BY1401
Unapologetically Moderate
I think I’ve been spending too much time on the Planet.
So I got home from work Friday night and was wondering what I was going to do to pass the time before I went to bed. I called a few people to see what they were up to and since all of them had previous plans that either didn’t lend themselves very well to a fifth wheel or didn’t sound all that particularly interesting, I figured it’d be another non-eventful evening in.
Boy, was I wrong.
Not long after I sat down to watch the evening news, I got a call from one of my pledge brothers (who I’ll refer to as ‘A’) who was in town with his wife and kid. They were heading over to the house of one of his old high school buddies (who I’ll call ‘D’) to drink some beer, eat some pizza, and play some games on his X-Box and asked me if I wanted to join with. I hadn’t seen A since July, so it sounded like a fantastic idea to get out of the house and catch up with one of my boys.
I get over to D’s house and start drinking beer with them. Now, A has developed a new habit of buying odd beers he’s never had before just for the hell of it which is cool, because I do the same thing. So here we are drinking these beers, which all strangely turned out to be really sweet, and at some point D busted out some home brew. The point of this is that I ended up getting hammered Friday night. It’s been a long time since I was that far in Mexico. So long, in fact, that I forgot how vivid my dreams get when I’m smashed. And that is ultimately the focus of this post.
So in one of my dreams Friday I was back at D’s house with everyone who was there that night (even one of D’s brothers and his fiancée who ended up leaving early because one of her friends called up and said that Don Mattingly was down at Fox and the Hound…no reason to throw that in other than I figured all you BoSox fans would get a kick out of that) and I started asking D what it was like playing at Rose when he was there. I suppose I should have mentioned this earlier, but D is a Rose product as well. However, even though he and A graduated high school in the same class, D went straight into the Air Force. After he got out he went to Rose, but we were already out of there. I didn’t meet D until a couple of years ago at A’s bachelor party in D.C.
Anyway, so in my dream I’m trying to start a conversation with D about Rose football, but he stopped me and said he never went there. He played ball at Tennessee. Now I’m thinking, “Awesome! Looks like there’s another Planeteer with some D-I contacts.” To make matters even better, he gets on the phone and calls up Manning who says he can get us on the sidelines for the Titans game. Next thing I know it’s the opening play of the game. Tennessee has all eleven guys up on the line, but Manning hands off to the runningback anyway and he ends up gaining six yards on the carry. People cheer. Yay. But everyone is slow to get up and neither team seems very interested in running another play. They all just kind of walk around amongst one another. Next thing I know I’m in my dad’s kitchen with Manning and Reggie Wayne. Peyton said he needed Reggie at receiver and since I was the only other one there, he needed me to snap the ball and pass protect. I said that it sounded simple enough and wondered who I’d be lining up against. He told me to turn around and look. As I did, I saw Vince Wilfork hulking over me. I was terrified. I’m not sure, but I might have even started to cry. After what seemed like an eternity, I hiked the ball. I knew I didn’t stand a chance playing honest, so I cheated. I dropped down to the floor to play dead, but as Vince was going past me, I reached out, wrapped him up around the ankles, brought him down, then scrambled around and somehow got him in a choke hold. This worked like three or four times. I was very happy. Then we all sat down at the table and started shooting the breeze. Vince turned out to be quite the cut-up. Then all of a sudden Tom Brady walks in and pulls up a chair next to Wilfork, so I ask him, “Hey Tom, what was the deal with you getting engaged to Gisele?” He goes, “Well…I was talking with P-Money earlier this summer and he told me I needed someone who was going to be there for me no matter what. I needed someone who wanted to be with me because I’m a nice guy, not because I’m a successful quarterback and I got to thinking about the loss in Super Bowl XLII and how Gisele didn’t care about that. That’s why I want to marry her.”
I was sitting there thinking how cool this all was. I was thinking how awesome it would be when I posted about this on the Planet. Then I thought about asking Tom about his knee and trading ACL stories, but then I thought better of it because I didn’t want to come across as some sort of star-struck douchebag and monopolize the conversation, so I just sat back as Peyton and Reggie and Vince and Tom all shot the shit around my dad’s kitchen table.
Then I woke up. It sucked that the dream wasn’t real, but the win was that I didn’t have a hangover.
So I got home from work Friday night and was wondering what I was going to do to pass the time before I went to bed. I called a few people to see what they were up to and since all of them had previous plans that either didn’t lend themselves very well to a fifth wheel or didn’t sound all that particularly interesting, I figured it’d be another non-eventful evening in.
Boy, was I wrong.
Not long after I sat down to watch the evening news, I got a call from one of my pledge brothers (who I’ll refer to as ‘A’) who was in town with his wife and kid. They were heading over to the house of one of his old high school buddies (who I’ll call ‘D’) to drink some beer, eat some pizza, and play some games on his X-Box and asked me if I wanted to join with. I hadn’t seen A since July, so it sounded like a fantastic idea to get out of the house and catch up with one of my boys.
I get over to D’s house and start drinking beer with them. Now, A has developed a new habit of buying odd beers he’s never had before just for the hell of it which is cool, because I do the same thing. So here we are drinking these beers, which all strangely turned out to be really sweet, and at some point D busted out some home brew. The point of this is that I ended up getting hammered Friday night. It’s been a long time since I was that far in Mexico. So long, in fact, that I forgot how vivid my dreams get when I’m smashed. And that is ultimately the focus of this post.
So in one of my dreams Friday I was back at D’s house with everyone who was there that night (even one of D’s brothers and his fiancée who ended up leaving early because one of her friends called up and said that Don Mattingly was down at Fox and the Hound…no reason to throw that in other than I figured all you BoSox fans would get a kick out of that) and I started asking D what it was like playing at Rose when he was there. I suppose I should have mentioned this earlier, but D is a Rose product as well. However, even though he and A graduated high school in the same class, D went straight into the Air Force. After he got out he went to Rose, but we were already out of there. I didn’t meet D until a couple of years ago at A’s bachelor party in D.C.
Anyway, so in my dream I’m trying to start a conversation with D about Rose football, but he stopped me and said he never went there. He played ball at Tennessee. Now I’m thinking, “Awesome! Looks like there’s another Planeteer with some D-I contacts.” To make matters even better, he gets on the phone and calls up Manning who says he can get us on the sidelines for the Titans game. Next thing I know it’s the opening play of the game. Tennessee has all eleven guys up on the line, but Manning hands off to the runningback anyway and he ends up gaining six yards on the carry. People cheer. Yay. But everyone is slow to get up and neither team seems very interested in running another play. They all just kind of walk around amongst one another. Next thing I know I’m in my dad’s kitchen with Manning and Reggie Wayne. Peyton said he needed Reggie at receiver and since I was the only other one there, he needed me to snap the ball and pass protect. I said that it sounded simple enough and wondered who I’d be lining up against. He told me to turn around and look. As I did, I saw Vince Wilfork hulking over me. I was terrified. I’m not sure, but I might have even started to cry. After what seemed like an eternity, I hiked the ball. I knew I didn’t stand a chance playing honest, so I cheated. I dropped down to the floor to play dead, but as Vince was going past me, I reached out, wrapped him up around the ankles, brought him down, then scrambled around and somehow got him in a choke hold. This worked like three or four times. I was very happy. Then we all sat down at the table and started shooting the breeze. Vince turned out to be quite the cut-up. Then all of a sudden Tom Brady walks in and pulls up a chair next to Wilfork, so I ask him, “Hey Tom, what was the deal with you getting engaged to Gisele?” He goes, “Well…I was talking with P-Money earlier this summer and he told me I needed someone who was going to be there for me no matter what. I needed someone who wanted to be with me because I’m a nice guy, not because I’m a successful quarterback and I got to thinking about the loss in Super Bowl XLII and how Gisele didn’t care about that. That’s why I want to marry her.”
I was sitting there thinking how cool this all was. I was thinking how awesome it would be when I posted about this on the Planet. Then I thought about asking Tom about his knee and trading ACL stories, but then I thought better of it because I didn’t want to come across as some sort of star-struck douchebag and monopolize the conversation, so I just sat back as Peyton and Reggie and Vince and Tom all shot the shit around my dad’s kitchen table.
Then I woke up. It sucked that the dream wasn’t real, but the win was that I didn’t have a hangover.
:cop:
:Lwelcome:ROFLROFLROFL