind of like the redneck mardi gras around these parts. Tell me about your crazy stories from the beach, I’d love to hear some more.