Bluegrass Grows In Hell
I felt like Tim Robbins in Jacob's Ladder Saturday. I'm dead but I just don't know it. But after going to Blondies East to watch the Texas-Texas Tech game with my friend Darth Chuck, I finally figured out that not only am I deceased, I'm in hell paying for my multitude of sins.
I rarely venture to the East Side of Manhattan for a couple of reasons. The first is that my job is on the West Side and my subway train takes me to down 7th avenue. The other is that upper East Side feels like one big Friends episode. Every one is white and pretty. No black folks allowed. So after a hour and a half trek to the East Side (Subway construction delays, having racist dogs bark at me while I walk down the street, I finally get to my destination.
I'm wearing a Mitchell & Ness Doug Williams Tampa Bay Bucs Jersey, figuring that wearing a pro jersey like that won't offend any of the college populance at the bar. While I didn't offend anyone, I had no idea that Blondies East is where the NYC Tennessee Alumni association watch their games. Because of the Buc orange, they think that I'm one of them. A little horrifying since I've been partial to the Gators (my SEC team) for about 15 years.
This is where I realized that I was in hell. It was 0-0 at the half and the bartender Kenny (a tip whore like most of his brethren) decides to play the Tennessee fight song "Rocky Top". For those of you that have never heard it, don't click on that link unless you're a masochist. But it's a bluegrass song that become the state's official song.
Apparently the original recorded version wasn't good enough for these hillbillies. Because someone decided to make not one, not two, but three remix version of this godawful song. And the tipwhore Kenny decides to play all three version during halftime!!! These hillbillies were clapping and yee-hawing while all three version of this horrible song played. I felt more uncomfortable than a brother who got caught doing the Grand Wizard's daughter at a Klan rally.
My buddy Darth Chuck was in his own hell watching alma mater Texas Tech, toss Texas' salad as Vince Young strikes his best Heisman pose at the Raiders expense. So I call my buddy Grand Moff Peter, a Florida alum and Gator lover, to let him know where I was buried and to make sure to send my mom flowers. He laughs and tells to hoist one with Satan and to knock out a couple of toothless Vol bastards while I'm there.
Satan must be a Vol hater because he took mercy on my soul. When the Vols fumbled into the endzone for a Tide touchback and Croyle marched 'Bama down the field for the winning field goal...it took every bit of willpower that Chuck and I could muster not to laugh uncontrollably. The silence was deafening. Then you heard a couple of "Fuck!'s " in the crowd and hands bashing the tables. We told Kenny that he better make sure they pay their tabs before the mass exodus out the door begins.
We finally lost it when we saw one guy with one Tide pom-pom in the corner waving it as his Vol girlfriend looked at him with disgust.
Seems like the devil does have a sense of humor....
I rarely venture to the East Side of Manhattan for a couple of reasons. The first is that my job is on the West Side and my subway train takes me to down 7th avenue. The other is that upper East Side feels like one big Friends episode. Every one is white and pretty. No black folks allowed. So after a hour and a half trek to the East Side (Subway construction delays, having racist dogs bark at me while I walk down the street, I finally get to my destination.
I'm wearing a Mitchell & Ness Doug Williams Tampa Bay Bucs Jersey, figuring that wearing a pro jersey like that won't offend any of the college populance at the bar. While I didn't offend anyone, I had no idea that Blondies East is where the NYC Tennessee Alumni association watch their games. Because of the Buc orange, they think that I'm one of them. A little horrifying since I've been partial to the Gators (my SEC team) for about 15 years.
This is where I realized that I was in hell. It was 0-0 at the half and the bartender Kenny (a tip whore like most of his brethren) decides to play the Tennessee fight song "Rocky Top". For those of you that have never heard it, don't click on that link unless you're a masochist. But it's a bluegrass song that become the state's official song.
Apparently the original recorded version wasn't good enough for these hillbillies. Because someone decided to make not one, not two, but three remix version of this godawful song. And the tipwhore Kenny decides to play all three version during halftime!!! These hillbillies were clapping and yee-hawing while all three version of this horrible song played. I felt more uncomfortable than a brother who got caught doing the Grand Wizard's daughter at a Klan rally.
My buddy Darth Chuck was in his own hell watching alma mater Texas Tech, toss Texas' salad as Vince Young strikes his best Heisman pose at the Raiders expense. So I call my buddy Grand Moff Peter, a Florida alum and Gator lover, to let him know where I was buried and to make sure to send my mom flowers. He laughs and tells to hoist one with Satan and to knock out a couple of toothless Vol bastards while I'm there.
Satan must be a Vol hater because he took mercy on my soul. When the Vols fumbled into the endzone for a Tide touchback and Croyle marched 'Bama down the field for the winning field goal...it took every bit of willpower that Chuck and I could muster not to laugh uncontrollably. The silence was deafening. Then you heard a couple of "Fuck!'s " in the crowd and hands bashing the tables. We told Kenny that he better make sure they pay their tabs before the mass exodus out the door begins.
We finally lost it when we saw one guy with one Tide pom-pom in the corner waving it as his Vol girlfriend looked at him with disgust.
Seems like the devil does have a sense of humor....
posted by Darth Marc at 12:30 AM
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