the tournament was over, but our return trip to bosotn was just beginning. time to say goodbye to savannah, and hello to 95. 95 is very very long. virginia is a very big state. i sped, but did not get a ticket. hooray.
subject heading: The Last Deprivation of Sleep
date: Thursday, March 25, 2004 2:23 AM
the e-mail:
"DAY 7
After a delicious breakfast (THANKS, HOLZER!) and the aforementioned syrup-chugging proposition by Sean to Christina, everyone pitched in to clean up said fancy beach condo and headed out to play a little beach frisbee in the sun. The day was the hottest all week, so a few of us braved the frigid Atlantic just to say we did it. Spoony, Beej, Adge, and I all ran in at various times. Beej and Adge did it twice so the sun would seem that much warmer. I don't know if that's safe, but to each his own, eh?
The tournament director had set up a rookie pick up game and an all-star game, so only a few Pilots got to play for real. The rest of us just chilled, tossed a little, and gawked at the guy posing for pictures for his team's "calendar." Three words, guys: Shiny gold thong. GOO!!! haha!
Not a whole lot happened after that, though. The guys left for Terminus in Atlanta and we ladies headed back to our campsite. We were going to make up some smores and swap girly gossip, but we all just passed the fuck out instead. Figured we'd leave the girly gossip for Jasper. haha!
We disassembled camp the way we set it up . . . in the pitch-black dark. F-U-N, fun! Again, Meghann with the mad skillz at the camp directing. We were packed up and on the road by the ass-crack of dawn.
DAY 8
There wasn't a whole lot of stoppage on the way to Philadelphia, except for a quick lunch at a Bojangles for two of the three cars. Our stop included some blatant Northerner activity, such as staring at the menu for about ten minutes as if it were written in code and an amazing display by me, yelling out "Shit!" in the middle of the crowded restaurant as my sweetened iced tea toppled over at the feet of the old ladies sitting next to us while all the jaws of the Little League team across the room dropped upon hearing such offensive slang. WOOPSIES!!
We made it safely into Philly without being shot by any Southern senior citizens nor anyone from the gangs who originally drove the Fresh Prince out of "West Philadelphia." Word.
It was great to see Mike and Tom. They made us a fabulous spread of ham, fillafel, and tasty salad. There was some wine had (mainly by Allison) and a mighty fine rum cake in double celebration of Beth's birthday and our victory.
V. V-I. V-I-C-T-O-R-Y! Hold the V, dot the I, and you better BELIEVE we rocked that C-T-O-R-Y.
Sorry, my mom was a cheerleader . . .
We woke up the next day after tallying points and dozing off to The Big Lebowski to another big meal of french toast, juice, bagels, and I don't even know what else, but I know I went back three times. Mmmm!! We were pumped and rarin' to go by the ass-crack of 1 pm. Sleep is SO nice . . . even if you don't get the bed . . . or the couch. I'm not bitter, I swear.
After that, it was only a matter of about 6 hours to get back to Boston. We all survived each other and our vehicles and arrived safely by about 7 pm.
All right!! I'm done!!! Are you good?? I'm good. I'll be taking recap hiatus for about ten years now. This is and was my opus. I hope you all enjoyed/enjoy/are enjoying it. If you've made it to this point, you're AMAZING!! There will be a secret gift for all of you . . . What that gift is, I have no idea. Sexual favors?? Perhaps I'll direct you to Jeff's mom.
Peace,
Pipe
(Get it?? Peace Pipe?? Funny, eh?? . . . No? Really? Okay. 'Night!!)"
we stopped in philly to visit with tom and mike. it was really nice to see them. mike's doing well, and i'm glad that he's enjoying his life in philly. i didn't get to speak with him much while we were there, but such is life when he's the host of 14 lovely lady pilots. it was a good visit, and i look forward to visiting with mike sometime in the near future.
and here ends the lady ozone pilots high tide 2004 recap. props to piper for writing all of this for the pilots to enjoy. it's a good thing i finished cutting, pasting, and adding my comments to these posts....because it's time for track practice. i'll be back to write more sometime soon. i hope.
we're not in savannah anymore.
-me : )
March 29, 2004
high tide 2004, part 6-women's tournament, day three
it's day three of the tournament and i've played 13 games up to this point. lucky 13. single elimination. and we're seeded 3rd going into thursday. i'll let piper do the rest of the writing.
subject heading: THE END IS NEAR!
date: Thursday, March 25, 2004 2:19 AM
the e-mail:
"So, I'm on DAY 6 now. The playoffs.
Wednesday's games left us tired and hungry. Running around all day doesn't seem to work so well on beer and granola bars . . . WEIRD! So, to go along with our Applebee's funtimes the night before, we decided we'd start the day right with a big ol' meal! But where to go?? So many choices!! Do we go to Dunkin' Donuts: a pleasant establishment well known and frequented by the team? Perhaps Starbucks: nationally renowned for cracking folks out on double-shots and frappucino chips? What about some place new: a restaurant never before frequented by the Ozone Pilots tous ensemble. That restaurant: THE WAFFLE HOUSE.
How many ways can hashbrowns be prepared? I still don't know, but Waffle House has a pretty good start . . . Smothered, covered, mashed, trashed, grilled, chilled, filled, dilled, battered, plattered, jellied, steamed, broiled, oven-fresh, poppin'-fresh, pipin'-hot, diced, sliced, quartered, extra-tasty crispy, original recipe, honey roasted, lightly salted, pepper jack, sharp jack, vermont sharp, mild, hot, fire, water, rock, pape– . . . I could go on, but I won't since you probably stopped reading up by "trashed."
Our waitress was a hip, hip chick named Velma or something. There's a picture of her somewhere. She was definitely the most perfect Waffle House maiden we could've asked for. Blonde/grey hair, pushin' 60, and SASSY!! PERFECT! Oh! She was so great that when I rattled off my order of sides (eggs, grits, hasbrowns) . . . and she asked, "How 'bout some meat with thayat?" I couldn't help myself!! I had to order sausage too. There's NO resisting the Waffle House waitress. Lisa downed a BIG fuckin' waffle. I think Erin was suckered into some bacon to add on to her choices. Omelettes were EVERYWHERE . . . and of course, hashbrowns . . . TONS of hashbrowns. But there was one meal that really took the "soul" cake. Rosie's "Grilled Texas Bacon Patty Melt Plate" was by FAR the greasiest, the meatiest, and the meltiest? Yeah, I don't know if Velma was her waitress . . . or Satan.
We stuffed our faces. Then it was ON TO THE FIELDS!!!
Game 8 - Wesleyan A
So, right off the bat, Rosie felt like the "Grilled Texas Bacon Patty Melt Plate" would soon become the "Regurgitated Georgia Pork Ground Beef Cheese Chunk Puke Pile." Not quite as appetizing. Teamwide athleticism was in question. Would we be able to play with the hashbrowns sloshing in our otherwise empty stomachs? Would our quickness be compromised by the added weight of scrambled eggs and cheese? Was Velma actually the devil in a grey/blonde wig with a motherly flare and a sweet southern smile??
Supposedly Wesleyan A had the same experience/talent as Wesleyan B. . . They just mixed the teams equally. Then, judging by our performance, WAFFLE HOUSE IS NEVER A GOOD PLACE TO GO BEFORE DOING ANYTHING AT ALL REMOTELY PHYSICAL BESIDES WALKING TO YOUR CAR, MOVING YOUR ARMS TO DRIVE YOUR ASS HOME, WADDLING INTO YOUR HOUSE, AND MAKING IT AS FAR AS THE COUCH BEFORE PASSING OUT AND SLEEPING OFF WHATEVER SORT OF EVIL, WONDERFUL CONCOCTION YOU JUST CONSUMED. That said, we sucked.
We traded points with these girls all fucking game. BALLS!!! They kept throwing that fucking swilly-ass shit and we had nothing besides grits residue lodged in our teeth. There were some great in-cuts made . . . Mack, Beej, Al, Meghann . . . Those freshmen are HOTTTTT!!! But, sadly, we couldn't pull it all together . . . at least not until Rosie made a sweet catch on the edge of the endzone for a score (controversial to the bitter Wesleyan bench-warmers, but they were too scared to get any closer and actually see Rosie's cleat mark nestled just inside the bounds). That FINALLY put us up by two and we were able to finish that shit within a couple points.
Final: BU, 13 - Wesleyan A, way too close
Game 9 - Michigan State . . . again
Thanks to the fucked-up shit that Syracuse pulled for all the bracketing and whatnot, we ended up playing Michigan State for the semis. They bumped off Notre Dame. WHAAA?? I have NO idea how that happened, but it had something to do with a drastic increase in variety of play thanks to their new (well, new since Tuesday, but not in age) club ringer. She was good. I'll give them that, but still!! We're just too awesome.
Rochester had also beaten Notre Dame earlier in pool play. Something was not right in the cards for that game or something. It's gotta be the fucking hairy armpits. PERSONAL HYGIENE, PEOPLE!! So, I don't know. But we didn't have to play them again.
Personal hygiene was definitely on everyone's side for our second game of the day, though. Our food had settled, the sun had gone down a bit, and even Ariel on MSU pitched in by zesting her armpit with orange peel goodness in lieu of forgotten deodorant (see Allison's snaps).
The variety of their ringer didn't phase us in the least. They still stuck with their ultra-lame offense . . . and their funky zones only worked when I had the disc, in which case a stuff was made followed quickly by a score by my girl. . . . Why, Grits!? Why!?!
**Note to the freshmen: Always blame inanimate objects for your faults. They can't defend themselves. . . They can't do anything for themselves. . . They're inanimate. Get it?**
Back to the game! There was some crazy-ass wind which complimented our 2-3-2 quite nicely. Downwind points were key . . . and they're so much fun! Yahoo! Yahoo for hucks!! Yahoo for school!
All-in-all, good game. Good times.
Final: BU, 13 - Michigan State, 5??? maybe more?
GAME 9 - FINALS!!!! (vs. Edinborough)
Quarters to Semis to next game = Finals. YEA! We made it!! Don't ask me how, but we did. I think we'd all like to thank Track Practice and buy it "a nice, big drink of shake-your-hand."
The game was really a blur of lights, people, "Ozone Pilots" call-and-answer cheers by random groups of spectators, LOTS of drunkenness from our guys (Jeff and Jasper in particular), and A LOT of running.
We pulled out to an amazing four-point lead and maintained that positive attitude throughout the match-up. Points were traded there for awhile, but we held on to our lead . . . even after a 30 MINUTE POINT, which fucking Edinborough ended up winning. Bastards. Their cup did work pretty hard, so I'll give it to 'em. Fake half was called when we thought the game was to 13. So, another point was played when we heard it was to 15. We took it to half. Then, fake cap was called, but that was called off and the dude was like, "Don't worry about it. Game to 13." FUCKIN'-A, GUY! Make up your mind!
When we came back from half, there was some tension. I'm not gonna lie. They were hungry and also very confused as to why they weren't kicking the crap out of us like they had previously. Their stupid male hecklers were back on the opposite sideline trying to get into our heads . . . or our pants, I'm not sure, but the rest of the crowd loved us. The stadium (that's right, stadium . . . not huge, but a stadium nonetheless) rocked with hurrahs for the Ozone Pilots. They absolutely LOVED us!! The whole tournament loved us. Even Edinborough loved us, though they didn't want to admit it. Come on!! How can you not?
Beth was skying people left and right. The disc was there, Beth was there. The disc was here, Beth was here. Anywhere the disc was, Beth was . . . and they tried to put this tiny girl long. She may've been quick, but when Beth was there (and Beth was always there) it was like a midget trying to go up against Shaq. You just don't do that. It's embarrassing . . . and disrespectful of Shaq/Beth. The only time that match-up was interesting was when Beth steamrolled the girl to get the D. Might've been a foul, looked awful, but DAMN! the crowd loved it. The girl I was defending (ya know, the hot one) and I agreed that we wanted NO part of that. Play resumed and the midget was surprisingly unphased.
But the crowd pleasing didn't stop there. Their zone was tough . . . Well, maybe not the whole thing so much as the cup itself. Rosie constantly found herself stuck without much to throw as Christina, Lisa, and my popping started to get predictable. The low din of the crowd started to rise as the masses chanted, "Hammer! Hammer!" A sucker for a little "hip-hip-hooray" in her honor, Rosie hucked that shit . . . not once, but TWICE!!! The first perfectly placed swill landed in the capable and fucking ever-present arms of Beth for a score. The crowd went FUCKIN' NUTS! The second was to a wide-open, deep Meghann who wrapped her hands around that disc and held on tight until the handlers could back her up.
Kris and Rosie were placing those discs in all the right spots, finding and filling the holes like . . . Well, you can fill in your own analogy there. Adrienne and Meghann tag-teamed the deep spots while Chris, Lisa, Erin, and I found holes in the middle. Bridget, Mackenzie, Allison, and Lil' Erin didn't play an awful lot, but their presence on the field was definitely not unappreciated. They were the soul of the team when the times were rough. Their spunk and excitement kept us up through the FUCKIN' 30 MINUTE POINT and all the way out to the end. I know it's usually a TOTAL line of bull shit when people say this, but honestly, the team could NOT have won without you guys.
Holy crap! I'm almost teary-eyed . . . but not really. Anyway, guys, WE WON!! A gorgeous put by Beth to Lisa sealed the deal and secured us the bizarre porthole mirror trophy/plaque thingy. WOOT! WOOT! The day/night was ours!!
PARTY -
Having won the tournament we really could've like partied with anyone we wanted to. We were just that cool. We are like sooooo awesome. Oh my god!! I hope my hair wasn't frizzy at the party because of the humidity. Eww!!
Right . . . So, everyone was really cool afterward and hooked us up with some beer to rehydrate . . . the best way, really. We watched the guys championship game which was FAR less exciting (maybe because we weren't playing), then headed out the the fancy beach condo for some tasty quesadilllas grace à Dan. THANKS AGAIN, DAN!!
Then it was out to find the party. That was rough. Everyone ended up crammed into the tiny Wesleyan house. There wasn't a lot of room, the dance floor was dark, flip-cup was crowded, and Jeff had passed out. "Evil Jen" from UNCG decided the last was the worst crime of the night and proceeded to draw on Jeff's face with a purple Sharpie with encouragement from BU girls who will remain nameless at this time. As Jeff was rousing, I tried to get him to leave before he walked into the big, extra-super-crowded room. . . That did not work out. 5 seconds later, Jeff stumbles into the light and starts drunkenly mingling. It wasn't until a particularly colorful MSU character, Freshman Jason "Smidty," charged through the crowd that anyone had the heart to tell Jeff. Smidty blasts into Jeff's face, "DUDE!! You got shamed!!!" Jeff, a little confused, finally checks out his visage in the mirror across from him and immediately places the blame on poor Bridget who HONESTLY had nothing to do with it. I was told I had failed at my one mission in life which is apparently to protect Jeff's face from being drawn on at all times. Sure, Jeff.
Other's might have more party stories than that (i.e. Evan's dancing and getting punched in the face by some Wesleyan chick), but for me it was back to the fancy condo to pass out in the chair waking up only to Finding Nemo, everyone else getting back at their respective times (3 am, 6 am, 8 am), and finally, Holzer cooking french toast . . . with no shirt on. HOT! haha!
(To Be Continued . . . Just keep thinking of Holzer with no shirt on. I know Spoony loves it.)"
notes on the day: yups, we played under the lights, we partied hard all week, and we won the tournament. my legs were shaking like crazy after it was over, but it was worth it. every point i played since rosie got injured and through her return on thursday was unforgettable. the lady pilots get their first tournament win ever, and we did it as a team. lisa and piper were awesome popping in the zone; meghann and came up with some clutch deep catches and ds; kris, rosie, and christina handled the zone with ease and confidences; erin and bridget played hard during every point they were in, and allison, erin, and mackenzie kept the sidelines kickin' for the two-hour-long game.
we improved so much as a team during the week, and everyone contributed to our success. the guys supported us when the going got tough and when the going was good, and they helped me find the trust that i should have had all along (thanks holzer). it was a great week for us to bond on and off the field, and i'm really excited for the season to come. i've got expectations for us, and i hope that we'll bring the intensity and spirit to each game we play in the next month. it's exciting to think about it. more reflections to come when the recap is complete.
the lady ozone pilots are the 2004 high tide session 2 champs!
-me : )
subject heading: THE END IS NEAR!
date: Thursday, March 25, 2004 2:19 AM
the e-mail:
"So, I'm on DAY 6 now. The playoffs.
Wednesday's games left us tired and hungry. Running around all day doesn't seem to work so well on beer and granola bars . . . WEIRD! So, to go along with our Applebee's funtimes the night before, we decided we'd start the day right with a big ol' meal! But where to go?? So many choices!! Do we go to Dunkin' Donuts: a pleasant establishment well known and frequented by the team? Perhaps Starbucks: nationally renowned for cracking folks out on double-shots and frappucino chips? What about some place new: a restaurant never before frequented by the Ozone Pilots tous ensemble. That restaurant: THE WAFFLE HOUSE.
How many ways can hashbrowns be prepared? I still don't know, but Waffle House has a pretty good start . . . Smothered, covered, mashed, trashed, grilled, chilled, filled, dilled, battered, plattered, jellied, steamed, broiled, oven-fresh, poppin'-fresh, pipin'-hot, diced, sliced, quartered, extra-tasty crispy, original recipe, honey roasted, lightly salted, pepper jack, sharp jack, vermont sharp, mild, hot, fire, water, rock, pape– . . . I could go on, but I won't since you probably stopped reading up by "trashed."
Our waitress was a hip, hip chick named Velma or something. There's a picture of her somewhere. She was definitely the most perfect Waffle House maiden we could've asked for. Blonde/grey hair, pushin' 60, and SASSY!! PERFECT! Oh! She was so great that when I rattled off my order of sides (eggs, grits, hasbrowns) . . . and she asked, "How 'bout some meat with thayat?" I couldn't help myself!! I had to order sausage too. There's NO resisting the Waffle House waitress. Lisa downed a BIG fuckin' waffle. I think Erin was suckered into some bacon to add on to her choices. Omelettes were EVERYWHERE . . . and of course, hashbrowns . . . TONS of hashbrowns. But there was one meal that really took the "soul" cake. Rosie's "Grilled Texas Bacon Patty Melt Plate" was by FAR the greasiest, the meatiest, and the meltiest? Yeah, I don't know if Velma was her waitress . . . or Satan.
We stuffed our faces. Then it was ON TO THE FIELDS!!!
Game 8 - Wesleyan A
So, right off the bat, Rosie felt like the "Grilled Texas Bacon Patty Melt Plate" would soon become the "Regurgitated Georgia Pork Ground Beef Cheese Chunk Puke Pile." Not quite as appetizing. Teamwide athleticism was in question. Would we be able to play with the hashbrowns sloshing in our otherwise empty stomachs? Would our quickness be compromised by the added weight of scrambled eggs and cheese? Was Velma actually the devil in a grey/blonde wig with a motherly flare and a sweet southern smile??
Supposedly Wesleyan A had the same experience/talent as Wesleyan B. . . They just mixed the teams equally. Then, judging by our performance, WAFFLE HOUSE IS NEVER A GOOD PLACE TO GO BEFORE DOING ANYTHING AT ALL REMOTELY PHYSICAL BESIDES WALKING TO YOUR CAR, MOVING YOUR ARMS TO DRIVE YOUR ASS HOME, WADDLING INTO YOUR HOUSE, AND MAKING IT AS FAR AS THE COUCH BEFORE PASSING OUT AND SLEEPING OFF WHATEVER SORT OF EVIL, WONDERFUL CONCOCTION YOU JUST CONSUMED. That said, we sucked.
We traded points with these girls all fucking game. BALLS!!! They kept throwing that fucking swilly-ass shit and we had nothing besides grits residue lodged in our teeth. There were some great in-cuts made . . . Mack, Beej, Al, Meghann . . . Those freshmen are HOTTTTT!!! But, sadly, we couldn't pull it all together . . . at least not until Rosie made a sweet catch on the edge of the endzone for a score (controversial to the bitter Wesleyan bench-warmers, but they were too scared to get any closer and actually see Rosie's cleat mark nestled just inside the bounds). That FINALLY put us up by two and we were able to finish that shit within a couple points.
Final: BU, 13 - Wesleyan A, way too close
Game 9 - Michigan State . . . again
Thanks to the fucked-up shit that Syracuse pulled for all the bracketing and whatnot, we ended up playing Michigan State for the semis. They bumped off Notre Dame. WHAAA?? I have NO idea how that happened, but it had something to do with a drastic increase in variety of play thanks to their new (well, new since Tuesday, but not in age) club ringer. She was good. I'll give them that, but still!! We're just too awesome.
Rochester had also beaten Notre Dame earlier in pool play. Something was not right in the cards for that game or something. It's gotta be the fucking hairy armpits. PERSONAL HYGIENE, PEOPLE!! So, I don't know. But we didn't have to play them again.
Personal hygiene was definitely on everyone's side for our second game of the day, though. Our food had settled, the sun had gone down a bit, and even Ariel on MSU pitched in by zesting her armpit with orange peel goodness in lieu of forgotten deodorant (see Allison's snaps).
The variety of their ringer didn't phase us in the least. They still stuck with their ultra-lame offense . . . and their funky zones only worked when I had the disc, in which case a stuff was made followed quickly by a score by my girl. . . . Why, Grits!? Why!?!
**Note to the freshmen: Always blame inanimate objects for your faults. They can't defend themselves. . . They can't do anything for themselves. . . They're inanimate. Get it?**
Back to the game! There was some crazy-ass wind which complimented our 2-3-2 quite nicely. Downwind points were key . . . and they're so much fun! Yahoo! Yahoo for hucks!! Yahoo for school!
All-in-all, good game. Good times.
Final: BU, 13 - Michigan State, 5??? maybe more?
GAME 9 - FINALS!!!! (vs. Edinborough)
Quarters to Semis to next game = Finals. YEA! We made it!! Don't ask me how, but we did. I think we'd all like to thank Track Practice and buy it "a nice, big drink of shake-your-hand."
The game was really a blur of lights, people, "Ozone Pilots" call-and-answer cheers by random groups of spectators, LOTS of drunkenness from our guys (Jeff and Jasper in particular), and A LOT of running.
We pulled out to an amazing four-point lead and maintained that positive attitude throughout the match-up. Points were traded there for awhile, but we held on to our lead . . . even after a 30 MINUTE POINT, which fucking Edinborough ended up winning. Bastards. Their cup did work pretty hard, so I'll give it to 'em. Fake half was called when we thought the game was to 13. So, another point was played when we heard it was to 15. We took it to half. Then, fake cap was called, but that was called off and the dude was like, "Don't worry about it. Game to 13." FUCKIN'-A, GUY! Make up your mind!
When we came back from half, there was some tension. I'm not gonna lie. They were hungry and also very confused as to why they weren't kicking the crap out of us like they had previously. Their stupid male hecklers were back on the opposite sideline trying to get into our heads . . . or our pants, I'm not sure, but the rest of the crowd loved us. The stadium (that's right, stadium . . . not huge, but a stadium nonetheless) rocked with hurrahs for the Ozone Pilots. They absolutely LOVED us!! The whole tournament loved us. Even Edinborough loved us, though they didn't want to admit it. Come on!! How can you not?
Beth was skying people left and right. The disc was there, Beth was there. The disc was here, Beth was here. Anywhere the disc was, Beth was . . . and they tried to put this tiny girl long. She may've been quick, but when Beth was there (and Beth was always there) it was like a midget trying to go up against Shaq. You just don't do that. It's embarrassing . . . and disrespectful of Shaq/Beth. The only time that match-up was interesting was when Beth steamrolled the girl to get the D. Might've been a foul, looked awful, but DAMN! the crowd loved it. The girl I was defending (ya know, the hot one) and I agreed that we wanted NO part of that. Play resumed and the midget was surprisingly unphased.
But the crowd pleasing didn't stop there. Their zone was tough . . . Well, maybe not the whole thing so much as the cup itself. Rosie constantly found herself stuck without much to throw as Christina, Lisa, and my popping started to get predictable. The low din of the crowd started to rise as the masses chanted, "Hammer! Hammer!" A sucker for a little "hip-hip-hooray" in her honor, Rosie hucked that shit . . . not once, but TWICE!!! The first perfectly placed swill landed in the capable and fucking ever-present arms of Beth for a score. The crowd went FUCKIN' NUTS! The second was to a wide-open, deep Meghann who wrapped her hands around that disc and held on tight until the handlers could back her up.
Kris and Rosie were placing those discs in all the right spots, finding and filling the holes like . . . Well, you can fill in your own analogy there. Adrienne and Meghann tag-teamed the deep spots while Chris, Lisa, Erin, and I found holes in the middle. Bridget, Mackenzie, Allison, and Lil' Erin didn't play an awful lot, but their presence on the field was definitely not unappreciated. They were the soul of the team when the times were rough. Their spunk and excitement kept us up through the FUCKIN' 30 MINUTE POINT and all the way out to the end. I know it's usually a TOTAL line of bull shit when people say this, but honestly, the team could NOT have won without you guys.
Holy crap! I'm almost teary-eyed . . . but not really. Anyway, guys, WE WON!! A gorgeous put by Beth to Lisa sealed the deal and secured us the bizarre porthole mirror trophy/plaque thingy. WOOT! WOOT! The day/night was ours!!
PARTY -
Having won the tournament we really could've like partied with anyone we wanted to. We were just that cool. We are like sooooo awesome. Oh my god!! I hope my hair wasn't frizzy at the party because of the humidity. Eww!!
Right . . . So, everyone was really cool afterward and hooked us up with some beer to rehydrate . . . the best way, really. We watched the guys championship game which was FAR less exciting (maybe because we weren't playing), then headed out the the fancy beach condo for some tasty quesadilllas grace à Dan. THANKS AGAIN, DAN!!
Then it was out to find the party. That was rough. Everyone ended up crammed into the tiny Wesleyan house. There wasn't a lot of room, the dance floor was dark, flip-cup was crowded, and Jeff had passed out. "Evil Jen" from UNCG decided the last was the worst crime of the night and proceeded to draw on Jeff's face with a purple Sharpie with encouragement from BU girls who will remain nameless at this time. As Jeff was rousing, I tried to get him to leave before he walked into the big, extra-super-crowded room. . . That did not work out. 5 seconds later, Jeff stumbles into the light and starts drunkenly mingling. It wasn't until a particularly colorful MSU character, Freshman Jason "Smidty," charged through the crowd that anyone had the heart to tell Jeff. Smidty blasts into Jeff's face, "DUDE!! You got shamed!!!" Jeff, a little confused, finally checks out his visage in the mirror across from him and immediately places the blame on poor Bridget who HONESTLY had nothing to do with it. I was told I had failed at my one mission in life which is apparently to protect Jeff's face from being drawn on at all times. Sure, Jeff.
Other's might have more party stories than that (i.e. Evan's dancing and getting punched in the face by some Wesleyan chick), but for me it was back to the fancy condo to pass out in the chair waking up only to Finding Nemo, everyone else getting back at their respective times (3 am, 6 am, 8 am), and finally, Holzer cooking french toast . . . with no shirt on. HOT! haha!
(To Be Continued . . . Just keep thinking of Holzer with no shirt on. I know Spoony loves it.)"
notes on the day: yups, we played under the lights, we partied hard all week, and we won the tournament. my legs were shaking like crazy after it was over, but it was worth it. every point i played since rosie got injured and through her return on thursday was unforgettable. the lady pilots get their first tournament win ever, and we did it as a team. lisa and piper were awesome popping in the zone; meghann and came up with some clutch deep catches and ds; kris, rosie, and christina handled the zone with ease and confidences; erin and bridget played hard during every point they were in, and allison, erin, and mackenzie kept the sidelines kickin' for the two-hour-long game.
we improved so much as a team during the week, and everyone contributed to our success. the guys supported us when the going got tough and when the going was good, and they helped me find the trust that i should have had all along (thanks holzer). it was a great week for us to bond on and off the field, and i'm really excited for the season to come. i've got expectations for us, and i hope that we'll bring the intensity and spirit to each game we play in the next month. it's exciting to think about it. more reflections to come when the recap is complete.
the lady ozone pilots are the 2004 high tide session 2 champs!
-me : )
high tide 2004, part 5-women's tournament, day two
so, that was jeff's recap of the guys' trip to georgia. i'm proud of them and i hope they enjoyed themselves. it was a great break, and we all look forward to going to savannah next spring break!
now we're back to piper and the women's recap. it's day two of the three-day tournament and the lady pilots are 3-1 and doing okay. less me, more piper.
subject heading: So Jeff is illiterate.
date: Monday, March 22, 2004 2:19 AM
the e-mail:
"Or just really didn't read my recap like he claimed he did. Or maybe it was the hot Idaho/Syracuse 3-on-2 action last night that got him confused . . . WHATEVER it was, HE BLEW MY ENDING!!!!! Cocksucker!!
No, I hadn't gotten to the syrup chugging. NO! I wasn't yet able to mention Jeff's birthday. (TUESDAY night, not WEDNESDAY night was the signage/lesbian smack-down party . . . and I was DD for Beth, so Jeff's special day was going to get a mention when the actual day had come!!) AND!!!!! I certainly hadn't yet even MENTIONED that we made it to finals, let alone kicked the shit out of MSU AGAIN, nor Beth's train wreck defensive tactics . . . FUCK! I hadn't even mentioned playing Edinborough the FIRST time. Fuckin'-a, Jeff. Fuckin'-a.
DAY 5 (for those of you NO LONGER in a Math-studying college, there is a total of nine (9) days . . . this is not the end. DEAL! . . . and please take your time reading these, it breaks my heart to hear about people deleting them. I'll try to be briefer.)
Ummm . . . I don't know where I left off. OH! Tuesday night, drunken funtimes, blah, blah, blah.
Wednesday was a nice, late start. We slept in a wee bit and headed over to the fields to kick the crap out of some poor unsuspecting DC combo team.
Game 5 - American/Georgetown Combo Team
I don't really remember much from this game. Was I wasted?? Guys, for real. This is freakin' me out. Zero memory. Oh well. Less for you guys to read. We beat them, I'm sure of that. I'm pretty sure everybody played well . . . except maybe me for lack of coherence. What the fuck? All right. Next!
Final: BU, 13 - AU/Georgetown, somethin'.
Game 6 - Edinborough
So, for some reason, the Lady Pilots have issues with playing teams who are "good." With Rosie sitting out to recupe for playoffs the next day and Kris hobbling around on one good leg and the other lashed together in neoprene, we really didn't know how we would perform. We scored the first point with our signature "someone fuckin' go long" offense. Then, they were like, "Oh HELL no!" They scored . . . a lot. I stepped out for a few points to let someone more apt to the task play for a bit. Erin (the original, not lil' . . . In fact, her new nickname will, from this point on, be "The Original") was all over that cup. She is so the "Monster." Not like Charlize Theron Monster, not at all. . . but more like Sweetums from the Muppets. You KNOW nothin's gettin' around that guy! And he's just so SWEET!! Yea Erin!
But they somehow kept scoring. After too long I leaned over to Lil' Erin and said, "If those tramps score again, we're goin' topless." I don't know why. I'll be the first to admit it was a desperation move, but it was SO painful to see the teammates dragging their feet back to the line, heads down, spirits crushed.
They scored again . . . uhhhhh . . . what??? I had a witness, so I had to follow through. The gals mope back to the line, I put myself back in and yell, "That's it! Shirts off!! Who's with me?" After a few seconds of blank stares and uncertainty, Lisa and Christina eagerly flung their tops to the crowd. The rest followed suit except for Beth – who was reluctant, but then realizing she was likely THE hottest girl at the tournament, stripped down to her sports bra – and Kris Kelly . . . Far too modest, Kris Kelly. You know you bring the hotness . . . and you KNOW Western Illinois boy was CRYING when he got back to the Midwest with no love from his BU babe.
Seven on the line . . . We haven't been doing abs for nothing, ladies! The two belligerent drunkards on the Edinborough sidelines were WAY too excited. So, we're standing and waiting . . . and waiting . . . and then we realize that the hold-up is the fuckin' Edinborough girls calling us out on our red sports bras!! They were wearing red while we had been wearing our bad-ass black, but were then throwing a hissy-fit about mine and Allison's red sports bras. "Are ya fuckin' serious?" was all I could say. Then I gestured to my ass-white belly and said that's all the variance they need. We laughed it off and got ready to run.
THEY STILL WOULDN'T BUDGE!! WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT!?! They were TOTALLY wasting our flavor. Then their belligerents suggested we "take it all off." My response: "NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THAT!" . . . For serious, guys. I saw some topless lady running across the beach in Nice and I don't think I'll ever be the same. GOO!! Then!!! THEN!!! They retaliated with, "Come on! You've got a nice rack!" WHAAAA??? Don't know if I agree, but I'll take the compliment?? My only response to them: "Back pains!"
While the girls on the line and I are carrying on this EXTREMELY intellectual conversation with those dicks, the girls on the sidelines were coming up with solutions! Hells yeah! Adrienne sacrificed her grey bra to cover mine (which was returned to her after the point was over . . . don't worry, she kept her shirt on over there). Allison was given back her jersey for lack of a better fix, but being the ingenious gal she is, she didn't simply put it back on. OH HELL NO!! She just bunched it up and tucked it in around her bra. AMAZING!!
All set. Let's fuckin' play. It was a tough point. There was some laying out, some grass scratches on the belly, but we ended up losing that one too. However, it did pump us up to get back in the game for a few more pretty puts to the endzone. Overall, though, we just weren't mentally up for the challenge.
Final: Edinborough, 13 - BU, something lowish.
Game 7 - Wesleyan B
This team sucked, but for some reason we played down to them a little. We should've kicked the living crap out of them, but for some reason they kept putting up some swilly passes that were as lame as Simon's bulbous knee injury. But, somehow, unlike Simon's giant knee, the passes still worked surprisingly well. That fucking sucked. . . Both things.
Anyway, after awhile we were like, "That's enough. You're done." Beth finally started connecting on her hucks (of which there were A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT OF ATTEMPTS) and we pulled away as if to say, "Why'd you even bother? This is our house!! Step off!!" That is SO totally the game we started with Warren G and "Regulators" too, so we definitely had the "Gangsta Twist" on our side. Word, homies.
Amazing cuts were made by Lil' Erin, Mack, Christina, Lisa (Damn! she was EVERYWHERE!), and Allison, too. Adrienne and Meghann were solidifying their "camp-out long" roles. "The Original" and Bridget rocked the cup like it was their cell-bitch when necessary (if they had had the opportunity, there would've certainly been some ocular-cavity urination . . . So I Married an Axe Murderer?. . . anyone??) and, Kris and Beth . . . although needing a bit of mental recuperation, were still utterly amazing. Rosie's coaching on the sidelines was unbelievably helpful. She definitely kept our heads in the game.
Final: BU, 13 - Wesleyan B, I'mREALLYbadatkeepingtrackofscores.
PARTY -
The night started out with a b-day celebration for Beth at Applebee's (not attended by birthday boy Jeff because he was hoping to get some from the LAME Syracuse girls. . . Sorry, Jeff. I really wish they could've redeemed themselves by partying with you, but they didn't, so they still suck).
Sadly, after that, I did not attend that evening's MSU festivities. I DO know that Jeff had already passed out upstairs and was a total waste for his TRUE birthday night. What sort of dorkass forgets what happened on his birthday?
I did hear some great stories, though, (and see Allison's pictures for some fantastic documentation there) about some freshman downing half a cake, table dancing by Lil' Erin and Kris Kelly, the birth of new nicknames (i.e. Beej), and all-in-all good, drunken mischief.
Evan's boot-and-rally attempt back at the condo was enough entertainment anyone could've possibly needed that night, though. I definitely ended up washing out that bowl at the end of the week. Guys, for real. . . Gross.
We were all back to camp by 4 am-ish, lucky to have another late start the next day at 3 pm. Great stuff!!
Okay, I'm off to bed. No more all-nighters for Piper. That fucked me up. Look forward to the next installment where maybe I'll finish up for real, but I'll at LEAST talk about the good Waffle House (Grilled Texas Bacon Patty Melt Plate anyone?) and fuckin' winning the ENTIRE TOURNAMENT!! Get excited. Are you excited? Okay, that's over-excited. Cool out.
"Nigh-night,
Pipey"
notes on the day: it was a good day for the ladies. rosie didn't play but coached us from the sidelines, everyone did their best to step up, and i'm proud of them. i did get frustrated on wednesday because things weren't going as smooth as i wanted. but the lady pilots were as awesome as always and took my criticisms with grace, and helped me celebrate my birthday in style. turning 21 in georgia was a good idea. i didn't get wasted, i was with my friends, and it was a good time. something happened that shouldn't have, but it's done, and it won't ever happen again.
the lady pilots are still rollin', but now we're thinking about those lights.
-me : )
now we're back to piper and the women's recap. it's day two of the three-day tournament and the lady pilots are 3-1 and doing okay. less me, more piper.
subject heading: So Jeff is illiterate.
date: Monday, March 22, 2004 2:19 AM
the e-mail:
"Or just really didn't read my recap like he claimed he did. Or maybe it was the hot Idaho/Syracuse 3-on-2 action last night that got him confused . . . WHATEVER it was, HE BLEW MY ENDING!!!!! Cocksucker!!
No, I hadn't gotten to the syrup chugging. NO! I wasn't yet able to mention Jeff's birthday. (TUESDAY night, not WEDNESDAY night was the signage/lesbian smack-down party . . . and I was DD for Beth, so Jeff's special day was going to get a mention when the actual day had come!!) AND!!!!! I certainly hadn't yet even MENTIONED that we made it to finals, let alone kicked the shit out of MSU AGAIN, nor Beth's train wreck defensive tactics . . . FUCK! I hadn't even mentioned playing Edinborough the FIRST time. Fuckin'-a, Jeff. Fuckin'-a.
DAY 5 (for those of you NO LONGER in a Math-studying college, there is a total of nine (9) days . . . this is not the end. DEAL! . . . and please take your time reading these, it breaks my heart to hear about people deleting them. I'll try to be briefer.)
Ummm . . . I don't know where I left off. OH! Tuesday night, drunken funtimes, blah, blah, blah.
Wednesday was a nice, late start. We slept in a wee bit and headed over to the fields to kick the crap out of some poor unsuspecting DC combo team.
Game 5 - American/Georgetown Combo Team
I don't really remember much from this game. Was I wasted?? Guys, for real. This is freakin' me out. Zero memory. Oh well. Less for you guys to read. We beat them, I'm sure of that. I'm pretty sure everybody played well . . . except maybe me for lack of coherence. What the fuck? All right. Next!
Final: BU, 13 - AU/Georgetown, somethin'.
Game 6 - Edinborough
So, for some reason, the Lady Pilots have issues with playing teams who are "good." With Rosie sitting out to recupe for playoffs the next day and Kris hobbling around on one good leg and the other lashed together in neoprene, we really didn't know how we would perform. We scored the first point with our signature "someone fuckin' go long" offense. Then, they were like, "Oh HELL no!" They scored . . . a lot. I stepped out for a few points to let someone more apt to the task play for a bit. Erin (the original, not lil' . . . In fact, her new nickname will, from this point on, be "The Original") was all over that cup. She is so the "Monster." Not like Charlize Theron Monster, not at all. . . but more like Sweetums from the Muppets. You KNOW nothin's gettin' around that guy! And he's just so SWEET!! Yea Erin!
But they somehow kept scoring. After too long I leaned over to Lil' Erin and said, "If those tramps score again, we're goin' topless." I don't know why. I'll be the first to admit it was a desperation move, but it was SO painful to see the teammates dragging their feet back to the line, heads down, spirits crushed.
They scored again . . . uhhhhh . . . what??? I had a witness, so I had to follow through. The gals mope back to the line, I put myself back in and yell, "That's it! Shirts off!! Who's with me?" After a few seconds of blank stares and uncertainty, Lisa and Christina eagerly flung their tops to the crowd. The rest followed suit except for Beth – who was reluctant, but then realizing she was likely THE hottest girl at the tournament, stripped down to her sports bra – and Kris Kelly . . . Far too modest, Kris Kelly. You know you bring the hotness . . . and you KNOW Western Illinois boy was CRYING when he got back to the Midwest with no love from his BU babe.
Seven on the line . . . We haven't been doing abs for nothing, ladies! The two belligerent drunkards on the Edinborough sidelines were WAY too excited. So, we're standing and waiting . . . and waiting . . . and then we realize that the hold-up is the fuckin' Edinborough girls calling us out on our red sports bras!! They were wearing red while we had been wearing our bad-ass black, but were then throwing a hissy-fit about mine and Allison's red sports bras. "Are ya fuckin' serious?" was all I could say. Then I gestured to my ass-white belly and said that's all the variance they need. We laughed it off and got ready to run.
THEY STILL WOULDN'T BUDGE!! WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT!?! They were TOTALLY wasting our flavor. Then their belligerents suggested we "take it all off." My response: "NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THAT!" . . . For serious, guys. I saw some topless lady running across the beach in Nice and I don't think I'll ever be the same. GOO!! Then!!! THEN!!! They retaliated with, "Come on! You've got a nice rack!" WHAAAA??? Don't know if I agree, but I'll take the compliment?? My only response to them: "Back pains!"
While the girls on the line and I are carrying on this EXTREMELY intellectual conversation with those dicks, the girls on the sidelines were coming up with solutions! Hells yeah! Adrienne sacrificed her grey bra to cover mine (which was returned to her after the point was over . . . don't worry, she kept her shirt on over there). Allison was given back her jersey for lack of a better fix, but being the ingenious gal she is, she didn't simply put it back on. OH HELL NO!! She just bunched it up and tucked it in around her bra. AMAZING!!
All set. Let's fuckin' play. It was a tough point. There was some laying out, some grass scratches on the belly, but we ended up losing that one too. However, it did pump us up to get back in the game for a few more pretty puts to the endzone. Overall, though, we just weren't mentally up for the challenge.
Final: Edinborough, 13 - BU, something lowish.
Game 7 - Wesleyan B
This team sucked, but for some reason we played down to them a little. We should've kicked the living crap out of them, but for some reason they kept putting up some swilly passes that were as lame as Simon's bulbous knee injury. But, somehow, unlike Simon's giant knee, the passes still worked surprisingly well. That fucking sucked. . . Both things.
Anyway, after awhile we were like, "That's enough. You're done." Beth finally started connecting on her hucks (of which there were A WHOLE HELL OF A LOT OF ATTEMPTS) and we pulled away as if to say, "Why'd you even bother? This is our house!! Step off!!" That is SO totally the game we started with Warren G and "Regulators" too, so we definitely had the "Gangsta Twist" on our side. Word, homies.
Amazing cuts were made by Lil' Erin, Mack, Christina, Lisa (Damn! she was EVERYWHERE!), and Allison, too. Adrienne and Meghann were solidifying their "camp-out long" roles. "The Original" and Bridget rocked the cup like it was their cell-bitch when necessary (if they had had the opportunity, there would've certainly been some ocular-cavity urination . . . So I Married an Axe Murderer?. . . anyone??) and, Kris and Beth . . . although needing a bit of mental recuperation, were still utterly amazing. Rosie's coaching on the sidelines was unbelievably helpful. She definitely kept our heads in the game.
Final: BU, 13 - Wesleyan B, I'mREALLYbadatkeepingtrackofscores.
PARTY -
The night started out with a b-day celebration for Beth at Applebee's (not attended by birthday boy Jeff because he was hoping to get some from the LAME Syracuse girls. . . Sorry, Jeff. I really wish they could've redeemed themselves by partying with you, but they didn't, so they still suck).
Sadly, after that, I did not attend that evening's MSU festivities. I DO know that Jeff had already passed out upstairs and was a total waste for his TRUE birthday night. What sort of dorkass forgets what happened on his birthday?
I did hear some great stories, though, (and see Allison's pictures for some fantastic documentation there) about some freshman downing half a cake, table dancing by Lil' Erin and Kris Kelly, the birth of new nicknames (i.e. Beej), and all-in-all good, drunken mischief.
Evan's boot-and-rally attempt back at the condo was enough entertainment anyone could've possibly needed that night, though. I definitely ended up washing out that bowl at the end of the week. Guys, for real. . . Gross.
We were all back to camp by 4 am-ish, lucky to have another late start the next day at 3 pm. Great stuff!!
Okay, I'm off to bed. No more all-nighters for Piper. That fucked me up. Look forward to the next installment where maybe I'll finish up for real, but I'll at LEAST talk about the good Waffle House (Grilled Texas Bacon Patty Melt Plate anyone?) and fuckin' winning the ENTIRE TOURNAMENT!! Get excited. Are you excited? Okay, that's over-excited. Cool out.
"Nigh-night,
Pipey"
notes on the day: it was a good day for the ladies. rosie didn't play but coached us from the sidelines, everyone did their best to step up, and i'm proud of them. i did get frustrated on wednesday because things weren't going as smooth as i wanted. but the lady pilots were as awesome as always and took my criticisms with grace, and helped me celebrate my birthday in style. turning 21 in georgia was a good idea. i didn't get wasted, i was with my friends, and it was a good time. something happened that shouldn't have, but it's done, and it won't ever happen again.
the lady pilots are still rollin', but now we're thinking about those lights.
-me : )
high tide 2004, intermission-men's recap
i should mention that jeff wrote a recap of the men's spring break in between piper's coverage of day one and day two of the women's tournament. so, i'm going to include it here so i know where the break and the references are when i come back to this in a few months.
no more waiting, here's jeff's recap:
subject heading: breaking my vow of silence - also known as the Spring Break recap
date: Sunday, March 21, 2004 9:13 PM
the e-mail:
"Dear Pilots:
Pipers recap was LONG. I read it all, even the short updates letting us know that she was going to class or using the bathroom, also known as "completely useless information". I learned a lot, from the "theme of the mini-van" to the fact that Shaun totally missed out on a syrup chugging competition with Meghan. I laughed a few times, but mostly I just kept pondering "who is gonna write the guys recap"? Now I may not be as funny as Piper, or as good of a writer, but I figure that my silence has gone on way too long. You see, I hate writing e-mails. They are annoying and impersonal. So I very rarely write them. In fact, the only e-mail I have ever written to the list was to inform everyone that Nickerson was open for practice. I hated writing that e-mail. In any case, since everyone is well aware of my total lack of knowledge about anything having to do with the girls team, I'm going to write a guys-only recap. This isn't to say that no girls will be mentioned (see Meghan-reference above) but don't blame me if I don't know much about the girls games/nightly fun. Another quick disclaimer: this is a recap. I'm not really trying to be overly humorous or detailed, just trying to tell it how I remember it. If you find you don't like it, don't read it.
First things first. The trip down was fun and shitty at the same time. As the other van was making their way into Virginia, our car was just leaving Massachussets. After an extremely informative discussion with Ben's (step)dad about the technical aspects of red sedans, the many uses of wooden blocks, and the fact that my balls would be removed if the radio was turned on, we hit the road for adventure. We drove and drove, thats about it. Jasper can tell you more of the details since he was awake the whole time. When Ben first sent me the e-mail about who would be riding down with him, I was skeptical. After all, Jasper can't drive and Spoony's driving is apparently like Kris Kellys except with a lot less control. However, as it turned out, each member of our car was invaluable. Spoony was a valuable asset to the car, educating us about Radiohead inbetween long snoring sessions. Jasper knew the map so well he never had to look at it during our trip, and could recite the directions with ease. Ben was, as always, a totally reliable driver. I did my best to throw myself into bushes, make fun of spoony, and be obnoxious. In any case, we got there in incredible speed, and I definetly won the bet for what time we would arrive (despite what Jasper or Spoony would say).
Piper did a pretty darn good job going over the hat tournament, so I'll just quickly mention that Petey Pablo was the greatest dog ever. Hands down coolest dog of the week.
Don't remember what we did Monday night, probably because I went to sleep ridiculously early. I did not get the comforts of a van to sleep in on the way down. And despite what Piper may say, sleep is definetly key to performing well!
The guys team had arrived in Georgia with a little unease in our minds. We really needed an anchor, someone to hold us together. To be honest, we weren't sure if we could win alone. So we went where all men go when they are truly lost. To the ancient. From the deepest, most cluttered holes/Kia of Danbury, we danced with the devil and called upon the talents of Shaun Laing. As Peter Reynolds told me before disappearing (this was all in a dream), "[Mike] and I used him three times in twenty years, only when things got totally fucked. Whenever we needed one of our own bumped off, we called this guy in. He had a thing for clipping wise guys, but only one rule: no women, no kids. Believe me, kid, you don't want this guy unless you are one hundred percent sure you need him. He's a fucking monster." Before I start the recap of our exploits, let me just say that my hat is off to this guy for his courage and strength in the face of adversity. The fact that he could die at any moment makes the time he spent with us that much better. Thanks Dad.
Tuesday the guys team got off to the start that we really needed. Western Illinois lined up across from us at the crack of dawn and although we came out a little slow, Ed hucked it to me to score the very first point of the tournament. The flow started slowly, as we got used to playing with each other again. But quite simply, a co-ed team just couldn't really hang with us. Smiles all around and a great way to start the day. 13-0.
Next was Drew. This teams website was completely revamped from last year when we blanked them at Yale, and we weren't sure what to expect. We played some great D, with our speed and intensity starting to show against an all-male opponent. Despite the best efforts of their midget handler with the bowl cut, we romped em. 13-4.
Florida State was the first big test of our young team. DUF had already played some top teams this year, and were highly ranked at both High Tide and Terminus. These guys were also old, and for the most part, old-looking. I'd say Ol' Sea Captain Drew was about fifty-six, Shauns hat-tournament-buddy Dustin was a forty-year-old freshman, Eamon was about the age of Mister Miagi in the first Karate Kid (complete with straw hat), and Boner was twelve. Needless to say their experience was a little daunting. We fought hard with them, and played some of our best ultimate up to that point. We forced a top team into throwaways, and at times our cuts looked unstoppable. But our inability to capitalize on their turnovers came back to haunt us often, and we lost in what I felt was a close game. Besides Jaspers shouting argument with PING visor over whether Shaun's disgusting socks were UNC blue or sky blue, we also had a pretty good time. These guys were pretty cool, but it was still tough to lose. 8-11 bad guys.
Tuesday night was a lot like Monday night - not very memorable. I remember people going to that free beer party, and I think we looked for some kind of exhibition game for a while, then I passed out. But at least I was tanner than Monday.
Wednesday was a rough day. Getting out of bed was not easy. I know the last thing I wanted to do on my 20th birthday was get up at 7 in the morning. Some of us already were feeling the onset of a fatigue that would be around for a while. We were a bit sluggish getting going, and it really showed against Case Western, our first match-up. Our zone o looked like ass, and they scored a bunch of points on us. These guys were really not that good, and a bunch of them wore gloves. To Shaun Laing, thats elementary math. We should have rocked them. We were looking down and out, and the Truman state game was looming. We had watched this army play close against Wesleyan, and thought that would be our toughest of the day. Turns out we were wrong. After closing out Case Western 13-10, capped by some great defensive playing by Holzer and Sullivan, we went right over, cleaned up our act, and took it to Truman State. These fuckers were some big boys, but our offense was running on all cylinders, and our D was pretty damn good too. The top play was definetly Simon's sacrificial lay-out D on the sideline. There were also some consistent ass-kickings happening on offensive cuts and a couple of great hucks by Nate Seagle. Jon-0 also grabbed some stuff out of the air and Ed played good too. We dominated from wire to wire, sending them packing and our confidence sky-high. final? 13-5
We knew JMU was going to be a pretty fun game when we heard they played their final point against Case Western with one guy. Not one man short, but ONE GUY ON THE FIELD. I guess he caused some turnovers, but whatever kind of cracked-out offense he was trying to run musta not been too good. He didn't score, and they got spanked. They wanted to play base-ultimate against us for the game, but we had other aspirations. We were gonna kick their ass, go 3-0 and finally see some of those trunk twists Nate Smith had promised us. So we did. They played shirtless at some points, for some odd reason, but that didn't phase us much. We won, and we were for sure our day was over, 13-4. Nate Smith did some trunk-twists (there are pictures somewhere, I promise) so now I can die a very happy man.
Then tournament director Ed kindly informed us we had yet another game to play. Now don't get me wrong, I really liked Ed, and even when he called me a dumb drunk at the men's final, he totally redeemed himself by apologizing. Again and again. But this move got me pissed. Why he had to go all resident assmonkey on us, and make us put lunch off for another hour and a half to go kick Wentworths sorry ass is beyond me. But we did it anyway, because we're a team of destiny. And thats what you do when you are a team of destiny. You kick some scrawny guys asses in a dimly lit bar on a remote part of Thailand (cue Jean-Claude Van Damme in "the kickboxer"). But we were neither drunk, nor suffering from serious HP-syndrome, so we let them score a point. The first point. Some of their young gunz starting getting the idea that they were going to win, or even score again, but their really old handler who looked a lot like Del's dad said it best when he said "We're just gonna try and have fun". They never scored again and we won, 13-1. Now we were in something like seventh place overall, and were set to play our tournament rivals FSU for a spot in the semis. We now had a legitimate shot at the title, much like Jean Claude after he fuckin killed the huge German dude in "the kickboxer".
Wednesday night I remember. After all, it was my birthday (thanks Pipes for remembering) along with Beths. We went to the MSU house and got tatooed, we watched little Erin and Bridget hit on guys, it was a lot of fun. The girls from the mini-van apparently told nate smith he wasn't living up to what they had thought was sketchiness, so he went and had his ass signed by some drunk girl whose size and wrestling ability will be commented on below. Anyways we were all pretty tired and knew that Thursday was going to be a real test of our legs, so we started to leave. Thats when all hell broke lose. Steve and Beth disappeared, and quite possibly the tops of my entire life was the scene outside, with the girl projectile vomiting while those two chicks beat the bejesus out of each other. I will now indulge you all to the closest possible detail the battle royale that unfolded. At first, the ladies were just playing around, wrestling for no apparent reason. Then, one of the girls, the one who was scribbling "lkasgkdf" on everyones bodies all night, elbowed her counterpart across the nose. Oh snap. You do NOT want to feed the bears here people. But this girl learned her lesson the tough way. Arms and legs went flying At one point, the decidedly larger girl was straddling the smaller one, who was on her belly in the grass. The Big Girl then grabbed the Lesser Girl (not little or small by any means, and definetly able to handle me, Simon, and Sullivan at once) by the face baby-Alien style and bellowed "You're done, Bitch!" and slammed her face into the mud. That was SWEET. I squealed like a little girl next to Seagle and Sammy for like an hour while Jasper bitched in the van, completely oblivious to the fact that this was the greatest thing to happen all week. When my mom called me the next morning to wish me happy birthday, the first words out of my mouth were "Mom, you totally missed these two drunk bitches knockin each other around, it was awesome". She expressed concern at the fact that Bens mom hadn't stopped calling the house, leaving messages of undying love for me on our machine, and also worried I wasn't wearing enough sun screen. She informed me that if I didn't put on sunscreen, I wasn't going to win. So I double coated and got ready to play on Thursday.
Thursday was a gorgeous day. Not a cloud in the sky, all morning to just relax, it was perfect. We should have known that the late afternoon start would do us no good. After watching Sports Center and Tracy McGrady score over, and over, and over again, we got down to business. We came out lightening quick again FSU, forcing early turnovers and burning them deep. We got up to a 2-0 lead and looked unstoppable. Then somebody fucked up and let ol brick hands on the field. Sean dropped a huck when he was soo open that the tournament directors came to the conclusion that we would have to forfeit the game. No seriously though. He was SOOO open. But that was one of many mistakes that led to us losing. Jasper through the craziest forehand I have ever seen, their ridiculous calls starting getting us hot under the collar, and general bad luck added up to a shitty second half. Despite the valiant effort of Jasper, Shaun, Nate Seagle, Ed, and Ben, they were seriously less sunburned than we were, so they won in a hotly contested match that involved goal line turnovers for both teams, long upfield marches, and a lot of good old bickering. We gave in to a few days of good ol rest, relaxation, and drinking. We started it off in grand fashion by going to watch the girls game against MSU and totally heckled them into a state of uselessness. The girls at the time were losing something like 11-0, 11-1, something like that. Thanks to dads amazing heckling, the girls came back to win 13-10. How did they lose a point, you ask? Well they were forced to give up a point by TD Ed when a completely debilitated Rosie humiliated them with her defensive play. I also saw some good catches by Lisa and Meghan. That is the type of thing that MUST be commended! No really though, the girls looked real good and spanked a pretty darn good team. Then we watched the FSU vs. Wesleyan game to go to the finals, completely split on who to vote for. On one hand, FSU had beaten us, and it would look better for them to win. Also Wesleyan are a bunch of dicks. But on the other hand, Wesleyan are a bunch of dicks who are funny and obnoxious, AND they are the only team to beat Brown that has a midget on their roster, full time. Does he play, you ask? Well he made a fantastic luck-of-the-irish catch when his teammate bobbled it and it looked almost like it might fall on the ground....but noo, his short stature came in handy as he snagged the disc from off his curly-toed shoes (thats right, all midgets wear shoes like those immigrant kids who work at the north pole). There were some great arguments, and a bunch of kids who have never played a single point for Wesleyan ran around all willy nilly. Wesleyan won and advanced to the finals.
The girls finals were that night, and they were fun. The girls won, and Piper's recap is pretty much enough, except that it leaves out the fact that Beth put a Terry Tate office linebackerish hurtin on that slut team. Pretty much every huck of theirs disappeared into a asian-hawaiian infused abyss. Those flowery shorts that are her trademark were in many a girls face as their ass got sky'd. Now if only Beth would trashtalk a little more...something like "I'm from wanna-fucka-laya-the-smacka-down-on-your-candy-ass Island BITCH!". Maybe I just want to live vicariously through Beth. Maybe I was just drunk at the game. Rosie, Kris Kelley, and Christina also had a whole section of fans in the upper deck going "ooohh" "ahhh" and "show us your titties!". I think that last one was really just Boner. In other, less pertinent news, Wesleyan woompdy wompdied Scooby Dooms dumbass to win the mens final. Yay! Chicken Quesadillias!
Thursday night we got real drunk, I'm pretty sure people puked, it was sweet. Some girl drew on me, which was awesome. Beth knew her too, and totally congratulated her on friday at the all star game. Punks. Friday was also a great day to get sunburned as all hell and eat good food.
High Tide was a great time, I hope everyone had as much fun as I did. Many thanks to Dan Jobbins, Nate Seagle, and Matt Holzer for their cooking, everyone for their cleaning, and Jasper for his incredible ability to pass out ice cold, anytime. Top moments were Holzer and Rosies drunken debauchery, Evan puking from between his fingers, the MSU girls fighting (see way above), chicken quesadillias, Hunter's drunken cheering, Ben NOT talking to Marina on the phone the whole damn time, and Dad. Nuff said. When it was all over we climbed into the van and headed for the ATL. That night the Michigan State girls, the Syracuse chicks, the Notre Dame hotties, and the Slut team...well, sluts got together and looked everywhere for us, hearing we were the hottest and best partying team in the land. Piper met up with them, and, with her normal wit, quipped, "these guys are long gone by now...your best bet would be to put a potato on the end of a string and drag it through South Boston, thanks for comin out" (thats two Boondock Saints references in one ridiculously long email, I know...so sue me). We of course responded in our own way with "some great homecooked Italian food would probably work better"
but thats another story for another email. I'll leave the Terminus recap for another day, or maybe someone else. Thanks for actually reading all of this, I'd be real impressed if you did. In the end, I think this may be longer than Pipers...rock on.
be excellent to each other-
Jeff Vincent"
jeff recapped the men's spring break trip which included a two-day tournament in atlanta called terminus. the boys played a lot during spring break, and they drove straight through to boston on sunday night/monday morning. the cars and men were safe in boston at 9 on monday morning. they're crazy. but they made it safely, and that's all that matters.
back to the rest of the women's recap in the next post.
-me : )
no more waiting, here's jeff's recap:
subject heading: breaking my vow of silence - also known as the Spring Break recap
date: Sunday, March 21, 2004 9:13 PM
the e-mail:
"Dear Pilots:
Pipers recap was LONG. I read it all, even the short updates letting us know that she was going to class or using the bathroom, also known as "completely useless information". I learned a lot, from the "theme of the mini-van" to the fact that Shaun totally missed out on a syrup chugging competition with Meghan. I laughed a few times, but mostly I just kept pondering "who is gonna write the guys recap"? Now I may not be as funny as Piper, or as good of a writer, but I figure that my silence has gone on way too long. You see, I hate writing e-mails. They are annoying and impersonal. So I very rarely write them. In fact, the only e-mail I have ever written to the list was to inform everyone that Nickerson was open for practice. I hated writing that e-mail. In any case, since everyone is well aware of my total lack of knowledge about anything having to do with the girls team, I'm going to write a guys-only recap. This isn't to say that no girls will be mentioned (see Meghan-reference above) but don't blame me if I don't know much about the girls games/nightly fun. Another quick disclaimer: this is a recap. I'm not really trying to be overly humorous or detailed, just trying to tell it how I remember it. If you find you don't like it, don't read it.
First things first. The trip down was fun and shitty at the same time. As the other van was making their way into Virginia, our car was just leaving Massachussets. After an extremely informative discussion with Ben's (step)dad about the technical aspects of red sedans, the many uses of wooden blocks, and the fact that my balls would be removed if the radio was turned on, we hit the road for adventure. We drove and drove, thats about it. Jasper can tell you more of the details since he was awake the whole time. When Ben first sent me the e-mail about who would be riding down with him, I was skeptical. After all, Jasper can't drive and Spoony's driving is apparently like Kris Kellys except with a lot less control. However, as it turned out, each member of our car was invaluable. Spoony was a valuable asset to the car, educating us about Radiohead inbetween long snoring sessions. Jasper knew the map so well he never had to look at it during our trip, and could recite the directions with ease. Ben was, as always, a totally reliable driver. I did my best to throw myself into bushes, make fun of spoony, and be obnoxious. In any case, we got there in incredible speed, and I definetly won the bet for what time we would arrive (despite what Jasper or Spoony would say).
Piper did a pretty darn good job going over the hat tournament, so I'll just quickly mention that Petey Pablo was the greatest dog ever. Hands down coolest dog of the week.
Don't remember what we did Monday night, probably because I went to sleep ridiculously early. I did not get the comforts of a van to sleep in on the way down. And despite what Piper may say, sleep is definetly key to performing well!
The guys team had arrived in Georgia with a little unease in our minds. We really needed an anchor, someone to hold us together. To be honest, we weren't sure if we could win alone. So we went where all men go when they are truly lost. To the ancient. From the deepest, most cluttered holes/Kia of Danbury, we danced with the devil and called upon the talents of Shaun Laing. As Peter Reynolds told me before disappearing (this was all in a dream), "[Mike] and I used him three times in twenty years, only when things got totally fucked. Whenever we needed one of our own bumped off, we called this guy in. He had a thing for clipping wise guys, but only one rule: no women, no kids. Believe me, kid, you don't want this guy unless you are one hundred percent sure you need him. He's a fucking monster." Before I start the recap of our exploits, let me just say that my hat is off to this guy for his courage and strength in the face of adversity. The fact that he could die at any moment makes the time he spent with us that much better. Thanks Dad.
Tuesday the guys team got off to the start that we really needed. Western Illinois lined up across from us at the crack of dawn and although we came out a little slow, Ed hucked it to me to score the very first point of the tournament. The flow started slowly, as we got used to playing with each other again. But quite simply, a co-ed team just couldn't really hang with us. Smiles all around and a great way to start the day. 13-0.
Next was Drew. This teams website was completely revamped from last year when we blanked them at Yale, and we weren't sure what to expect. We played some great D, with our speed and intensity starting to show against an all-male opponent. Despite the best efforts of their midget handler with the bowl cut, we romped em. 13-4.
Florida State was the first big test of our young team. DUF had already played some top teams this year, and were highly ranked at both High Tide and Terminus. These guys were also old, and for the most part, old-looking. I'd say Ol' Sea Captain Drew was about fifty-six, Shauns hat-tournament-buddy Dustin was a forty-year-old freshman, Eamon was about the age of Mister Miagi in the first Karate Kid (complete with straw hat), and Boner was twelve. Needless to say their experience was a little daunting. We fought hard with them, and played some of our best ultimate up to that point. We forced a top team into throwaways, and at times our cuts looked unstoppable. But our inability to capitalize on their turnovers came back to haunt us often, and we lost in what I felt was a close game. Besides Jaspers shouting argument with PING visor over whether Shaun's disgusting socks were UNC blue or sky blue, we also had a pretty good time. These guys were pretty cool, but it was still tough to lose. 8-11 bad guys.
Tuesday night was a lot like Monday night - not very memorable. I remember people going to that free beer party, and I think we looked for some kind of exhibition game for a while, then I passed out. But at least I was tanner than Monday.
Wednesday was a rough day. Getting out of bed was not easy. I know the last thing I wanted to do on my 20th birthday was get up at 7 in the morning. Some of us already were feeling the onset of a fatigue that would be around for a while. We were a bit sluggish getting going, and it really showed against Case Western, our first match-up. Our zone o looked like ass, and they scored a bunch of points on us. These guys were really not that good, and a bunch of them wore gloves. To Shaun Laing, thats elementary math. We should have rocked them. We were looking down and out, and the Truman state game was looming. We had watched this army play close against Wesleyan, and thought that would be our toughest of the day. Turns out we were wrong. After closing out Case Western 13-10, capped by some great defensive playing by Holzer and Sullivan, we went right over, cleaned up our act, and took it to Truman State. These fuckers were some big boys, but our offense was running on all cylinders, and our D was pretty damn good too. The top play was definetly Simon's sacrificial lay-out D on the sideline. There were also some consistent ass-kickings happening on offensive cuts and a couple of great hucks by Nate Seagle. Jon-0 also grabbed some stuff out of the air and Ed played good too. We dominated from wire to wire, sending them packing and our confidence sky-high. final? 13-5
We knew JMU was going to be a pretty fun game when we heard they played their final point against Case Western with one guy. Not one man short, but ONE GUY ON THE FIELD. I guess he caused some turnovers, but whatever kind of cracked-out offense he was trying to run musta not been too good. He didn't score, and they got spanked. They wanted to play base-ultimate against us for the game, but we had other aspirations. We were gonna kick their ass, go 3-0 and finally see some of those trunk twists Nate Smith had promised us. So we did. They played shirtless at some points, for some odd reason, but that didn't phase us much. We won, and we were for sure our day was over, 13-4. Nate Smith did some trunk-twists (there are pictures somewhere, I promise) so now I can die a very happy man.
Then tournament director Ed kindly informed us we had yet another game to play. Now don't get me wrong, I really liked Ed, and even when he called me a dumb drunk at the men's final, he totally redeemed himself by apologizing. Again and again. But this move got me pissed. Why he had to go all resident assmonkey on us, and make us put lunch off for another hour and a half to go kick Wentworths sorry ass is beyond me. But we did it anyway, because we're a team of destiny. And thats what you do when you are a team of destiny. You kick some scrawny guys asses in a dimly lit bar on a remote part of Thailand (cue Jean-Claude Van Damme in "the kickboxer"). But we were neither drunk, nor suffering from serious HP-syndrome, so we let them score a point. The first point. Some of their young gunz starting getting the idea that they were going to win, or even score again, but their really old handler who looked a lot like Del's dad said it best when he said "We're just gonna try and have fun". They never scored again and we won, 13-1. Now we were in something like seventh place overall, and were set to play our tournament rivals FSU for a spot in the semis. We now had a legitimate shot at the title, much like Jean Claude after he fuckin killed the huge German dude in "the kickboxer".
Wednesday night I remember. After all, it was my birthday (thanks Pipes for remembering) along with Beths. We went to the MSU house and got tatooed, we watched little Erin and Bridget hit on guys, it was a lot of fun. The girls from the mini-van apparently told nate smith he wasn't living up to what they had thought was sketchiness, so he went and had his ass signed by some drunk girl whose size and wrestling ability will be commented on below. Anyways we were all pretty tired and knew that Thursday was going to be a real test of our legs, so we started to leave. Thats when all hell broke lose. Steve and Beth disappeared, and quite possibly the tops of my entire life was the scene outside, with the girl projectile vomiting while those two chicks beat the bejesus out of each other. I will now indulge you all to the closest possible detail the battle royale that unfolded. At first, the ladies were just playing around, wrestling for no apparent reason. Then, one of the girls, the one who was scribbling "lkasgkdf" on everyones bodies all night, elbowed her counterpart across the nose. Oh snap. You do NOT want to feed the bears here people. But this girl learned her lesson the tough way. Arms and legs went flying At one point, the decidedly larger girl was straddling the smaller one, who was on her belly in the grass. The Big Girl then grabbed the Lesser Girl (not little or small by any means, and definetly able to handle me, Simon, and Sullivan at once) by the face baby-Alien style and bellowed "You're done, Bitch!" and slammed her face into the mud. That was SWEET. I squealed like a little girl next to Seagle and Sammy for like an hour while Jasper bitched in the van, completely oblivious to the fact that this was the greatest thing to happen all week. When my mom called me the next morning to wish me happy birthday, the first words out of my mouth were "Mom, you totally missed these two drunk bitches knockin each other around, it was awesome". She expressed concern at the fact that Bens mom hadn't stopped calling the house, leaving messages of undying love for me on our machine, and also worried I wasn't wearing enough sun screen. She informed me that if I didn't put on sunscreen, I wasn't going to win. So I double coated and got ready to play on Thursday.
Thursday was a gorgeous day. Not a cloud in the sky, all morning to just relax, it was perfect. We should have known that the late afternoon start would do us no good. After watching Sports Center and Tracy McGrady score over, and over, and over again, we got down to business. We came out lightening quick again FSU, forcing early turnovers and burning them deep. We got up to a 2-0 lead and looked unstoppable. Then somebody fucked up and let ol brick hands on the field. Sean dropped a huck when he was soo open that the tournament directors came to the conclusion that we would have to forfeit the game. No seriously though. He was SOOO open. But that was one of many mistakes that led to us losing. Jasper through the craziest forehand I have ever seen, their ridiculous calls starting getting us hot under the collar, and general bad luck added up to a shitty second half. Despite the valiant effort of Jasper, Shaun, Nate Seagle, Ed, and Ben, they were seriously less sunburned than we were, so they won in a hotly contested match that involved goal line turnovers for both teams, long upfield marches, and a lot of good old bickering. We gave in to a few days of good ol rest, relaxation, and drinking. We started it off in grand fashion by going to watch the girls game against MSU and totally heckled them into a state of uselessness. The girls at the time were losing something like 11-0, 11-1, something like that. Thanks to dads amazing heckling, the girls came back to win 13-10. How did they lose a point, you ask? Well they were forced to give up a point by TD Ed when a completely debilitated Rosie humiliated them with her defensive play. I also saw some good catches by Lisa and Meghan. That is the type of thing that MUST be commended! No really though, the girls looked real good and spanked a pretty darn good team. Then we watched the FSU vs. Wesleyan game to go to the finals, completely split on who to vote for. On one hand, FSU had beaten us, and it would look better for them to win. Also Wesleyan are a bunch of dicks. But on the other hand, Wesleyan are a bunch of dicks who are funny and obnoxious, AND they are the only team to beat Brown that has a midget on their roster, full time. Does he play, you ask? Well he made a fantastic luck-of-the-irish catch when his teammate bobbled it and it looked almost like it might fall on the ground....but noo, his short stature came in handy as he snagged the disc from off his curly-toed shoes (thats right, all midgets wear shoes like those immigrant kids who work at the north pole). There were some great arguments, and a bunch of kids who have never played a single point for Wesleyan ran around all willy nilly. Wesleyan won and advanced to the finals.
The girls finals were that night, and they were fun. The girls won, and Piper's recap is pretty much enough, except that it leaves out the fact that Beth put a Terry Tate office linebackerish hurtin on that slut team. Pretty much every huck of theirs disappeared into a asian-hawaiian infused abyss. Those flowery shorts that are her trademark were in many a girls face as their ass got sky'd. Now if only Beth would trashtalk a little more...something like "I'm from wanna-fucka-laya-the-smacka-down-on-your-candy-ass Island BITCH!". Maybe I just want to live vicariously through Beth. Maybe I was just drunk at the game. Rosie, Kris Kelley, and Christina also had a whole section of fans in the upper deck going "ooohh" "ahhh" and "show us your titties!". I think that last one was really just Boner. In other, less pertinent news, Wesleyan woompdy wompdied Scooby Dooms dumbass to win the mens final. Yay! Chicken Quesadillias!
Thursday night we got real drunk, I'm pretty sure people puked, it was sweet. Some girl drew on me, which was awesome. Beth knew her too, and totally congratulated her on friday at the all star game. Punks. Friday was also a great day to get sunburned as all hell and eat good food.
High Tide was a great time, I hope everyone had as much fun as I did. Many thanks to Dan Jobbins, Nate Seagle, and Matt Holzer for their cooking, everyone for their cleaning, and Jasper for his incredible ability to pass out ice cold, anytime. Top moments were Holzer and Rosies drunken debauchery, Evan puking from between his fingers, the MSU girls fighting (see way above), chicken quesadillias, Hunter's drunken cheering, Ben NOT talking to Marina on the phone the whole damn time, and Dad. Nuff said. When it was all over we climbed into the van and headed for the ATL. That night the Michigan State girls, the Syracuse chicks, the Notre Dame hotties, and the Slut team...well, sluts got together and looked everywhere for us, hearing we were the hottest and best partying team in the land. Piper met up with them, and, with her normal wit, quipped, "these guys are long gone by now...your best bet would be to put a potato on the end of a string and drag it through South Boston, thanks for comin out" (thats two Boondock Saints references in one ridiculously long email, I know...so sue me). We of course responded in our own way with "some great homecooked Italian food would probably work better"
but thats another story for another email. I'll leave the Terminus recap for another day, or maybe someone else. Thanks for actually reading all of this, I'd be real impressed if you did. In the end, I think this may be longer than Pipers...rock on.
be excellent to each other-
Jeff Vincent"
jeff recapped the men's spring break trip which included a two-day tournament in atlanta called terminus. the boys played a lot during spring break, and they drove straight through to boston on sunday night/monday morning. the cars and men were safe in boston at 9 on monday morning. they're crazy. but they made it safely, and that's all that matters.
back to the rest of the women's recap in the next post.
-me : )
high tide 2004, part 4-women's tournament, day one
piper had to go to her internship after she finished the last e-mail (thank goodness!), so she couldn't continue to write. but this is when the real tournament started, so it's worth the wait.
subject heading: We're actually playing in this one!
date: Saturday, March 20, 2004 6:58 PM
the e-mail:
"Oooh! Just read back through the last one . . . HOLY TYPOS!! Sorry, Gs. I'll try to be more alert this go-round.
DAY 4
All right!! So, Tuesday was the start of pool play for all the teams. After much lameness from the Syracuse girls, our schedule was all kinds of turned around . . . and we didn't even get to have our vengeance on the field. Sorry, boys. They may've been hot, but holy pain in the ass!
We ended up with a four-game schedule that day. Not bad. Games to 13. We came out strong, pumped up after someone suggested we whip out the boombox. We romped on Michigan State . . . and they went to bed early. PLEASE!! They can keep their damn flip-cup. We'll take it to 'em on the fields
** Okay, I totally passed out right here for about 10 minutes . . . Sorry if it's uneven and/or makes no sense. **
Game 1 - Michigan State
So, Michigan was like, "let's be all fancy and do a horizontal stack." Well, where I come from, gettin' your asses kicked is anything BUT fancy, but they stuck with it. 3 handlers lead their drive while the other 4 lined up across the field looking for in and out cuts. I have NO idea what the hell kinda team that is effective with, but it wasn't us. We just played even with our match-ups and schooled them any which way they tried. I distinctly remember Lisa stepping in front of about a gagillion passes and then turning around and leaving her defender crying at the goal line. "Wahh!! Why can't I be as fast and awesome as Lisa!!???! Why!?!"
They looked like they didn't know their asses from their elbows out there, but we looked HOT!! That is, until Rosie decided to go all crazy like and hurt herself. You shoulda seen it, guys. Rosie went up at the edge of our endzone for one of the sweetest grabs I've ever seen in my adult life. She goes up. Way up, and suspended like MJ (tongue out and all) she casually glances down to pre-check her feet before she checks her feet when she lands . . . yeah. Noticing that she's flying out of bounds and there's nothin' there to stop her, Rosie flicks her wrist ever-so-delicately up and over her head. She looks (still soaring, mind you), but there's no one around to catch this beautiful put. Shifting position at the last minute in mid-air, Rosie lands with her feet planted, ready to pounce. She dives and as if pleading for "Go, Go, Gadget Arms," she extends to her greatest length. The disc, as if magnetically oriented toward all that is Rosie, lands softly in the palm of her hand (she's still soaring here, guys . . . but not the same soaring as last time . . . resoaring). GRASP!
But then, darkness falls. As Rosie is making her final descent, one of the Michigan girls (who we later found out has a rare form of dyslexia), thinking that the disc is at Rosie's feet, dive bombs for the D. SNAP!! They both crash to the ground in a heap of limbs. BUT ROSIE!! Unphased by her injury just glances out at her hand, holding fast to that beautiful white disc. Half is called.
Yeah, so Rosie's ankle looked like shit after all that. Good story, huh?? That's the extended version. You all are so lucky.
So, the second half, we came back and finished kicking their asses like we knew we could. It was a bit strange without Rosie, but everyone stepped it up. Christina and Mackenzie were all over the place. Getting open. Blocking throws. They're so quick!
Final: BU, 13 - Michigan State, 3 or 4 . . .
Game 2 - Notre Dame
Right off the bat, I should let you know that Notre Dame does not fight fair. It's not their play I'm talking about . . . It's their roster. Not one, but TWO dread-headed hippies were on their team. How unfair is that!?! And!! As we found out later, they were lovers. That DEFINITELY gives them an unfair advantage, however upsetting it may be to "Our Mother". . . That and the shock value of their hairy-ass armpits and legs when you're trying to defend one of them. Fuckin'-a!
Without Rosie, we were down . . . Way down. It certainly showed that she is the heart of this team. It was rough with her on the bench and not on the field.
We played TERRIBLY . . . So terribly, I don't wanna talk about it anymore. We lost. Miserably. 'Nuff said.
Final: Notre Dame, 10 - BU, 2
Game 3 - UNCG/Drew Combo Team
I think that's who we played next . . . Oh well. We played them at some point, so why not say now.
These kids were a good time. They played hard and with a lot of spirit . . . We kicked the crap out of them. I think there might've been some zone going on here. No one can handle the hotness of the 2-3-2. Then we just played man cause we were really wailing on them.
It was during this game that we had our second scare for the day. Kris Kelly, trying to do a triple sow-cow in the middle of her glorious Greatest attempt landed all kinds of fucked-up on her ankle/knee. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" was the only thing going through my head for like 10 minutes. Swear to god. Luckily, "Evil Jen" from UNCG had some expertise in some sort of medical/rescue/physical mending-oriented area. So, there was much elevating going on.
The rest of us played on with little trouble, but I'd say we were pretty lucky to be playing a not-so-great team. They really didn't score too many and because the Beth to Adrienne special was in full effect that game, none of us were very tired, so for good measure we played a few extra "style" points. We stopped after there wasn't so much a lot of "style" going down as swift ass-kicking by us on them. A good time was had by all.
Final: BU, 13 - UNCG/Drew, not a whole lot.
Game 4 - Rochester
These gals started the game by offering us their creative pipe disc. I don't think any of us were willing to pay the 25 bones for some tubes and a few holes in a disc, but we directed them to our boys team. Did anyone pick one up? I'd at least like to get a picture . . . of me smoking a fatty bowl out of it. JUST JOKING!! Sean loves it.
So, we noticed that it was a little breezy, so we're like, let's zone it up. We threw the cup, so as not to wear ourselves out too soon, but Rochester was like, "Zone!!! YEAAAAAAAA!!!" They worked it up the field like Jon-o works the streets . . . a little awkward, but somehow successful.
We were like, "Fuck that shit!" We switched it over to man after they rocked us for two points. They couldn't handle it. By the end, they were literally begging us to switch back to zone. No class at all. Blatant groveling.
While Rochester had plenty of hippies, I think it was their lack of dreads that made them less scary than Notre Dame. Their main handler hippie actually just had short hair and wore a long skirt. Unless my gramma is intimidating, that just doesn't get the job done.
We won. We killed them. We're awesome.
Final: BU, 13 - Rochestaaaaahh, something below 5.
PARTY -
Tuesday night at midnight was the commencement of Beth's birthday, so there was some wasted going on there. Back to Michigan State! A lot more flip-cup took place, as well as a little Pokey (a game a lot like full-bodied thumb war). Al suffered a war wound from it, but was healed almost instantly with Beth's "Extreme Vodka" which smelled surprisingly like rubbing alcohol. Way to go, Jasper/Steve M.! Great multi-purpose gift.
There was kind of a beautiful unspoken respect between the BU and Michigan girls. We became fast-friends. After all, they were supplying us with PLENTY of free beer.
That night there was also a point when two of the Michigan girls were kicking the shit out of each other while a third was blowing chunks like mad off of the deck. It was quite a scene. I think there're some pictures of it somewhere.
That was also the night that an MSU girl was signing everyone and their mom. Several stomachs on the BU team were branded the entire week . . . and I DON'T EVEN want to know how long Nate Smith's lasted on his ass.
Our way BACK home was probably the craziest part of the evening, though. We drove back to the guys' fancy le fance beach condo to drop off a few fellow partiers. Spoony left us and offered to go in and get Rosie (who had opted for the quieter scene of the condo to relax and rest her fugly looking ankle). We waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited a little bit more before I decided to go in and get the ball rolling so I didn't fall asleep while driving all the passed-out drunkards home.
I got up the stairs just in time to see Rosie standing in the middle of the living room, drink in hand, spouting some nonsense about how bad her ankle hurt, but that she couldn't feel it . . . at all. WASTED!!!! Hardly able to open her eyes, Rosie stumbled to the couch and plopped down next to a SLIGHTLY less wasted Holzer. QUIET REST, MY ASS!
Everyone in the place was watching and laughing. Holzer was toasting people left and right. I was asked to find a cup solely to "cheers" him. Trying to get something accomplished besides laughing my ass off, I pulled up a chair in front of Rosie and asked her to "focus on me." The only response I got was from Holzer who nearly poked my eyes out pointing at me and telling Rosie that I had "two . . . two eyes!" Totally distracted, Rosie could only say, "Where'd all these people come from??" Ohhh the drunkenness. So, I gave up and decided Rosie's ankle would appreciate it more if she wasn't camping and left her ass there.
We didn't have to play until 1:00 pm the next day, so it was okay that we didn't arrive at the campsite until 3:30 am. AND! We never had to use the secret code to get in to the campground. Odd, since the gates supposedly closed at 10 pm. Hmmmmm . . .
Okay, that's enough for this one. My friend Stephanie just came in from Idaho, so sorry for the delay. See you biotches at JOhn's party tonight.
Late,
P to the izz-ipe"
notes on the day: so, the recap of the first day of play is done. we were doing okay. not exactly where i thought we would be, then again, i think i had high expectations of everyone. so, we were 3-1 after tuesday. that was cool. i really wanted to play under the lights again later that week. that would be so cool. the weather was gorgeous, the people were awesome, and the lady pilots were chillin' in savannah the only way we could....pilots' style.
it was rough losing rosie so early, but looking back on it, i learned to take risks during the rest of the week. trust was a big issue for me since i hadn't played with many of them since the previous spring and at practices. i have to remember to be patient with my teammates, and expect more from myself because i've had a lot of experience. i can expect only so much, and i can push myself to do more, and i will keep that in mind as the college season begins. i'm not going to stray....this is a spring break recap....
first day of pool play and the lady pilots are rollin'.
-me : )
subject heading: We're actually playing in this one!
date: Saturday, March 20, 2004 6:58 PM
the e-mail:
"Oooh! Just read back through the last one . . . HOLY TYPOS!! Sorry, Gs. I'll try to be more alert this go-round.
DAY 4
All right!! So, Tuesday was the start of pool play for all the teams. After much lameness from the Syracuse girls, our schedule was all kinds of turned around . . . and we didn't even get to have our vengeance on the field. Sorry, boys. They may've been hot, but holy pain in the ass!
We ended up with a four-game schedule that day. Not bad. Games to 13. We came out strong, pumped up after someone suggested we whip out the boombox. We romped on Michigan State . . . and they went to bed early. PLEASE!! They can keep their damn flip-cup. We'll take it to 'em on the fields
** Okay, I totally passed out right here for about 10 minutes . . . Sorry if it's uneven and/or makes no sense. **
Game 1 - Michigan State
So, Michigan was like, "let's be all fancy and do a horizontal stack." Well, where I come from, gettin' your asses kicked is anything BUT fancy, but they stuck with it. 3 handlers lead their drive while the other 4 lined up across the field looking for in and out cuts. I have NO idea what the hell kinda team that is effective with, but it wasn't us. We just played even with our match-ups and schooled them any which way they tried. I distinctly remember Lisa stepping in front of about a gagillion passes and then turning around and leaving her defender crying at the goal line. "Wahh!! Why can't I be as fast and awesome as Lisa!!???! Why!?!"
They looked like they didn't know their asses from their elbows out there, but we looked HOT!! That is, until Rosie decided to go all crazy like and hurt herself. You shoulda seen it, guys. Rosie went up at the edge of our endzone for one of the sweetest grabs I've ever seen in my adult life. She goes up. Way up, and suspended like MJ (tongue out and all) she casually glances down to pre-check her feet before she checks her feet when she lands . . . yeah. Noticing that she's flying out of bounds and there's nothin' there to stop her, Rosie flicks her wrist ever-so-delicately up and over her head. She looks (still soaring, mind you), but there's no one around to catch this beautiful put. Shifting position at the last minute in mid-air, Rosie lands with her feet planted, ready to pounce. She dives and as if pleading for "Go, Go, Gadget Arms," she extends to her greatest length. The disc, as if magnetically oriented toward all that is Rosie, lands softly in the palm of her hand (she's still soaring here, guys . . . but not the same soaring as last time . . . resoaring). GRASP!
But then, darkness falls. As Rosie is making her final descent, one of the Michigan girls (who we later found out has a rare form of dyslexia), thinking that the disc is at Rosie's feet, dive bombs for the D. SNAP!! They both crash to the ground in a heap of limbs. BUT ROSIE!! Unphased by her injury just glances out at her hand, holding fast to that beautiful white disc. Half is called.
Yeah, so Rosie's ankle looked like shit after all that. Good story, huh?? That's the extended version. You all are so lucky.
So, the second half, we came back and finished kicking their asses like we knew we could. It was a bit strange without Rosie, but everyone stepped it up. Christina and Mackenzie were all over the place. Getting open. Blocking throws. They're so quick!
Final: BU, 13 - Michigan State, 3 or 4 . . .
Game 2 - Notre Dame
Right off the bat, I should let you know that Notre Dame does not fight fair. It's not their play I'm talking about . . . It's their roster. Not one, but TWO dread-headed hippies were on their team. How unfair is that!?! And!! As we found out later, they were lovers. That DEFINITELY gives them an unfair advantage, however upsetting it may be to "Our Mother". . . That and the shock value of their hairy-ass armpits and legs when you're trying to defend one of them. Fuckin'-a!
Without Rosie, we were down . . . Way down. It certainly showed that she is the heart of this team. It was rough with her on the bench and not on the field.
We played TERRIBLY . . . So terribly, I don't wanna talk about it anymore. We lost. Miserably. 'Nuff said.
Final: Notre Dame, 10 - BU, 2
Game 3 - UNCG/Drew Combo Team
I think that's who we played next . . . Oh well. We played them at some point, so why not say now.
These kids were a good time. They played hard and with a lot of spirit . . . We kicked the crap out of them. I think there might've been some zone going on here. No one can handle the hotness of the 2-3-2. Then we just played man cause we were really wailing on them.
It was during this game that we had our second scare for the day. Kris Kelly, trying to do a triple sow-cow in the middle of her glorious Greatest attempt landed all kinds of fucked-up on her ankle/knee. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" was the only thing going through my head for like 10 minutes. Swear to god. Luckily, "Evil Jen" from UNCG had some expertise in some sort of medical/rescue/physical mending-oriented area. So, there was much elevating going on.
The rest of us played on with little trouble, but I'd say we were pretty lucky to be playing a not-so-great team. They really didn't score too many and because the Beth to Adrienne special was in full effect that game, none of us were very tired, so for good measure we played a few extra "style" points. We stopped after there wasn't so much a lot of "style" going down as swift ass-kicking by us on them. A good time was had by all.
Final: BU, 13 - UNCG/Drew, not a whole lot.
Game 4 - Rochester
These gals started the game by offering us their creative pipe disc. I don't think any of us were willing to pay the 25 bones for some tubes and a few holes in a disc, but we directed them to our boys team. Did anyone pick one up? I'd at least like to get a picture . . . of me smoking a fatty bowl out of it. JUST JOKING!! Sean loves it.
So, we noticed that it was a little breezy, so we're like, let's zone it up. We threw the cup, so as not to wear ourselves out too soon, but Rochester was like, "Zone!!! YEAAAAAAAA!!!" They worked it up the field like Jon-o works the streets . . . a little awkward, but somehow successful.
We were like, "Fuck that shit!" We switched it over to man after they rocked us for two points. They couldn't handle it. By the end, they were literally begging us to switch back to zone. No class at all. Blatant groveling.
While Rochester had plenty of hippies, I think it was their lack of dreads that made them less scary than Notre Dame. Their main handler hippie actually just had short hair and wore a long skirt. Unless my gramma is intimidating, that just doesn't get the job done.
We won. We killed them. We're awesome.
Final: BU, 13 - Rochestaaaaahh, something below 5.
PARTY -
Tuesday night at midnight was the commencement of Beth's birthday, so there was some wasted going on there. Back to Michigan State! A lot more flip-cup took place, as well as a little Pokey (a game a lot like full-bodied thumb war). Al suffered a war wound from it, but was healed almost instantly with Beth's "Extreme Vodka" which smelled surprisingly like rubbing alcohol. Way to go, Jasper/Steve M.! Great multi-purpose gift.
There was kind of a beautiful unspoken respect between the BU and Michigan girls. We became fast-friends. After all, they were supplying us with PLENTY of free beer.
That night there was also a point when two of the Michigan girls were kicking the shit out of each other while a third was blowing chunks like mad off of the deck. It was quite a scene. I think there're some pictures of it somewhere.
That was also the night that an MSU girl was signing everyone and their mom. Several stomachs on the BU team were branded the entire week . . . and I DON'T EVEN want to know how long Nate Smith's lasted on his ass.
Our way BACK home was probably the craziest part of the evening, though. We drove back to the guys' fancy le fance beach condo to drop off a few fellow partiers. Spoony left us and offered to go in and get Rosie (who had opted for the quieter scene of the condo to relax and rest her fugly looking ankle). We waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited a little bit more before I decided to go in and get the ball rolling so I didn't fall asleep while driving all the passed-out drunkards home.
I got up the stairs just in time to see Rosie standing in the middle of the living room, drink in hand, spouting some nonsense about how bad her ankle hurt, but that she couldn't feel it . . . at all. WASTED!!!! Hardly able to open her eyes, Rosie stumbled to the couch and plopped down next to a SLIGHTLY less wasted Holzer. QUIET REST, MY ASS!
Everyone in the place was watching and laughing. Holzer was toasting people left and right. I was asked to find a cup solely to "cheers" him. Trying to get something accomplished besides laughing my ass off, I pulled up a chair in front of Rosie and asked her to "focus on me." The only response I got was from Holzer who nearly poked my eyes out pointing at me and telling Rosie that I had "two . . . two eyes!" Totally distracted, Rosie could only say, "Where'd all these people come from??" Ohhh the drunkenness. So, I gave up and decided Rosie's ankle would appreciate it more if she wasn't camping and left her ass there.
We didn't have to play until 1:00 pm the next day, so it was okay that we didn't arrive at the campsite until 3:30 am. AND! We never had to use the secret code to get in to the campground. Odd, since the gates supposedly closed at 10 pm. Hmmmmm . . .
Okay, that's enough for this one. My friend Stephanie just came in from Idaho, so sorry for the delay. See you biotches at JOhn's party tonight.
Late,
P to the izz-ipe"
notes on the day: so, the recap of the first day of play is done. we were doing okay. not exactly where i thought we would be, then again, i think i had high expectations of everyone. so, we were 3-1 after tuesday. that was cool. i really wanted to play under the lights again later that week. that would be so cool. the weather was gorgeous, the people were awesome, and the lady pilots were chillin' in savannah the only way we could....pilots' style.
it was rough losing rosie so early, but looking back on it, i learned to take risks during the rest of the week. trust was a big issue for me since i hadn't played with many of them since the previous spring and at practices. i have to remember to be patient with my teammates, and expect more from myself because i've had a lot of experience. i can expect only so much, and i can push myself to do more, and i will keep that in mind as the college season begins. i'm not going to stray....this is a spring break recap....
first day of pool play and the lady pilots are rollin'.
-me : )
high tide 2004, part 3-hat tournament
so, i think piper was on crack that friday morning she decided to start chipping away at the spring break recap. but she managed to keep me reading as the e-mails appeared in my inbox. here comes the hat tournament (in which my team made the finals....that was so cool!).
subject heading: Round Fuckin' 2 - Day 3
date: Friday, March 19, 2004 7:05 AM
the e-mail:
"Ahh . . . much better.
So, we arrived in Georgia with about 1.5 hours of daylight left. The other cars, not so close behind. At one point during the ride we thought, "Muwahaha! Nobody can set up camp without us. We have ALL the stuff!!" But when we got there, we realized that Kris Kelly had all the reservations and there was no way for us to get in. Awesome.
Then what better way is there to spend your first time in tolerable temperatures since August?? STAY IN THE CAR!! Yeah, we stuck with the AC and tooled around Savannah to find the fields, the beach, and the action downtown. Then we just kept going and found the campsite . . . after many a U-turn. But, hey! It's not a real vacation until you've flipped at least 10, right?
Setting up camp in the dark is a lot of fun, if you like the suspense of waiting for a tent pole to jab you in the eye. Sounds like my idea of a good time. Who's with me?
Meghann was a TOTAL pro, though. She had that shit set up like it ain't no thang. (And yes, Jason/Mike I know I switched tenses there, but "wanent" just doesn't have the same ring to it . . . I don't even know if that's said at all.)
Tarps were down, tents were up, and sleeping bags were rolled out before time reached double digits. We were able to score some Subway for a quick dinner before showering (in facilities that I know at least TWO people noted as being cleaner than Warren Towers) and passing the fuck out.
DAY 3 -
We had to get up a little bit earlier than I would've liked, but then again, I'd like to be sleeping right now, but I haven't been sleeping at all and the sun just came up. So really I'm a slave to the frisbee world and my personal wants and needs no longer matter.
We shimmied out of our sleeping bags, crammed a few granola bars in our faces, and headed to the fields we had found the previous day. This town had some pretty sweet field complexes. Not gonna lie. In light of the recent snowfall here in Boston, it was really nice to at least get our feet (cleated or no) on the grass.
This was Coed Hat Tourney Day. I know the girls were excited, but I don't know if our fellow Pilots felt quite the same way, what with the ratio being entirely in our favor. FOR ONCE, WE WIN!! There were about 3 or 4 girls on every team of about 11 total. Some teams could wholesale their squads, but others were barely eking by.
A lot of the feedback from the girls was that they were often the best girl on the team, but there were also some difficulties with terminology and play movement. Popper-stopper?? Monster??? I don't get it. (Insert ditzy hair-toss here.)
I was watching Holzer and Lil' Erin's team whomp some ass all day when my mediocre squad hailed me to the other fields. It wasn't until then (we're talkin' like 3:30 here) that I realized there had been much drunken revelry among the BU kids. Revelry for what purposes, I've not a clue. Perhaps it was in celebration of Benny's extreme Jewishness, maybe it was for the huge flock of girls they had surrounding them when I mozied up, or it could have been for the fact that we were in fuckin' Georgia, in shorts, gettin' a little suntan, playin' a little disc . . . outside!! That oval track will make you go fuckin' nuts, for real.
So, I took two shots and went to watch other games. Rosie's team was playing against Adrienne's team. Pete Reynolds was there watching, longing to play, but his single-point attempt was to heart-breaking (and by heart-breaking I mean heart-attack inducing) for even Peter to bear. Pete, I know you don't read this, but two words: track practice.
Then, I experienced the storm behind the stories. Totally shit-faced Adrienne came flying out of nowhere to tackle anyone in her crossed sights. Oh yes, Adge had been into the sauce. Unbeknownst to Lisa, during one of her games, she was propositioned with playing 6-1 as opposed to 5-2 because one of the other teams players was "reeeaaally drunk." Lise had NO idea it was her own teammate until Adrienne mustered up enough sober to the line, then run out and tackle Lisa. Is it a foul if your defender can't stand up . . . and she's in hysterics?
As the sun started to set and BU started to sober up, the teams had dwindled down to two. The championship game, under the lights, with a bit of a crowd, consisted of Beth's team and the Holzer/Lil' Erin combo team. The pride stakes were high in this one. After a good fight, Beth's pride was shot down on a Greatest attempt blocked by a sky-high D from Holzer. Holzer loved it . . . Beth, not so much.
In all fairness, Holzer/Lil' Erin's team had all the tall people in the free world on it . . . minus Lil' Erin, whose pivoting skills were DEFINITELY unmatched. But yeah, what the shit is that? They won it all. Them and their damn tall . . . ness.
After the game and after showering and all that, the gals decided to head out and start our Spring Break week off right. First stop! Michigan State house. All the cool people had rented houses on the beach, while the EXTRA-SUPER-MONDO-MUCHUOSO cool people camped on a different island. So, basically it was like, find a road and look for frisbee kids. Scrawny bastards. Shaggy hair. Well, our ambition in that respect was not high, so we ended up partying with MSU EVERYNIGHT!
PARTY -
Monday night, we were handed our asses to us by their superior flip-cup tactics. Mad skillz!
Our first game the following morning was against the State girls, so they were all asleep, resting up for what they thought would be a good game. We fuckin' partied, though.
Allison came in and, right off the bat, kicked the shit out of their keg-stand record. Pussies. We brought our own personal dance party. And I even think by the end we started to master the flip-cup. It's the chugging where we falter.
M'kay, I'm sending this again. You guys are likely TOTALLY sick of this shit. Just take your time. You don't have to read it all today. Save them in a special e-mail folder and keep them for always and maybe when you're painfully bored one day, you'll find them fun and interesting to read.
Whatever. NEXT!
Pipe"
yups, pipes was on crack. it's okay though. she still rocks my world.
the first day of high tide was a hat tournament. props go out to the lady pilots for representing in style (even though adrienne was drunk). the ladies made an impression on everyone they met, and i'm very proud of them. and the first impressions created a solid fan base we would have throughout the week. word.
my hat team was awesome. we ran a 2-3-2. yeah, believe it. and they each get shoutouts here: spencer (richmond), jamie (western illinois), mike and elise (truman state), dave (drew), khanti (green mountain), morgan (michigan state), brian (rhode island), and carrie (edinboro). yeah team g2, the iron gauntlet!
the lady pilots are ready to play.
-me : )
subject heading: Round Fuckin' 2 - Day 3
date: Friday, March 19, 2004 7:05 AM
the e-mail:
"Ahh . . . much better.
So, we arrived in Georgia with about 1.5 hours of daylight left. The other cars, not so close behind. At one point during the ride we thought, "Muwahaha! Nobody can set up camp without us. We have ALL the stuff!!" But when we got there, we realized that Kris Kelly had all the reservations and there was no way for us to get in. Awesome.
Then what better way is there to spend your first time in tolerable temperatures since August?? STAY IN THE CAR!! Yeah, we stuck with the AC and tooled around Savannah to find the fields, the beach, and the action downtown. Then we just kept going and found the campsite . . . after many a U-turn. But, hey! It's not a real vacation until you've flipped at least 10, right?
Setting up camp in the dark is a lot of fun, if you like the suspense of waiting for a tent pole to jab you in the eye. Sounds like my idea of a good time. Who's with me?
Meghann was a TOTAL pro, though. She had that shit set up like it ain't no thang. (And yes, Jason/Mike I know I switched tenses there, but "wanent" just doesn't have the same ring to it . . . I don't even know if that's said at all.)
Tarps were down, tents were up, and sleeping bags were rolled out before time reached double digits. We were able to score some Subway for a quick dinner before showering (in facilities that I know at least TWO people noted as being cleaner than Warren Towers) and passing the fuck out.
DAY 3 -
We had to get up a little bit earlier than I would've liked, but then again, I'd like to be sleeping right now, but I haven't been sleeping at all and the sun just came up. So really I'm a slave to the frisbee world and my personal wants and needs no longer matter.
We shimmied out of our sleeping bags, crammed a few granola bars in our faces, and headed to the fields we had found the previous day. This town had some pretty sweet field complexes. Not gonna lie. In light of the recent snowfall here in Boston, it was really nice to at least get our feet (cleated or no) on the grass.
This was Coed Hat Tourney Day. I know the girls were excited, but I don't know if our fellow Pilots felt quite the same way, what with the ratio being entirely in our favor. FOR ONCE, WE WIN!! There were about 3 or 4 girls on every team of about 11 total. Some teams could wholesale their squads, but others were barely eking by.
A lot of the feedback from the girls was that they were often the best girl on the team, but there were also some difficulties with terminology and play movement. Popper-stopper?? Monster??? I don't get it. (Insert ditzy hair-toss here.)
I was watching Holzer and Lil' Erin's team whomp some ass all day when my mediocre squad hailed me to the other fields. It wasn't until then (we're talkin' like 3:30 here) that I realized there had been much drunken revelry among the BU kids. Revelry for what purposes, I've not a clue. Perhaps it was in celebration of Benny's extreme Jewishness, maybe it was for the huge flock of girls they had surrounding them when I mozied up, or it could have been for the fact that we were in fuckin' Georgia, in shorts, gettin' a little suntan, playin' a little disc . . . outside!! That oval track will make you go fuckin' nuts, for real.
So, I took two shots and went to watch other games. Rosie's team was playing against Adrienne's team. Pete Reynolds was there watching, longing to play, but his single-point attempt was to heart-breaking (and by heart-breaking I mean heart-attack inducing) for even Peter to bear. Pete, I know you don't read this, but two words: track practice.
Then, I experienced the storm behind the stories. Totally shit-faced Adrienne came flying out of nowhere to tackle anyone in her crossed sights. Oh yes, Adge had been into the sauce. Unbeknownst to Lisa, during one of her games, she was propositioned with playing 6-1 as opposed to 5-2 because one of the other teams players was "reeeaaally drunk." Lise had NO idea it was her own teammate until Adrienne mustered up enough sober to the line, then run out and tackle Lisa. Is it a foul if your defender can't stand up . . . and she's in hysterics?
As the sun started to set and BU started to sober up, the teams had dwindled down to two. The championship game, under the lights, with a bit of a crowd, consisted of Beth's team and the Holzer/Lil' Erin combo team. The pride stakes were high in this one. After a good fight, Beth's pride was shot down on a Greatest attempt blocked by a sky-high D from Holzer. Holzer loved it . . . Beth, not so much.
In all fairness, Holzer/Lil' Erin's team had all the tall people in the free world on it . . . minus Lil' Erin, whose pivoting skills were DEFINITELY unmatched. But yeah, what the shit is that? They won it all. Them and their damn tall . . . ness.
After the game and after showering and all that, the gals decided to head out and start our Spring Break week off right. First stop! Michigan State house. All the cool people had rented houses on the beach, while the EXTRA-SUPER-MONDO-MUCHUOSO cool people camped on a different island. So, basically it was like, find a road and look for frisbee kids. Scrawny bastards. Shaggy hair. Well, our ambition in that respect was not high, so we ended up partying with MSU EVERYNIGHT!
PARTY -
Monday night, we were handed our asses to us by their superior flip-cup tactics. Mad skillz!
Our first game the following morning was against the State girls, so they were all asleep, resting up for what they thought would be a good game. We fuckin' partied, though.
Allison came in and, right off the bat, kicked the shit out of their keg-stand record. Pussies. We brought our own personal dance party. And I even think by the end we started to master the flip-cup. It's the chugging where we falter.
M'kay, I'm sending this again. You guys are likely TOTALLY sick of this shit. Just take your time. You don't have to read it all today. Save them in a special e-mail folder and keep them for always and maybe when you're painfully bored one day, you'll find them fun and interesting to read.
Whatever. NEXT!
Pipe"
yups, pipes was on crack. it's okay though. she still rocks my world.
the first day of high tide was a hat tournament. props go out to the lady pilots for representing in style (even though adrienne was drunk). the ladies made an impression on everyone they met, and i'm very proud of them. and the first impressions created a solid fan base we would have throughout the week. word.
my hat team was awesome. we ran a 2-3-2. yeah, believe it. and they each get shoutouts here: spencer (richmond), jamie (western illinois), mike and elise (truman state), dave (drew), khanti (green mountain), morgan (michigan state), brian (rhode island), and carrie (edinboro). yeah team g2, the iron gauntlet!
the lady pilots are ready to play.
-me : )
high tide 2004, part 2-to savannah we go
did i forget to mention that our spring break was from march 6-march 14? well, it was. lots of days to cover. and this is only the beginning.
subject heading: Sleep is most definitely for the weak . . . or the intelligent.
date: Friday, March 19, 2004 5:48 AM
the e-mail:
"All right. Without any more crap. Here it is: The hunched-over-my-computer-cracked-out-on-sleep-deprivation version of the High Tide 2004 Recap.
The anticipation for this week was intense! As a general rule, I try not to get excited about, well, anything, but I was definitely pumped. My fellow Pilots (males included) were also rather jazzed to be leaving the metro-Boston area for sunny days on the beach. . . Glorious.
I'm pretty sure most of us didn't get much sleep the night before we left. Whether it was a bit of last-minute cleaning, plain old nerves, or a night out on the tizz-own with Jeff's mom, sleep was not being had. Oh fuckin' well, though!
(Note the excessive and unnecessary use of the word "fuckin'." This is a demonstration not of my neglect for the proper use of the English language, but rather the written expression of my inner college student self. Sorry, I just didn't get enough "Girls Gone Wild" action over the break. Fuckin' deal.)
DAY 1 -
The Pilettes lugged their tightly packed belongings to the Marsh Plaza around 9:00 am. With a little delay from a series of beautiful group photos taken by one Philbert Q. Lewis (I actually have no idea what your middle initial is, Philly, but we'll say the Q stands for Quadrangle). Phil looked like an ENTIRE Asian tour group at Disney World with all those damn cameras hanging off his arms. Not many people can pull that off, Phil. You do it with style.
So, our adventure started off like any other road trip: a selection of music, some small talk, me passing out in the back seat, and, in no time at all (at least when you're passed out in the back seat) the first food stop.
I believe the theme for the mini-van was "As shady as Nate Smith." Our first stop: Newark.
Driving through the ghetto, I thought to myself, "This is stinkin' awesome! This place is so gritty, so New Jack City!" Then, I remembered a few things: a) Newark does not equal movie set. Chris Rock isn't gonna come out with powdered sugar all over his face doing a stand-up routine. b) We're driving a red mini-van. The urban ghetto and suburban wasteland don't seem to mesh well. c) Space-saver roof storage bin equals HUGE FUCKING BEACON full of crap for the taking.
What do we do next? Flee from the town for a more sterile diner of the Jersey variety? NO! Parallel park that shit!
We hop out (which isn't so easy to do from the way back surrounded by coolers and snack foods) and step into what we perceive from the exterior to be the seediest dive of a diner we could've possibly seen.
But, Jesus Harry-and-the-Hendersons Christ!! The place was immaculate! We're not talkin' just health-inspection clean. We're talkin' Granny clean. We're talkin' Granny would lick her meal up off the floor if she didn't have that prosthetic hip and could still bend over. That's fuckin' clean. It was so nice, in fact, that we barely had the heart to steal a menu; a task required of us via our scavenger hunt. HOWEVER! Lil' Erin came through with flying colors stealing not only a To-Go menu, but also the laminated breakfast menu from its perch at the bar.
Lil' Erin would from here on out head all covert operations.
She was successful the next day with stealing a mug from the good people at IHOP as well as a plastic ball from the PlayPlace at a Mickey D's.
The trip was relatively uneventful up until our arrival in Virginia . . . which is probably a good thing considering we were carrying our living arrangements for the next 5 days. No pressure.
However, we DID see Rob Kim and several colorful truckers at one of the roadside service plazas in New Jersey. Robbie!! That was crazy.
Arlington was a good time. Rosie ate meat (see cannibal picture), Lisa enjoyed pretzels in several orifices (see pretzel-face picture . . . emphasis on FACE. Don't get any ideas. . . . You guys are pervs.), Jason THOROUGHLY enjoyed Michelle's shorts, and Kris Kelly enjoyed the beer . . . LOTS OF THE BEER.
Jason, Eitan and Michelle hooked us up with pizza, Kings, and Pictionary, while Rosie's mom sent silly hats, chicken, and maxi-pads. Aren't moms terrific??
Just as everyone was passing out, the mini-van waited for Jason to put some pants on and peace out. We jetted over to his place with a few stops in between for some quality touristic photos.
"How is that shady," you ask? Ummm . . . It was at 2:30 in the AM and surprisingly there were other people at the Lincoln Memorial. The security guard, although lacking in photographic skillz, was kind enough to take a group pict in front of Honest Abe's knees. We ventured over to some other dead dude and took a picture that would strangely foreshadow Lil' Erin's escapades over the course of the week.
Mike - We tried to find Albert Einstein, but by that time, Jason was being accosted by the DC Po-Po. Our getaway was imperative as the bastards had ZERO respect for the New York plates.
We finally made it back to Jason's to take a quick cat-nap for about 2 minutes.
DAY 2 (I can't believe how long this is going to be) -
We woke up and rolled out the door by 6:00 am. While the other girls enjoyed a tasty, borderline gourmet b-fast at Eitan and Michelle's, the mini-van set off in the dark in search of highway, daylight, and an IHOP. Actually, I passed out in the back again, so I really had no clue what the hell we were searching for. I just know I was having a lovely dream about Cory Violette and the Gonzaga Bulldogs winning the Big Dance, when I was rudely awakened by a swift kick to the head. I blame Meghann . . . It's that firey red hair.
So, we stumbled into IHOP, rubbing the sleep out of our eyes. We stared blankly at the menus for about five minutes before the hazy glaze cleared from our vision. Mmmm . . . I had biscuits and gravy. Beth was obsessed with the butter pecan syrup. Lil' Erin ganked a mug. Christina had the hardest time figuring out that it was Sunday and the paper was NOT 35¢, but rather $1.25, and the fact that she was not putting in enough money was why the machine was "broken." Meghann was SO loud and obnoxious that we had to have someone constantly watching her to make sure she didn't guzzle down ALL the syrups. She is CRAZY, that girl!! She got through about half of the boysenberry before anyone knew what was going on. hahaha!
The rest of the drive involved some gas station prancing by Lil' Erin, some flashing also by Lil' Erin (That one wasn't really so much a covert op, but she was the only one of us who had the balls to do it – FRESHMAN PRIDE!), and a little too much fun at South of the Border.
I don't know if anyone's been to Wall Drug in South Dakota, but South of the Border is a LOT like that. Similar, but on about 20 kilos of smack. I think my retinas will be forever singed by the hideousness of the neon spectrum, but DAMN! that Pedro is one fly guy . . . if ya like your men inanimate and fashioned out of cement and rebar.
At South of the Border we saw crazy hats, leather chaps, and about as many damn statues as anyone would ever even want to imagine. Best part is, we got pictures of all of them. I think we won the scavenger hunt right there.
We tried to get a picture of a Mexican guy with a rat-tail to fulfill our mullet requirement, but I was to quick to shoot him the evil eye when he wolf-whistled our way. I BLEW IT!!
A few other quick stops were made 'cause we were leading the pack. So we took some time out to visit with a nice, old RV-ridin' couple from Pennsylvania. Then, we decided since there were four of us Crackas in the car, we might as well stop at a Cracker Barrel. That is definitely the whitest place I've seen since I've been home. Very Cracker-rific. Finally, to regress back to the shady, we swung by an El Cheapo gas station for a little photo op.
Holy god. I've written this much and I'm just to the point of us ARRIVING in Savannah.
Wow. Just wow.
I'll send this one then. You can get up, stretch, adjust your eyes back to "normal light," and come back for Round 2 after a pee break. . . or maybe I'll just do that. I can feel the hunch in my back growing. Gotta stretch it out.
- Quasimodo"
yeah, that was the weekend. we're finally in savannah. did you look at the timestamp? she's crazy. well, at least we're playing ultimate in the next recap.
camping in savannah.
-me : )
subject heading: Sleep is most definitely for the weak . . . or the intelligent.
date: Friday, March 19, 2004 5:48 AM
the e-mail:
"All right. Without any more crap. Here it is: The hunched-over-my-computer-cracked-out-on-sleep-deprivation version of the High Tide 2004 Recap.
The anticipation for this week was intense! As a general rule, I try not to get excited about, well, anything, but I was definitely pumped. My fellow Pilots (males included) were also rather jazzed to be leaving the metro-Boston area for sunny days on the beach. . . Glorious.
I'm pretty sure most of us didn't get much sleep the night before we left. Whether it was a bit of last-minute cleaning, plain old nerves, or a night out on the tizz-own with Jeff's mom, sleep was not being had. Oh fuckin' well, though!
(Note the excessive and unnecessary use of the word "fuckin'." This is a demonstration not of my neglect for the proper use of the English language, but rather the written expression of my inner college student self. Sorry, I just didn't get enough "Girls Gone Wild" action over the break. Fuckin' deal.)
DAY 1 -
The Pilettes lugged their tightly packed belongings to the Marsh Plaza around 9:00 am. With a little delay from a series of beautiful group photos taken by one Philbert Q. Lewis (I actually have no idea what your middle initial is, Philly, but we'll say the Q stands for Quadrangle). Phil looked like an ENTIRE Asian tour group at Disney World with all those damn cameras hanging off his arms. Not many people can pull that off, Phil. You do it with style.
So, our adventure started off like any other road trip: a selection of music, some small talk, me passing out in the back seat, and, in no time at all (at least when you're passed out in the back seat) the first food stop.
I believe the theme for the mini-van was "As shady as Nate Smith." Our first stop: Newark.
Driving through the ghetto, I thought to myself, "This is stinkin' awesome! This place is so gritty, so New Jack City!" Then, I remembered a few things: a) Newark does not equal movie set. Chris Rock isn't gonna come out with powdered sugar all over his face doing a stand-up routine. b) We're driving a red mini-van. The urban ghetto and suburban wasteland don't seem to mesh well. c) Space-saver roof storage bin equals HUGE FUCKING BEACON full of crap for the taking.
What do we do next? Flee from the town for a more sterile diner of the Jersey variety? NO! Parallel park that shit!
We hop out (which isn't so easy to do from the way back surrounded by coolers and snack foods) and step into what we perceive from the exterior to be the seediest dive of a diner we could've possibly seen.
But, Jesus Harry-and-the-Hendersons Christ!! The place was immaculate! We're not talkin' just health-inspection clean. We're talkin' Granny clean. We're talkin' Granny would lick her meal up off the floor if she didn't have that prosthetic hip and could still bend over. That's fuckin' clean. It was so nice, in fact, that we barely had the heart to steal a menu; a task required of us via our scavenger hunt. HOWEVER! Lil' Erin came through with flying colors stealing not only a To-Go menu, but also the laminated breakfast menu from its perch at the bar.
Lil' Erin would from here on out head all covert operations.
She was successful the next day with stealing a mug from the good people at IHOP as well as a plastic ball from the PlayPlace at a Mickey D's.
The trip was relatively uneventful up until our arrival in Virginia . . . which is probably a good thing considering we were carrying our living arrangements for the next 5 days. No pressure.
However, we DID see Rob Kim and several colorful truckers at one of the roadside service plazas in New Jersey. Robbie!! That was crazy.
Arlington was a good time. Rosie ate meat (see cannibal picture), Lisa enjoyed pretzels in several orifices (see pretzel-face picture . . . emphasis on FACE. Don't get any ideas. . . . You guys are pervs.), Jason THOROUGHLY enjoyed Michelle's shorts, and Kris Kelly enjoyed the beer . . . LOTS OF THE BEER.
Jason, Eitan and Michelle hooked us up with pizza, Kings, and Pictionary, while Rosie's mom sent silly hats, chicken, and maxi-pads. Aren't moms terrific??
Just as everyone was passing out, the mini-van waited for Jason to put some pants on and peace out. We jetted over to his place with a few stops in between for some quality touristic photos.
"How is that shady," you ask? Ummm . . . It was at 2:30 in the AM and surprisingly there were other people at the Lincoln Memorial. The security guard, although lacking in photographic skillz, was kind enough to take a group pict in front of Honest Abe's knees. We ventured over to some other dead dude and took a picture that would strangely foreshadow Lil' Erin's escapades over the course of the week.
Mike - We tried to find Albert Einstein, but by that time, Jason was being accosted by the DC Po-Po. Our getaway was imperative as the bastards had ZERO respect for the New York plates.
We finally made it back to Jason's to take a quick cat-nap for about 2 minutes.
DAY 2 (I can't believe how long this is going to be) -
We woke up and rolled out the door by 6:00 am. While the other girls enjoyed a tasty, borderline gourmet b-fast at Eitan and Michelle's, the mini-van set off in the dark in search of highway, daylight, and an IHOP. Actually, I passed out in the back again, so I really had no clue what the hell we were searching for. I just know I was having a lovely dream about Cory Violette and the Gonzaga Bulldogs winning the Big Dance, when I was rudely awakened by a swift kick to the head. I blame Meghann . . . It's that firey red hair.
So, we stumbled into IHOP, rubbing the sleep out of our eyes. We stared blankly at the menus for about five minutes before the hazy glaze cleared from our vision. Mmmm . . . I had biscuits and gravy. Beth was obsessed with the butter pecan syrup. Lil' Erin ganked a mug. Christina had the hardest time figuring out that it was Sunday and the paper was NOT 35¢, but rather $1.25, and the fact that she was not putting in enough money was why the machine was "broken." Meghann was SO loud and obnoxious that we had to have someone constantly watching her to make sure she didn't guzzle down ALL the syrups. She is CRAZY, that girl!! She got through about half of the boysenberry before anyone knew what was going on. hahaha!
The rest of the drive involved some gas station prancing by Lil' Erin, some flashing also by Lil' Erin (That one wasn't really so much a covert op, but she was the only one of us who had the balls to do it – FRESHMAN PRIDE!), and a little too much fun at South of the Border.
I don't know if anyone's been to Wall Drug in South Dakota, but South of the Border is a LOT like that. Similar, but on about 20 kilos of smack. I think my retinas will be forever singed by the hideousness of the neon spectrum, but DAMN! that Pedro is one fly guy . . . if ya like your men inanimate and fashioned out of cement and rebar.
At South of the Border we saw crazy hats, leather chaps, and about as many damn statues as anyone would ever even want to imagine. Best part is, we got pictures of all of them. I think we won the scavenger hunt right there.
We tried to get a picture of a Mexican guy with a rat-tail to fulfill our mullet requirement, but I was to quick to shoot him the evil eye when he wolf-whistled our way. I BLEW IT!!
A few other quick stops were made 'cause we were leading the pack. So we took some time out to visit with a nice, old RV-ridin' couple from Pennsylvania. Then, we decided since there were four of us Crackas in the car, we might as well stop at a Cracker Barrel. That is definitely the whitest place I've seen since I've been home. Very Cracker-rific. Finally, to regress back to the shady, we swung by an El Cheapo gas station for a little photo op.
Holy god. I've written this much and I'm just to the point of us ARRIVING in Savannah.
Wow. Just wow.
I'll send this one then. You can get up, stretch, adjust your eyes back to "normal light," and come back for Round 2 after a pee break. . . or maybe I'll just do that. I can feel the hunch in my back growing. Gotta stretch it out.
- Quasimodo"
yeah, that was the weekend. we're finally in savannah. did you look at the timestamp? she's crazy. well, at least we're playing ultimate in the next recap.
camping in savannah.
-me : )
high tide 2004, part 1-the itinerary
here begins the recap of our trip to, our stay in, and our return trip from savannah, georgia, the site of high tide session 2, the ozone pilots' first ever (in most recent memory) spring break trip.
(note: the recap was written by piper freeman, a teammate of mine, who is majoring in television/film here at bu....she so totally rocks!)
(another note: she sent the recap out in a series of e-mails to our team list, so i'm going to include the subject heading and date of the e-mails just to see how long she took on this wonderful piece of literature)
subject heading: "I fuckin' need you now, tonight! I fuckin' need you more than ever!"
date: Friday, March 19, 2004 2:59 AM
the e-mail:
"Okay, so that subject has NOTHING to do with the contents of this e-mail, but what-the-fuck-ever, dudes. I'm watching Old School while I write this mother and YOU WILL READ EVERY DAMN WORD I HAVE TO WRITE! . . . Where did all this hostility come from? . . . Why am I asking you?
All right, all right. Less random. More substance.
For those who are quite possibly retarded, a gaggle of Ozone Pilots took off for the sunny depths of the South to participate in Savannah, Georgia's High Tide tournament. Now, this is no run-of-the-mill, eight-games-in-two-days, hop-a-caravan-and-get-our-asses-wailed-on type of tournament. This thing lasts the entire month of March with four different sessions taking place throughout. BU's Spring Break landed us in Session 2 . . . I think we all remember the little rhyme of elementary school fame: "First is the worst, SECOND IS THE BEST, Third is the one with the hairy, hairy donkey balls." Ummm . . . you guys didn't say "hairy donkey balls in grade school? Uhhh . . . maybe that was an Idaho thing.
Ahh! Pulling away from the random. I promise!
Anyway, the tournament director (TD) Ed was the absolute coolest! Let's just say we survived on bananas, honey buns, and BEER!! Lots of beer. Lots of fun.
Before I get into the funnier, more personal stories that were the Lady Pilot experience, I'll give you the run-down of our week's schedule:
Day 1 (Saturday, March 6) - Traveling - Depart Boston and stay overnight in Arlington, Virginia with Eitan & Michelle and Jason.
Day 2 (Sunday, March 7) - More traveling - Depart Arlington at the ass-crack of dawn and arrive in Savannah later that evening.
Day 3 (Monday, March 8) - Playing - Coed Hat Tournament, 3 game min./6 game max., Games to 9.
Day 4 (Tuesday, March 9) - More playing - Day one of pool play. 4 games played.
Day 5 (Wednesday, March 10) - Some more playing - Day two of pool play. 3 games played.
Day 6 (Thursday, March 11) - Still playing - Playoffs; play-in, quarters, semis, and finals.
Day 7 (Friday, March 12) - Keep on keepin' on - Disc on the beach. Rookie game and All-star game.
Day 8 (Saturday, March 13) - Back in the car - Depart Savannah, sadly, and stay overnight in Philly with Mike and Tom.
Day 9 (Sunday, March 14) - Reluctant to return - Depart Philadelphia around noon/one pm, arrive in Boston around 7:00 pm.
Okay, so that was our schedule and Kris Kelly helped us stick to it. Chew on that for awhile. I gotta revive myself and pick up my laundry. . . Eyelids drooping . . .
GOV."
....yups, e-mail number one. gov is piper's nickname.
just the itinerary.
-me : )
(note: the recap was written by piper freeman, a teammate of mine, who is majoring in television/film here at bu....she so totally rocks!)
(another note: she sent the recap out in a series of e-mails to our team list, so i'm going to include the subject heading and date of the e-mails just to see how long she took on this wonderful piece of literature)
subject heading: "I fuckin' need you now, tonight! I fuckin' need you more than ever!"
date: Friday, March 19, 2004 2:59 AM
the e-mail:
"Okay, so that subject has NOTHING to do with the contents of this e-mail, but what-the-fuck-ever, dudes. I'm watching Old School while I write this mother and YOU WILL READ EVERY DAMN WORD I HAVE TO WRITE! . . . Where did all this hostility come from? . . . Why am I asking you?
All right, all right. Less random. More substance.
For those who are quite possibly retarded, a gaggle of Ozone Pilots took off for the sunny depths of the South to participate in Savannah, Georgia's High Tide tournament. Now, this is no run-of-the-mill, eight-games-in-two-days, hop-a-caravan-and-get-our-asses-wailed-on type of tournament. This thing lasts the entire month of March with four different sessions taking place throughout. BU's Spring Break landed us in Session 2 . . . I think we all remember the little rhyme of elementary school fame: "First is the worst, SECOND IS THE BEST, Third is the one with the hairy, hairy donkey balls." Ummm . . . you guys didn't say "hairy donkey balls in grade school? Uhhh . . . maybe that was an Idaho thing.
Ahh! Pulling away from the random. I promise!
Anyway, the tournament director (TD) Ed was the absolute coolest! Let's just say we survived on bananas, honey buns, and BEER!! Lots of beer. Lots of fun.
Before I get into the funnier, more personal stories that were the Lady Pilot experience, I'll give you the run-down of our week's schedule:
Day 1 (Saturday, March 6) - Traveling - Depart Boston and stay overnight in Arlington, Virginia with Eitan & Michelle and Jason.
Day 2 (Sunday, March 7) - More traveling - Depart Arlington at the ass-crack of dawn and arrive in Savannah later that evening.
Day 3 (Monday, March 8) - Playing - Coed Hat Tournament, 3 game min./6 game max., Games to 9.
Day 4 (Tuesday, March 9) - More playing - Day one of pool play. 4 games played.
Day 5 (Wednesday, March 10) - Some more playing - Day two of pool play. 3 games played.
Day 6 (Thursday, March 11) - Still playing - Playoffs; play-in, quarters, semis, and finals.
Day 7 (Friday, March 12) - Keep on keepin' on - Disc on the beach. Rookie game and All-star game.
Day 8 (Saturday, March 13) - Back in the car - Depart Savannah, sadly, and stay overnight in Philly with Mike and Tom.
Day 9 (Sunday, March 14) - Reluctant to return - Depart Philadelphia around noon/one pm, arrive in Boston around 7:00 pm.
Okay, so that was our schedule and Kris Kelly helped us stick to it. Chew on that for awhile. I gotta revive myself and pick up my laundry. . . Eyelids drooping . . .
GOV."
....yups, e-mail number one. gov is piper's nickname.
just the itinerary.
-me : )
two-month mini-recap
yups, so it's been two months since i last blogged. hooray for me!
anywho, this is the first serious downtime i've had in a long time. i kept pushing myself during january, and i just fizzled out. but i'm back in chill mode, and taking things one day at a time, so i think i'll be okay.
where should i start this blog? is it going to be a long one? or shall i break it up into pieces? well, since i'm procrastinating now, i think i'll type until my fingers poop out. cool.
it's march 29. the end of march. new things in my life (since january 23): i'm 21; the lady pilots won high tide session 2; and i am the parent contact for orientation 2004. pretty neat stuff, if i don't say so myself.
i turned 21 on march 10, and celebrated it in savannah, georgia with the ozone pilots. i was on spring break, and had a great time playing ultimate in gorgeous weather and against quality competition. the lady pilots went 8-2 during high tide session 2 (march 8-12), where they beat michigan state, unc-greensboro/drew combo, rochester, wesleyan (a and b), american/georgetown combo, and edinboro/case western/truman state combo. i think i'll post the recap of our trip (written by team recap-writer, piper) in posts following this one. hooray, more for me to keep and read over and over again when i get bored during the summer.
speaking of summer, i will be in boston again as parent contact for orientation. there are a few added responsibilities, but all in all, i will interact with parents of incoming students, and it'll be a great time. i'm still going to work at the souvenir store on game nights, play summer league ultimate with the pilots who are around this summer, and play club ultimate with brute squad. hooray for another summer in boston!
hmm....that should be it for this post. high tide recaps and notes on spring break and all the other good stuff in my life to come in the next few posts. i wonder if anyone's been waiting to read about my life....hmm.
short and sweet.
-me : )
anywho, this is the first serious downtime i've had in a long time. i kept pushing myself during january, and i just fizzled out. but i'm back in chill mode, and taking things one day at a time, so i think i'll be okay.
where should i start this blog? is it going to be a long one? or shall i break it up into pieces? well, since i'm procrastinating now, i think i'll type until my fingers poop out. cool.
it's march 29. the end of march. new things in my life (since january 23): i'm 21; the lady pilots won high tide session 2; and i am the parent contact for orientation 2004. pretty neat stuff, if i don't say so myself.
i turned 21 on march 10, and celebrated it in savannah, georgia with the ozone pilots. i was on spring break, and had a great time playing ultimate in gorgeous weather and against quality competition. the lady pilots went 8-2 during high tide session 2 (march 8-12), where they beat michigan state, unc-greensboro/drew combo, rochester, wesleyan (a and b), american/georgetown combo, and edinboro/case western/truman state combo. i think i'll post the recap of our trip (written by team recap-writer, piper) in posts following this one. hooray, more for me to keep and read over and over again when i get bored during the summer.
speaking of summer, i will be in boston again as parent contact for orientation. there are a few added responsibilities, but all in all, i will interact with parents of incoming students, and it'll be a great time. i'm still going to work at the souvenir store on game nights, play summer league ultimate with the pilots who are around this summer, and play club ultimate with brute squad. hooray for another summer in boston!
hmm....that should be it for this post. high tide recaps and notes on spring break and all the other good stuff in my life to come in the next few posts. i wonder if anyone's been waiting to read about my life....hmm.
short and sweet.
-me : )
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