Here is your first ever installation of That Guy! Sports Blog's Embarassing Story Wednesday, a weekly feature where one of us recalls a time in our life where we recount a time in our liveS when we shamed ourselves and families. Up first: The West Virginia Whale.
In 2008, myself, my roommate, and our friend headed down to West Virginia to see Rutgers, our school, make its annual futile attempt to beat the Mountaineers in football. My roommate and I stayed with our friend from home/West Virginia student at his townhouse while our Rutgers friend, a West Virginia transfer, stayed with friends he had made his freshman year. After arriving on Friday we found out the Morgantown really could live up to its reputation with a night that included too much beer, a mechanical bull, failed attempts at hooking up, 15 chili cheese dogs, and lots of puking. The next day was spent at Milan-Puskar battling a hangover and the verbal onslaught from the unintelligent folks known as West Virginia students and the even less intelligent people known simply as West Virginians. Following the annual loss, my roommate and I kept the recovery process going at our friend’s townhouse, eating wings and flipping on the Phils/Brewers NLDS whenever someone walked in to cover up the fact we were actually watching The Notebook. The three of us headed back out later that night, walking to the bars and starting what would be come one of the most shameful nights of my life. I had, to put this as nicely as possible, a large female friend who attended a Pittsburgh area school. After a few dollar drafts, I began to blow her cell phone up, finally convincing her to drive down to Morgantown to pick the three of us up from the bars so we could avoid the cold walk back to our friend’s townhouse. (Some people are desperate to avoid the cold, others are desperate for self-respect.) An hour and a half later she scooped us up and took us back to the townhouse. After very little convincing she agreed to hook up. Here is where the night gets interesting. The complex where the townhouse is located has VERY strict parking rules: the garage attached to the townhouse and the one spot per unit can be used by residents/guests of that townhouse and nothing else at the risk of getting towed. Same bullshit exists everywhere, right? My car was in the garage and my buddy’s car was in the spot leaving her nowhere to park except for in an unauthorized spot which she did. We headed to my car where we begin to do our thing when my roommate opens the door connecting the townhouse to the garage screaming. Not knowing what was being said and not wanting to ruin such a romantic moment I yelled back, “I’m getting blown!” (If nothing else, I’m honest.) This scene repeatedly itself a few more times until my roommate left followed by me finishing up. Now fully shamed I walk into the townhouse greeted by two pieces of bad news. The first, and for me the worst, was that our WV friend invited his friends over, making me instantly the guy who hooked up with the fat chick. The other bit of news was the shitty one for her. My roommate’s screaming was him warning her (us?) that her car was being towed. Sure as shit it had been, leaving her stranded with me while I tried to hide her from the sight of my friend’s friends. To drown out the mocking and seriousness of her problem I began to chug Aftershock as she frantically called her friends in the area, finally securing a ride from a friend at DubVee. She ended up paying $180 for the honor(?) of blowing me and picking me up from the bar while I endured the ridicule of my friends and one of the longest drives back to Jersey ever.
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