Morp for Juniors and Seniors

pre script
"Mr. Nate, the radio is broken"
"Yes sah, git right on dat, sah."
That was basically what would have been the dialogue between Ken and our limo driver Nate had Nate been a jolly 1930's black chauffeur like he was in my mind after I heard Ken call him Mr. Nate.


Well, seeing as its something many of us shared in together and that tends to discourage people from posting, I shall attempt to record some of what transpired on the eve of Saturday, May 21. Screw that, comment on what I left out that was important to you and I'll just put down what Scott told me to, because I'm still recovering from the all-nighter and have lost the powers of creative thought.

The crux of my post will be two stories.

First, my battle of wits with Nathan, the headwaiter at the Portland City Grill. What happened is kinda fuzzy, but I’ll do my best.

-The Starting Pistol- I make some remark about not knowing what to drink because I don’t have a wine list.

-My first shot-I accuse him of making up what Misha ordered, which was buttersih (somehow crab-encrusted also.)

-He fires back “Don’t mess with the table" after I fix his crappy wobbly table by putting a menu under one of the legs.

-I ask him to bring us a candle as our candleholder is empty.

-He does but brings me noticeably less Coke than he did Scott.

-I have nearly the exact amount of the bill and tip (off by only four cents) but ask for the change anyway.

-He brings me Scott’s change, which is three dollars.

-I test the flammability of one of said dollars (Scott let me have it, as I had gained it and two brothers) and then douse it in a water glass. Leaving a clear sign of my victory.

I know I forgot one exchange (even if it was there its still a stupid story) but it made us at the end of the table laugh. I can’t put into words the competitive animosity that I felt with this guy. Like I told Scott, he was my Lex Luthor. I beat him (I don’t think I’m poisoned) unless he tracks me down with the fingerprints left on the buck and helps the feds get me for the felony. That would be a funny way to end up at PCC.

Second, another come from behind meta-win at poker. We started off with seven guys putting five bucks in at 3:15. I quickly whittled my stack down to 55 cents. Scott quit while he was ahead and then Ian knocked out both Doug and Jeff on a hand they all had flushes on, thus taking a big lead. Ken kept catching shit at Texas (the only game he actually wanted to play) and I knocked him out. Then it went downhill and Ian knocked me out. Dave was kinda tired of playing (it was almost six) and he was slightly up, so I bought his chips and went heads-up against for the next two hours. It was a titanic struggle, ending with Machuca trying and failing to bully me around while holding a pair of fives (I pulled an inside straight.) We stopped playing there; I had a chip lead but technically Ian won, because he made two dollars more profit than I did. Props to Scott and Doug staying up the whole night with us and Dave, who slept for maybe twenty minutes.

So I don’t know about you guys, but I had a lot of fun. I can’t dance at all, but for some reason I didn’t let that faze me, even after Pat said I reminded him of Elaine in the episode of Seinfeld when she does her full-body seizure dance. All I can say is that I felt like Zorba for a night, with a happiness so inexpressible I could only satisfy it by leaping for the sky.

post script
I will edit stuff in as I remember it.