Tuesday, September 18, 2007

A BW3 Story

Lots of things happen at BW3. Here's a little story that happened to me.

A couple years ago, I was walking into a BW3 in Columbus, Ohio, for a bite to eat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of my neighborhood friends standing at the bar. He was with a group of guys waiting to order a beer.

My first instinct was to turn around and walk out of the place. I just wanted to hang out, eat some wings, drink some beer and watch some NFL football, han solo.

But, before I could make my move, he turned his head, noticed me, did a double take. Then smiled.

"Eimer, good buddy," he yelled as the group of hard-livin' guys looked over as well. "What have you been up to?"

After exchanging pleasantries and catching up on everything. He asked me to hang out with his crew, watch the Pittsburgh Steelers game and drink some beer.

"Why not?" I thought to myself. "What could possibly go wrong?"

We were in every class together until eighth grade. In addition to that, we also were next-door neighbors (if you consider ½ mile as next-door) and battled each other in numerous competitive games of kickball, football and baseball in my front yard.

After I headed off to college, we sort of lost touch. I moved to Columbus, he stayed in the Ohio Valley. Eventually, he made his way up to Columbus and became a very successful contractor.

A couple quarters of football passed and a couple 24-ounce beers also traveled down my gullet. We were having a good time and, to be honest, I was glad that I had a chance to catch up with my childhood, kickball friend.

That was, until my buddy took off to take a leak.

After a couple of minutes, he burst from the the men's room and rushed over to the table with this wide, shit-eating grin on his face.

"Hey guys, I almost forgot." he yelled pointing in my direction. "This is the guy I was talking about. Remember? From elementary school."

I had no clue what he was a talking about. I looked around the table thinking that maybe he was talking about somebody else.

This big, burly guy on my right (with arms as big as telephone poles I should add) spit beer out of his mouth and started to cackle.

Then he looked down at me with the same shit-eating grin on his face.

"You mean, this is the guy who pulled his pants all the way down to his ankles when he peed?"

"Yeah," my supposed-buddy said. "This is the guy I was talking about!"

They all started howling with laughter - at my expense.

"You still do that?" One of the other guys asked. "Pull your pants down to your ankles when you piss?"

"Yeah," I joked along. "As a matter of fact, I’m going to do that right now."

As I headed to the bathroom. They all started to cackle in unison.

I felt a little embarrassed. A little shocked. In fact, part of me wanted to run out of the BW3. But I held it together, threw some water on my face, took a piss and returned to the howls of laughter at the table.

"How was it piss boy?" One guy yelled. "Did you get any yellow stuff on your ankles?"

For the next hour or so, I was the butt of everyone's piss joke.

Ahhhh, great times. Great times

First off, I didn't pull my pants down to my ankles when I took a pee at Hilltop Elementary. Well, maybe not. To be honest, I can’t really fucking remember! But, I bet a lot of kids in elementary school did the same thing.

Secondly, more than 30+ years have passed and the only thing this guy remembers is my kindergarten bathroom peeing habits? Plus, he's telling his construction guys about it?!!?

I don’t know about you but that sounds a little bit gay to me.

For the record, I'll have you know that I don't pull my pants all the way to my ankles when I pee.

Everyone knows I drop my them to my knees.

1 comment:

cbrown said...

Good stuff, Brad. Sounds like my National Guard days....