Toph Speaks

Snappinin? So, I said I’d give you a follow up to the madness that was “the party” so, here it is.

Let’s just say it started off on the wrong foot. In case you don’t even know what I’m talking about, look back HERE. So, Diabla and I woke up around 4:30am on Friday to catch out flight on Frontier Airlines, which took off at 6:00am. We get to the airport close to 5:30am, excited about the random, yet amazing weekend. This is the point when things take a turn for the worst. (By the way, totally unrelated, I’m listening to Arcade Fire right now. So frakin’ good, man.) As we get to the electronic check in, we put our credit card in, and it asks us to see a representative. OK, minor setback for a weekend of awesomeness, we think. We get there, and she tells us we’re not allowed to board the plane. The reason is because they sent paper tickets, which are apparently like money, to the person that bought the tickets 2 days ago. If you’re scoring at home, we’re at SFO, and the person that bought the tickets for us is in Pennsylvania. The logic is astounding, here. Now, my wife wasn’t given the name Diabla, because she’s sweet and sensitive. Needless to say, she goes off on the poor lady.

At this point, it’s around 8am. Obviously we’ve missed any chance to get on that flight, and we’re about to go home, when we decided to just check with Southwest Airlines. Being Texas kids, Southwest has come to our rescue more than an airline should. We discover that we can get on a 10am flight to Penn, and it would cost about $750 round trip, each. OK, we’re not paying for it, so we get it. Finally, we’re on our way to Philadelphia. The flight is to LAX, where we get off the plane and onto another, headed for Denver, then to Philadelphia. Despite being stuck in the B groups (only Southwesterns know what I’m talking about), we’re able to sit together to LAX. After LAX, it’s different story.

Diabla is in front of me (we’re in the back of the plane) sitting next to a family with babies. I’m behind her, sitting next to super-hippie mom and her 3 year old girl. If you didn’t know, I’m a little scared of flying. So, when the massive turbulence starts, the crazy hippie girl starts telling me about her brother that killed himself the day after Christmas. Then, how her mother died, and it was possibly suicide. She was also this Wiccan, that was drawing photos of fawns sucking off the devil. You want to know who you don’t want to sit beside when you think the plane is going to crash? Hippie, Wiccan girl, that’s who.

Needless to say, we landed safely in Denver, stayed on our plane, and moved up to the front. That’s the beauty of Southwest. You can be fucked on one flight, then awesome the next. We finally arrive in Philly at midnight, go straight to the hotel room and pass out. I will say that we got the sweetest Jeep Commander with no extra charge.

We wake up early so that we can visit Diabla’s family in Philly, and then head to Wilkes-Barre for the party. We get lost a few times, because the Penn Turnpike was made by crippies and tards and finally get in about noon. We check into the hotel, and this is about when things get magical. The room we’re staying in is a suite. Ok, that’s not a big deal, but the suite has a jacuzzi in the room, with mirrors and lights around it. How sexy is that!? Yeah, I have a photo HERE. My clients come and pick us up at the hotel around 1pm, and we head out to the destination.

We arrive in the middle of nowhere. It’s this massive forest, that suddenly opens up to this pond, and picnic area. There was a huge gazebo, and a stage with Dave Matthews and Jack Johnson’s son playing. He was actually pretty good. The BBQ pit was crazy big, and burgers, steaks and hot dogs were flying out of it. There were close to 20 kegs, which were all Yuengling or Miller Lite. How awesome is that?

The important party of the day, of course, was the beer pong tournament that I told you about. It’s hard to imagine, but a 56 person beer pong tournament is awesome. They also had official beer pong tables, which were bought from BPong.com. We step up to our first match, and Diabla whips out our amazing uniforms. See, my boss bought us matching Dirk jerseys for our wedding present, and she whips them out, and we throw them on. Intimidation. We go on to win our first match by 1 cup. The second match, we play these two guys, who are pricks. The slaughter us with 4 out of 6 cups on the table. This brings our record to 1 - 1. The next match, we lose a heart breaker with 1 cup remaining on our side. Record standing at 1 - 2. Then, we face these two guys, who think they’ll own us. This is when Diabla has the Sportscenter top play of the day. 1 cup on our side, 2 cups on theirs. They shot to win, and Diabla out of no where, blows the ball out of the cup (a legal move mind you). The crowd went nuts. Then, she follows that up with a make. They make their shot, and it’s our turn to rebuttal, or go home. I shot, I miss. Diabla steps up, and hits nothing but the bottom of the cup. BANG! Forces overtime, and she makes 2 straight cups. That’s when I step up and knock down the winning cup. I felt like I had not scored all day, but I’m clutch. The good players always come through. We’re 2 - 2. The next team we play (and keep in mind, at this point who knows how much beer we’ve downed) beats us in a another heart breaker, and we’re 2 - 3. We have one more game that counts, and it’s against the people I work directly with, that flew us out there. No way we could lose this one, right? Both, Diabla and I are on fire, but so are they. We’re trading shots, and making them. Until, we get to the last 2 cups. Suddenly, no one can make shots. We’re going back and forth hitting cups, but they’re not falling. Then, Diabla hits one, and they fire back and hit one. We trade misses a few times, and now I’m up. I tell my client, that if I hit this, I want higher commission across the board. Line up for the shot, blow a kiss Jason Kidd style, and BOOM bottom of the cup. The both miss, and Diabla and I take a beer shower. You would have thought we won the World Series. It was incredible, and we finish 3 - 3. I was impressed, all things considered.

The rest of the party was great. We danced to cover bands, met all these badass people, drank a crapload and partied our asses off. We get back to the hotel around 2, sexualize and go to sleep.

We’re flying out of Philly the next day, so we wake up kind of early, go to breakfast with my clients and take on the 2 hour drive. We’re sitting in the back of the plane, and the seats are going fast on this full flight. Cue the FATTEST PERSON IN THE WORLD. Her she comes bumbling and stumbling down the aisle. “Is anyone sitting there,” she says in her deep scary voice. Diabla and I look up from our magazines like the snobbiest people you’ve ever met. “Whatever,” Diabla says. I’m in the aisle seat, and Dibs is in the middle, next to the FATTEST PERSON IN THE WORLD. Not to be anymore of a dick than I already am, but the fat was pouring over into our seats. I felt like it was growing around the arm rest. At some point, you gotta purchase two seats, right? Maybe all this happened because we’re bad people, I don’t know, but we proceed to sit on the runway for 2 hours. It was the longest 2 hours of our lives, because Dibs is half in my seat, and I’m getting hit by everyone that passes. They tell us it’s going to be another hour when the FATTEST PERSON IN THE WORLD has to pee. She gets up, and Diabla looks at me with this look and says to me, “If you don’t fix this, kiss your life goodbye.” There’s one more seat on the plane, and it’s in between these two pilots going to Chicago. I go and plead my case to them. “Look,” I said, “My life is stuck between me and a slightly larger, nice, young lady. Anyway she can sit between you two?” They look back at my wife and exclaim, “YES!” The fact that she was mucking it up the whole hour with those two didn’t bother me, because I knew I was getting sexualization again.

An hour later, on the runway still, they tell us the flight is canceled, and we missed our connections anyway. We go back to the terminal, and have to stand in this huge fuck-off-line to sort out what we’re going to do. They tell us that we can go to Chicago tonight, or stay in Philly and hope that tomorrow we get out. Of course, we decide Chicago. We leave an hour later, and are finally there by 10pm. Hungry, sleepy and irritated. We get a hotel, sleep and eat White Castle. Wake up at 4:30am, again, get ready and are at the airport by 5:30am for a 6am flight. We cut it ridiculously close. We have decent seats in the back of the plane, and we head to San Diego to pick people up, and then head straight to SFO. When we get to San Diego, we learn that for unknown reasons air traffic control has grounded all flights to SFO. It’s funny that any time that happens now, you think terrorists, isn’t it? We get on the flight 2 hours later, and finally land in SFO at 1pm, on Monday on our Anniversary.

We’re making up for it tomorrow, though. We’ll see how that goes.

Thanks for listening. I love you, and I’m not proofreading this, either.