TDL’s Sports, Wrestling, & Otherwise

Oft-commenter here The Big Show got married this past weekend. It was a weekend that featured my rediscovery of the Manhattan, marathon driving sessions, one of the most valiantly fought-off hangovers in the history of hangovers, and me re-discovering my hatred of Ms. L’s job.

Friday

7:00 am: Blackberry alarm goes off telling me something I already knew… it’s fuggin early.

7:15 am: Ms. L doesn’t stir as I start rummaging around and getting some final packing done. I am sure I didn’t forget anything. As I will later discover, I forgot toothpaste. Go me.

7:30 am: Downstairs to Rector Place. The doorman asks me if I need a cab. It takes a moment to process what he asks me. I grunt a yes and point at the one in front of the building across the way. The doorman pulls off that cab calling whistle that I still can’t do… at 7:30 in the morning it wasn’t something I needed next to my head.

7:32 am: I’m on the road. There’s nothing quite like taking a cab up the West Side Highway at 7:30 on a weekday morning… especially starting downtown. Between the construction on the highway and the construction on the Big Hole In The Ground, they collapse 3 lanes to 1 or 2. Plus, cabbies drive like they have death wishes. I’m half catatonic and my train’s at 8:15.

7:55 am: Penn Station at 8 am. Speaking of debacles. I’m not sure which is worse, Penn Station at 8 am when all the people from Long Island and New Jersey are getting into work or Penn Station at 3 am, when all their drunken kids are trying to go home. Oddly enough, in the morning all the hair product and fake tans are on the women. At night, they’re on the guys. This, of course, leads me to conclude that guidos grow up to be 40-year-old women who look 60.

8:00 am: Quick-Trak is deciding it wants my reservation number for the first time in history. Now… I have my overnight bag, my laptop, a garment bag, and I need to manage to get my Blackberry out to try and get to G-Mail to get my reservation number. All the while, there’s people behind me in line. Something tells me their train is coming at 8:15, too. Before Blackberry, I don’t know how this would have all worked out.

8:05 am: Tickets purchased. I consider Dunkin Donuts… line. Nope.

8:10 am: Boarding. I remain amused by all the people who stand in line at the gate of the Amtrak train. I’ve seen people start lining up at the gate up to a half hour before departure time. Congratulations, you got a choice seat on a train that isn’t sold out.

8:15 am: I’m sitting and there’s a lovely note on my seat informing me that, due to CSX trackwork, trains between New York Penn and Albany-Rensselaer are running from 15 to 90 minutes late. This does not bode well for my goal of making it to Boston by 3:30 pm to hit rehearsal. Luckily, I’ve been to two wedding rehearsals and they’re all exactly the same.

11:45 am: Arrive Albany exactly an hour after I was supposed to. Amtrak: F*ck Else You Gonna Use?

11:50 am: Mama Yard is waiting for me at the train station with a Dunkin Donuts coffee and toasted bagel with cream cheese. I’m reminded how much I love my mommy.

11:50:05 am: That bagel didn’t stand a chance.

12:05 pm: I have my mom take me to Kohl’s so I can buy a brown belt and navy socks. Mom is prepped with a $10 coupon in her glove box. Mind you I didn’t tell her that I needed to go to Kohl’s to buy a belt and socks before-hand, she was just prepped with a $10 coupon. Reasoning: “It came in the mail and I didn’t know when I’d need it.” More points for mom.

12:45 pm: Mom’s house. “You want a sandwich before you go? I have turkey, ham, roast beef, bologna, swiss, cheddar, and American.” Only my mom and dad live at home. She’s got lunch for 15. Bless her soul.

1:00 pm: On the road, exactly an hour after I’d prepared to be. Amtrak: We’re Union… Go F*ck Yourself.

1:05 pm: Ron and Fez on XM… now I recall why I keep my car’s subscription active even though I drive my car like 25 days a year.

2:30 pm: Fun fact: You can pick up WFAN out of Queens on the Massachusetts Turnpike.

4:10 pm: Right on schedule, hell traffic picks up right at the I-90/I-95 interchange. Even though I don’t drive much in New York, I must be picking up the driving habits by osmosis, as I certainly cut off an SUV to get over into the EZ-Pass lane. More points for mom: having an EZ-Pass since mine was in Brockport.

4:25 pm: I arrive at the Westin in Waltham exactly an hour after I intended. Amtrak: The Plane Would Have Taken Longer And Cost More, Sally. The bus for the rehearsal left an hour ago. Fortunately, they’re coming back before the dinner. Plenty of time to shower and get ready.

5:15 pm: I flip my computer on since I forgot to do my picks… the hotel charges for Internet. This, as usual, fills me with rage.

5:30 pm: I walk downstairs to discover that 5:30 really meant 5:25 and everyone’s waiting on me… I hate being that guy. They transport us to the rehearsal dinner on a coach bus, which was an excellent idea.

6:00 pm: I begin fulfilling my role as “dude no one knows” at the rehearsal dinner. There’s about 30 people there and I know the bride and groom, the groom’s parents, and the groom’s brother. That’s it. I say the words “Mike’s room-mate from college” about 100 times. The Manhattans make it easier.

6:05 pm: The groom, not the most comfortable guy with being the center of attention, asks me how to start schmoozing. I tell him that all he really has to do tonight is say “hey” and the schmoozing will be done for him.

6:30 pm: There’s a special menu with 4 entrees. I order the duck because I’ve never had duck before.

7:30 pm: My gift is a beer stein. I knew the Big Show would either give us watches or beer steins. Since I rarely wear watches, the beer stein is far more useful in my life. Thanks Big Show!

8:30 pm: Back at the hotel bar, the older folks go to bed and the younger folks begin their evening.

9:00 pm: Drinking

10:00 pm: More Drinking.

11:00 pm: Pretty hazy, but more drinking.

12:45 am: Last call? What? Massachusetts sucks. I order a Manhattan and a Bud Light and turn into “creepy guy sitting at the hotel bar a little too late by himself” as the rest of my party heads off to bed. I try to counter-act this by talking a group of guys who are even drunker than me. One of them reveals himself to be from Scotia… a town about 10 miles from where I grew up…. which is about 300 miles from where we are. Nonsense.

1:00 am: I find my way back to my room and engage in my newest random drunken activity: showering. For whatever reason: drunken Tom (or Tomas as he’s affectionately known) needs to take showers. I don’t know why.

1:15 am: Tomas finds that the Westin has robes. Tom later discovers how gloriously happy he is that he smartly decided to NOT ask for the keys to the minibar.

1:20 am: Tomas needs ice. He’s thirsty. He walks out to see guy from Scotia with his buddy’s arm slung over his shoulder in that “holy crap this guy’s drunk” stance.

2:00 am: Tomas wants to see the end of the Rockies game but some dim part of him realizes that he’s been up for almost 20 hours at this point.

To Be Continued…… Driving in Boston is always an adventure