The night we almost died

This is a very long weekend, so I'm sure this "blog" is a little scrambled. Hang with me.
And I'll warn you now, it's not quite as funny as the older posts, but it was a good time... only because I survived to tell it. This could be an ultimate fail, but I'll try it anyway.


So, St. Patrick's Day, 2007.

I find myself on the receiving end of an invitation to go to Savannah, Georgia to throw down for the weekend. Being the cool Freshman that I was, I accepted.

England, Keens and I set forth on our journey around noon on that Friday. It's about a 6 hour drive, only took us 8. Impressive, huh?
Don't judge, we hit Raleigh rush hour traffic, got lost, hit some more traffic, and got lost again. But we got there, and that's all that matters.

We walked in the house. We're greeted by England's friend, Winston, with beer in hand. Good start, huh?

It get's better.

We all changed, started with the pregaming, and headed to River Street. England, not quiet 21, is the responsible (seriously.) DD.

After a full-blown Tenacious D concert, we finally parked, peed between some trash bins, and headed to find the actual party.
We found it.
And it was ridiculous.

Free beer. Green beer. Lots of free green beer.
Long story short, we get drunk, we yell "ohlay ohlay" until we can yell no more, and started the journey back to the car.

But not before we're flashed by a man, take a picture with the worlds tallest man(sort of...pictured below), and Winston gets praised for her "sexy knees."

We finally got back to the car, and England safely transports a car full of drunks back to the house.

Fast forward... the next day is pretty much the same exact thing, minus 8 hours of aimless driving.
A few of the events of that day include: a bus ride, a long line, McDonald's chicken nuggets, camel-backs, morelong lines, sleeping on the bus, getting in the wrong line for a different bus, beer, Aftershock (the signature drink of our Freshman year), some dankass corndogs, and some psycho bitches.

Psycho bitches, say what? Yeah.
Psycho bitches.

We get back to the house kinda late Saturday night. Probably 2amish. We're all just chillin, ya know, drinkin some, screwin' around.
That is when the psycho bitches come in...
Around 3:30am, we heard the other people staying in the house with us (all of whom we haven't seen the ENTIRE time, but have effeciently consumed MY beer...bitches) come in. They're drunk. Very drunk.

They come running up the stairs yelling "BITCH, FUCKERS, WE'RE GOINGTO KILL YOU"...you're going to kill us?? Well, what on earth for? Let's be rational.

We didn't know, neither did they. But that didn't make them any less angry.

We just all calmly walked (sike, we ran like little cheetas) into our rooms, shut and lock the doors.

Eventually, they calmed the fuck down and went to their room.After we think they've gone to bed, we go back out into the living room to get our beers, and continue our night, assuming these wild boars had finally just passed out.
Wrong.

We start to hear them yelling again. "BITCH, YOU OWE ME 7$" to which I responded, "who, me?" and was responded to with "YES BITCH, YOU! YOU OWE ME 7$" Winston calmly replied for me, "uh it' s on your sidetable"..."OH... WELL I'M STILL GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU." and they start to get up and come after us.

Panicked, Keens, Winston, England and I all head back to our room, lock the door, and start brainstorming.We're leaving. Gone. Getting out. For our lives sake, we cannot stay (actually, we could, but we'd really rather not be murdered in our sleep, because Winston would lose her deposit)

We pack, wait til we hear complete silence in the living room, and make a run for it. They hear us leaving, and start running after us.

We are literally being chased out of the house. We are able to shut a few doors behind us to slow the bitches down, and load up (Keens, England and I) in England's car.

As we're pulling off, we see them in the rearview yelling "YOU FUCKING HIT OUR CAR WITH A BAT! COME BACK! YOU FUCKING HIT OUR CAR WITH A BAT!!!"
Hit your car?
With a bat?
What bat?
Seriously, what bat? I'm curious.

This is when you see my bright side.
Being the brave, strong, stupid solider that I am, roll down my window, take a deep breathe, and yell...
"QUE? YO NO HABLO BITCH"
("What? I don't speak bitch")

She didn't think that was very funny. Infact, that angered her even more.
Surprise!
Luckily, cars can out-run wild boars.


The moral of this story is:
If you go to Savannah, Georgia for St.Patrick's Day, fight back. Or you'll find yourself driving 6 hours back home at 5am.
Oh, and don't try to tell an Australian that he isn't from Australia because you're from Australia... you'll probably loose... especially if you're not really from Australia (our fight pictured to the left... please take note of how unentertained he looks).