Nationals (Prelude)

First, there was a mixup.

At the rental place, the night before (This was after the flights got delayed like crazy and we didn't land until about 1:30am. I hate JFK airport. Hardcore.) I walked up and said "Here is my ID and my Credit Card. I have a reservation." I then expected to presented with the keys to the car that I had reserved. The one without a top. The fast one. You know. The one on my reservation.

Instead, we had a classic Seinfeld reenactment, as so often happens in the time I spend not playing ultimate, about taking and keeping reservations. Instead of the fast car with no top that I reserved, she offered me a 2 seater convertible of some kind. Thinking of my brother's teenage girlfriend and Dan Yi, I said "No." Like an idiot. She then offered me a Dodge Charger. I asked if that was a convertible, knowing full well that it wasn't. She said no. She did say that it went fast though. That was better, but I was not pleased and told her so. She offered to take a day off of the lower rental fee. I said "Thanks, but how does that take the top off of my car, exactly?" She said that I must hate her. DAMN! That really puts it to me doesn't it? Quite the argumentative victory. Either I hate her and am a terrible person for pursuing this further, or I stand there and tell her I don't hate *HER* but that I hate the company and get into that conversation. Fuck You, Rental Car Woman. Just let me get my aggression out by being a little sarcastic and goofy. I was smiling until this point. At this point, I glared for a second and caught myself before I launched into full-on jerk-face mode. I then just took the keys, declined the sucker-coverage and went back to sit with my brother and wait for the even later flights.

Ah well. At least the car goes fast and is cheaper. Fast is good.

The classic Florida Night Drive was perfect. We even stopped at Waffle House at 2am because we hadn't eaten since before we got on the plane so that we could sit on the runway for 2 more hours strapped into uncomfortable seats and told that "unless our eyes were yellow" getting up out of our seats to go to the bathroom or stretch "could very well cause us to miss a chance to take off." WHAT???? I'm twitching with anticipation to get to the damn tournament, I have to go to the bathroom somewhat regularly because I always drink a lot of fluids, I wanted to stretch for the whole flight while drinking a bunch of water, and now I also have a delay "Of unknown time but likely between 1 and 2 hours" in which I can do none of that? On top of it you keep telling us to put our electronic devices away? WHAT THE FUCK DID I SIGN UP FOR????

Oh yeah, at the Waffle House. first, it was the coldest Waffle House or any other dining establishment that I have ever been in. I was looking for Rocky's famous slabs of beef. I was prepared for this with extra clothes (Florida's cold when you're drunk, exhausted and thrown in the ocean at all hours of the morning!) but my carmates were not as ready. I'm a regular fucking boy scout. We sat next to some late 20 somethings who were talking about how one of them had taken gone topless and pressed her breasts against the window the last time they were here. Not that odd. Later on they start "bitchin about [their] fuckin' kids." Kids? You have kids? You're my age and smoking, drunk off your ass in a Waffle House at 2am!! And then they unanimously decided that their parents probably did the same damn thing when they were younger. I think I agree with them.

Immediately following this, the same group got into a yelling match with a "semi-homeless" dude who was buying some coffee and an egg. I don't know exactly what about but I think someone was threatened while being restrained. They may have then bailed on the check. The sem-homeless guy then turns to Dan Yi and Dan Yi looks at him and says "No no, thanks for chasing them away. We didn't like them either." (Which was completely true) Semi-homeless guy takes exception to this in some fashion and then stares at us sourly for the rest of the time he's there. This was not even the most entertaining thing that Dan Yi (who is always referred to in two names) did that evening. When we ordered, we all ordered pretty lightly. Just something to get the hunger under control without adding to much into the system. Maybe a waffle. A couple of eggs and some grits. Some hashbrowns. A Coffee (no, not for me). And that was the rest of the table. Dan Yi, of course, goes big, 'cause he sure as shit ain't goin' home, and orders the Grilled Texas Bacon Double Patty Melt Plate.

Now, when someone orders something like that, you don't know exactly what it is going to look like, but you're pretty sure that it is a serious meal commitment, not a fling. The word Texas alone should give you a hint, but to add in words like Double? Bacon? Are you shitting me? This is going to be crazy. It could be the atomic bacon-grease bomb. With hash browns. Not regular hash browns, but smothered covered and chopped (or something). And make it a double. WHAT? Wow. Dan Yi wins this round of ordering. Easily. Wayta Cowboy Up, you Sox Fanboy!

Even at this point, we don't know what this is going to look like when it comes out. I mean, we saw the picture, but you never know what the real thing is going to be like. I mean, our socially timid waitress who apologized for giving us ice in our water told us that the chef who was working tonight was "the best Waffle House has," which of course led us to a discussion about what sort of person becomes the best damn Waffle House chef anyway. It was decided that he was an honorable person. He did work with excellent style and my food was pretty good... And then Dan Yi's food came out. It was a massive grease attack. Cut in two, with a massive pile of hash browns and other stuff in between the perfectly cut halves.

Wow.

Just wow.

Dan Yi, to his credit, ate every part of it.

You might think the story is done, but it isn't. It couldn't possibly end there. Somewhere around the point at which we were all mocking Dan Yi (whilst in complete awe of the bang with which he started his journey), some shiny cars with rims rolled up. Of course. These are exactly the kind of cars that roll up at this time of night. I grew up spending late nights at Denny's in Northeastern PA. I know the drill. What I was unprepared for was who stepped out of the car. In the words of Dan Yi "It's a fucking ho train." To which Jamie responded "I have to call Tom Pribicko." The train continued to engulf and then fill the Waffle House as we waited in line to pay for our food. The line consisting of, uh, us. Waiting for Dan Yi to pick up the whole bill so that we could pay him back. And it took forever. All the while, the look of complete shock on Dan Yi's face was worth the uncomfortable tension in the air. I think the pimps were responsible for that air, but one can't be sure.

We then walked out, got in the Dodge Charger and flew like warp-speed banshees through the night to get to our waiting beds and get at least those first 4 hours of blissful sleep before the mayhem I planned to bring to the fields with me tomorrow...