It’s right around 3AM and I have class in 5 hours. There is a quarter-full fifth of Southern Comfort to my right, and an unfinished presentation outline to my left. A Robert Frost poem pops into my swimming mind,

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.”

I have decided to take the path less traveled by and finally put off my hellish school work, drink on some Southern Comfort, and actually write a decent column—a story I’m really going to enjoy putting into words.

About two months ago, I went on a cruise with 30 collegiate division one football players, and visited some of the most beautiful places on earth. I haven’t actually been able to talk about this trip to anyone who wasn’t there, because well, it was that fucking good. No amount of self-inflated bragging can make any trip like this better. But… luckily for you, I am going to try anyway. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, sit back and let me tell you a tale of the time I journeyed through the alcohol-filled waters of the Caribbean.

“We had $800 down on black. As far as consistency was concerned, we were fucked.”

The college Spring Break cruise had begun. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the vaginas were queefing their pre-coital lovesong. Ahhh, this is truly my favorite time of the year, when women prepare themselves for spring sex, expulsing all of the useless air from their bodies.

I picked up my friend from the airport. We’ll refer to him as George. I’ve known George since I was five years old. We lived down the street from each other our entire lives, and continue to raise hell together to this day. George is a starting receiver for a division one football program—the biggest receiver on the team in fact. He likes to protect me from bullies, and I protect him from skanks which I take for myself.

So anyway, I picked George up from the airport and we got to talking about the trip. I still couldn’t believe that I was lucky enough to go on this trip. These football guys had been planning this cruise trip for months, and when I casually happened to hear about it, I became very, very jealous for a while. Turns out, one of the guys on the team got kicked out of school, and they had an open position about a week before they were to depart. I was invited to attend, and cordially accepted.

So here we were, driving in my piece of shit Honda down to Miami to depart on the trip of our dreams. We had a few beers on the way down, dipped some tobacco and sunk into a general state of glee for the entire trip. As we drove down the coast, a monstrous object came into view: the cruise ship. It stood 15 stories high, almost like a floating pyramid containing a myriad of catacombs which earthed the most glorious pussy in all the land.

We pulled into the parking lot, hearts on the outside of our shirts, dicks on the outside of our pants. (Is that gay?) No, it isn’t. We both noticed a sign in the parking lot which read “$50 parking/day.” We laughed and thought to ourselves, that can’t be true. It just couldn’t be. I parked anyway and didn’t think about it.

We grabbed our bags and ran to the front gate to meet everyone. And there they stood, 30 of America’s finest, every one of them football players, ready to get completely shit-faced and live life to its fullest. And they truly accepted me as one of their own. Since the quarterback was not attending, I was now the school’s quarterback. As you can imagine, this worked to my advantage on numerous occasions.

So there I was, checking into my room with George, going over receiver hot routes and practicing my count. “Down… set… peanut butter red dirt, check douche, check douche!” George laughed at me. I laughed back at him, then we just hugged. We knew that we were part of something beautiful and unique. I demanded that we get something to drink, and looked into finding a bar on the ship. He said that it wouldn’t be necessary because each one of the football players had smuggled three bottles of booze apiece in their bags. Do that math for one moment… 3×30 = fucking stupid. I was so happy, I almost shit my pants, and then asked him where their rooms were. He told me to look outside. I opened the door and looked down both sides of the hallway. The entire place was filled with football players, all moving their luggage into the rooms surrounding us.

We wandered from room to room and did shots for a good three hours. I got to know a few of the guys, and we went back to the room to shower up and put our suits on for dinner. Our entire group ate at four or five tables placed into one corner. Naturally, we were loud and obnoxious and made a scene. The guys ordered one of the waiters to make a dessert look like a penis and testicles, and then serve it to one of the gayer dudes there on the trip. I reluctantly pushed the dessert out of the way, and went on with my night. What a bunch of assholes….

I don’t feel the need to go into how fucking amazing every meal on this cruise was, because, if you’ve been on a cruise, you know how good the food is. Imagine, if you will, a porn-star eating a filet of lobster, and farting it out into a bowl of melted butter. That is how good the food tasted.

After we ate, we all made our way to the casino. We entered as Gods on our own accord, shoulders held high and a seemingly indispensable amount of money to spend. For the most part, we dominated the poker and 3-card tables. But the roulette tables… that’s where the magic happened. One of my now life-long friends I will refer to as simply “Rock” had the genius idea for everyone to throw in some money and put it on black for roulette. We ended up gathering around 800 dollars in cash from the team, and threw it right down there on black. We then looked up at the digital reader above the roulette table that displayed the most recent numbers:

32 Red
4 Red
18 Red
21 Red

Fuck. I didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. We had $800 down on black. As far as probability is concerned, we were destined to hit our mark. But, as far as consistency was concerned, we were fucked. Slowly, a chant began to build from within our group…

“Black…. Black… Black… Black… BLACK! BLACK!! BLACK!!!”

We were going nuts, and slowly the ball came to a rolling stop. Suddenly, a hush fell over the table. Everyone was afraid to breath, lest it affect how the ball landed. When it stopped, we all moved in quickly to a tight huddle around the wheel…

13 Black

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