Stories....

In My Humble Opinion
1

I’ve wanted to start this for quite some time but wasn’t sure if would take off or die a long lingering thread killing death.
But the gist is, we all have stories, real life stories - our own or from someone we know - that stick with you. Funny, sad, poignant, whatever. Stories that someone showing incredible strength or class or wit in situations. Stories that you constantly retell in the real world as ‘this is so funny’ or ’ I got a friend who did something like that…but better’ stories.

Stories that need to be heard but probably will fade into oblivion because there just isn’t a forum for them anywhere, until now.

I’ll start with my favorite story.

**Set up **

K, my friend was about 28 at the time. 5’8’’, very heavy set barrel chested guy. About 240 pounds at the time. K is one of the funniest people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and am proud to consider a friend. He is similar to Chris Farley but with a great range of accents and personalities with the fat guy loveable-ness. Great guy, K, is. (This is important) He is a sports reporter for a german news paper here in town. K, also, given his weight, likes to eat.

**The Story **

Lunch time. Pizza hut. All you can eat pizza buffet. K is in line by himself to wait for a seat. There is a mom with her two young kids before him.

In the door comes immediately a litany of “fuck, there is a line!”
followed by six exceptionally tall - NBA-esque - sized men. Early twenties, he guessed, their ages. All dressed in the latest fashions.

*Must be here to try out for the Pistons * K thinks, hoping their language will not repeat itself.

It does not. One guy in particular was being very foul mouthed.
K turned around and said, " Do you mind, there are children here."

The guy did mind given the facial expression but quieted down a little.

*Good, maybe that will be the end of that * K thought.

A few moments pass.

The teenage waitress comes up and asks, " Who’s next?"

Jumping in front of the Mom and two kids, LoudMouth said, " We are."

K intervened, " No, This lady and her children are next. Then after me, it will be you guys."

LoudMouth and his posse are irritated, but put in their place for a little while. As luck would have it, the waitress sits K in a booth next to the long table of LoudMouth and his group. He ignored them and their rude comments whilst reading a newspaper. They were dissing him and just being really unpleasant, making everyone in the place really uncomfortable. The place is packed. Every table full. It was like they were trash talking straight from the hood and didn’t realize they were in a family style restaurant. The waitstaff, being all teenagers, just moused about, avoiding the table except to refill drinks.

LoudMouth and his boys were trash taking K, calling him fatboy and a host of other terms, which K would shoot back with adult like responses, which is very un-K like. " This is a family restaurant, not your living room, please act accordingly."

The entire meal this went back and forth. K started to worry because eventually he was going to have to leave the restaurant and go into the parking lot, where he feared physical confrontation. Trash talking he can easily hand, Physical stuff, he was out numbered and out gunned. He started to sweat because that was exactly where LoudMouth and crew were leaning towards.

It’s an all you can eat buffett * K thought to himself * I know I can sit here all afternoon and eat until they just grow bored and leave. So that isn’t a problem… The longer he sat there he realized he should get back to work ( not that he’d get fired, its a very open place where he works.) but going on an hour and a half lunch wasn’t looking too good that these guys were going to be leaving any time soon and they were looking for a confrontation.

Every time K got up from the table to go to the buffett, he had to pass this table of foul mouthed, rude young men making disparaging remarks towards him. Every time he passed them he wondered how he would get himself out of this mess. Several passes later, K is really sweating. But he knows he will get himself out of it, the answer is deep inside him and it will surface. All will be well, he knows, but he is still really nervous. And when he is nervous, he eats. With every pass, these guys are talking about handing him his ass in the parking lot. Deep inside, buried under the deep dish pizza’s he’s been eating, he knows the answer is waiting to surface.

Then as he is making another pass to the pizza table, it hits him - in a clarifying moment of pure brilliance - exactly what to say. He leans over into LoudMouth’s ear, saying just loud enough for the entire table to overhear, ** So tell me son, have you ever assaulted a Police Officer before? **

Those guys *didn’t say one word after that *
When K told this story ( at our engagement party) it brought down the house.

2

Ah what the heck, I’ll play!

I was hangin’ out years ago at a bar looking for a little female companionship. I spotted an attractive lady at the bar and struck up a conversation with her and she and I hit it off pretty well, and soon we moved to a table and started playing darts. She wanted me to teach her how to throw and I was all for the lessons. Things were going great, and we decided we would go to a nightclub down the road for some music and dancing. She said her room was upstairs and she would change first. Cool. I went to the bar for one last round of drinks and when I came back, some other dude had invaded the scene and insinuated himself into our little plan. Dude was smooth…

Well, I couldn’t get nasty to him. That would turn the lady off. I don’t fight anyway. She excused herself to go change and get ready, leaving me with the dude at the bar. I had to think of something fast…

If I begged him to leave, he would know he had me where he wanted me. If I threatened him, we both probably would have been thrown out. What a dilemma!

It came to me like a flash of light, pure inspiration! I turned to this guy, and with a stone face said, “Okay, heres the deal. You give me $200 in advance and I call her back downstairs, and I drive you and the lady to the club. If she feels comfortable with the situation, I drive you two back here and you go up to the room.”

Dude’s jaw dropped slightly, and his facial expression resembled someone who just had thier Wheaties pissed in.

“Oh, man! You mean…yo, she’s a …Oh! Man!”

Jumped out of his seat and bailed out so fast there was nothin’ but a cloud of dust to remember him by.

She told me she loved me like a brother. She’s from Arkansas, hence the joy!

3

That was a great story!

We need more great stories…::::bump::::::

4

A couple of people I worked with at one time and I used to sneal off during lunch to smoke a bowl together. One day, a few hours after lunch the boss called us into the office and said that the third in our little trio had gone home very sick and that he hoped were were all “careful” at lunch. An obvious reference to our pot-smoking rendevous.

I didn’t know the boss knew, and before I could recover from shock my friend pipes up with:

“Don’t worry, I don’t usually kiss welby, and I always wear a condom.”

I was the butt of that stupid joke for months.

5

This happened about a year ago.

Relatively near to my house is a nice bar (which i won’t name). Myself and a few friends go there a lot - its not too loud, not to quiet, its a nice place to relax and have a drink so we were very happy when about a year and a half ago we officially gained the title of “regulars” from the owner.

This meant being invited to “lock-ins”. for anyone unfamiliar with the british regulations on the sale of alcohol, alcohol cannot be sold on licensed premises after 11pm (unless you have a special dispensation).

A lock-in is when a bar/pub owner chucks everyone out apart from the staff and the guys/gals he knows and trusts who stay behind and carry on drinking beyond the legal time.

Anyway one night myself and a friend of mine (who will be known as D) were involved in one of these and left the bar incredibly un-sober at about 4 in the morning. The bar is slap bang in the middle of the town high street - we said goodnight to each other and decided to meet up the next day for a nice sunday roast lunch at a pub we both knew.

He set off walking east down the street, i set off west.

I get home (eventually) collapse in bed, wake up next morning with a stinking hangover. Lunchtime i stagger down the pub (bumping into another friend on the way who came along too).

We get to the pub - no sign of D. we wait a while - 2hrs gone, still no sign. I try to ring his house and mobile - no answer. Lazy bugger’s probably still in bed.

So we order and eat anyway.

After the food we stay in the pub and play some pool. eventually about 4pm he walks in - looking bloody awful (but strangely amused) and wearing the same clothes as the night before.

“Where the bloody hell have you been - you look terrible” I say.

“I’ve been in prison!” he replies

Now neither D nor me are nasty lads - we are nice mild-mannered individuals who’s greatest crimes had never extended beyond student pranks whilst at uni.

so intrigued we buy him a (much need) drink and he begins to tell us the tale.

After we’d parted ways that evening, he’d begun the long walk home. by the time he neared the end of the high-street the cold air and walking had sobered him up slightly - and he’d hit the the “i need something to eat and drink” stage.

As luck would have it, the newsagents across the road had obviously just had its morning supplies dropped off - newspapers, bottles of milk and pallets of bread were stacked outside - waiting for the owner to wake up, open up and bring them in.

Drink having affected D’s morals he quickly crossed the road - looked around quickly - not a soul in sight - he swiftly helped himself to a pint of milk and small loaf of bread.

Suddenly he heard a voice:

“Hey don’t do that!”

A cyclist had come round the corner and seen his crime

“Ah f*ck off” replied D (ever the epitomy of politeness). And walks off.

The cyclist looked at him, seemed about to say something but obviously decided not to.

So D carried on walking home - munching on his bread and drinking his milk. He got in, put the remains of his stolen goods on the side and went to bed.

A little while later he was awakened by the sound of the door bell being repeatedly rung. He staggered downstairs and opened the door to be greated by the sight of two of London’s finest boys in blue.

“Mind if we have a word sir?”

D looked blank for a second…

“um…sure…come in, how can i help? sorry i haven’t been home long and to be honest i’m a bit p*issed”

“We know sir.”

“You do?”

“Mind if we look in your Kitchen sir?”

“Um, no, sure. go for it”

They walk in and see the remains of the loaf and the empty milk bottle.

“My my sir, we have been a naughty boy haven’t we” (Yes, he swears to god that they actually said that!)

They cuff him and put him in the police car (his astonished neighbours, awakened by the flashing blue lights looking on.) They then take him down to the station.

At the station they walk him in and put him in front of the desk.

“The desk sergeant will take your details sir”

A few seconds later the desk sergeant appears.

Its the cyclist he swore at - looking incredibly smug.

He spent a night in the cells as a result of his crime…

The irony was that the cyclist could technically have turned either way on the highstreet to get to the police station (the road kinda loops) and if he turned the other way then he’d have happened upon me doing EXACTLY the same thing as D at the other end of the road…

6

These are hysterical!
Okay, I’ve got one to share about an um, er, “friend” we’ll call her:

So, this “friend” and her roomate L have decided to order HBO in honor of the new Soprano’s season. Given that HBO for both TV’s only cost $4 more, they decided to spring for it. After many scheduling difficulties, the cable man showed up. The ladies offered him a soda when he got there, and things were weirdly normal. He got both cable boxes plugged in and was radioing the call numbers in from L’s bedroom where she was curled up in her bed- my “friend” didn’t feel comfortable just leaving a random guy in L’s bedroom alone with her, so she just chilled in the doorway making smalltalk-

cable guy: “That’s 4365 009NancyDavid 65400”
radio: staticstatic “Copy That” staticcrackle
cable guy: “The other one is 4667 009NancyEdward 75997”
“friend”: “He-he, L, yours is named NancyDavid…hehe” (yes,
my “friend” IS still 12.)
L: “Yeah, well yours is named NancyEdward, how do you think
it’s going to have any self-esteem at all with a name like
that. The poor thing is probably already in the throes of an
identity crisis.”
not-very-witty banter ensues

Fast forward to: My “friend’s” TV is getting perfect reception and L’s is still sitting sullenly blank.

“friend”: “Well, it just goes to show that I have a very well-adjusted box…”
GASP
My “friend” realizes what she’s saying as it pours out of her mouth, right past the built in idiocy-screeners. L’s eyes open a little wider and she starts to shake with pent-up laughter. Poor cable guys looks into the corner wondering whether what he has heard is all a terrible mistake, or he really IS being invited into crappy porn movie…The two girls spend the next 10 minutes shooting each other shocked glances and nearly losing their cool-
Obviously, my “friend” has gotten a lot of “Hey how’s your box?” and “So, I hear you just touch your box and it turns on.” Boy, “her” friends are clever…very clever…

7

Nothing fun ever happens to me. But I’m enjoying reading these, so please continue!

8

My dad’s family breeds doctors, dentists and other medical-science-type people. My mom’s family breeds athletes.

The jewel in that crown is/was my cousin, John Sefter, Princeton ‘78. He was the captain of their wrestling team for two years. (I believe he also played football, but I’m not sure; I can’t keep track of all my cousins’ achievements!)

At that time, there was no upward limit to the heavyweight class, at least not on the college level. John was a heavyweight, but not the biggest by any means. However, he was naturally husky, with a large frame. He could not, without endangering his health, have lost enough weight to get down to the next class and be one of the biggest guys there (as some fools were doing, with the enablement of their parents and coaches), so he was stuck as a “small” heavyweight.

Despite this, his second time competing in the NCAA wrestling tournament (senior year), he got all the way up the latter to the deciding match. His opponent was a guy from Oklahoma State University, who was described by another cousin as “a mattress with a head on it.” John was highly skilled, but this guy was just too wide; once John was down, it was impossible for him to extricate himself. Ultimately, he was overwhelmed.

My uncle swore up, down and diagonally that John’s shoulder blades were not both pinned at the same time. He knew better than to voice this opinion to the judges, however. They made their decision, and a fellow by the name of Jimmy Jackson is the 1978 NCAA wrestling champion.

VCRs were just coming into general use at that time. My mom recorded the finals, or maybe it was a highlights show about NCAA in general. At any rate, she had a recording that included this match. After scrutinizing the video many times, my uncle came to the grudging conclusion that both shoulder blades had indeed been pinned “for a split second”.

But I also learned something from that video; I should have, the number of times I had to watch it.

The end credits played highlights of the championship(s). Naturally, they had footage of Mattress Guy lifting his coach in the air. But in the foreground, John was on the mat, looking like…Willy Loman, maybe. Or Job. Defeated, after all that. The shot was long enough, though, to capture the moment when he got to his feet.

All these clips were played with an audio of Queen singing “We Are the Champions”. Now, I can’t have thought this in words; I was only eight. But gradually, I began to realize that there’s more than one way to be a champion.

Jackson lifted up his coach, but John got up by himself. He didn’t let it ruin his life. He graduated with honors, started a business and a family, and Princeton still marks his effort as one of their athletic distinctions: 1978 NCAA wrestling championship runner-up.

I don’t know who said this, but it’s stuck with me: “Our greatest strength lies not in never falling, but in rising each time we fall.”

9

Two of my friends were serious tearaways when they were a few years younger than they are now.

One night they were walking home late at night, extremely drunk. One of them was carrying a bunch of flowers that he had bought for his girlfriend as an apology.

A police car cruised by. My clever friends started hurling abuse at the car. They found this extremely amusing, even when the police got out of the car and searched them.

They found a tiny speck of hashish in friend number 1’s wallet and informed him that he would have to come with them to the station. Friend number 2 was indignant. “What about me?” he demanded. “Have you got any?” asked the policeman. “Half of that’s mine.” insisted friend number 2. So they both ended up spending most of the night in the police cells. However, they were not subdued, and spent the entire night demanding cups of tea, lawyers, eggs and bacon etc.

About 5am (before any kind of public transport was operating) these clever boys were chucked out of the police station with a warning (this was in the UK).

They set off to walk the 5 miles home from the police station. Just as they were within 10 minutes of friend number 1’s home, a police car drove along side them. The policeman who had originally arrested them wound down the window and shouted “You forgot your flowers you stupid c**t,” and hurled the mangled bunch of flowers at them.

10

It was a beautiful early spring Sunday. 3 friends and I (all in our 30’s) decided to piss away the day driving around country roads in Gerry’s van, where we had snowmobiled all winter.

We of course, had the requisite case of beer with us and would stop at various points to down one.

Late in the afternoon, we had stopped for a leak, and were sitting in the van, yakking. Out of nowhere, we see an RCMP car parked behind us.

One officer gets out of the car, ambles over to the van, and knocks politely on the side door. We have stashed the beers-in-process back in the box, but we know we’re caught with open alcohol.

We slide the door open and exchange a few words with the officer, who calmly informs us we’re drinking in an "unauthorized place ", and one of us will be charged. We’ve only had about 3 beers apiece over several hours, and aren’t drunk. The offender will not be charged with a motor vehicle offence and the fine starts at $30.

We ask if it’s OK to flip coins (odd man out) to see who will be charged (the remaining 3 of us will pay the fine). The officer says “Sure”. By now it’s getting a little dark and hard to see the coins, so we ask the officer if he’ll shine his flashlight on our coins. We keep coming up with all tails, all heads or 2 and 2, and we’re all getting into the “contest”, including the officer. We’re laughing and kidding around and he eventually says, “C’mon you guys, it’s getting cold out here.”

We finally arrive at a loser (Roy), who goes back to the car with the officer to write up the summons. The remaining 3 get back in the van and finish our opened beers.

He and Roy come back to the van and he regretfully informs us he must confiscate the remaining beer. We protest half-heartedly and offer to flip him for it, but he declines.

We part company, all waving and saying goodbye like old friends.

Since I worked near the magistrate’s office, I volunteered to make the payment. The magistrate’s office was like a bank counter. Clerks stand at a counter and you give one a copy of the summons, indicating a guilty plea. They pull the original and hand it to a Magistrate. He/she would review the paperwork, then approach you for any details you wanted to add. They’d then impose the fine, within some predetermined range. (All in all, a very efficient and civilized process.) The thing to note here is that the arresting officer could annotate the summons indicating your conduct, extenuating circumstances, etc. which could alter your cost up or down within the range.

A few days later, I went there and went thru the ritual. The (female) magistrate came up to the counter while reading the officer’s notes, and then began to laugh. She looked at me and said “Do you have anything more to add”? I said “No”, and she said, “This is the first time I ever read anything like this on a summons. It says, ‘You were a pleasure to deal with’. so that’ll be $30”.

11

Worked for a crappy place for 10 years. (The pay was good)

We had an employee donation jar on a workers desk. We would throw a buck in when we wore jeans on Fridays, to go to the Humane Society.

One day, people realize a LOT of money is missing from the jar (An Opaque, square tin, actually)

Everyone gets asked. Me, more than most because I am into “Magic” and stuff, and come up with creative solutions to problems.

I’m never formally charged or anything. But it’s one of those “We know you did it”.

2 Years later, MY BOSS gets charged with stealing from an employee’s purse. Gambling problem.

No money went missing ever again.

(And no, I didn’t do it. I thought about telling them, “If I wanted to steal, I’d set it up so you would never figure it out, notice it, or realize it. Hell, I could make it so you would carry the cash or goods to my car and make it seem real”.

And the way that place was run, don’t doubt it for a minute.

(And for the record, no, I didn’t touch it)

PS: My boss was a “Hand Picked and Groomed” candidate for this position by HIS boss.

12

My dad was a Sargent in the Air Force. He was stationed at this tiny remote base way out at the end of the Alutian Islands that extend off of Alaska. Of course his family wasn’t with him and the base was kind of informal.

One day my dad was hanging out at the BX, (Base Exchange or your basic store) talking to another Sargent who was a friend of his and had drawn the duty of runing the BX. An officer walked in and and looked at my dad and then addressed the other Sargent.

‘Sargent. This man is smoking. That sign clearly reads that smoking is not allowed in the BX. What are you going to do about it?’

My dad’s friend looked at the officer, looked at my dad, looked back at the officer and said ‘Well, I guess I’m going to tear this damn sign down.’