Last night, Krista said to me that sometimes she "feels like the hayseed of our relationship," but other times she's quite certain it's me. This came up as I watched "Back to the Future." Krista came in at the end when everybody was at the "Enchantment Under the Sea" dance, and I hushed her as I was hanging on every word for some reason.
She asked me if we had dances at our school and did they have names like that. I said that I went to the Sadie Hawkins dance when I was a junior.
"Ooo. Did somebody ask YOU to the dance?" she chided, assuming I was too chicken to ask somebody else, which I was.
"No," I explained. "I just got drunk and went with a group of guys. And we all kept tackling each other in the hay."
This earned me the Hayseed of Our Relationship title for the evening.
The night of the Sadie Hawkins dance was actually pretty standard in some ways. I was with Greir, Nick Kuprowicz, and either Justin "Jud" Salvati or Jim Koppen. We had something like a case of Budweiser, and I probably had four beers while we were driving around before we got to the dance. Enough at the time to really cloud my memory.
The dance part of the story was enough to win me the award, but the rest of the evening had more than a tinge of hillbillyness to it. After the dance we drove out Middle Run Road or some such place and ended up driving through a field on a hill above Nessley Chapel. (Stories about drinking in fields and on railroad tracks and other similar locales has won me the Hayseed award several times in the past.)
What's doubly hayseedish about this was the field turned out to already be occupied by Russell Cameron (recently mentioned for giggling at 1947 drawings of limp dicks in a comment by Dave; also famous for the "Cameron claw"). Russell was parked in his Blazer with a six-pack or something and his girlfriend/wife-to-be/ex-wife-to-be. I remember the windows were quite fogged, and there was some pounding on the windows followed by some hollerin' of cuss words and such. All in good fun. But it's kind of funny to think that more than one party ended up in that random field at the same time. I wonder how many other hayfields in the county were occupied by carloads of hayseed Bud drinkers that night.
After our encounter with Russell we continued on our driving around-drinking beer-Hancock County good time.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
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6 comments:
Did you play football too?
Do you remember whether or not it was any fun?
Also, did you see the green mist???
If I recall my Hancock County field geography I once got quite shitfaced drinking Boones Farm in that very field.... you were probably there as well. Maybe Rick... Maybe Brad?
I was also telling Alisa a story the other day of a rip roarin' party in Brent Conkle's fields. There was a big bonfire and Greg lifted me up (like he was bench pressing me) and acted as if he was going to toss me into the fire. This was before I knew Greg well and I was pretty sure he was indeed going to toss me into the bonfire. But I was drunk and didn't much care. God I love Greg.
Aren't you and Krista both hayseeds? You have chickens and all sorts of critters running round that big old house, you throw your garbage "over the hill," and I've heard you both routinely refer to the bedroom as the "no-shittin' room." As a matter of fact, I'm probably the only sophisticated person you know since I routinely wear pants when there is no one else in the houes.
I had a brief football career that would have been more fun if I had gotten to play more. But I should also clarify that we didn't play a regulation football game at the Sadie Hawkins dance.
I believe I was there with the Boones Farm. Sadly, I was not at that bonfire party.
Wait, what is this mist floating into the room? This green...Bud, what have you unleashed upon me!
I have not thought of that rip roarin' Conkle bonfire in ages. Reading Dave's comment made me realize that all of my best stories some how involve Greg. He did almost incinerated David that night plus he:
• kicked a bottle of Jack Daniels into the fire
• Was told (along with myself) that he was no longer welcome and had to leave by a guy named Chad
• Spent the remainder of the evening refering to our evictor as " Chyaaaad" while pretending to ajust a tie that he was not actually wearing
• Atempted unsuccesfully to gain carnal knowledge of a young lass by the name of Vi
• Puked on the outside of my Subaru
• Puked on the inside of my Subaru
• Puked down the slit in the door where the window goes of my Subaru
This also may have been the night where as I helped G into his parents' house, his father woke up and yelled down the stairs "Dave?" To which Greg slopily replied "Dave?!" Greg pushed me out the door and told me to run as I heard his father coming downstairs asking "who's down there?"
I spent the next day wondering if my buddy was still alive and how the fuck was I going to get the stench out of my car.
God I totally forgot about Chad. Thanks for the added memories, Tony. I just laughed my entire ass off.
By the way - your name came up recently in convesation as one of the only two people I know that ever outran a cop successfully. The funniest thing is that I can understand why you did it based on age alone but the other guy is a friend of mine down here who is about 40 and just did it the other day on his hopped up crotch rocket. So you are in the "cool people hall of fame" in my book...
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