Friday…

August 25th, 1995…

It was the opening night for the movie Desperado, the sequel to Robert Rodriguez’s indie breakthrough El Mariachi. I was pretty damn excited about this release. I admired the hard working ethic of Robert Rodriguez when making El Mariachi and I heard he applied the same to his new movie. I was also excited that Hollywood entrusted their money to a minority to make an action flick. Due to my rabid talk up of how bad ass Rodriguez is, I was able to put together a little group of Chumps on Parade to buy midnight showing tickets to Desperado in advanced.

The Chumps on Parade List:
Steve - A guy I’ve known since the 6th grade. He wouldn’t let me view his copy of the very first issue Nintendo Power magazine.
Conan - His real name was Brian but we called him Conan because of his striking resemblance to Conan O’Brien. I’m not shitting you! He looked exactly like Conan O’Brien.
Joe - I once threatened to kick his arse. Why? I really can’t remember but I could be a big jackass at times. I was a big jackass to Joe. Sorry Joe.
Mike Switzer aka Mantis Man - Because he can emulate being a human mantis [?!?!?!]
And Myself

Viewing of the movie was at midnight. So, us Chumps on Parade had plenty of time to waste and kill. Kill and waste. Waste and kill. We had nothing planned but to watch paint stick to my apartment wall. My roommate, an architecture student, then informed us of a party being thrown by one of his classmates. For my group of young imbeciles, that was considered a big green light for mass alcohol consumption. Bad ideal? Maybe. Did we consider the consequences of our action? Never. Aaah. The joys of being young and absolutely reckless. Or the pains of being a parent to one of these wreck loose kids.

Us, Chumps, entered the party. As we looked around we realized we were among a much more mature crowd then ourselves. These people had direction. These people were in a professional school working towards something. We were comprised of fresh guys in college still trying to figure out what our specialty was. What our niche to life was. What we would become to make it in the world. At that given moment we felt like a bunch of outcasts. Like that younger brother who wore black and eyeliner while all the other relatives wore flowers and smiles. And just like the outcasts at any party, we hogged a bottle of Vodka to ourselves and a carton of orange juice.

Screwdrivers… Plural

Up to this point my alcohol consumption comprised mainly of cheap beer and free beer but rarely in the form of liquor or mixed drinks. I wasn’t a virgin to the hard liquor but I wasn’t a pro at it either. It was, however, our weapon of choice for the evening. Sometimes I had a 1/2 and 1/2 mixed drink. Sometimes a little more orange juice. A lot of times a little more vodka. We weren’t professional bartenders by any means. But we knew the general recipe to a screwdriver. We were impressed at out skill at making a simple mixed drink. After a few glasses of our creation things got loose and we started to mingle with the crowd. At one point I tried to convince people that I was hanging out with thee Conan O’Brien. Brian\Conan tried to play along with my drunken arse but he’s not nearly as funny as the original nor was the crowd amused by my stupid attempt.

Upon looking at his watch, Joe brought up the fact that we had tickets to go see Desperado still. A killjoy thought at first but Joe was good at that. Being a killjoy. We realized we wanted to get our money’s worth. Looking at each other it seemed every one us were pretty shit-faced. Not a soul was in any real condition to drive the drive. I knew for a fact that I wasn’t. So, we decided to add one more to the Parade. Jimmy. My other roommate. I like to consider him the fat because he was fat and just got fatter during his college years. Luckily, he just got off of work from his Publix shift. So, he picked us up and we were off for the theater.

We arrived smelling like an airline pilot for Delta before, in between, and after a flight. We entered the theater and the lights were still on. Everything was cool up to this point. We took our seats and chilled out. Drunk. But chilled out. Soon the lights turned off and the previews began… As well as our downward spiral to utter drunken madness.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to view a movie in the theater loaded on screwdrivers but movies don’t seem to be viewed in the same fashion. For one thing, there is a constant flicker going on with the picture against the screen. It was absolute maddening and nauseating. I got a theory on this resulting experience and feeling. Maybe I was drunk. Stupidly drunk. I don’t know. But I had to frequently look away to gain balance in my head. Whatever the cause, we were ALL getting very sick by this experience… Except for Jimmy. He was just plain fat and sober.

Joe got up from his seat. He was gone for about 5 minutes. Then he returned back only to get up again after a minute of trying to view the movie. The second time Steve followed his path.

I sat there trying to fight the feeling of utter sickness. But, you know, that feeling can’t be fought. It can’t. Eventually, everyone surrenders their guns and accepts the punishment at hand. I had decided to surrender and walked out of the theater. As I was passing the concession stand an usher stopped me.

“Whoa, man. Watch your step.”

Before me in front of the concession stand was a fairly large splash of vomit. Orange and vodka it smelled as well as a strong stench of stomach juice. My guess? Joe was what happened. I carefully walked around it and entered the rest area. Joe was so uncomfortably vomiting his life out in a stall. Steve was patting his back.

“I had to vomit, too,” Steve said as he comforted Joe like a homo.

“Cool…” I responded.

Then I took the stall next to them and I became a human tap of screwdriver mixture. Joe and I puked in harmony together. While puking in C sharp, an usher came in with a bucket and mop. I looked up at him. Then I continued my song.

When we returned to the theater [Yes... We returned] we sat down and attempted to finish what we started. Desperado. At this point the movie has begun. Not really certain what was going on in the movie. But some fireworks were about to be lit but not on the screen.

I looked over at Conan. He was watching the movie with his fist in front of his mouth. He looked very intense and into the scene… so I thought. I looked away. Then I looked back at him and his fist was now covered in vomit. He was trying to fight a bad fight and lost. Conan, then, puked loudly onto the theater floor with the crowd responding in a very unsatisfying manner.

“That dude just vomited!”

“Gross!”

“My god! It smells!”

Joe followed the moment by leaving for the stalls… again.

The vomit hitting the floor in the theater was our indication to leave. The crowd wasn’t enjoying our presence anyways. So, we gathered the Chumps on Parade and we left. Theater still smelling like vomit. Ushers left to clean our mess.

The vomiting didn’t end, however.

On the way back to my place we had to stop two times to let a couple of people out to continue wreckage. When we finally got to the apartment we all continued to some more… Except for Jimmy. He remained plain fat and sober.

Screwdrivers… Never again to be my weapon of choice…

Note: I just want to add this is my version of that drunken night. Each person involved has their own version apparently. In Steve’s version he had washer board abs and two, not one, brunette were repeatedly hitting on him. His version not mine. My version recalls no such event.

Tags: alcohol, chumps on parade, college, conan, conan o-brien, concession stand, desperado, jimmy, Joe, mantis man, mike switzer, movie theater, orange juice, party, screwdrivers, steve, vodka, vomit