So I'm at my friend Rick Flanagan's wedding. Flanagan is a fellow teammate and classmate of Stevo's. As such, Flanagan has invited Stevo to his wedding. Big mistake. Open bar + Stevo + formal event = Disaster. Here's how it unfolded;
Flanagan comes from a traditionally large Irish Catholic family. He's got a whole bunch of brothers and sisters. His family is made up of well-educated, successful, upstanding members of the community. His father and brothers all have pale Irish skin, New Joisey accents, and pursue sedentary occupations such as business and medicine. All the Flanagan's look like they wouldn't hurt a flea, even after a half-dozen Guinnesses. They are small, friendly, quiet folks. Which makes brother Bernie Flanagan's career-choice all the more fascinating. You see, Bernie is a ninja.
Now all of us on the team have heard Rick tell us that his brother is a ninja. Rick is not one to lie, or even exaggerate things. So if he says his brother is a ninja, as preposterous as it sounds, I have to believe it.
For years we had quizzed him on what exactly his brother does as a Ninja.
Does he assassinate people in the night? No.
Does he wear an all black costume with a face mask? Sometimes.
Is he an expert at throwing stars? Yes.
Does he carry a sword around? Not all the time.
Does he live in Japan? San Francisco, but he travels to Japan to study with Ninja masters.
Could he be in the room right now without us knowing it? Definitely.
How does he make money? He teaches other people to be ninjas.
Will he be at your wedding? He RSVP'd yes.
Will we be able to see him at the wedding or will he be invisible? Hard to say.
Will he teach us Ninja moves? Probably not, he's a pretty reserved guy.
I arrived at the wedding, excited to see Flanagan, excited to see Stevo, but most excited to see Bernie the Ninja. Once I get to the reception, Rick points out Bernie. He looks like Rick, only perhaps less athletic. He stands alone in a dark suit, scowling. I'm dying to go up and ask him about Ninja stuff, but I'm scared. What if he slices my head off with his concealed sword? What if he climbs the wall and does a flying roundhouse to my skull? What if he flings three throwing stars into my chest before I even get one word out?
I come up with a better solution. I'll get Stevo to ask him about Ninja stuff.
I bring a beer over to Stevo. "Hey man, did you check out Rick's brother, the ninja? He's right over there."
Stevo; "Oh YEAH! I forgot he was gonna be here! I gotta talk to THAT guy."
Me; "Well wait a minute man, have a beer or two, let people mingle a bit, and when the band starts we'll go talk to him."
Stevo; "Cool man, good idea, let's fuckin DRINK!"
Six beers and only one hour later...
Me; "Hey Stevo, you think you could take on Bernie the Ninja?"
Stevo; "What? THAT pussy? I'd fuckin rock his WORLD. I don't believe in that Ninja BULLSHIT."
Me; "You think Ninja stuff isn't real?"
Stevo; "REAL? Are you fuckin kiddin me? That's fucking comic book crap. Does he look like a fuckin Ninja? I don't think so. He's just another New Jersey COCKSUCKER!"
At this point a few elderly members of Flanagan's family are staring at Stevo.
I know this is going to be good. We're going to find out once and for all what kind of Ninja Bernie really is.
Stevo walks over to Bernie, followed by me and a couple of our Dartmouth teammates.
Stevo thrusts out his hand; "Hey Bernie, I'm Stevo, pleased to meet you."
Bernie eyes him skeptically, takes his hand, and mumbles something.
Stevo: "So I hear you're a NIN-JA." (sarcastic accent on the -JA)
Bernie: "Mmmm."
Stevo: "So, like, that means you can kill people with one finger right?"
Bernie: "Mmm-Hmmm."
Stevo: "So, you could take me out with one shot huh?"
Bernie: "Uhhh...yeah."
Stevo: "So? Lets see it."
Bernie: "Huh?"
Stevo: "You say you can take me out with one finger, let's see you do it."
Bernie: "No."
Stevo: "Oh, so you can't do it?"
Bernie: "No...I WON'T do it."
Stevo: "Why not?"
Bernie: "Cause I'm at my brothers fucking wedding, you moron."
Stevo: "Oh I see, you're only a Nin-JA, outside of weddings huh? Maybe you need your little black costume, and your sword?"
Bernie: "Fuck you."
At this point it hits me that Stevo is taunting a real ninja. And this ninja is a no bullshit kinda guy. And he is getting pissed off.
Stevo: "What? Is there some kind of ninja CODE about fighting at weddings? Or can you only fight in defense of your honor or some shit? Here, let me make it easier for you." Stevo gets to within a few inches of Bernie's face.
Bernie: "Step the fuck away, or.."
Stevo: "Or what? You'll drop a smoke bomb and disappear behind the wedding cake?" Then Stevo pokes him in the chest.
We all take a step back at this point as clearly, a line has been crossed. All of us except Stevo.
Bernie pauses a moment as if to re-assess the situation. Then, in a lighting fast move, his right arm thrusts from his side and he strikes Stevo in the sternum with what appear to be just his index and middle fingers, curled to the knuckle.
Stevo falls flat on his back. He is flopping like a fish out of water, clutching his chest, unable to breathe or speak. We all stand over him enrapt. Bernie looks down at him and says; "I could have killed you." and calmly walks away.
Stevo recovered, with only a deep bruise. He now believes in Ninjas.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Rigney's Bar
Over sophomore summer semester, one of our teammates Mike Rigney built a bar in shop class. I was not aware that there was such a thing as "shop class" at Dartmouth, but apparently there is, cause Rigney defenitely built a bar there. It was a really nice bar, made of smooth stained hardwood along the edges and checkerboard tile along the surface. It must have taken Rigney several days and a couple hundred bucks to build.
The bar fit nicely in the corner of a dorm room. It was large enough for a bartender to stand behind it, and would serve two to three patrons standing in front. All reports confirm that the bar was well received by the drinking community and that many students enjoyed bending an elbow on it during the academically relaxed summer term.
However, it was now the end of fall term, and this bar had been taking up space all semester in Stevo's on-campus apartment that he shared with three other teammates. The bar had not seen any use all term, and the inhabitants of 302 River had repeatedly asked Rigney to come remove his bar from the premises.
It was finals week. And Stevo was done with his finals. And Stevo was celebrating. And by celebrating, I mean drinking massive quantities of beer and liquor and looking for trouble.
The dust covered leviathan of a bar caught his eye. "Why is that piece of shit still here?" he asked to no one in particular. "Haven't we told him a million times to get that frickin thing out of here?" Stevo spits out a dip of tobacco and dials the phone. An answering machine picks up. "Rigney! Come get your bar tonight or we're throwing it off the roof." Stevo laughs maniacally as he hangs up.
At this point no one has recognized what has been set in motion. The bar is certainly going off the roof.
Stevo gives Rigney about thirty seconds to call back before asking for help in moving the bar out of the apartment and into the open air stairwell that separates 302 River from adjoining apartment. His roommates were only too happy to get the bar out of their apartment and so they help lug it outside. The bar now sits next to the stairwell in the open air. One tough hoist will get it up to a three foot high railing, which is now all that seperates it from a third story fall to the sidewalk. The bar is heavy. Really heavy. Too heavy for Stevo to lift to the railing by himself. Stevo shouts at the handful of bystanders "Which one of you bastards is going to help me lift this fu*ker up on the rail?"
There are no takers. No one wants to be an accessory in this. Rigney is a big guy by skinny runner standards. He is going to pummel Stevo if he goes through with this. A call goes out to the whole track team, and everyone in the River dorms in general. "Come to 302 River! Stevo is going to toss the bar!" We needed spectators. Not only to share the blame of witnessing the act, but because we needed at least one person foolish enough to assist in hoisting the bar up to the rail.
Soon we had gathered about thirty people. Most looked on from the stairwell, chanting "Stev-O! Stev-O!, Stev-O!". A couple spotters were sent down to the ground to ensure no one was killed by the falling bar. One teammate tried to talk sense into Stevo, tried to buy more time for Rigney to respond, and tried to explain why this was a really bad idea. This only motivated Stevo even more. A few residents of the river apartments threatened to call the cops. Stevo was running out of time. If it was going to happen, it had to happen soon.
The chanting reached a crescendo. "Stev-O, Steve-O, Steve-O!" Stevo waves his arms up in the air to rile the crowd. He starts to lift the bar. He struggles like Atlas lifting the Earth upon his shoulders. He is faltering. "Someone help!" he grunts. A form surges from the crowd, grabs the other end of the bar, and quickly, it is sitting on the rail.
The crowd is stunned. For the first time it is clear that the bar is truly seconds from destruction. People shuffle toward the exits. Guilt washes over the onlookers. Guilt and yet the thrill of vandalism on a grand scale.
Someone starts a countdown. "Five, four, three, two, one....."
One last shove by Stevo, and off it goes. It floats through the air for a split second as time seems to stop.
The crash brings out every resident within earshot. The police are called. The spectators run in every direction. Stevo runs for the nearby treeline.
The cops come and take witness statements. No one fingers Stevo by name, and he escapes prosecution. Stevo's roommates wait for the heat to die down, then return to clean up the smashed tile and split wood. Rigney finds out sometime the next morning. Rigney has let it be known that he is going to beat Stevo to a pulp the first time he sees him. Stevo goes into hiding.
He wears a disguise around campus, and sleeps in a friends room. After a week, he realizes he can't go on indefenitely like this. He agrees to a financial settlement with Rigney. And thus ends "The time Stevo threw Rigney's bar off the roof."
The bar fit nicely in the corner of a dorm room. It was large enough for a bartender to stand behind it, and would serve two to three patrons standing in front. All reports confirm that the bar was well received by the drinking community and that many students enjoyed bending an elbow on it during the academically relaxed summer term.
However, it was now the end of fall term, and this bar had been taking up space all semester in Stevo's on-campus apartment that he shared with three other teammates. The bar had not seen any use all term, and the inhabitants of 302 River had repeatedly asked Rigney to come remove his bar from the premises.
It was finals week. And Stevo was done with his finals. And Stevo was celebrating. And by celebrating, I mean drinking massive quantities of beer and liquor and looking for trouble.
The dust covered leviathan of a bar caught his eye. "Why is that piece of shit still here?" he asked to no one in particular. "Haven't we told him a million times to get that frickin thing out of here?" Stevo spits out a dip of tobacco and dials the phone. An answering machine picks up. "Rigney! Come get your bar tonight or we're throwing it off the roof." Stevo laughs maniacally as he hangs up.
At this point no one has recognized what has been set in motion. The bar is certainly going off the roof.
Stevo gives Rigney about thirty seconds to call back before asking for help in moving the bar out of the apartment and into the open air stairwell that separates 302 River from adjoining apartment. His roommates were only too happy to get the bar out of their apartment and so they help lug it outside. The bar now sits next to the stairwell in the open air. One tough hoist will get it up to a three foot high railing, which is now all that seperates it from a third story fall to the sidewalk. The bar is heavy. Really heavy. Too heavy for Stevo to lift to the railing by himself. Stevo shouts at the handful of bystanders "Which one of you bastards is going to help me lift this fu*ker up on the rail?"
There are no takers. No one wants to be an accessory in this. Rigney is a big guy by skinny runner standards. He is going to pummel Stevo if he goes through with this. A call goes out to the whole track team, and everyone in the River dorms in general. "Come to 302 River! Stevo is going to toss the bar!" We needed spectators. Not only to share the blame of witnessing the act, but because we needed at least one person foolish enough to assist in hoisting the bar up to the rail.
Soon we had gathered about thirty people. Most looked on from the stairwell, chanting "Stev-O! Stev-O!, Stev-O!". A couple spotters were sent down to the ground to ensure no one was killed by the falling bar. One teammate tried to talk sense into Stevo, tried to buy more time for Rigney to respond, and tried to explain why this was a really bad idea. This only motivated Stevo even more. A few residents of the river apartments threatened to call the cops. Stevo was running out of time. If it was going to happen, it had to happen soon.
The chanting reached a crescendo. "Stev-O, Steve-O, Steve-O!" Stevo waves his arms up in the air to rile the crowd. He starts to lift the bar. He struggles like Atlas lifting the Earth upon his shoulders. He is faltering. "Someone help!" he grunts. A form surges from the crowd, grabs the other end of the bar, and quickly, it is sitting on the rail.
The crowd is stunned. For the first time it is clear that the bar is truly seconds from destruction. People shuffle toward the exits. Guilt washes over the onlookers. Guilt and yet the thrill of vandalism on a grand scale.
Someone starts a countdown. "Five, four, three, two, one....."
One last shove by Stevo, and off it goes. It floats through the air for a split second as time seems to stop.
The crash brings out every resident within earshot. The police are called. The spectators run in every direction. Stevo runs for the nearby treeline.
The cops come and take witness statements. No one fingers Stevo by name, and he escapes prosecution. Stevo's roommates wait for the heat to die down, then return to clean up the smashed tile and split wood. Rigney finds out sometime the next morning. Rigney has let it be known that he is going to beat Stevo to a pulp the first time he sees him. Stevo goes into hiding.
He wears a disguise around campus, and sleeps in a friends room. After a week, he realizes he can't go on indefenitely like this. He agrees to a financial settlement with Rigney. And thus ends "The time Stevo threw Rigney's bar off the roof."
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