There are a few monumental moments in a young man’s life: The day he brags to his friends that he lost his virginity, the day he actually loses his virginity, and the day he turns 21. Since I’ve been known to party like there’s no tomorrow just to celebrate a Tuesday, you better believe my 21st birthday was an adventure of epic proportions! It was a night I forecasted ending with hand cuffs or an unplanned pregnancy, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect it to end with me swearing these four words: “That’s not my penis!”
When I realized my 21st birthday would fall on a Saturday, I thoroughly planned my weekend: Friday night I would party with my underage friends, ditch them at midnight to bar crawl in my college town with my friends who were of age and on Saturday night take a limo into downtown Pittsburgh with a group of friends to further commemorate the occasion.
As any 21st birthday should, mine was a progression of imbecilic behavior. Following a blur of drunk dialing my mom while laying in someone’s yard and urinating in the pocket of a pool table, my 21st birthday weekend came to a sobering halt when the limo dropped us back at my apartment, and I noticed my phone was missing.
While everyone was searching the limo for my cell phone, I couldn’t help but worry that I left it at one of the bars I went to that night. Could it be at Casey’s, where the midget bartender hops on top of the bar while pouring shots in your mouth?
“It’s at Tiki Lounge!” announced my friend The Mooch after calling my phone. “The bartender picked up the phone and said it was left there.”
The bartender that found my phone assured my friend they would keep an eye on it, saying I could pick it up the next evening during their shift. When I picked up my phone the next day, I was greeted by a suspicious grin on the bartender’s face.
After being without my phone for an entire day, I instantly checked my messages.
“Why did you send me a picture of your penis?” read a text message from someone I hadn’t talked to in two years.
Shit! Was I so drunk that I sent a picture message of my d--k? This couldn’t be! I know I was three sheets to the wind, but even I wasn’t crazy enough to do that! Was I?
While checking my sent messages, I discovered a picture of a crooked penis and another of some girl bent over sent to a massive amount of my contacts — all after 2 a.m.! I didn’t have my phone with me after 2 a.m.! The bartender of Tiki Lounge did! That asshole sent obscene pictures of his crooked dong and some girl to people in my phone! No wonder he had a grin when he handed it to me!
To top it off, the pictures were forwarded to Mark Pender, the trumpet player for Conan O’Brien’s late night show! Pender gave me his phone number as a token of appreciation for being his son’s camp counselor two years earlier, in case I ever wanted tickets to see Conan’s show. I can only imagine what he thought when he got a picture of a penis sent from the number of his son’s former camp counselor!
As random contacts in my phone were sent pictures of a crooked appendage not attached to my body, I learned something: In life you have to take the bad with the good. Sure I may not remember my 21st birthday. But from what I’m told, I had a good time …
w
| Tweet | Follow @wkdr |
|
|
