Tuesday, May 03, 2005
I Love My Mud Puddle. My Mud, My Mud Puddle.
Okay, so I lied. I didn't post last night, since I was obliged to participate in a Texas Hold 'Em game that was scheduled at the last minute. In summary: I lost, and either Jimmy or Brendan won. I'm not sure because I went to bed. Brendan, if you're out there, feel free to fill us in on the results.
As you may know, I went to Washington D.C. last weekend to visit Irf, Julia, and Spiro, who was visiting from NYC. On Saturday night, we were initially planning on going to see a Washington Nationals game at RFK, but it was still raining around the time we had to make the decision whether to go and get tickets, so we ended up making new plans. We went down to Dupont Circle to Buffalo Billiards (right below the infamous Front Page), where they were showing the Celtics playoff game on the big screen. Irf, Julia, Spiro and I enjoyed watching the Celtics blow out the Pacers in Indiana. Spiro's brother, Topher, and a few of his friends also joined us for dinner and drinks while we watched the game. After the game had ended, Irf, Julia, The Brothers Spiro, and a few others ventured out to find another bar. Julia decided that she would go home, since it was 1:00 AM and she had been working on budgets at work all day (this earned her the nickname "Budgets McWife", temprorarily replacing her post-alcohol consumption moniker "Boozy McWife"). Her exit proved to be untimely, as we would soon witness a hilarious scene, repeated over and over.
schadenfreude (shädn-froid) n. Pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.
We were walking past the Eighteenth Street Lounge, a very trendy nightclub with a line about 25 people deep, when we noticed that one of the 6 X 8 concrete slabs was missing from the sidewalk, bordering the curb. The 6-inch-deep hole that remained had been filled with rainwater during the day, which mixed with the dirt there to create a good amount of muddy water. For those walking from the street onto the sidewalk, the puddle was obscured by two closely-parked cars. As Irf, Spiro, and I stood there waiting for Topher and his friends to catch up with us, we made an interesting realization: nobody seemed to notice that this huge mud pit was there. At first, we stood there and watched as a few people stepped in it. This soon became more like a spectator sport...Puddle Dodging. A girl approaced the curb and was distracted by our presence -- six people, shoulder to shoulder, staring at her with anticipation. Three...two...one...splashdown. As she planted her foot in the puddle, she seemed to give us a look which said "Why? Why couldn't you have warned me?". Short answer: It was funny.
Initially, we were trying to be casual about our spectating, but it wasn't long until we moved into vocal responses. Another girl approached the curb and planted her high heel right in the middle of the puddle. "Ohhhh!" we responded. She immediately became self-conscious and tried to rush out of the puddle to put her feet on solid ground. Bad idea. Her non-muddy foot hit the pavement and -- whoosh -- skidded out in front of her sending her into a full split. This time we were louder, "Ohhhhh!!!". Irf, Spiro, and I were slightly embarassed by our natural reactions and turned to walk down the street a few yards instead of laughing directly in the girl's face. We had to go back to watch, because now we were hooked.
We are not as terrible as you might think. If it were homeless people or elderly people or kids falling into the mud puddle, we would have been the first ones to alert people of its presence, but it wasn't. The victims were part of a crowd of self-appointed VIP's, dressed to the nines, slightly drunk already and calling their friends on their cell phones letting them know that they had arrived at "the club". Now that is funny and you can't deny it. Back to the action. A man in loafers with khaki pants and a jacket talks on his cell phone, blissfully unaware that he is teetering on the edge of the mud puddle.
"Back, back, back," Spiro says quietly as we all stare at the man's heels in anticipation. Distracted by his phone conversation, he takes one step back, unintentionally following Spiro's command. Splashdown. Another victim, another burst of uproarious laughter. Perhaps we are terrible people.
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As you may know, I went to Washington D.C. last weekend to visit Irf, Julia, and Spiro, who was visiting from NYC. On Saturday night, we were initially planning on going to see a Washington Nationals game at RFK, but it was still raining around the time we had to make the decision whether to go and get tickets, so we ended up making new plans. We went down to Dupont Circle to Buffalo Billiards (right below the infamous Front Page), where they were showing the Celtics playoff game on the big screen. Irf, Julia, Spiro and I enjoyed watching the Celtics blow out the Pacers in Indiana. Spiro's brother, Topher, and a few of his friends also joined us for dinner and drinks while we watched the game. After the game had ended, Irf, Julia, The Brothers Spiro, and a few others ventured out to find another bar. Julia decided that she would go home, since it was 1:00 AM and she had been working on budgets at work all day (this earned her the nickname "Budgets McWife", temprorarily replacing her post-alcohol consumption moniker "Boozy McWife"). Her exit proved to be untimely, as we would soon witness a hilarious scene, repeated over and over.
schadenfreude (shädn-froid) n. Pleasure derived from the misfortunes of others.
We were walking past the Eighteenth Street Lounge, a very trendy nightclub with a line about 25 people deep, when we noticed that one of the 6 X 8 concrete slabs was missing from the sidewalk, bordering the curb. The 6-inch-deep hole that remained had been filled with rainwater during the day, which mixed with the dirt there to create a good amount of muddy water. For those walking from the street onto the sidewalk, the puddle was obscured by two closely-parked cars. As Irf, Spiro, and I stood there waiting for Topher and his friends to catch up with us, we made an interesting realization: nobody seemed to notice that this huge mud pit was there. At first, we stood there and watched as a few people stepped in it. This soon became more like a spectator sport...Puddle Dodging. A girl approaced the curb and was distracted by our presence -- six people, shoulder to shoulder, staring at her with anticipation. Three...two...one...splashdown. As she planted her foot in the puddle, she seemed to give us a look which said "Why? Why couldn't you have warned me?". Short answer: It was funny.
Initially, we were trying to be casual about our spectating, but it wasn't long until we moved into vocal responses. Another girl approached the curb and planted her high heel right in the middle of the puddle. "Ohhhh!" we responded. She immediately became self-conscious and tried to rush out of the puddle to put her feet on solid ground. Bad idea. Her non-muddy foot hit the pavement and -- whoosh -- skidded out in front of her sending her into a full split. This time we were louder, "Ohhhhh!!!". Irf, Spiro, and I were slightly embarassed by our natural reactions and turned to walk down the street a few yards instead of laughing directly in the girl's face. We had to go back to watch, because now we were hooked.
We are not as terrible as you might think. If it were homeless people or elderly people or kids falling into the mud puddle, we would have been the first ones to alert people of its presence, but it wasn't. The victims were part of a crowd of self-appointed VIP's, dressed to the nines, slightly drunk already and calling their friends on their cell phones letting them know that they had arrived at "the club". Now that is funny and you can't deny it. Back to the action. A man in loafers with khaki pants and a jacket talks on his cell phone, blissfully unaware that he is teetering on the edge of the mud puddle.
"Back, back, back," Spiro says quietly as we all stare at the man's heels in anticipation. Distracted by his phone conversation, he takes one step back, unintentionally following Spiro's command. Splashdown. Another victim, another burst of uproarious laughter. Perhaps we are terrible people.
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