This seems like as good a place as any to post the following story. It relates wet farts and Iowa State Football.
Two friends and I were in NYC for the Pinstripe Bowl. We left NYC New Year’s Day (after a heavy night of drinking and most likely still drunk) to drive to Washington DC to see some friends. The plan was to stop at a bar in Philadelphia called “Charlie’s”, known as a KC Chiefs bar, to break up the drive, get some lunch and watch the Chiefs play the Broncos. Keep in mind the drive on the Jersey Turnpike is rough. Really rough. The three of us constantly made jokes like “oh no, I think I just **** myself” because we were drunk/hungover on a super bumpy road and thought humor was the best way to handle the situation happening. As we get off the interstate in Philadelphia my friend (let’s call him Bob) made the “just crapped my pants” joke again, and we all laughed and he followed with “no, seriously”.
Now unbeknownst to us, Philadelphia has a major New Year’s Day parade that happened to be occupying our Google Maps route to the bar. So the last 5 minutes of this drive took about 45 as we were lost and had to cross a parade route that we had no idea where it was. As we finally get to the bar, we step out and I see Bob’s white Chiefs jersey has a little brown stain on the area by the butt. I casually make a joke about it. Bob’s response was “this does not bode well…” On our brief walk from our parking spot to the bar, Bob enters every convenience store he can find so he can check on himself. Unfortunately, a lot of these stores don’t have restrooms available to the public in South Philly. Finally, we get to the bar and he heads to the restroom.
After checking himself, he immediately walks out of the bar and says nothing to us. My other friend (let’s call him Jerry) and I continue with our lunch. When he returned he told us where he went. He had dumped his boxers in the bar bathroom, gone back to a convenience store, purchased cleaning products, returned to the unlocked car, cleaned the passenger seat the best he could, got clean underwear and pants from his suitcase and put them on, and ditched his soiled silk track pants he was wearing during the incident on the curb under my car.
Needless to say, he rode in that seat the entire rest of the trip, to this day there are people that will not ride in my passenger seat out of principle, making me a chauffeur when I drive them. I hope we never return to the Pinstripe Bowl.
Two friends and I were in NYC for the Pinstripe Bowl. We left NYC New Year’s Day (after a heavy night of drinking and most likely still drunk) to drive to Washington DC to see some friends. The plan was to stop at a bar in Philadelphia called “Charlie’s”, known as a KC Chiefs bar, to break up the drive, get some lunch and watch the Chiefs play the Broncos. Keep in mind the drive on the Jersey Turnpike is rough. Really rough. The three of us constantly made jokes like “oh no, I think I just **** myself” because we were drunk/hungover on a super bumpy road and thought humor was the best way to handle the situation happening. As we get off the interstate in Philadelphia my friend (let’s call him Bob) made the “just crapped my pants” joke again, and we all laughed and he followed with “no, seriously”.
Now unbeknownst to us, Philadelphia has a major New Year’s Day parade that happened to be occupying our Google Maps route to the bar. So the last 5 minutes of this drive took about 45 as we were lost and had to cross a parade route that we had no idea where it was. As we finally get to the bar, we step out and I see Bob’s white Chiefs jersey has a little brown stain on the area by the butt. I casually make a joke about it. Bob’s response was “this does not bode well…” On our brief walk from our parking spot to the bar, Bob enters every convenience store he can find so he can check on himself. Unfortunately, a lot of these stores don’t have restrooms available to the public in South Philly. Finally, we get to the bar and he heads to the restroom.
After checking himself, he immediately walks out of the bar and says nothing to us. My other friend (let’s call him Jerry) and I continue with our lunch. When he returned he told us where he went. He had dumped his boxers in the bar bathroom, gone back to a convenience store, purchased cleaning products, returned to the unlocked car, cleaned the passenger seat the best he could, got clean underwear and pants from his suitcase and put them on, and ditched his soiled silk track pants he was wearing during the incident on the curb under my car.
Needless to say, he rode in that seat the entire rest of the trip, to this day there are people that will not ride in my passenger seat out of principle, making me a chauffeur when I drive them. I hope we never return to the Pinstripe Bowl.
