596 lines
15 KiB
Plaintext
596 lines
15 KiB
Plaintext
Message-ID: <32803045.1075855165911.JavaMail.evans@thyme>
|
|
Date: Wed, 28 Nov 2001 12:49:14 -0800 (PST)
|
|
From: matthew.lenhart@enron.com
|
|
To: frank.ermis@enron.com
|
|
Subject: FW: [Fwd: a day in the life]
|
|
Mime-Version: 1.0
|
|
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii
|
|
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
|
|
X-From: Lenhart, Matthew </O=ENRON/OU=NA/CN=RECIPIENTS/CN=MLENHAR>
|
|
X-To: Ermis, Frank </O=ENRON/OU=NA/CN=RECIPIENTS/CN=Fermis>
|
|
X-cc:
|
|
X-bcc:
|
|
X-Folder: \Frank_Ermis_Jan2002_1\Ermis, Frank\Inbox
|
|
X-Origin: Ermis-F
|
|
X-FileName: fermis (Non-Privileged).pst
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
-----Original Message-----
|
|
From: Luis Mena <luis.mena.2003@anderson.ucla.edu>@ENRON
|
|
Sent: Tuesday, November 27, 2001 4:33 PM
|
|
To: Lenhart, Matthew; Hull, Bryan; Bass, Eric; JOHN HARRINGTON; RYAN JONES; FRANKLIN LOBO; JENNIFER BAUER; ijzarate@hotmail.com; elias@teledynamics.com; colombiano88@hotmail.com; SACHIN SASTE; GLENN LYDAY
|
|
Subject: [Fwd: a day in the life]
|
|
|
|
this is an old one but a great one.
|
|
If you dont like this email, then you just don't understand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A chronology of events for Saturday, December 4, 1999,
|
|
and the early morning hours of Sunday,
|
|
December 5, 1999:
|
|
6:00 Arise, play the Eyes of Texas and
|
|
Texas Fight at
|
|
full-freaking blast
|
|
6:20 Get in car, drive to New Braunfels
|
|
|
|
7:30 Tee off (me and a buddy were the
|
|
FIRST tee-time
|
|
of the morning)
|
|
8:50 Turn 9 (crack open first beer)
|
|
8:53 Crack open second beer
|
|
8:58 Crack open...(you get the idea)
|
|
10:30 Finish 18 (holes, as well as
|
|
beers), sign
|
|
scorecard for smoooooth 95
|
|
10:35 Headed for San Antonio
|
|
10:50 Buy three 18-packs for pre- and
|
|
post-game
|
|
festivities
|
|
11:10 We decide we don't have enough
|
|
booze, so we
|
|
double-back to a liquor store and buy
|
|
the good ol' 750
|
|
ml plastic bottle "Traveler" Jim Beam
|
|
11:50 Arrive at the tailgate spot.
|
|
Awesome day. Not
|
|
a single cloud in the sky. About 70
|
|
degrees.
|
|
11:55 I decide that we're going to kick
|
|
the shit out
|
|
of Nebraska.
|
|
11:56 I tell my first Nebraska fan to
|
|
go fuck
|
|
himself.
|
|
12:15 The UT band walks by on the way
|
|
to the
|
|
Alamodome. We're on the second floor of
|
|
a two-story
|
|
parking garage on the corner (a couple
|
|
hundred of us).
|
|
We're hooting and hollering like
|
|
wildmen. The band
|
|
doubles back to the street right below
|
|
us and
|
|
serenades us with Texas Fight and The
|
|
Eyes of Texas.
|
|
AWESOME MOMENT.
|
|
12:25 In the post-serenade serendipity,
|
|
50-100 grown
|
|
men are bumping chests with one
|
|
another, each and
|
|
every one of them now secure and
|
|
certain of the fact
|
|
that we are going to kick the
|
|
shit out of Nebraska.
|
|
1:00 The Nebraska band walks by on the
|
|
way to the
|
|
Alamodome. Again, we hoot and holler
|
|
like wildmen.
|
|
Again, the band doubles back and stops
|
|
right below us
|
|
to serenade us, this time, however,
|
|
with the Nebraska
|
|
fight songs. Although somewhat
|
|
impressed by their
|
|
spirit and verve, we remain convinced
|
|
that we are
|
|
going to kick the shit out of
|
|
Nebraska.
|
|
1:30 I begin the walk to the Alamodome,
|
|
somehow
|
|
managing to stuff the "Traveler" and 11
|
|
cans of beer
|
|
into my pants.
|
|
1:47 I am in line surrounded by
|
|
Nebraska fans. They
|
|
are taunting me. I am taunting back,
|
|
still certain
|
|
that we are going to kick the
|
|
shit out of Nebraska. I
|
|
decide to challenge a particularly
|
|
vocal Nebraska fan
|
|
to play what I now call and will
|
|
forever be remembered
|
|
as "Cell-Phone Flop Out." Remember flop
|
|
out for a
|
|
dollar? The rules are similar. I tell
|
|
this Nebraska
|
|
jackass that if he's so confident in
|
|
his team, he
|
|
should "flop out" his cell phone RIGHT
|
|
NOW and make
|
|
plane reservations to Phoenix for the
|
|
Fiesta Bowl.
|
|
And then I spoke these memorable words:
|
|
"And not
|
|
those
|
|
damn refundable tickets, either! You
|
|
request those
|
|
non-refundable, non-transferrable
|
|
sons-of-bitches!"
|
|
He backs down. He is unworthy. I call
|
|
Southwest
|
|
Airlines and buy two tickets to
|
|
Phoenix,
|
|
non-refundable
|
|
and non-transferrable. Price: $712. He
|
|
is humbled.
|
|
He lowers his head in shame. I raise my
|
|
cell phone in
|
|
triumph to the cheers of hundreds of
|
|
Texas fans. I am
|
|
KING and these are my subjects. I
|
|
distribute the 11
|
|
beers in my pants to the cheering
|
|
masses. I RULE the
|
|
pre-game kingdom.
|
|
2:34 Kickoff. Brimming with confidence,
|
|
I open the
|
|
Traveler and pour my first stiffy.
|
|
2:45 I notice something troubling:
|
|
Nebraska is big.
|
|
Nebraska is fast. Nebraska is very
|
|
pissed off at
|
|
Texas.
|
|
3:01 The first quarter mercifully ends.
|
|
9 yards
|
|
total offense for Texas. Zero first
|
|
downs for Texas.
|
|
I'm still talking shit. I pour
|
|
another stiffy from
|
|
the Traveler.
|
|
3:36 Four minutes to go in the first
|
|
half: the
|
|
Traveler is a dead soldier. I buy my
|
|
first $5 beer
|
|
from the Alamodome merchants. While I
|
|
am standing in
|
|
line, a center snap nearly decapitates
|
|
Major
|
|
Applewhite
|
|
and rolls out of the end zone. Safety.
|
|
3:56 Halftime score: Nebraska 15, Texas
|
|
0. I wish I
|
|
had another Traveler.
|
|
4:11 While urinating next to a Nebraska
|
|
fan in the
|
|
bathroom at halftime, I attempt to
|
|
revive the classic
|
|
Brice-ism from the South Bend bathroom:
|
|
"Hey, buddy,
|
|
niiiiiiiiice cock." He is
|
|
unamused.
|
|
4:21 I buy my 2nd and 3rd $5 beer from
|
|
the Alamodome
|
|
merchants. I share my beer with two
|
|
high school girls
|
|
sitting behind me. Surprisingly, they
|
|
are equipped
|
|
with a flask full of vodka. I send them
|
|
off to
|
|
purchase $5 Sprites, so that we may
|
|
consume their
|
|
vodka. I have not lost faith. Nebraska
|
|
is a bunch of
|
|
pussies.
|
|
4:51 No more vodka. The girls sitting
|
|
behind me have
|
|
fled for their lives. I purchase two
|
|
more $5 beers
|
|
from the Alamodome merchants.
|
|
5:18 Score is Nebraska 22, Texas 0. I
|
|
am beginning
|
|
to lose faith. This normally would
|
|
trouble me, but I
|
|
am too drunk to see the football field.
|
|
|
|
5:27 I call Southwest Airlines: "I'm
|
|
sorry, sir.
|
|
Those tickets have been confirmed and
|
|
are
|
|
non-refundable and non-transferrable."
|
|
5:37 I try to start a fight with every
|
|
person behind
|
|
the concession counter. As it turns
|
|
out, the
|
|
Alamodome has a policy that no beer can
|
|
be sold when
|
|
there is less than 10 minutes on the
|
|
game clock. I am
|
|
enraged by this policy. I ask loudly:
|
|
"Why the fuck
|
|
didn't you announce last call over the
|
|
fucking PA
|
|
system??!!"
|
|
5:49 Back in my seats, I am slumped in
|
|
my chair in
|
|
defeat. All of a sudden, the Texas
|
|
crowd goes
|
|
absolutely nuts. "Whazzis?," I mutter,
|
|
awaking from
|
|
my coma, "Iz we winnig? Did wez scort?"
|
|
Alas, the
|
|
answer is no, we were not winning and
|
|
we did not
|
|
score.
|
|
The largest (by far) cheer of the day
|
|
from the Texas
|
|
faithful occurred when the handlers
|
|
were walking back
|
|
to the tunnel and Bevo stopped to take
|
|
a gargantuan
|
|
shit all over the letters "S",
|
|
"K", and "A" in the
|
|
"Nebraska" spelled out in their end
|
|
zone. I cheer
|
|
wildly. I pick up the empty Traveler
|
|
bottle and stick
|
|
my tongue in it. I am thirsty.
|
|
6:16 Nebraska fans are going berserk as
|
|
I walk back
|
|
to the truck. I would taunt them with
|
|
some off-color
|
|
remarks about their parentage, but I am
|
|
too drunk to
|
|
form complete sentences. With my last
|
|
cognitive
|
|
thought of the evening, I take solace
|
|
in the fact that
|
|
if we had not beaten them in October,
|
|
they would be
|
|
playing Florida State for the national
|
|
championship.
|
|
6:30 Back in the car. On the way back
|
|
to Austin for
|
|
the 8:00 Texas-Arizona tip off. We can
|
|
still salvage
|
|
the day! I crack open a beer. It is
|
|
warm. I don't
|
|
care.
|
|
7:12 We have stopped for gas. I am
|
|
hungry. I go
|
|
inside the store. I walk past the beer
|
|
frig. I
|
|
notice a Zima. I've never had a Zima. I
|
|
wonder if
|
|
it's any good. I pull a Zima from the
|
|
frig. I twist
|
|
the top off and drink the Zima in three
|
|
swallows.
|
|
Zima
|
|
sucks. I replace the empty bottle in
|
|
the frig.
|
|
7:17 There is a Blimpie Subs in the
|
|
store. I walk to
|
|
where the ingredients are, where the
|
|
person usually
|
|
makes the sub. There is no one there. I
|
|
lean over
|
|
the counter and scoop out half a bucket
|
|
of black
|
|
olives. I eat them. I am still hungry.
|
|
I lean
|
|
further over the counter and grab
|
|
approximately two
|
|
pounds of Pastrami. I walk out of the
|
|
store
|
|
grunting and eating Pastrami. The
|
|
patrons in the
|
|
store fear me. I don't care.
|
|
8:01 We are in South Austin. I have
|
|
been drinking
|
|
warm beer and singing Brooks and Dunn
|
|
tunes for over
|
|
an hour. My truck-mate is tired of my
|
|
singing. He
|
|
suggests that perhaps Brooks and Dunn
|
|
have written
|
|
other good songs besides "You're Going
|
|
to Miss Me When
|
|
I'm Gone" and "Neon Moon" and that
|
|
maybe listening to
|
|
only those two songs, ten times each
|
|
was a bit
|
|
excessive. Perhaps, he suggests, I
|
|
could just let the
|
|
CD play on its own. I tell him to
|
|
fuck off and
|
|
restart "Neon Moon."
|
|
8:30 We arrive at the Erwin Center. My
|
|
truckmate,
|
|
against my loud and profane
|
|
protestations, parks on
|
|
the top floor of a nearby parking
|
|
garage. I tell him
|
|
he's an idiot. I tell him we will never
|
|
get out. I
|
|
tell him we may as well pitch a
|
|
fucking tent here. He
|
|
ignores me. I think he's still pissed
|
|
about the
|
|
Brooks and Dunn tunes. I whistle "Neon
|
|
Moon" loudly.
|
|
8:47 I am rallying. I have 4 warm beers
|
|
stuffed in
|
|
my pants. We're going to kick the
|
|
shit out of
|
|
Arizona.
|
|
9:11 Halftime score: Texas 31, Arizona
|
|
29. I am
|
|
pleased. I go to the bathroom to pee
|
|
for the 67th
|
|
time today. I giggle to myself because
|
|
of the
|
|
new opportunity to do "the bathroom
|
|
Brice." There are
|
|
no Arizona fans in the bathroom. I am
|
|
disappointed.
|
|
I tell myself (out loud) that I have a
|
|
"Niiiiiice
|
|
cock." No one is amused but me.
|
|
9:41 I walk to the bathroom while
|
|
drinking Bud Light
|
|
out of a can. Needless to say, they do
|
|
not sell beer
|
|
at the Erwin Center, much less Bud
|
|
Light out of a can.
|
|
I am stopped by an usher: "Where did
|
|
you get
|
|
that, sir?" I tell him (no shit):
|
|
"Oh, the
|
|
cheerleaders were throwing them up with
|
|
those little
|
|
plastic footballs. Would you mind
|
|
throwing this away
|
|
for me?" I take the last swig and hand
|
|
it to him. He
|
|
is confused. I pretend I'm going to the
|
|
bathroom, but
|
|
I run away giggling instead. I duck
|
|
into some
|
|
entrance to avoid the usher, who is now
|
|
pursuing me.
|
|
I sneak into a large group of people
|
|
and sit down.
|
|
The
|
|
usher walks by harmlessly. I am
|
|
giggling like a little
|
|
girl. I crack open another can of Bud
|
|
Light.
|
|
9:52 I am lost. In my haste to avoid
|
|
the usher, I
|
|
have lost my bearings. I have no ticket
|
|
stub. I
|
|
cannot find my seats. Texas is losing.
|
|
10:09 Texas is being screwed by the
|
|
refs. I am
|
|
enraged. I have cleared out the seats
|
|
around me
|
|
because I keep removing my hat and
|
|
beating the
|
|
surrounding chairs with it. A concerned
|
|
fan asks if
|
|
I'm OK and perhaps I shouldn't take it
|
|
so seriously.
|
|
I tell him to fuck off.
|
|
10:15 After the fourth consecutive
|
|
"worst fucking
|
|
call I have EVER seen," I attempt to
|
|
remove my hat
|
|
again to begin beating inanimate
|
|
objects. However, on
|
|
this occasion I miscalculate and I
|
|
thumbnail myself in
|
|
my left eyelid, leaving a one-quarter
|
|
inch gash over
|
|
my eye. I am now bleeding into my left
|
|
eye and all
|
|
over my shirt. "Perhaps," I think to
|
|
myself, "I'm
|
|
taking this a bit seriously."
|
|
10:22 I am standing in the bathroom
|
|
peeing. I'm so
|
|
drunk I am swaying and grunting. I have
|
|
a bloody
|
|
napkin pressed on my left eye. My pants
|
|
are bloody.
|
|
I have my (formerly) white shirt
|
|
wrapped around my
|
|
waist. I look like I should be in an
|
|
episode of Cops.
|
|
10:43 Texas has lost. I put my bloody
|
|
white shirt
|
|
back on my body and make my way for the
|
|
exits. I am
|
|
stopped every 20 seconds by a good
|
|
samaritan/cop/security guard to ask me
|
|
why I am
|
|
covered in blood, but I merely grunt
|
|
incoherently and
|
|
keep moving.
|
|
10:59 With my one good eye, I have
|
|
located the
|
|
parking garage. I walk up six flights
|
|
of stairs,
|
|
promise that when I see my friend I
|
|
will punch him
|
|
in the face for making me walk up six
|
|
flights of
|
|
stairs, find the truck, and collapse in
|
|
a heap in the
|
|
bed of the truck. I look around and
|
|
notice that
|
|
traffic is lined up all the way around
|
|
the garage, six
|
|
whole flights, and no one is moving. I
|
|
take a nap.
|
|
11:17 I awake from my nap. I see my
|
|
friend in the
|
|
driver's seat. I lift my head to look
|
|
out the bed of
|
|
the truck and notice that traffic is
|
|
lined up all the
|
|
way around the garage, six whole
|
|
flights, and no one
|
|
is
|
|
moving. I am too tired to punch my
|
|
friend. I call my
|
|
friend a "Stupid fuck."
|
|
11:31 I lift my head to look out the
|
|
bed of the truck
|
|
and notice that traffic is lined up all
|
|
the way around
|
|
the garage, six whole flights, and no
|
|
one is moving.
|
|
I call my friend a "Stupid fuck."
|
|
|
|
11:38 I lift my head to look out the
|
|
bed of the truck
|
|
and notice that traffic is lined up all
|
|
the way around
|
|
the garage, six whole flights, and no
|
|
one is moving.
|
|
I call my friend a "Stupid fuck."
|
|
|
|
11:47 I lift my head to look out the
|
|
bed of the truck
|
|
and notice that traffic is lined up all
|
|
the way around
|
|
the garage, six whole flights, and no
|
|
one is moving.
|
|
I call my friend a "Stupid fuck."
|
|
|
|
11:58 I am jostled. The truck is
|
|
moving. I lift my
|
|
head to look out the bed of the truck
|
|
and notice that
|
|
traffic is beginning to move on the
|
|
second floor. I
|
|
jump out of the truck, walk to the edge
|
|
of the parking
|
|
facility, and pee off the sixth floor
|
|
onto the street
|
|
below. My friend looks at me like I
|
|
just anally
|
|
violated his minor sister. I turn
|
|
around and pee
|
|
on the front of his truck while singing
|
|
the lyrics
|
|
to "Neon Moon."
|
|
12:11 We are moving. We are out of
|
|
beer. I jump
|
|
from the truck and go from vehicle to
|
|
vehicle until
|
|
someone gives me two beers. I am happy.
|
|
I return to
|
|
my vehicle.
|
|
12:26 We have emerged from the parking
|
|
facility. We
|
|
make our way to my apartment and find
|
|
Ed sitting on
|
|
the couch with a freshly opened bottle
|
|
of Glenlivet on
|
|
the coffee table in front of him. We
|
|
are all going to
|
|
die tonight.
|
|
12:59 We have finished three-quarters
|
|
of the bottle
|
|
of Glenlivet. We decide it would be a
|
|
wonderful idea
|
|
to go dancing at PollyEsther's. Ed has
|
|
to pee. He
|
|
walks down the hall to our apartment
|
|
and directly into
|
|
the full length mirror at the end of
|
|
the hall,
|
|
smashing it into hundreds of pieces. We
|
|
giggle
|
|
uncontrollably and leave for
|
|
PollyEsther's.
|
|
1:17 The PollyEsther's doorman laughs
|
|
uncontrollably
|
|
at our efforts to enter his club.
|
|
"Fellas," he says
|
|
in between his fits of spastic
|
|
laughter, "I've been
|
|
working this door for almost a year.
|
|
I've been
|
|
working
|
|
doors in this town for almost 5 years.
|
|
And I can
|
|
honestly say that I ain't never seen
|
|
three drunker
|
|
mother fuckers than you three.
|
|
Sorry, can't let you
|
|
in." We attempt to reason with him. He
|
|
laughs
|
|
harder.
|
|
1:44 We find a bar that lets us in. We
|
|
take two
|
|
steps in the door and hear "Last call
|
|
for alcohol!" I
|
|
turn to the group and mutter: "See, dat
|
|
wasn't that
|
|
fuckin' hard. Day don't fuckin' do that
|
|
at the
|
|
Awamo...the awaom...the
|
|
alab...fuck it, that stadium
|
|
we
|
|
was at today..." We order 6 shots of
|
|
tequila and
|
|
three beers.
|
|
2:15 Back on the street. We need food.
|
|
We hail a
|
|
cab to take us the two and one half
|
|
blocks to Katz's.
|
|
The cab fare is $1.60. We give him $10
|
|
and tell him
|
|
to keep it.
|
|
2:17 There is a 20 minute wait. We give
|
|
the hostess
|
|
$50. We are seated immediately.
|
|
2:25 We order two orders of fried
|
|
pickles, a Cobb
|
|
salad, a bowl of soup, two orders of
|
|
Blueberry
|
|
blintzes, two Reuben sandwiches, a
|
|
hamburger, two
|
|
cheese stuffed potatoes, an order of
|
|
fries, and an
|
|
order of onion rings.
|
|
2:39 The food arrives. We are all
|
|
asleep with our
|
|
heads on the table. The waiter wakes us
|
|
up. We eat
|
|
every fucking bit of our food. Most
|
|
of the restaurant
|
|
patrons around us are disgusted. We
|
|
don't give a
|
|
shit.
|
|
The tab is $112 with tip.
|
|
2:46 I'm sleepy.
|
|
9:12 I wake up next to a strange woman.
|
|
She is the
|
|
bartender at Katz's. She is not pretty. |