Story time with Funk

I was about 12 or 13.  Blair’s dad was working nights, so we couldn’t hang out in the house.  We decided to take Blair’s bow and some field arrows outside to shoot at targets we put on some bales of hay.  Blair could shoot pretty well and I couldn’t. Needless to say, this got boring real quick.  Because I couldn’t shoot, I thought maybe catching arrows would be easier (I know…).  Because of our advanced knowledge of physics we determined that shooting an arrow straight up and catching it on the way down was least dangerous than just shooting them at each other and trying to catch them.  We were convinced that there was absolutely no danger involved.

We worked out that one of us would shoot into the air and the other would try to catch the arrow on the way down.  The trick was to stand a bit to the side and grab the arrow right before it hit the ground.  I know that this will seem unlikely at best, but we were surprisingly good at catching arrows.  I can only recall playing this particular game once.  We might have attempted to play it again, but a neighbor saw us and called Blair’s dad.  I remember him coming out of the house in a state of rage.  He had to get up in the middle of his “night” because we were outside “acting like a couple of retards”.  Of course we lied and said that we weren’t shooting arrows into the air and catching them.  We would have gotten away with the lie had there not been an arrow sticking up from the roof of the house from a stray shot. 

New Year’s Eve 1996, my wife and I had been married about two weeks.  We were going to go out into town and celebrate our first New Year’s as a married couple.  My friend Zach was going with us, and I think my friend CJ was hanging out as well.
We got the party started early around 4:00pm or so.  I don’t know the exact time, but I know that when I took my first triple shot of Aftershock, it was still light outside.  Most of the night is pretty fuzzy, but remember Zach telling me “if you don’t do another shot, then you’re a pussy”.  I think we did about 9 shots of Aftershock in about 5 minutes time.  After that, I drank mostly vodka and orange juice.  So as you can imagine, the timeline of events and activities that occur hereafter are all what I have managed to piece together from the people who were witness to my night of debauchery.  The “facts” of this story may be a little off, but for the most part I believe them to be true.
Around sometime between 6:00PM and 8:00PM we were drinking in my friend Misha’s room.  Misha and Sara had a feather boa thing and apparently I felt it necessary to put it on and prance around the room like a girl.  I don’t remember doing this, but there is photographic evidence to support everyone’s claim.  To be honest, it sounds like something I would do.
Around 8:00 we left the base and went into town.  There were a couple of bars that we liked to visit, including one that was about the size of my barracks room.  This particular place as always filled, by filled, I mean that the girls who wanted to dance had to climb up on the bar because it was the only place to move.  I remember going into this particular establishment, but I don’t remember my wife dancing on the bar, the guy who allegedly grabbed her, or me wanting to put my fist in his eye.  Again, given my fondness of drinking and fighting, it doesn’t surprise me that Zach and Mary thought it would be a good idea to leave.
The only other part of the night I remember is Zach asking me if I was alright and wanted to go back home.  At the time we were in my wife’s favorite club.  I must have said something funny, because I remember Zach and my wife laughing at everything I was saying.  Zach was kind of like the older brother I never had.  He would take care of me when I was too drunk to fend for myself, but he always made sure to have a laugh at my expense.  I’m sure that they were teasing me really good, because I can still see Zach’s “shit eating grin” and Mary covering her mouth in the background trying to hide the fact that Zach was having some fun at my expense.  I was drunk enough that Mary couldn’t get me home alone, so Zach and my wife walked me back to her barracks room and at some point I was drunk enough to tell my wife, “thanks nice lady for walking me home.  Just don’t tell my wife, please.”  After getting back to the barracks or close to them perhaps, I passed out and/or began vomiting.  My wife couldn’t haul me to the bathroom, so she had to ask one of our other friends to drag me to the men’s room so I could puke in the toilet.  Apparently he wasn’t happy about it.  He had to get up early for his shift the next morning, but he must have helped me to the toilet anyway, because I vaguely remember throwing up, and telling my wife that I was sorry.  The guy who must have drug my drunk arse to the men’s room (I can’t remember his name) kept saying, “I’m not your wife, you drunk idiot.”  To which I would say, “Sorry”.  He must have stuck around long enough to haul me back up the stairs and into my wife’s room.
The night ended with me passed out drunk on the floor of her barracks room.  She has video tape evidence of me lying in my underwear, snoring like a chainsaw.  The clock read 11:07pm.  Not one of my finer moments, but years later it is still good for a laugh.  In fact my wife and Zach both love telling the story, especially the part about “thank you nice lady for walking me home.”

Note: Occasionally I’ll have a shot or three of tequila or bourbon or maybe a beer, but I don’t drink anymore.  I do however make it a point to remember my wife’s name when I do.

Do you enjoy a good story?  So do it.  In fact one of my favorite things to do is tell stories.  I like to tell stories about my past experiences.  I like to make up stories to tell my kids.  I like to embelish true stories, sometimes telling different versions to different people.  Some of my stories are funny, some are sad, some are scary, some are full of drama, some will make you like me less and some might make you like me more.  The one thing I hope for is that my stories will entertain.

I used to telling my stories in person where I can guage a persons reaction.  I can make funny faces or really get into the story with facial and body movements to set the tone.  The first problem is, I don’t know you.  I probably won’t have the opportunity to tell you a story face to face.  The second problem is, I really want to tell you about the time that…(insert one of my stories here).  It is important for me to tell you a story to cheer you up, or scare you, or impress upon you some nugget of wisdom that I discovered.  I want to invade your life for a few brief moments to tell you something and I don’t want to get punched in the mouth if your in a bad mood.

So telling stories on the internet is a safer bet for me.  Of course now I’ll have to try to express myself through writing.  Unfortunatly for you, I’m no Stephen King…hell I’m not even James Frey, but I’ll do my best to entertain you.