The Long Ride Home
Well, my best friend, Mule, and I were smack in the middle of some "down time." We were going to go see Incubus play at the House of Blues, but after that we were clueless about what to do next. I don't know whose idea it was, but around midnight, the two of us were in his car making the 2 hour drive to Univ. of Illinois at Urbana, where we both had many high school friends.
The next day passed relatively quickly and uneventfully. We wandered around, talking to random friends, checking out random females and touring the neighborhood. That evening, eager to "Get Our Party On" we went to our friend T's place. T was insistent in not partying claiming that at U of I, Thursday was the only night that homework was done. Disappointed, My friend and I went to the corner store, got two 6 packs and began to create our own fun. After I had downed 7 and my friend 4, T proclaimed "All right, my homework is done. We should probably go to a bar." Grateful that he had salvaged the evening for us, my friend and I were thrilled!
A group of about 6 of us went to the bar. Many pitchers were bought and consumed rapidly and furiously. Trying to desperately sober up as I was in the middle of a game of pool (I take pool very seriously), my friend drank the pitcher of Guinness and some other beer all by himself. He caught up, and well surpassed me in the drinking department for the evening. By the time closing had arrived, my buzz had leveled off, while his was through the atmosphere.
Back at T's place, the 6 of us all imbibed some substantially less tasty beer (with equal fervor, of course).
This is where it all gets interesting...
As I mentioned, my friend, who we will call Mule, was incredibly drunk, and (mind you) that although the sequence of the following events is a little hazy, they all did actually happen.
Getting antsy, Mule and I decided to go for a walk. We encountered droves of collegiates, all exiting the closing bars. Being from the South Side of Chicago, I drunkenly began yelling things at people on the street like "If you're from the south side lemme hear you scream!!" and "If you shop at Target lemme hear you scream!!" Mule joined my rantings with the occasional "Woohoo!"
Still walking down the street, I noticed a ton of hot girls walking by. I urged Mule to get into random pictures with these groups of hot drunk girls. Of course, he was more than happy to oblige. Surprisingly, the random hot girls obliged too, and I have pictures of several groups of females and Mule. Figuring we both needed more to drink, we turned around and began heading back to T's place. Something came over Mule, who decided then was a good time to walk around with no pants on--incriminating pictures were taken accordingly.
Meanwhile back at T's place...
Someone made the mistake of telling Mule how an acquaintance of his liked to knock over the mailbox at the corner of the street. In an attempt to one-up this guy, Mule not only knocked over the mailbox but proceeded to push it into the middle of the street. Laughing hysterically, I went inside to get another beer and temporarily lost track of him. About 10 minutes later, another friend, Tuna came in and said: "Me and Mule pushed the mailbox into the river." I almost choked on my beer. Apparently Mule started pushing the mailbox down the street, and Tuna, a fun loving guy was willing to lend a hand, and together they pushed the mailbox right into the river a few blocks away.
Later that evening, I was upstairs in my friends bedroom looking at his pictures, when I heard laughter erupt downstairs. Not wanting to miss out on any of the fun, I ran downstairs only to find that Mule was nowhere to be seen.
I asked them: "Where the hell is Mule?"
They all had egged him on to run around the block with no shirt wearing just his boxers. Mule, being a guy who will do anything within reason was up to the challenge. But what they really found hysterical was that they had locked Mule out of the apartment (or so they thought). I wandered off to get another beer, and a minute or so later I heard Tuna upstairs laughing and screaming "Come look at this!"
I raced up to the second floor of the small apartment. Standing on the balcony, wearing only his boxers and a big smile was none other than Mule. He had raced all the way around the block, and upon finding the front door locked, somehow scrambled up to the second floor balcony.
The night continued in much the same manner until everyone, more or less, called it quits. Me and Mule were gonna crash on the couches for the night, and as we were both winding down, he stumbled to his feet and claimed he had to piss. He walked straight out the front door and pissed on the tree in front of the apartment. I was laughing my ass off as he came back in, when I realized that I had to pee as well. I don't claim to be better than anyone else, so I also stumbled out the front door and pissed on the tree. Sitting down on the couches, we both realized that neither of us were tired, but that both of us were really drunk! We resolved that we would make the 2 hour drive back to Chicago that night, but only after we both sobered up.
We headed over to the Pancake house where he and I ate heartily and split 3 or 4 pitchers of coffee. The drive back was splendid, except for the fact that he and I both ended up wired on caffeine and having to pee worse than ever. The pictures from the trip were nothing short of hilarious.
And I never did hear what happened to that mailbox.
-- University of Chicago
[Editor's Note: Another glorious tale of roadtrip antics.]
