Uncle Steve Almost Got Ran Over By the Train
Uncle Steve has a deep scar on his forehead that is long enough to cut his head open. The story I hear is that after one night of drinking with his colleagues, he was dumb enough to get behind the wheels. On his way home, he decided to stop the car because he wanted to take a piss.
Out of all the places he could take a leak, he picked the pole right next to a railway track. As he stumbled toward the pole, he was not aware of the oncoming train. When the train passed through, he was barely standing and the gust caused him to lose his balance. Then his head hit the pole first and his body dropped to the gravel. He must have been bleeding for quite awhile before a passerby found him and called 911.
Everyone was so worried when Uncle Steve was in critical condition for about 24 hours. Thanks to the doctors who brought him back to life!
The moral of the story is, do not drink and drive. If you have to take a piss, stay far away from the railway tracks. You just never know when the next train will be coming at ya!
James Broken His Toe
If you have been to any bachelor’s party, you probably can relate to this story from my friend James. Nobody went to jail or the hospital and supposedly, nobody got laid. To the boys, they did not get into any real troubles. However, the wives and girlfriends do not agree.
The boys drank a ton over the weekend as expected. It’s a bachelor’s party, what else is there to do besides drinking like there’s no tomorrow? The featured bachelor is about to give up his beer-drinking life and trade for a woman to come home to everyday.
James crashed into the host’s antique mirror that his grandmother passed on to him. He had very vague memory of what happened because he drank too much. He said he felt bad about ruining the mirror and everyone was somewhat responsible for the accident. Meanwhile, the groom was upset about peer pressure that forced him to drink – he’s not a boozer.
James said, “He could have not drunk. He is bigger and stronger than the rest of us. You know us men; we get a mob mentality when there is a bunch of us with booze. ”
The moral of the story is, do not host a bachelor party in private residence. Take it to a strip joint. There’s no party favor like a bunch of naked women on performing lap dances!
Brad Passed Out On the Sidewalk Somewhere in San Francisco
Brad was a straight A student and an advocate for partying until you drop. Every Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday was party time and we would hit the bar scene with a big group of friends. We had many exchange students from Norway and they were always drinking. Brad hit if off with the Vikings and they eventually became roommates.
They really knew how to party. They partied so hard that I couldn’t help but wonder if they had a hard life back in Norway. They would seize every possible moment to have a good time.
One time after a midterm, they had their own party in the apartment. They were super wasted. Someone took out a camera and started taking pictures of every guy’s private part. They had no shame in deed. After the film was developed, they stuck the pictures of penises on the fridge.
Brad would always get shit-faced when we went clubbing. It is amazing what alcohol can do to people. It transformed him from a perfect gentleman to a loud obnoxious partygoer. Under normal circumstances, he would stutter. When he’s under the influence, the stutter would be gone. He could sing along with the music loud and clear while swinging me from one side of the dance floor to the other.
I always wondered how he got home after one night of hardcore drinking. One early morning, I received a phone call from him.
Brad: “Did I wake you? I’m sorry. Do you think you can hop in your car and come pick me up?”
Me: “Ummm, where are you?”
Brad: “I dunno. The last thing I remember was walking out of Abby’s Tavern with someone. I woke up just now and found myself on the sidewalk. I must have passed out on my way home.”
Me: “Do you have any idea where you are now? I can’t go out to look for you if I don’t know your exact location. It’s like looking for a needle in the haystack.”
Brad: “Why don’t you come down to Abby’s on Geary Blvd. first and do a search within the five-mile radius?”
It took me more than an hour to find the boys - Brad along with another hungover friend. They were on the sidewalk all right –when I spotted them, they were sitting outside of a no name bar.
The moral of the story is, always pair up with a friend who stays sober while you drink your life away. Your friend is your ticket to returning home safely.
I Got A Black Eye
Last New Year’s Eve was EVENTFUL. I had my first black eye.
No, I didn’t get into a catfight. Yes, I can be verbally violent but I am never physically violent.
The evening started out great. We met up at Ben’s condo in the Mission district. The plan was to eat something light and have a few drinks. Then we would get a cab to head down to Butterfly on Pier 33 for a night of drinking, dancing and fireworks on the waterfront. It was a fabulous plan for a new year’s eve.
Before heading down to Butterfly (DAMN! The lady in red looked good!)
Butterfly on Pier 33 charged $75 per person on New Year’s Eve and reservations had to be made in advance. Ben, Mike, and I had RSVP online. However, Kam didn’t feel like paying $75 but he came along, hoping to sneak in. He figured that it would be chaotic at the door and he could just walk in when the bouncer wasn’t looking. Unbelievably, he got in without paying a dime. I still don’t know how he did it but he made it. Once we’re inside the restaurant, we hogged the open bar and started drinking whatever the bartender passed on to us.
It was a cold and rainy night. The weather really put a damper on the holiday mood. Before heading down to Butterfly, I warned the boys that after the party was over, it would be difficult to get a cab because it’s New Year’s Eve and everyone in the city would be out drinking ‘till dawn. At the end of the night, everyone would be trying to hail a taxi to go home but then there would not be enough cabs to go around.
My prediction came true. The downpour continued throughout the night and didn’t seem to slow down either. We ended up walking in the freezing cold weather from Pier 33 all the way to the BART station by Embarcadero. If you’re familiar with San Francisco’s waterfront, you have a good idea how long that walk was.
I know what you’re thinking, “How romantic it is to be walking in the rain in the early morning on New Year’s Day.”
For your information, I was not dressed to walk in the misty rain. I had my high-heels on (open toe, too) and a cocktail dress. I just remember being soaking wet. My coat, my scarf, my shoes, and my gloves were WET. I was freezing my ass off and my toes were numb!
Mike was intoxicated from some hardcore liquor before we left Butterfly. I can’t remember exactly what he had. I just know when he handed it to me for a taste, I spitted it out after taking one sip. It was nasty! Since none of us wanted it, Mike indulged himself by consuming all of it.
On our long journey to the BART station, Mike would not stop messing with Kam and kept teasing him, “Kammy, Kammy, oh Kammy!” Kam tried hard to tolerate Mike’s drunken behaviors. We all knew that Mike was seriously intoxicated and he probably had no idea how annoying he was. If Mike didn’t stop anytime soon, Kam looked like he was ready to slap him silly and shake him up a bit.
Ben and I tried our best to prevent a fight to break out between the boys. We decided that it was best for Ben to walk with Kam and they should keep a distance from Mike.
As Ben and Kam walked in front of us, I had to hold Mike’s hand as if I was his mother walking him to school or something. He would swing my hand way up high and baby talk about some nonsense stuff. I had to reciprocate and started doing the same baby talk. I wanted to keep him away from approaching Kam again.
The last thing we wanted to deal with is a stupid fight in the middle of the rain on New Year’s Eve. However, it got to a point where a fight was inevitable!
Here is the assessment of the situation: Mike is huge – he’s tall, well built, and definitely a muscle man. However, Kam is not a weak skinny Asian boy. He’s a black belt in Karate or something that sort.
If Mike and Kam were to go at it, who would be knocked out first?
The answer is…READ ON and you will find out.
This is what I remember. The distance between us began to diminish. All four of us stopped at a traffic light and almost formed a row: I was on the far right followed by Mike and Kam in the center. Ben was on the far left.
Wait a second! How did Mike and Kam stand next to each other? We were supposed to keep them apart!
As we stood there waiting for a green light, I was thinking, “Why are we stopping? It’s New Year’s Eve and it’s raining like crazy. We should just run over a red light!” Before I could make a suggestion to run across the street, Mike nudged Kam on the shoulder, giggled like a 5-year-old boy, and then put his arm around Kam’s neck in a headlock position. Kam’s reflex was to break away from Mike. During the struggle, Mike ripped the collar off Kam’s overcoat. Kam was furious! He gave Mike a shove that began a chain reaction. It happened so fast that I didn’t have a chance to let go Mike’s hand. Before I knew it, Mike lost his balance and his body was leaning toward me.
It was like in slow motion. BAM! I fell into a puddle of water by the curb. As Mike’s 200 lbs. body fell on me, his elbow landed directly on my left eye. I felt this sharp pain on my eye! I wanted to cry. I have never experienced anything as painful as this. Gosh, I could feel my tears bursting out.
As I lay in the muddy water, I could feel my left eye begin to swell up.
I swear we were on the ground for a good 30 seconds if not longer before anyone came to our rescue. Ben rushed over to pick me up and then he asked, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you okay?”
Why do people always ask if you are okay when it is obvious that you are not okay?!
I was cranky. I was already soaking wet before I fell and to make the matter worse, Mike hit me in the eye!
“Of course I am not okay. Do I look okay to you? I feel pain on my left eye. Look at my eye and tell me if it’s bleeding!” I literally screamed at Ben. Poor guy!
“You look okay, sweetie!” Ben assured me, “C’mon. Get up. Can you walk?”
The story did not end here. The rain did not stop and we still couldn’t hail a cab to go back to Ben’s. After Mike and I got up, Ben and Kam had to carry Mike because he was too wasted. The four of us continued to march toward the BART station. Many people walked alongside of us. There was one destination in everyone’s mind: Embarcadero.
It seemed like the longest walk. There I was, walking by myself in the rain with some three-inch high heels. With every step I took, the pain on my left eye intensified. I wanted to get out of my wet and dirty dress and take my shoes off.
By the time we arrived at the BART station, we were soaking wet, tired, and freezing cold. There were so many people inside the station and some were just as drunk as Mike!
A young woman came toward me and she seemed concerned, “Omigod! What happened to you?”
I panicked. Ben looked at me and said apologetically, “When we get home, I will get you an ice pack for your eye. The swelling will go away. You will be okay.”
It was really a long journey to Ben’s condo. After we exited the station, we were about four blocks away from home. By now, I still had not seen my left eye. The pain never stopped and I could feel the swelling on my eye.
As we walked toward Ben’s in the pouring rain, I spotted a Taqueria that seemed to be a hot joint on this rainy New Year’s Eve. Patrons dressed in tuxedos and gowns were standing in line. The long line stretched all the way to the door! I bet it had been a long night for everyone. You should have seen the looks on people’s faces – they looked beat!
After all the unfortunate things that had happened to me tonight, I could use some good food to make me feel better. Kam agreed to go with me to pick up some burritos while Ben and Mike continued in the long journey home. Actually, Mike was not walking. Ben was literally dragging his feet.
Kam and I got in line at the Taqueria and people seemed startled by my bruised left eye. I was dying to find a mirror so that I could take a good look at my eye. I could not stand the stares I was getting from passers-by anymore!
So, there we were, standing in line and just minding our own business. All of a sudden, two Latinos in front of us started an argument and they looked like they were about to get violent! Some patrons got up and started getting rowdy as if they were expecting a fight to break out anytime soon.
“Damn it! Can I just pick up my food and get the hell out of here!” I thought to myself. Gosh, I was getting irritated. Right then, Kam reached out and pulled me out of the line as one guy came toward the other who tried to back away and then he fell to the floor.
I must be a magnet for stupid fights. If Kam didn’t grab me soon enough, the Latino man was very likely to fall on me. Who knows? He may have given me a black eye, too!
After we got our burritos, we left the premises as soon as we could. Who would think that there would be danger involved while buying burritos at a Taqueria?
When Kam and I made it back to Ben’s condo, we were tuckered out and Mike was already asleep. Apparently, he passed out before Ben pulled out the sofa bed. He was like a dead weight and Ben just dragged his body onto the sofa bed.
What a long night it had been! I wanted a hot bath more than anything but first thing first. I went to the bathroom and I almost screamed as I saw my left eye in the mirror! I began scrutinizing my swollen eye. It was purple and black. I looked like shit!
The next day when I got up, I couldn’t open my left eye. The swelling had gotten so bad overnight that I could not see! I thought I was losing my vision.
New Year’s Day is all about the Rose Bowl. Mike finally woke up when we were ready to watch the kickoff. He seemed surprised when he saw me.
He had the nerve to ask me, “Geez, what happened to you? Who did this to you?”
Mike had no recollection of what took place last night. He did not know how he went from Butterfly on Pier 33 to Ben’s condo in the Mission District. He did not remember getting on BART in the middle of the night with all the other drunken partygoers. He certainly did not recall falling on me and hitting me in the eye with his elbow.
“Oh shit. Can you see with your left eye? Gosh. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you.” Mike said with an apologetic smile.
I wanted to kill him. I had the worst black eye in history and all he could say to me was ‘I am sorry!’ It was the first day of 2004 and I started it off with a bruised left eye that’s swollen like a baseball.
While I was upset over my black eye, Kam was pissed off about his overcoat that’s missing a collar thanks to Mike.
Later I found out that Mike and Kam have been friends since college at SFSU. That was 12 or 13 years ago. For some unknown reasons, Mike said he always wanted to pick a fight with Kam and beat the shit out of him. Maybe what happened was what Mike always had in his subconscious.
For three weeks, I had to wear shades so that I wouldn’t scare people with my black eye. My friends just couldn’t believe how I ended up with a bruised eye when I didn’t even initiate a fight!
Since the New Year’s Eve incident, my left shoulder has been bothering me. Whenever I rotate the joint on my left shoulder, I can hear a clicking sound.
I had paid a few visits to our friend Mark who is a chiropractor. Mark insisted on passing on the bills to Mike. In addition, he booked a one-hour massage session for me that Mike paid for. Mike promised to take me out to a nice dinner and a shopping spree when I go back to San Francisco.
The moral of the story is Boys are always boys. When they want to fight, let them take it outside and go at it until they drop. Don’t try to stop them because always the bystander is being injured while trying to break a fight.
