The Travelling Beirut Roadshow, Part I

So over the fall and winter of last year, Sarge and I built a bar in my basement and we played a shit-ton of beruit. Now, I must say that I was a decent beruit player beforehand, but after playing 3 or 4 nights a week for a six month stretch, we got real good. I'm talking damn good, pro good, dare I say, Beerfest good. We were calling shots, intentionally missing for strategic purposes, and most importantly, consuming inhuman amounts of alcohol and still being able to function. What happened next was just the natural progression of things, as dawn becomes day, as ape becomes man, and as I become drunk...We had to take it on the road.
Although plenty passed through my doors, the main staples of the game were me, Sarge, Angel, Wolfman, and LaVidaLoca. Wolfman is a solid cat, the quiet type but he won't take shit from anybody. Sarge is another solid cat, and he's saved my ass more times than I can count, but there's a Mrs. Sarge and he isn't quite as free to do crazy shit at all times. LaVidaLoca is a chick that I was going out with for a while, but my inability to behave like a normal person kind of ended that. Still, one of the best people I know, and delightfully nuts. I must add, she's the best beruit player on earth who isn't me. But anyway, Angel is the only logical choice I had for this mission, and here's why.
Angel and I are the minutemen of competition drinking. Weeknight? Don't care. Work tomorrow? Don't care. Already drunk? Don't care. Don't know anyone at the party? Don't care. To quote the great Diamond David Lee Roth, "you threw the party, I am the party." Between us we have enough contacts to wind up at a party pretty much every single night, and we took on the mission of taking on all comers at beruit, on their own fields and their own house rules, and showing them who the champions are. The rules were simple. Make some phone calls starting around 5 pm, go wherever the night took us, and simply dominate. We formulated the plan...
Me: Think you can handle this?
Angel: I spent 5 years in New Orleans, this is child's play.
Oh boy, here we go....
So night one we hear about a party over in Portsmouth with a couple of Angel's high school buddies. They're all fresh out of UNH, this should be a good test of our skill. Angel and I hit the liquor store on the way over, I grab a flask of cheap 100 proof vodka in a plastic hipster, he grabs some Seagrams 7. We have cups, we have ping pong balls, we're ready. Neither of us have seen these guys since high school.
We meet them in the parking lot of the apartments, we do shots. We go inside, he introduces us to some friends, we do shots. I notice that there are a whole bunch of good looking chicks at this party, my opinion of this party rises, we do shots. I wander away from Angel and head out to the porch with some of the hotties to smoke butts. We do shots. By this point, I have no idea what time it was, but it was late. I'm kicking myself because I'm already drunk, and we haven't even played yet. I figure we need to get this thing going, so I issue the challenge.
Me: We will beat anyone in this house at beruit. Anyone. Who wants it?
I am completely shit-cocked at this point.
Angel and I dominate the first 3 games. We have at least 4 cups on the table at the end of each. The memories are sketchy, but the common consensus is that I made a really obnoxious bitch cry. Drinking slows down everything except my ability to trash talk. I develop a sixth sense that seeks out the most base weakness and personality flaws in my opponent, and then immediately exploit it to fullest effect. They come at you with a knife, you come back with an A-bomb. That's the New Hampshire way.
I am, to quote Tucker Max, fucked in half drunk at this point. We need a smoke/piss break. We yield the table with the understanding that we play winner. I head out back to smoke with the hotties again. I've been talking up this one chick all night, so we're talking, I'm lying about something, her phone rings. One thing leads to another and like 6 of us sing happy birthday to her mom on speakerphone. I am confused. I do a shot. We receive a complaint from an irate neighbor.
Irate neighbor: HEY!!
Me: What?
IN: Shut the fuck up, I got kids over here!!
Me: Why are you yelling, won't you wake them up?
IN: Oh, you want me come over there, wiseass?
Me: You just said you got kids, you aren't going to risk jail time, fuck off.
I do another shot to celebrate my victory. We go back in. I can hardly stand up. An enquiry is made as to what just happened outside.
Some guy: What's going on, are the neighbors pissed??
Me: Naw, it's cool, i talked to him and it's cool.
Some guy: Oh, thanks, I can't get kicked out of here.
Me: Don't worry, I take care erything (in my best drunken DiNero impression)
So we go back to the table and play 3 more games, ending with a very hard fought game against our hosts. Halfway through this game I can tell that I'm not going to make it past this game, no matter what happens. I'm fading out like Denzel in "Man on Fire." But we have a mission to complete. They sink the last shot. I hit the rebuttal. We all miss a bunch of shots, then Angel sinks the winner. He's ready to set up for another and I decide I need to lay down for a minute. I slide under the table, literally. My eyes are shut, people are stepping over me. I grab an empty beer box and puke a single, neat heave into it, and it's all vodka and beer. This is the point that this night got interesting....
Somebody calls a cab and Angel and I are going to go crash at Sarge's apt which is just down the street. My boy rp is asking me stupid questions to keep me awake, when all I wanted to do was sleep under the table for a couple hours, I would've been fine. Angel and I go outside and get in the cab. Angel says something and gets out. The cab takes off. Shit.
Cabbie: So where you going?
Me: Raymond?
Cabbie: I ain't fucking going to Raymond
Me: Uhhhhh, (awkwardly long pause) i somehow come up with Sarge's address.
He drops me off at the apt, i hand him a crumpled handful of bills and he goes. I call Sarge's phone... no answer. I call Wolfman's phone... no answer. I get the brilliant idea to throw rocks at the window. Here I am, in not the best neighborhood, skull fucked drunk, throwing rocks at an apartment building. This goes on for a bit and I decide to sleep in the vestibule. It's too cold for this shit. Time travel begins.
Angel shows up. Where's my car? A truck stop, Sarge, blackness.
I wake up and I have no idea where I am. Here's what I see...
An empty room, I'm on the floor. Two empty cardboard boxes, beige generic carpeting, a shotgun leaning against a wall. I am completely freaked out. The door is closed and I'm afraid of what's on the other side. I look out the window, hoping that it will give some clue as to where I am. A parking lot. What the fuck is waiting on the other side of this door. I'm waiting for the voice from "Saw" to come on. Lfodd, you need to get out of here, and you have a choice...
After half an hour of intense internal deliberation, I open the door.
Sarge's place....thank you God. I can't keep living like this...but I'm going to try.
End of night result....9 wins, 0 losses, we defeated everyone at said party. I sleep all day. We're awesome.