-The annual invasion of PC by West Point took place this weekend. Sean's friend PK goes to West Point and apparently when one cadet goes to visit a friend they all do. This year we had PK, his older brother and ex-Marine Brendan (who is a 22 year old freshman at Dartmouth), five nameless cadets, the boyfriend of the girl I took to senior prom who goes to the Naval Academy (they were dating when I took her, I didn't know until after I asked her to go), and BrendanM, who dates a girl at PC and who has visited often. For those keeping score at home, that's six sophomores at the Military Academy, one sophomore from the Naval Academy, one drunk college kid, and one war veteran with the scars from an IED to prove it.
-Friday night we waited for the Army to arrive so that we could go out. Much to our dismay, they didn't get here until after 10, at which point we were drunk and ready to leave. We quickly tossed them beers and Stiffies (stiff drinks, in this case rum and beer) and were out the door 30 minutes later. We first went to Louies and pulled the "My friends are visiting from West Point" card to get into the already crowded bar. Louies closed after an hour of our shenanigans and we walked to the other end of campus to catch the Whiskey Shuttle and go to Whiskey's Pub, which doesn't close until 2 AM. After missing a couple shuttles, we arrive at Whiskey's to find that although they are serving our country, West Point kids with military ID's still need to be 21 to get in. Slightly downhearted, we waited outside for the next shuttle back to campus, where we found a house party and killed their keg.
-Saturday. The night that escalated this President's Day weekend into the upper levels of PC lore. The night started out very similar to Friday, with drinking in Sean's room before going out and the walk down Admiral to Clubbies, joking that we wished someone would jump us to see the Army in action. I forgot the ID claiming I'm 21, like I always do, and had to walk back to school alone in the cold to get it from the room. I get back to Clubbies and make my way upstairs where it's less crowded and where the posse has gathered. As the night progresses I find myself standing with Sean between the bar and the bathroom upstairs. All of a sudden I see a body on the floor and the kid in the white shirt start to kick the prone body in the head. Sean and I realize what is happening and push the kid away from the person on the floor and almost into the bathroom, as the bartender hops the bar and has the bouncers escort the kid who got kicked out the door. As I'm standing there waiting for them toss the kicker, I ask Sean who the kid on the floor was. He looked me in the eye and told me "That was PK's brother, Brendan," and my heart sank. Brendan was the 22 year old freshman at Dartmouth who had already served in Afghanistan and Iraq and whose face and legs bore the scars he earned from walking too close to an IED (Improvised Explosive Device).
I hurried outside to see how Brendan was doing and found him already with his brother and another cadet trying to explain to them what had happened. I could see the fire and disbelief in PK's eyes, but had to keep him from going back into the Clubbies because Larry (the owner) had already called the cops and was kicking everyone out. The kids who attacked Brendan stayed inside because they're friends with Larry's degenerate son, and bragged about how tough they were and how Brendan was holding his jaw when he walked out. I had to stop a West Point cadet from finding the kids who assaulted his war veteran brother in a crowded bar and who I had been standing next to as his brother was kicked out of the bar. I'm going to regret that for a while. I'll make excuses and say that by the time I realized it was his brother on the ground it would have been unwise to try to hit the kid, but I'm going to regret not doing anything for a very long time. I cried my eyes out later that night thinking about how I would feel had it been my brother lying helpless on the ground getting his head kicked in by a waste of life 25 year old. Add to that the fear PK must have lived with while his brother was deployed overseas and the pride he must feel for his brother, the American hero.
After everyone had filed out of Clubbies and was milling around trying to figure out what to do next, a random kid took his empty beer bottle and rifled it at the door, shattering the bottle and cracking the glass door. A split second later Larry, his son and all his bouncer henchmen bolted out the door and chased the kid down the street, beating him until the cops came and put him in the cruiser. While this was happening, a kid from my floor named Terence was walking on the other side of the street yelling "Providence police suck!" and other such niceties. That's right folks, he pulled an Ali Schofield on Providence cops. As he walked away smirking to himself, another cruiser screeched to a stop next to him. Terence has never been accused of having much common sense, and when something is amiss on the floor chances are that he is the guilty party. Faced with a cop yelling in his face to put his hands on the wall, Terence reasons that rather than do the sensible thing and comply and talk his way out of whatever minor offense they were pissed at him for, he should turn tail and run away, through a parking lot and uphill. Needless to say, with one cop on foot and two cruisers peeling out after him, Terence didn't make it very far. It didn't help that he was running in the middle of the street. Terence was rewarded with a night in jail. He went home to New Jersey to see his righteously pissed off dad on Sunday when he was bailed out, and I haven't seen him in the dorm since.
After rounding up all of our guests and taking turns keeping each other from raiding Clubbies, we made our way to a late night party hosted at my friend's brother's house. My RA from last year told me that he didn't see me as a former resident but as a real cool guy. He was real drunk but is a great guy so I'll gladly take the compliment. I walked back alone after a while and met my girlfriend outside my dorm, where I proceeded to cry like it was my brother on the ground.
-Sunday. Valentine's Day. Once again, I prove that I am terrible at holidays. That is all that will be said about it here.
Apparently my friends had another ridiculous night out, this time thanks to a dedication to living with no ceilings. Sean was at Danny's, another bar, with Eric and some of the other boys. Eric notices a particularly unattractive girl sitting at the bar, and propositions Sean with an offer to hook up with her for some sum of money. Sean takes a look, runs some calculations in his head, and promptly offers $2. Eric is pleased and positions himself directly next to the girl. Sean looks away and continues with whatever weird things he does, until Bobby drops his jaw to the ground a minute later and points over to the bar where Eric is spitting knowledge. Sean can't believe his eyes. After he and the girl are done hooking up, Eric looks her dead in the face and smoothly says "No ceilings." He leaves and collects his earnings from Sean, only to learn later in the night that he was the girl's first kiss. Ever. Unfortunately, prostitution has recently been outlawed in Rhode Island, and the authorities are now searching for Eric. We also had a seven man sleepover in my room that night, topped off with a little Men In Black. Apparently that morning Mike and Eric work up holding hands. Interesting.
-Monday. Almost done. I did my first estimate for my house painting business. The family were friends of ours and thus I was confident that I would be able sell the house, but when he looked at the number we put together and reached for his pen I still nearly jumped in excitement. I will be painting at least one house this summer.
Fogle, out.
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