Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Baby's First Riot!

I was fortunate enough to be the lone Mass Hysteria representative out by the Garden last night. I did indeed pound a few beers, and I did indeed join the roaring masses that congregated outside the arena to bask in the glow of Celtics magic. The tale is related below... please note that a BIT of creative license has been taken in order to make it more entertaining. Be forewarned: this story contains nothing of any actual interest scenes of graphic violence.

I got to the bar just a couple of minutes after the game started, because I am a girl and I like to do things like shower and try to look pretty before I go out was busy lifting weights so I'd be extra jacked and strong for the rioting. The line was crazy long but I managed to talk my way to the front. Hooray for titties! The bar was rowdy as hell and about 9,000 degrees, which meant lots of awkward sweating nudity. Everyone was pretty fired up from the get-go, but that 26-6 run at the end of the 2nd quarter really seemed to hammer home the notion that this shit was ours for the taking, and the "BEAT L.A.!" chants filled the air. Given that I was the only girl in a big bunch of dudes, there was pretty much no way I was going to be able to successfully run game on anyone without being mercilessly cockblocked, although all the guys in there smelled pretty awful from all the sweating so it wasn't a huge loss on my part. Midway through the 3rd quarter, the bar erupted in a massive makeout orgy. Sweet.

Anyway, the game came to its glorious conclusion and we all screamed our heads off for about 10 minutes, then closed out our tabs and strolled merrily out into the spring night threw our chairs through the windows and jumped through the holes, thirsty for Lakers fan blood. The top of Portland Street up by the entrance to the Garden had been cordoned off by a throng of mean-looking cops in full-on riot gear, so we walked politely down the street and out through the back beat the shit out of them and boldly marched on through, pausing only to spit on their lifeless corpses. Out in the streets, literally thousands of people were congregating in front of the Garden, screaming and high-fiving one another and erupting into baffling choruses of "FUCK THE YANKEES!" I shoved a few people around, I guess, but mostly steered clear of the mosh pit thing they had going on because I was wearing platform sandals my brass knuckles and didn't want to twist my ankle wanted to go find some real action. My friends and I walked swaggered back up towards Government Center as the crowds continued to stream down to the Garden, stopping once to high-five a couple of people flirt with a cop, who showed no interest in returning the favor turn over a car. Fuck you, car! Feeling a bit thirsty punchy, we decided to head to Dillon's and pound a few more beers before going home to chug water in a desperate, futile attempt to stave off a hangover and fall anticlimactically asleep start some shit with a bunch of punk-ass Lakers fans strutting around acting like their team didn't just get curb-stomped in a clutch game. As the toughest member of our group, I naturally approached the leader of the Lakers posse, who was wearing a Kobe jersey, thereby clinching his status as Huge Bitch. "The fuck you think you're doing here?" I asked him. He cowered in the face of my obviously superior strength; still, attempting to save face in front of his equally bitch-ass friends, he spat, "It's a free country, ain't it?" back in my face. Fuck that. BOOM! A swift haymaker to his jaw sent the punk sprawling and elicited a gasp of terror from his friends. As he lay on the ground, spitting blood and clutching his jaw, I calmly plucked a glass bottle up from the ground, smashed it on a nearby trashcan, knelt down by his prone body, and brought the jagged edge up against his quivering Adam's apple. "Don't you pull that shit around here," I whispered, watching the sweat bead on his forehead. "This is our house." Unfortunately, at this point the 5-0 showed up and decided to take issue with my DEFENDING MY TEAM'S HONOR I THOUGHT THIS WAS A FREE COUNTRY YOU FUCKING FASCISTS, so they arrested me. It's all good, though. I went down fighting for my team, the way it should be. FUCK YEAH CELTICS BABY!


In all seriousness, last night was incredibly special. I will never forget what it felt like to pour out into the streets and revel in the unbelievable energy and excitement of the green-clad multitudes around me. Last night was one of the greatest nights of my life, and it was simply glorious waking up this morning and remembering that my amazing Celtics had turned it around and brought home another gleaming green-and-white banner to hang from the rafters of the Garden in jail.


Joseph said...

My interest peaked at the massive makeout orgy. Maybe because I think your probably hott, even though I've never seen you.

Funny story. Nice read.

Pepster said...

Very well done. Nice way to sum up the feelings of both real Boston fans in addition to the Boston fans that everyone else perceives.

Good job by you.

Oh, and Congrats on the victory.

Comicbook Guy said...

God, youre hot when you write like that!

Rocco said...

Were you hanging out with Tommy from Quinzee?