Colorado Rockies Opening Day 2003: Epilogue

Friday was Colorado Rockies opening day, and attendance is an annual tradition amongst my circle of degenerates, er, friends. Once a year, we brave the concrete jungles of lower downtown Denver and binge drink like it was a Kennedy mixer. In the fuzzy haze that was Colorado Rockies Opening Day 2003, here is a list of events that may or may not have occurred:

  • I consumed six beers and a hamburger before the game began. During the game I consumed three beers, one foot long hot dog, a bag of peanuts and a tub of nachos.
  • At one point in the game, the intoxicated gentleman sitting in front of me (who was rocking a rat tail) got up and hollered, “Fuck you Walker! You fucking suck!” to right fielder Larry Walker. Larry Walker has a career .316 batting average and has won seven Gold Gloves.
  • It was discovered by Nels and I during Colorado Rockies Opening Day 2002 that Hooters does not serve hard liquor. That fact, however, did not stop us from attempting to order a Jack and Coke at Hooters this year.
  • I can throw a baseball 60 miles per hour while heavily intoxicated.
  • Magnetic schedules make excellent missiles to hurl at the opposing team’s outfielders.
  • An ex-stripper showed half of the bar her breast implants during post Colorado Rockies Opening Day 2003 revelries at Swankys. We happened to be sitting next to her at the bar when this occurred. One member of our party claims to have been instrumental in talking her into the flash.
  • Within our immediate group two fights almost broke out. Reason for fight number one: One party comments on how amazing it was to supposedly talk an ex-stripper out of her shirt. Another party (me) comments on how easy it is to talk any ex-stripper out of her shirt. Reason for fight number two: One party comments half-jokingly that Nebraska would lose to Colorado State in football if they played this year, thus desecrating Nebraska football and its entire history and tradition. Another party, who happens to be a Nebraska fan, was heard yelling, “Don’t judge Big Red, motherfucker.” Unfortunately, one party of our group was involved in both potential skirmishes.
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Sin City Or Bust. Likely Bust.

On Sunday, I am off to Las Vegas with She Who Will Not Be Named and I will not return until September 18. I will not be posting until that day. I will be drinking heavily, shooting craps, stuffing money into strippers panties and eating fish at the Rio’s all you can eat buffet while you will be slaving away in some godforsaken hellhole carving out a meager wage to support your smack habit. I shall return from my vacation like the Prodigal Son, more raw, sharp and refreshed than ever before.

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