My trip to...

  • We are currently upgrading MFK. thanks! -neo
Hes too embarrassed....:popcorn:


he dropped the soap :eek: :ROFL:




Just kidding..haha- you guys are so gulable...:grinno:


but serious...GET ON WITH THE STORY!!!!!!
 
I had originally planned on typing up an elaborate narrative to accurately reproduce this weekend's proceedings, but I'm opting not to.

Prom weekend passed as quickly as it came and I found myself in a rather robust Cadillac Escalade destined for Seaside Heights, NJ. The general atmospere of the ride was rather relaxed, but the aire of anticipation loomed overhead as the six of us often exchanged glances with a cumbersome duffel bag in the trunk. The contents of this bag would prove the foundation for the story that follows.

Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. We had rented a sizeable house with the intent of party'ing with classmates and peers. Now, those that have never been to the Jersey shore will find the next bit of information, well, silly. In a town overrun with highschool and college kids, people come in and out of your house like its going out of style. Generally, this isn't a problem as its a great way to meet people and have fun. Well, this weekend proved otherwise.

Almost immediately after arriving at said house at 3AM Saturday morning, we had a respectable group of individuals at the house having a good time. Come Saturday night, we had a party that Pacha or Avalon would be envious of. I knew maybe 75% of the people at the party, but the mood was light hearted. I see out of the corner of my eye 2 guys talking to my girlfriend. No problem, I thought. She's a smart girl and knows her boundaries. I don't say anything, but keep an eye on the situation. A few minutes later I see one of the guys mixing drinks for the group. I jut my jaw out and I try and pass it off.

"A test," I though. I let the situation continue to see what would come of it.

I cannot recall how much time elapsed, but we had seperated (seperated in the sense that I was around the corner in the living room while the said group was still in the kitchen). My best friend grabs me by the shoulder and tells me that the two guys are physically shoving my girlfriend toward a vacant bedroom. In my inebriated state, I threw my drink to the ground, clench my fists, and followed my friend to the hallway leading to the room.

"Come on, we need to take a nap." I hear. I glanced at my friend and he gave me "the nod". Those that are unfamiliar with "the nod", it is guy code for "are you down for what's about to happen". We were down.

Words and hesitation were absent from the room as my spirited pace had slowed to a slow stalk. My GF saw me and shoved her way towards us. One of the guys grabbed her arm in an effort to hold her back. Instinctually, my friend threw a haymaker that connected.

"Blood," I thought, "great..."

The next few moment can only be described as chaotic as blows were exchanged back and forth. The rumble concluded and I was left with a fleeting moment. My friend and I had brought our "opponents" to the ground and were doing some heavy ground and pound. The rest of our house mates had stood watch long enough and pulled us off. As we were shoved to the living room, I smiled as I saw a bit of blood on the flood and adjacent walls.

My arrest and stint and jail will come in a short while.
 
what is this a mystery... :grinno: I hope your okay..
 
man that's nuts, but pretty cool at the same time..........i woulda loved beating em for trying to hurt a girl........
 
Here we go with the final chapter.

Our "opponents" had been ushered out of the house and were kicked to the proverbial curb. The testosterone died down and we began to party again. Afterall, this wasn't the first fight we had seen or taken part in. Who knew that these fools would call the police rather than take their beatings like men? Certainly not I.

Two of Seaside Heights' finest arrive at our doorstep and zip tie our hands behind our backs. We give our account of the story from the back of a cop car. Now, I've never been in the back of a cop car, but is it normal for it to be so cramped? I'm not a huge guy, but my God. My knees are bruised!

We get to the station and are told to sat on a bench until further instruction. We smile as people come in and out of the station. Hell, some of the people that passed through the doors had been at our house a few hours ago!

"Seaside jail this time of year is where you'll find the most extreme party'ers in southern Jersey," said another police officer. "You're going to have to call your parents, but we're going to hold you for a few hours until you sober up."

Our make-shift cuffs were broken and we found ourselves in a cell with 3 other people, every one with an incredible story to tell. I couldn't help but laugh at my predicament. Two white guys from suburbia, a Haitan suspected of trafficking, a Jamaican guy who was caught driving under the influence, and an obese man from Wisconsin we knew only as "Jimmy Cheesesteak".

No, we didn't drop the soap, no we weren't forced to create haphazard weapons out of table legs and toothbrushes, and no, it doesn't hurt to sit down. Honestly, I don't see why more people don't crash in jail. The comrodery (sp?) is second to none and it was a good laugh.

With sunrise came sobriety and I found myself telling this very story to my dad. Rather than be livid, he said he was proud of my actions. My mom shared the same sentiment. I couldn't release myself from jail without my parents physically being there, so I was treated to a complimentary breakfast and told to wait in the lobby for my parents to arrive.

The remainder of the story, is, well, uneventful. Suffice it to say we lost our house a day early (landlord evicted us), and I may have a lawsuit on my hands (highly unlikely, but possible).


...now tell me, is that **** unforgivable?:)

I'll never forget Prom 2007.
 
A clarification: When I mention "pushing and shoving," it is more along the lines of coaxing, pursuading, and guiding in a general direction. My girlfriend was not physically harmed. If that were the case, we would have a murder scene on our hands.
 
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