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I Came Back to North Dakota and Craziness Came Back Into My Life

February/02/2009 08:33 PM Filed in: Dakota
I’ve been back up in North Dakota for quite some time and I didn’t think I’d get a lot of great blog material out of this place so quickly, but I did. I’ve actually taken many photo’s that help me to tell the stories, all except for one. So, here goes, the stories you can only get in Bismarck, North Dakota...

Oh yea,
you can check out the old Dakota posts here.

There is no story to go along with the following photo’s, but you need to know how cold it was. It was somethin like 40 or 50 below. To tell the truth, anything below 10 feels like life as you know it will soon come to an end. I have no clue why anyone says there’s global warming when Dakota has their coldest, snowiest winter ever so far.
IMG00010-20090113-1527IMG00009-20090112-1319

I hadn’t been to Buck’s in nearly 9 months, so I headed over there on a random Monday night. The place was empty, except for maybe 4 or 5 people, excluding myself and my two teammates. It sure as hell didn’t stop us from C-Walking, Cha Cha Sliding, and Cupid Shuffling. It didn’t stop us from playing Black Jack and it certainly didn’t stop us from getting handed a Hilary Clinton mask by the D.J. and wearing it the whole time:

IMG00005-20090127-0035
Teammate in the mask, an old boom tho shirt, and two balloons under his shirt.

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Hilary Clinton must be mad boom tho. She must be.

Then there was after Saturday’s game againts the Ft. Wayne Mad Ants. My boy Coleman Collins, his teammate Sean Sonderleiter, and I went to a bar called Stadium because I informed them that there was a Jukebox for the music and a table for the blackjack.

I won about $170 (baller, I know), then left the table about 10 minutes before the bar closed (at 1, grr). I walked over to talk to our game time P.A., Scott Woodmansee. He happened to be near a table that had a woman wearing a little white vest. I thought it’d be funny to put the vest on for a second since it was so small. I traded her for my sweatshirt and wore the white vest around for a couple minutes just to be funny.

When it was time to head out, we couldn’t get a taxi together so we had to scrap a ride. We found out that the white vest woman could give us a ride, so we headed out to the car. What we didn’t know was that she was there with her daughter, her daughters friend, and her daughters friend’s husband. Now we had to fit three 6’9”-6’10” guys in a car with 4 other people. It was a five seat SUV type thing so Sean sat in the trunk area, while Coleman, the Daughter and her friend, and I sat in the back, and the mother in the passenger seat while the husband drove. Oh yea, we found out that the mother was the mother at this point when she started arguing with the daughter. I had no clue because she was only 38 years old and the daughter was 22. This age dynamic would play a role very soon.

So all of us ballers thought we were going right to the Days Inn to drop the Mad Ants off, but we started taking some odd turns that I know weren’t quite the right way. I asked the driver out loud where we were going, because the Days Inn was the other way. The mother answered.

“We’re going to pick up Tyler first,” she said.

I think everyone in the car knew that there was nowhere for anyone else to fit in that bad boy. I was starting to suspect that she may have been a little drunk. Her daughter interrupted my thought process.

“We are NOT picking up Tyler mom. I tired of you f*$%king doing this $#!t!”

Coleman and I looked at each other like, “oh man, what have we gotten ourselves into?”

The mother and the daughter got into a heated argument that lasted nearly ten minutes. Finally, we pulled into an empty, snow covered parking lot. The mom hopped out and began yelling out Tyler’s name. This is the reason I remember his name and nobody else’s, because I heard this woman scream it out into the snowy distance for the next 15 minutes, occasionally turning back to the car to yell and argue with her daughter.

The mother gave up the Tyler search and got back into the car. That’s when some vital information came out.

“Mom, you’re such a bitch! You always want to f*&R^king hit on my friends, but Tyler is
MY boyfriend, not yours!” the daughter yelled.

The truth was finally out, Tyler was daughters man, but Mom was making the move to find him. All of this happening while we sit, crammed in the back of some tiny car, waiting to get home.

The driver then told everyone that he knew where Tyler was. We started driving somewhere else -- not to the Days Inn. We stopped somewhere else and the mom got on the phone with Tyler, then hopped out. The daughter yelled out that Tyler couldn’t even fit in the car. The mom then yelled back: “He can sit on my lap, bitch!”

The daughter was oh so mad.

After a few minutes, mom came waltzing back with Tyler. Tyler was clearly drunk and stumbly and walked right up to the back right door, the door I was sitting next to. He flung open the door, looked at me and said “Who the f*&k is this? Get the f^%k out of the car! Who the f^%k are you?”

I calmly stepped out and took a step towards him. I towered over him and I think he assumed I was some short little punk he could say anything to, but that was not the case. He immediately began to apologize. He took his seat -- on top of mom’s lap -- and I got back into my seat, and we drove to the Days Inn. Finally.

After some more arguing, I ended up back at my apartment. Night over.

The next day was Super Bowl Sunday. Coleman and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings to see the game, eat some food, and chill. Here I am with my sooper dooper three dee glasses on:

IMG00008-20090201-1837

After the game was over, we were sitting at the bar chillin, finishing our meals, when the bartender point to some guy in the walkway.

“He’s not being serious right now, right?”

I looked over. The guy stumbled left, then half stumbled right, then caught himself, then stumbled again.

I turned back to the bartender.

“Yea, I think he’s being for real. He’s just that drunk.”

See, I don’t know what it is about this place that makes people want to drink until they have an irregular heartbeat, but it’s got to be something in the air -- something that has yet to hit me.

We laughed at the guy and how he walked over to this table of women behind me. He had no balance or motor skills so he leaned all his weight onto their table. He was standing so funny due to his lack of balance. He was on his toes, but he was standing like he was on his heels. He looked like a flamingo with cerebral palsy.

I got back to Coleman and to talking with him and the people around me when all of sudden the bartender’s face turned pale. Her eyes grew big and her mouth opened. She almost stuttered but instead the words came right out.

“OMG He just pissed himself!”

I turned around and looked at him. I noticed what she did. There was a small wet spot around the zipper of his jeans. In real-time I watched it grow and grow and grow. Then I watched it go down his right leg slowly until it stopped around his knee. He had no clue. I then whipped out my BlackBerry, handed it to the bartender, and had her take a photo:

IMG00009-20090201-2130

First, notice the guys right leg. There is clearly a wet spot. Next, notice the blonde next to him who is grossed out and trying to control her laughter. Now, notice his friend, who also has no clue about the urine. Last, notice me, thumbs up baby! Mad boom tho!

I must say, it’s good to be back in town! I’m here til mid-April. Who knows what will happen next?
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© 2008 rod benson