Have you ever asked yourself or wondered how the mighty Corky got promoted to Captain? Well, it all started last summer at my friends bachelor party. When you usually think bachelor party, you think about things like drinking, and lap dances, and gambling. Well the groom had just about enough of all those things during the prior decade of his life, at least in the conventional sense, so he told us that he wanted to go camping and play war. I then suggested that we go to the Falls to do this but he just shook his head at Corky and then he suggested that perhaps we should let his friend Brian handle all of the arrangements.
After our usual chaotic departure, which includes people having to unpack their DJ -ing equipment and making other people wait for an hour at train stations with heavy duffle bags in the rain, we were off to Camp JETS. The reason I call this campground, Camp Jets is because all of the cabins were stacked on top of each other and most of the people outside of our group, seem to be the same fucks that tailgate at Jets games. Most of the tailgaters camping, had thick New York accents and the licence plates on their campers confirmed my hypothesis. I always wondered what those guys did during the off season. When we first arrived at Camp Jets we had two cabins to pick from, the morning person cabin, where the wake up call is at 4:30 am. Or the lazy person cabin where the wake up call is bit more reasonable at 4:35 am. I chose the lazy person cabin. So we moved our shit into our bunks and headed out to the campfire, for the meet and greet session of the weekend.
Day 1: Now I know from most of the people at this bachelor party all my life. You had your Aquamans and Frogs, and your Darth Vaders and the Grooms best man Brian Wayne, even the famous comedian who created the bicycle bit was there, but there were two new people to be acquainted with. The Grooms future brother in law and his other, possible brother in law. If I were playing the game spades and had these two guys in my hand I would say to my partner that I have one definite and a strong possible, and I would actually bet the hand with the assumption that I was going to get my two tricks. Luckily for Corky the Grooms future brother in law, the possible brought a nice pint of jack Daniels. And just like that we became family. So we sat around the campfire getting corkified and listening to Brian Wayne revel deep dark secrets. It was getting late and we had to get to bed because we were getting up early to play war the next morning. So at 4:00 am Corky and the Possible and the comedian went to bed.
Day 2: At 4:35 am or maybe a little later the frog started playing revelry. Corky woke up still intoxicated. It was time to go to war. So we got in the camp bus and headed off to play paintball. We were all dressed from head to toe in camouflage or army green. The groom refused to cover himself head to tow in camo, it must be the Chaci in him or something, but the mother fucker even looked good in camo. I have a picture of the whole group of us standing in front of a tank. Perhaps we are a reincarnated group of a combat battalion that died in Vietnam and this is Gods cynical way of saying "ha ha sorry about that Vietnam thing". When we got to the paintball place they gave us our guns, goggles and a football helmet. We were instructed not to take off our goggles in the field of play or we would be excommunicated from the game. Do I have to tell you what Corky did after the first time he got shot? That's right I got put in time out for the next game and screamed at by a behemoth professional Paint ball person thing for taking off my goggles. When you get hit with one of these paint balls its about as pleasant a sensation as getting hit with a wet towel whipped at your bare naked ass in a locker room. We played about 5 or 6 of these games while I detoxed and I got hit in the neck once or twice. When we got back to Camp Jets we spent the rest of the day laughing at each others bruises. Some of us tried to drink the pain away but that just wasn't happening.
Day 3: We packed up our stuff from Camp Jets and headed out for our final event. We stopped of at a diner for breakfast in a neat little town in the mountains of Pennsylvania. And then an hour later we arrived at motto cross headquarters. The first thing you see when you arrive at motto cross is dudes, jumping 15 feet in the air with motor cycles. A truly amazing site to see live. Insert Corky's panic attack here. After taking out a second mortgage on our homes we were ready to receive our lesson. They brought us 7 four wheelers called Quads and taught us how to put these vehicles in gear. Next they told us that there were three trails, yellow for beginner , blue for intermediate and red for expert(Please feel free to arrange the colors anyway you like Bush). Then they took us to the entrance of the trail and told us to have fun. And we did. Corky got lost almost immediately. Somehow I was on the red trail within minuets going down slopes as sharp as the hills on a roller coaster. At one point I had to get off my Quad and reevaluate my life, I mean the situation. After some reflection I got back on my quad and was led back to my group by a father and son team of expert motor cycle riders. Then the unthinkable happened I went over a mud whole that was at least a foot thick and I was thrown from the Quad. The quad stood straight up, lodged into the mud. And I landed in the pool of mud, and I felt fucking great. This was a perfect time to take a mud bath I thought to myself. I didn't even bother to move out of the way. I seriously felt relieved and dare I say it I was high. The comedian and the possible jumped off of their quads and placed my quad up right and pulled me out of the mud.
My friend Ian has a very fast learning curve he went from being the occasional rider to jumping 15 foot jumps the same day. See skiing for other such adventures of note.
After we had turned in our quads and related our stories and took pictures of each other covered from head to toe in mud, I told my friend Brian and Doug that I had a really good time. Then I looked at Matt aka the comedian and informed him that under no circumstance was I JUMPING OUT OF A FUCKING AIRPLANE FOR HIS BACHELOR PARTY.