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Lorette Beach Party
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Lorette Beach Party, June 2003
I don’t remember the specific occasion or whether there was one; but Steve, Nelson and I were going to the Pemby on a Thursday night. We all had work the next day so we weren’t planning on drinking hard or anything, but when you go out for a couple beers with Steve and Nelson, sometimes you just don’t know….
On our way there, we drive past Crystal’s house and she happened to be just arriving home with Kevin. We yelled at them to get in and come with us. They had just come from some other party, but they were down for a trip to the Pemby.
We got there probly around 9:30, and there was a big line-up, so we just went down to the crappy sports bar downstairs to wait. A couple beers later we were still down there waiting and getting bored. Then Kevin mentioned that the annual Beach party was this weekend in Lorette, and it usually started Thursday night! After a quick discussion we decided the best plan was to drive out there, the five of us, in the Malibu, at about 10:30 on a Thursday night.
Now this was the first time I had ever been to, or even heard of, the Lorette beach party. In case you’ve never been there either, I’ll describe it for you. Small town, 100 miles past nowhere (actually it’s like 30 KMs out of Winnipeg), in this tiny little bar, they set up a big top tent outside. Then they truck in all this sand, fill the big top, then fill the dance floor inside the bar with sand. Everyone shows up in beach clothes ready to party (cause they live in Lorette and having nothing better to do), and the drink of choice on this occasion is Budweiser out of a can. I’ve never really thought about it, but now I know why they do not serve cans at any other bar anywhere. You’ll see too in a second…
Anyways, we get there, it looks ok, fairly good turnout for a Thursday night, lots of chicks, so I’m good to go. I just wish I had brought beach clothes or something better than my office clothes I had been wearing since that morning. Oh well, let’s get some beers. We’re here, an hour from home, it’s 11:30, we gotta work in the morning, might as well make a night of it. Crystal, who is the female, and therefore the smartest one in the group, sees this train wreck coming a mile away and decides to sit idly by and watch us get destroyed. Kevin starts us off with a round of Bud, which goes well enough. A few rounds later and we are all getting rowdy. That’s when they announced the bikini contest was about to begin and they needed 5 judges. We turned around and Kevin was already the first in line.
This “competition” consisted of three girls going up and dancing to something (probly pony by ginuwine) then taking their tops off. After trying to convince them it was a close race and they all needed to do it again, the MC went through the line of judges who each had some lame reason why it should be hooker #1 or hooker #2, then he got to Kevin and he answered, with one eye half closed, that he needed another beer.
Once that fun was over, we got some more beers, went back to our table and continued drinking. I think I was kicking sand in Crystal’s shoe and she was getting pretty pissed about it (this is the first time I ever met her, by the way) so I decided I needed to get up from the table for a bit. A drinking, wandering Spencer is scarcely a good thing. I decide to buy a round and bring it back to the guys, but before I get back I realize finally that I am drinking out of cans. I look down and see sand under my feet and decide that these people would not only approve, but appreciate me doing what I was about to do. Yes. That was that, I was gonna pull out my keys and start popping holes in these cans. I shot gunned one, and it went down pretty easy. My sights were now set on Shit-Housed. In the next half-hour I shot gunned every beer I got my hands on, promptly smashed the cans on my head and threw them… somewhere. Soon after, the walls came crashing down, and that’s when the head-butting started.
After the wall, some railing, and probably Crystal had suffered through my wrath, Steve decided that my night was over and he took me outside to cool off. He took me out to the big top (which was devoid of people). I took this as the opportunity to climb up the pole and get on top of the big top. When that didn’t work, I settled for stealing a clip that held the tent down.
Having had enough fun for one night, we all piled into the Malibu and headed for home; Crystal driving and me in the backseat babbling.
AFTERMATH:
I woke up the next morning in an easy chair in Nelson’s Opa’s living room. Steve was there as well, but my car was not. Crystal had taken it home. Steve and I went and picked it up and went for some breakfast at McDonalds, cause we weren’t sick enough already, then went straight to work. I was wearing the same clothes as the night before, which were the same clothes from the MORNING before, so I showed up at work wearing the same stuff I had worn there yesterday, and I am pretty sure with all the shot gunning I must have spilled at least half a can worth of beer on myself. My contacts were still in my eyes, and I pretty much felt like a bag of shit.
I recounted the tale of the night before to a co-worker. When asked what time I got home, I answered “Negative” to which he replied “Nice work”.
Four months later, I was no longer working for that company. That fact may, or may not be indirectly related to this story. |
22 Mar 2005 by Spencer
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