I’m sure by now you’ve heard the absolute SLANDER that has been put on my good name for the past week, well here I am ready to correct and put an end to this nonsense once and for all. As per usual with my ramblings, there’s a long story short at the end.
I took a trip out to the city of Brotherly love this past weekend with the purpose of attending an Official Bookie’s Basement Tailgate and a Eagles game. Obviously that never came to fruition, but I’ll get bach to that.
I landed early Saturday morning and took an Uber to downtown. I had a few hours to kill before Mookie came to get me so I sat in a Starbucks and pretended to do homework while I was actually people watching. The combination of people I saw in those first few hours still amaze me. I consider myself to be a man of culture, but wow that was a lot to take in.
Anyways, Mook finally comes to get me around noon and we head to his place. I may, or may not, have suggested that we start drinking right away. It was college football Saturday, sue me. Did you guys know Mook only drinks IPA’s? Neither did I and I was shocked. What else should i have expected from the Mush himself. Anyways we just hung out and drank a little while Mook ran errands and got stuff set up for the tailgate the following day. Later in the day we took the show on the road and Mook took me to explore Philly.
First Stop: Philly Cheesesteaks
The first of many controversial things to happen. Mook, Ernie El’s, and I went to Pats and Genos Phillys in South (?) Philadelphia. Apparently this THE tourist trap place to get sandwiches, so Mook takes the L on this one. Overall, they were extremely delicious and nothing at all like Philly Man who makes them outside the bars late nights in Ames.
After that we went bach to Mooks place to get some R&R until that night, where I had made the executive decision we were going out, much to Mookies dismay. We spent the rest of the late afternoon walking around the neighborhood where there was some type of festival deal going on.
Next Big Event: Bar Time
Around 9 or 10ish we decided to head out to the bars. We stopped by a place Mookie frequents and it was packed so we moved on quickly. The next stop was a bar named Field House. I felt right at home because one of my favorite bars bach in Ames has the same name. Things got dicey real fast when I decided to buy about 4 rounds of shots for us. A light blackout all around and in bed by 1 to be rested for an early tailgate.
Sunday morning is the beginning of a long and embarrassing day for me. We knew people would be coming to Mooks place early to pregame the tailgate a little bit, so I do what I always do for early mornings, mimosas. I run to the corner store and grab a few cases for later and some bottles of Andre. As I’m getting bach to Mookie’s place I see 2 guys stepping out of an Uber. Who else but Harry Mac and The Bullet. They immediately berate Mookie for allowing me to wander the streets of Philadelphia by myself. Cut to 30-40 minutes later and the Andre is gone and we’re on our way to Lincoln Financial Field
WE MUST END BLACKOUT SHAMING
This is where the story and my life start to take a scary down-spiral. Oscar Wilde once said, “You will always be fond of me. I represent to you the sins you never had the courage to commit”, and my life really hasn’t been the same since. This was my first time in the Northeast, first time tailgating/going to an Eagles game. What was I gonna do? Responsibly drink a couple beers and remember the day? No shot. That’s just not who I am as an individual. I like to consider myself the Blackout Commander in Chief of my friend group. Usually the first one to fall victim to the monster that is the blackout. Anyways, you all know how this story goes. I chugged a bunch of beers, I tried to rumple more than a few over my forehead (although to no avail), and I sprayed Mookie in the face with cheesewiz as punishment for letting Harry Mac put him in a mental pretzel. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact time, but it was a light switch. One second I’m socializing and meeting new people, and the next second I woke up in Mookies bed, legitimately thinking I had made my way bach to Iowa and was in my own bed. Imagine being so violently blacked out around people you JUST met, that they are telling your friends that you should maybe hit the brakes a bit. Typical BlackJack.
To this day I’m convinced Harry Mac QB sneaked me, I just don’t have the proof, yet. This will be exhibit A of my evidence though:
Am I embarrassed? Without a doubt. Do I regret it? Not even a little.
Went to Philly for a weekend trip, had my first cheese steak (absolute fire), light blackout Saturday. Bought tickets to the Eagles game, got violently black out drunk in front of a bunch of people I had just met at the tailgate, had to go home early and allegedly pissed in Mookies bed. In my defense I’m convinced someone (Harry Mac) drugged me. Someone is gonna make a billion dollars writing a movie about my life.
Overall it was an extremely fun trip. First time in the area, ate some fire food, saw some dope stuff, met some awesome people. I can’t wait to go bach again, except next time I’ll get an AirBnB (sorry again, Mook)
CFB and NFL picks gonna be posted to my twitter @jackwytaske shoot me a follow if you want.
Honestly it’s a good thing no one reads my blogs otherwise I’d be embarrassed telling this story.
I’ll catch y’all next time in the Bookies Basement
-iowa Pee-Boy/Corn-Boy jack