Getting with a gang banger's girl...yeah, I'd say it was wild

It all started out innocently enough, Big Paulie, Catman, Fantasy, Fortune and I (aka the Dream Team) taking a week or seven off from our summer jobs after our junior year to have a road trip. The plan was to end up wherever we ended up, and have some fun along the way.

Now, this group is accustomed to getting itself into predicaments, after all we WERE five happy, healthy, and horny college boys ready to party. And thus, we had many, many crazy times on this trip, they include but are not limited to:

Crashing a wedding in Boston, getting drunk with all the bride's maids and convincing one to give an impromptu strip show on a make-shift pole we constructed out of broken table legs.

Picking up a bum off the streets of NY, cleaning him up and introducing him to a party girl we met the previous night as our "high roller/nightclub owner uncle", then taping as she rode him like her welfare depended on it.

Getting drunk and sneaking into a corn field in Kansas, then trying to make our own crop circle, with sticks and a rope (I'd seen it done on the Discovery Channel), passing out and being awaken the next day by a very pissed off farmer.

Convincing a party of cheerleaders in Austin that we were the new 1st draft pick of some NFL team somewhere (Fortune did most of the talking here) and watching as they moistened on cue, I'm sure you know how this turned out.

But the most eventful, most memorable night, would HAVE to be the night we almost died. We ended up at a club somewhere in LA, partying like we did every night.

Before I go on, let me explain the dynamics of our little group. Catman, Fantasy and Fortune are all line-backer type behemoths. I am a regular sized guy, but also a boxer, so I can hold my own against the best of em. And Big Paulie, well Big Paulie is a good 5ft 3" in Timberlands, 110 lbs, but has a mouth rivaling the best of anyone, anywhere. So whenever we go out it's usually Big Paulie who ends up picking a fight with some random dude, then it's the rest of us who come along, scare him off, thus prolonging Big Paulie's life for another night.

This night however, was a little different. It was about 11:30 and Fortune and I had scoured the club and ended up talking with two out of work models (btw, 11 out of 10 girls you meet in LA are out of work models), things were going well, and it looked like we were about to close the deal until that fateful text message was received from Big Paulie. Here it is verbatim:

"Dude get the fuck ova here shits goin DOWN!!!"

Ahh Big Paulie, gotta love him. Apparently he had talked some guy’s girl (dubbed badonkadonk) into making out with him, while she was sitting on his lap in the back. I have to give it to him; this dude is seriously the smoothest talker in the world, (I know what you're thinking, fuck you, you don't know my friend...well fuck you, you don't know MY friend!)

On cue, all the boys show up and tell the dude to get lost, but to our surprise, the lone soldier would not back down. Not only was he not backing down, but he was threatening US. He was CALMLY telling us that we should back down before we get ourselves into something we can't get out of.

Now, I'm not the brightest guy out there, but even in my drunken state I could tell that something was wrong here, this guy wasn't aggressive, he wasn't violent, but most importantly, we wasn't scared, so I came to the conclusion that this guy ALSO, was not to be fucked with.

As I turned around and told my friends that this wasn't working, and we should just go and party some more, I saw the unmistakable sight of the smallest fist you ever did see, as it connected with this dude's jaw. Big Paulie laid his ass out! This was unprecedented--Big Paulie always TALKED a big game, but he had never even been in a fight before, ahh the wonders of alcohol.

Upon realizing what happened, we quickly scooped up badonkadonk and went to the bar to consume more firewater.

It's now 2 am, a good hour after Big Paulie landed his first ever punch, and badonkadonk is now giving strong signals that she wants to go home...but not with him, with ME. Before you go calling me a cock blocker, let me just say that I didn't hit on her at all, I was just there with them. Big Paulie might be able to sell condoms to a lesbian blind nun, but he is still a 5ft 3" stick figure, and after the 13th tequila shot, the girl couldn't even hear what he was saying, so she just came to the black guy (that's right I said it).

The way I saw it, I get some free stinky pinky, no work invested, no commitments, no fuckin way I'm passing this up! And then it happened, the one thing that changed the course of the night forever...her phone rang.

In my inebriation I figured it would be fun if I were to answer it instead of her, I have such good ideas. It turned out to be the boyfriend. After a quick bout of laughter, I barely made out some words that sounded like "Dude, you're gonna fuckin die!" before I dropped her phone and broke it, then kicked it in the middle of the dance floor before she noticed.

3:00, now the Dream Team, badonkadonk, and the two random "out of work models" are waiting for a taxi. When all of a sudden, badonkadonk screams "Aww there he is, Jared's here!", and starts waving her drunken hands. Of course we were all confused, who the hell is Jared? No, it couldn't be...could it?

When we turned around, what we saw quite literally confused/scared the shit out of us. There were no less than 20 black cars, let me repeat, TWENTY BLACK CARS heading toward us, with a vexed "Jared" hanging out of the window of the first car, waving a GUN at us. What...the...FFFUUUCCCKKK

We had a quick decision to make, stay here with the ladies, try and talk our way out of this, and still get laid, even if it's just from the two models...or drop everything and book it as fast as biologically possible. After a quick second of thinking, we all chose the latter. We quite briskly ran back inside the club, thinking that was the only safe place (apparently noone EVER gets shot in a club).

As we scoured the place for a second exit, we quickly realized that there wasn't one, and at this point approximately 50 black guys walked into the club not looking much in the partying mood.

We were all frantically shitting bricks when from the corner of my ear I heard a chick walk out of the bathroom saying "Hey crack that window in there, you guys stink"...bingo.

I quickly collected everyone and we headed into the girl’s bathroom...that woman wasn't lying. It became very evident that someone had just had an abortion in there, or something very close to it. We quickly realized that this window didn't open. Well we were running out of ideas, and seriously didn't want to die. It was then, that Fortune ran shoulder first into this window, it didn't break. Then Catman tried, still no luck.

After about 10 minutes of this, and a lot of pissed off women, Fantasy walked into the bathroom with a barstool and bludgeoned the window into submission, it FINALLY broke.

We silently exited before we would have had to deal with management, and were now safely in the back alley. All except for Big Paulie, who apparently had been apprehended by security. Now we had another obstacle, but upon further discussion, we came to the conclusion that he'd probably just be taken to the station for the night, we'd go bail him out tomorrow and never come back here, plus that way he'd be safe from Tony Soprano and the Mod Squad.

So as Catman, Fortune, Fantasy and I continued to walk down the street, thinking we were in the clear, I heard the unmistakable sound of a girl calling my name.

"I'M OVER HERE, LETS PARTY SOME MORE!!!"

It was badonkadonk, in the passenger's seat of Soprano's car...was this chick TRYING to get us killed? As soon as Soprano figured what was going on, he quickly did an impressive 180 and began driving after us...back to running.

Okay, by now I'm pissed, we had lost Big Paulie, we were sweaty, dirty, stinky, coochless, and stuck in some empty dumpster we jumped in to escape getting our legs broken. Plus I was starting to sober up. After waiting in a pile of banana peels for 15 minutes, but what seemed like 3 days, we emerged, found a taxi and made our way back to the hotel.

I wish I could say that this was the end of this epic night, bud sadly I cannot. After freshening up at the hotel room, the remaining four of us decide that we're not gonna end our night on such a low note, so we went out to get some breakfast.

It's now 5 am, and we're at some all night diner getting scrambled eggs. While chatting up the waitress, I again, hear the distinct sound of a girl calling my name... "OMG, I can't believe you're here!"

...you guessed it, badonkadonk.

At this point, however, I'm so tired I don't really care if I get shot, maybe then I'd get some sleep, and so were Catman, Fortune, and Fantasy, so we simultaneously said..."Ahh fuck it!"

However, to my surprise badonkadonk wasn't with her personal mafia, it was just her, and some other girl, who was pretty cute in her own right.

She and her friend, no longer drunk, sit down with us and we begin to chat it up.

Catman: What the FUCK is wrong with your boyfriend?

Badonkadonk: Aww he just gets jealous sometimes, don't worry he's as harmless as a puppy, trust me I've known him for a long time.

Catman: (Puh-lease woman)...oh is he? His gun begs to differ.

Badonkadonk: Nah he just has that for show, I've never seen him use it. You should come hang out with us, we'd have fun.

And it seriously went on like this, this girl was seriously clueless, but she was still very much up for a guilt-free humping session, as well as her curvy friend, who was...you guessed it, an out of work model.

I am now faced with a dilemma that has faced men throughout the ages, on the one hand, if I stick with this girl, and something else goes down, I could get seriously hurt, if not die. On the other hand, I could fuck her.

I hate to say it, but as much as I love sex (which is a LOT), I can't have much sex when I'm dead, so this time it looks like the head up top defeats the head down under. I cannot sleep with this girl.

10 minutes later, as we are walking badonkadonk and her friend back to our hotel room for some raunchy good times, we see the last thing in the WORLD that we expected to...

No, not Soprano...we saw Big Paulie, for a brief seven seconds as he comes sprinting past us, with not one, but THREE policemen chasing after him on foot. He gives us a quick smile as he passes then keeps running off into some back alley.

As surprising as this is, it's now 6 in the morning, we're running on zero sleep, completely exhausted but we're FINALLY getting action, whatever he's going through would have to wait until later.

We take the five minute walk back to our hotel, which ended up taking half an hour, due to Fantasy and Fortune, who keep making detours into every dark alley they could find to get, and I quote, a "preview of what's to come" from the tag along chick.

Now we have a logistical problem, you see, there are only two na-nas and four ding-dongs. It's fairly obvious that I’m with badonkadonk, but other than that, we seem to be at a stand still. While Fortune, Catman, and Fantasy contemplate this, I go into the shower with badonkadonk and proceed to have a mind-numbing stress relief.

By the time I was done with her (a good 25 mins later), she had welts on her head (from the shower wall you weirdo, I don't hit girls), and had a walk more cooked than a Donald Trump comb-over.

Now I'm going to try my darndest to explain the mayhem I walked out upon when I exited the shower.

Fantasy was sprawled on the floor. For whatever reason, he was passed out, butt naked, condom still on. The bed comforter was thrown over the TV, with glass on the floor around it. There was puke...everywhere, and I mean...EVERYWHERE. On the bed, on the comforter, on the lamps, UNDER the bed, on the walls, on the window, and all over Fantasy. To top it off, Catman, Fortune and random girl, were nowhere to be found.

After taking in this scene, most people would have freaked out and scurried around trying to fix things. Fortunately, I'd already used all of my freakout tokens for the night and was fresh out of energy enough to do anything constructive, so I just walked out of the room with badonkadonk in hand. When we got down to the lobby, we see Fortune, Catman and random girl talking in the lot, apparently they'd been fresh out of freak out tokens as well, and had passed out on the couches on the 1st floor. After waking the boys up, the girls figured this was the end of their night, and opted to leave, which led to maybe the funniest moment all night:

badonkadonk: Wow you guys know how to party! We're definitely gonna have to meet up next time your in LA!

Me: (No way biatch)...sure, ditch the crazy boyfriend, give me your number and we'll keep in touch.

badonkadonk: Haha, yeah we'll see...here take my number...###-###-####

Me: (adding it to my phone...hmmm, enter name)...here, I'm tired, you finish it off.

badonkadonk: Just put my name in... ... ... you don't know my name do you?

Me:... ... ...no

badonkadonk: WTF? HOW DON'T YOU KNOW MY NAME? BLA BLA BLA...BABBLE BABBLE BABBLE...

Me:... ... ...bye.

And that was that, we all walked off. She did punch me in the back of the head and tell me that she was going to get her man to kill me bla bla, but we were heading out in literally a couple hours never to see them again...not much the chick can do.

We briskly went back to the room, gathered Fantasy, packed up our stuff, threw all the glass back into the TV (don't ask, I didn't) and headed out. Realizing that the cost of such a horrendous amount of damage would be, well, horrendous; as soon as we left we had Fortune (who's card we used to rent the room) declare his card stolen. Sure it was illegal, but we were poor and took the risk.

After such a night of drama and surprises, you must think SURELY they were over, but no there was still one in store. As we headed towards our van, in the back seat cuddled in the fetal position, was none other than Big Paulie.

Apparently, after he was apprehended at the nightclub, he realized that unlike everyone else there, he wasn't local; not only that, he wasn't even American. If he just high-tailed it, got away and then left in the morning he'd be scott free.

So after waiting around for hours after the club closed for the police to arrive (apparently in LA, drunk but docile men in bars are way down on the totem pole of police attention), he told the bouncer that he needed to take a piss. After being initially rejected, he stood up and proceeded to piss his pants...this guy could sell it.

It was then, when the bouncers rushed him into the bathroom, that he made his break into the female bathroom and jumped out of the broken window.

That was around 4:30 in the morning, and he spent the next two hours running around and ditching the three chubby cops and two bouncers. He ended up ditching them by running through someone's backyard and then returning to the hotel to crash in the van.

We mounted up, ran through the events of the night once more, then headed back out to be in Halifax on Monday.