Through all the years of my life, I have come to the conclusion that I am good for two things: Getting myself into awful situations, and living to tell about the aftermath. Some of these involve alcohol, some involve medications, but ALL of them include my general dumbassery which far outweighs the effects of anything else. These are the stories. Don’t judge me.
The Time I Broke My Ass
As a long time Miami Dolphins fan, and a child from the internet age, it was only a matter of time before my angst as a football fan spilled out to the world wide web. Right around the turn of the century, I stumbled upon a small internet fansite where fellow “Dol-phans,” (yes this is what we are called, no, not all of us are fanny bandits) got together to discuss our favorite franchise.
Over time, the constant bitching, bellyaching and mutual admiration of fart jokes developed into bona fide friendships between a few members. The only problem of course, was that most of us were spread out across the country and had certainly never met in person. This all changed about five years ago when I got on a plane and started meeting the weirdos on the other side of the computer monitor. Much to my surprise (and relief) none of them tried to “F me in the A,” and the trips turned into annual affairs. IT was on one of these trips when I broke my ass.
We were in East Hanover, New Jersey having drinks at a Miami Dolphins themed bar, conveniently named Miami Mike’s. As the hours rolled by and the pitchers of beers were drank, the owner decided that our merry band of idiots had had enough and told us to leave. On our way out, I struck a deal with him and was able to finagle a pitcher of Blue Moon to take back to my hotel room. Maybe I was supposed to share it with the rest of the group, but if so, I didn’t get that memo because I tossed the pint glass in the garbage and started drinking the nectar straight from the source.
After briefly going back my hotel room to grab a jacket, I found myself in my friend’s hotel room, guarding my pitcher of beer like I was Frodo and it was the ring. As the night turned into the morning, and I had exhausted sexting every person in my phone, I turned my attention to the window. I had, at this point, drunk my weight in beer and was starting to burn up. And hyper focusing on the window wasn’t helping any. It was like when people tell you not to think about sex so in response, you immediately have to masturbate…
What? Is that just me?
Anyhow, I mosied over to the window and opened it as wide as I could. Once I realized that the window could be opened like an actual window with no safety stop like most hotel windows have, the drunken light went off in my head. While still holding my pitcher of Blue Moon in my hand, I climbed up into the sill and crouched. My friends were so wrapped up in whatever bullshit drunken conversation they were having at the time, that they hadn’t even noticed that I was now, pretty much not even in the room anymore.
And it was at this time that I decided that the mood needed a little bot of dark humor. I spoke loudly, calling for everyone’s attention, and when all eyes were on me, I stated that I couldn’t take it anymore and promptly leapt from the window out into the cold, New Jersey air. Now the humor of course, was that I was pretending to off myself in a drunken fit by jumping out of a first story hotel window, where, at best, I would be three feet off the ground.
Except it wasn’t a three foot drop.
It was closer to 15.
What I had failed to account for was that directly outside of this hotel room, despite being on the first floor, was a parking lot that dropped down about 10 feet in the back of the hotel as opposed to the front. Naturally, this room happened to be right where that drop took place.
The whole process took less than two seconds, but I remember vividly realizing that I had made a mistake and that my legs are now completely straight and extended with no bend to help absorb the shock. My feet hit the pavement, they shot out in front of me, and I landed with full force directly on my ass where, as I hit, a very loud and very audible “crack.” was heard.
I looked down and was amazed that not only had I successfully broken my tailbone, but did so with a half a pitcher of Blue Moon in my hand and nary a drop spilled. Luckily I was so sloshed by this point that the pain receptors in my ass weren’t firing on all cylinders. Nonetheless, I knew I was going to be in for a world of hurt once the buzz wore off. So I picked myself up, took one last swig of beer before tossing the pitcher, and dragged my busted ass back to my room.
It was at this moment that my broken drunk ass turned into the greatest cock block as well. I was sharing a room with my buddy White Snake and, unbeknownst to me, he had met a girl in the bar earlier and somehow convinced her to come back to the room with him. I guess he didn’t account on me breaking my ass and coming back to the room early because as I opened the door, all I saw was a woman, old enough to be his mom, go streaking past me into the bathroom to put her clothes back on. By this point, I was not in a pleasant mood and I muttered, “nice bush,” as she went by. After calling me an asshole, she got dressed took off and was never heard from again.
White Snake was clearly pissed but the subject was tabled once he found out I busted my anal hymen jumping out of essentially, a second story window. After suffering through a myriad of poor puns and lame jokes, I finally got fed up and broached the subject of his lady friend’s grooming habits and that, if you were to describe her in terms of a baseball field, she would have been Wrigley. But seeing as how every time I laughed now made my ass hurt to the point where I was afraid I was gonna poo blood, we decided to call it a night.
The next morning, we said our goodbyes, I took a bumpiest cab ride ever back to the airport, and proceeded to take the most turbulent flight of my life all the way back to California. A flight which, by the way, forced me to have to ask for a hemorrhoid pillow to sit on since my rectum bone was on fire.
I didn’t shit right for a month.