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Another day another reason to leave my “home” and head somewhere new. This trip was based around my buddy Brian and I taking the ferry to Block Island for a night or so. His dad lives in CT, so I flew into Hartford, considering acting.... do not be offended, but as homosexual as possible, since his dad kept asking when his bf was visiting. Didn’t do it, but told them on the way to there house, while drinking some road sodas, and it turns out I should have… pops thought it was hilarious. That night we basically sat in the garage and drank beer, good times.

The next day and most of the time spent around this small town in CT was filled with one on one wiffle ball, driving a ranger through the woods, sitting in the pool, drinking beer, and eating northern food… which is million times better than southern. Brian’s dad also heats his house with wood instead of gas, which is much cheaper… I thought we were going to have a bonfire, but that idea was shot down, when he said he would murder me.

Well, time to hit the island. After a stop at the liquor store for our equipment for the trip and a quick breakfast at the dock, we jumped the ferry. With a classy bottle of Seagram’s 7 in the backpack we were ready for Block Island. First things first, beach… this is no Florida beach? This is a half arsed tourist beach with no waves, a steep drop off in the water, barely any sports going on, limited attractive females, and lots of clothes… oh yeah the water was cold too. Ok, with the disappointment far behind us, we decided to get some of the local expensive cuisine. Though delicious, portions were tiny… it felt good not to stuff myself for once.

Bikes? Fantastic idea!! So, we rented a couple for the day from a cute gal that was cool… but she did ignore us heavily until later that night. We jumped the only road on the island and stopped at every watering hole along the way and naturally stopping for shots from the bottle. We found a tiny skate park and decided to do some sweet tricks, which definetly impressed many people, until Brian broke his chain and didn’t know how to fix it. How can you be a 22 year old guy and not know how to fix a bike chain? Weird, so I got my hands dirty (they never recovered). At this point we are able to remember everything. We stopped a smaller marina bar and flirted with cougars in front of their husbands, went to the OAR and read funny oars, were made fun of by two old guys at a bar because we are poor, we invited ourselves a marina party (where we were welcomed with open arms with food and beer), we shared bread (yes bread) with a family sitting next to us, we claimed expensive boats as our own, and our bike girl accepted us as non creepy poor kids from across the pond.

Around this time was when the turn was becoming more evident. The whiskey bottle was about a quarter left and we have downed many beers from all over the island. This is where reality, fiction, and the skewed interpretation of what actually happened may be up in the air. Just before we walked into the marina party, we found a couple crab claws on sticks to attack people with; these posed as useful tools the rest of the evening. We used these to attack multiple people old and young alike, grab stacks from tables, drink jello shots, and of course pinch each other were pinchers should not be. We jumped back over to the _____ and had a couple beers… Brian says “that will be $13” I laugh… waitress returns and says that will be $13 dollars, wtf? The old guys that picked on us for a while bought us a shot… “Oye!! I’m Ryan and this is my blok Brian…” SMACK in the face (beerfest).

At this point we are “well on our way”, so we decided to stop at a bar on the way back from the Oar… oh wait this is a wedding reception. Yeah we hung out for a while, dancing with the wife, bachelorettes and of course the flower girl… don’t worry we drank plenty of their booze for free and were kicked out about 30 mins later. Hey look another bar across the street, so we ask the door man where we can put our bikes, he says against the fence is fine… so, we place our bikes against the fence and begin to walk in… oh but you can come in, well he cant… referring to Brian. Why would he tell us where to put the bikes if we weren’t allowed in? Back to the bikes and back somewhere else, destinations aren’t planned. As we make our way down the road, we get picked up by some chicks in the back of there truck and I end up pissing the fat one off, because she was a great big biatch to me. I am pretty sure we lost our place to stay at that point. Back to the bikes and back down the hill… wait Brian where is your bike? No worries get on the handle bars! “Brian, I can’t see…. Are there any cars coming?” This day/night/early morning of debauchery was filled with good times and I am sure I left out some details for the sake of public reading and others for the sake of how well my memory serves me. I ended up passing out on a big bench… Brian had the small one next to me, apparently mine was much better, so he went stumbling off and slept in the back of a bus. I was jealous in the morning especially because it was freezing all night.

The rest of the time in CT was filled with wiffle ball, beer, pizza (northern pizza), pool, ranger, and whatever else we could find to do in the middle of no where CT. Good times, would do it again, but perhaps find a place to sleep next time.

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