“Buy the ticket, take the ride.” – Hunter S. Thompson
True story:
It’s 2013 and I’m in Cabo for New Years with a semi-coherent friend we’ll call Tim.
(that part’s funny ’cause Tim is actually his real name — suck it, Tim)
So Tim is semi-coherent, meaning mostly incoherent, or, to put it more simply:
Drunk.
But I’ve dragged him to the gym during a mid-afternoon lull, ’cause again — suck it, Tim.
And, I’m making him keep up with me:
Every exercise I do, Tim does.
Every set I do, Tim does.
Every rest I take, Tim takes a drink.
(that part’s funny ’cause dude actually, true story, finished a six pack of Coronas during that workout — when in Cabo, I suppose…)
The other funny part, which was also kind of irritating, is that every time a set got hard, Tim gave up.
“Whaah, it hurts.”
Yeah, he actually whaah’d.
A real ninny, that guy.
But we finish the workout anyway, and Tim finishes another six pack, or three, or, honestly I’m not even sure, Tim was an animal back then…
…And we skip off into the night looking for romance.
(A night ends, true story, with me sneaking onto the forbidden upper deck of Señior Frogs with a Washington State cheerleader, and Tim puking in a bush)
The next morning, I wake up to one of the most hilarious sights I’ve ever laid eyes on.
(continued tomorrow, in Part 2…)
– T
P.S. To those who are thinking this story makes me sound like a dick, I say:
Fair play.
