Post by MSBNYY on Aug 25, 2006 13:22:38 GMT -5
Marc’s Trip To Toronto II: Phil Gets Mad
By MetsSuckBalls
FRIDAY MISCELLANEOUS—
I would have liked to have started part II with Saturday, but there were some things I forgot about that happened Friday that I think should be shared.
First, I forgot about the biggest pop of the night. Out of nowhere, and unexpectedly, Yankee Stadium security guard Shawn (or is it Sean) made an appearance. The bleacher crowd erupted with Honeymooners and Paul Bearer lines bringing another piece of the Bronx to Toronto.
Also, it seems that in some other stadiums, Toronto included, they actually have some sort of host walking around hyping up the crowd. They had different people on all three nights. I guess Friday night’s host was the most interesting. He was the spitting image of Drew Carey. The idiot had the nerve to show his face in our section. Predictably, he was greeted with a Drew Carey chant. Also, there were some “where is Mimi” comments. Drew ran away quickly but returned later to try to beg us to advertise his beer. He promised that if we showed the same enthusiasm, he’d arrange free beer. Do you people realize how pathetic it is when someone can’t bribe the Creatures with beer? It happened. Believe it or not.
Since it was still Friday, despite the ass whooping that was going on, we hadn’t completely crushed their spirit yet. They had a Canadian equivalent of a rowdy fan there. He was African Canadian (yes, I just invented that), and wore a tie. 30 people began yelling “what are YOU doing?” He also was the victim of several “Bryant Gumbel” chants. His dorky friend got the Arnold Horschack treatment.
Also, I forgot to mention one of Sheriff Tom’s Spanish comments. As we were all butchering Phil’s language, Tom stood up and shouted to Mondesi, “Tu es gordo y feo!” Naturally, since that means fat and ugly, the 30 plus of us began a big chant. A few innings and several beers later, Tom tried to recapture the magic. But this time, he shouted “Tu es GUAPO y feo.” That means he called Mondesi handsome and ugly.
Then there were the Lady Jays. Wasn’t Lady Jay a character on G.I. Joe? Anyway, these people were paid chicks that go around giving out t-shirts to the crowd to fire them up. Now don’t get me wrong, but if these chicks want to fire people up, they shouldn’t be handing out clothing, they should be taking OFF clothing, ay? These ladies tried to get wise at us, saying how they wouldn’t give out t-shirts. So we responded with a “we want puppies” chant.
Of course, patriotism became a part of the game as well. While we were thumping the Blue Jays (I said thumping), “we’re American” and “way to have a queen” chants were abound. Strangely enough, after all the classic bleacher chants, we did a USA chant, and some Canadian said, “NOW they crossed the line.” Go figure.
As the game ended, they cleaned the bullpen up, and sunflower seeds were thrown into the crowd. I caught two packs myself.
While I remember, I want to devote this paragraph to Bald Ray. I think he had some of the most classic comments of the trip. For example, as we were kicking the Blue Jays’ tails (I said tails), we decided to do a “we’re back tomorrow…and back Sunday” chant. Ray asked, “what about Saturday?” And no one can accuse the bleacher creatures of not keeping up on world affairs. We learned that Jamaica was in a civil war. Ray asked who they were fighting. Naturally these comments brought more hilarity and mayhem to an already jovial crowd. Ray simply smiled, said, “no speaka de English,” and continued to sing that great Spanish song that inspired “When the Saints go Marching In.” Bald Ray rules.
Naturally, after the game, I wanted to go back to East Side Mario’s. But the group decided to follow the Sheriff to a place called the Lone Star Café. Tom’s theory was that East Side Mario’s closes at 1am, while the Lone Star Café closes at 2am. The group kind of broke up at that point. Some went to the House of Lancaster, some went to find a pool hall, and myself, Ignorant Evan, Sheriff Tom, Baloo, Mike, and Laurie went to Tom’s place. There were no Amys at the Lone Star Café. And the food kind of sucked. And it closed at 1am after all. So to the Sheriff I say this…BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
By this time, Toronto was closed, so we went back to the hotel, and I went to bed dreaming of Amy and determined to fulfill my destiny to eat my remaining meals at East Side Mario’s.
SATURDAY—
Last year, I took a mini vacation to Vegas. While there, the biggest name in town was Barry Manilow. So my friend and I decided to fork over the money and go see the man who gave us hits like Mandy and Copacabana. Shortly into the first song of the concert, I realized something. I am not a fan of Barry Manilow’s. The bastard spent half the concert singing Christmas songs, and didn’t even do Mandy. I said do Mandy. And on that note, let’s talk about the trip to the Hockey Hall of Fame, which mirrored that experience.
Saturday morning started off simple enough. I had slept so well, there was a point I forgot I was in Toronto, and wondered where the hell my clock was. I was up by 8:30am, and out of bed, showered and dressed by 9am. The timing was pretty good, since I got a phone call from Baloo. He tried to disguise his voice, telling me that there was a breakfast waiting for me in the lobby. The night before, while Tom was commenting on a commercial about a bear taking a crap in the woods and handing toilet paper to his bear friend, Baloo told me he played similar pranks on other people in the hotel (including calling in wakeup calls for various rooms), so I knew it was him instantly. Rather than just spilling it, I decided to have a little fun. Basically, I started acting like Arnold Schwarzenegger, like those prank phone calls that can be downloaded from some website I found. The conversation went something like this:
Phone rings:
Me: Good Morning.
Baloo: Yes, I’m calling from the front desk.
Me: (quick interruption): STOP WHINING!
Baloo: I want to tell you that we have a breakfast…
Me: Who are you!
Baloo: I’m from the front desk.
Me: Go on, you’re malarkyting me. I’m a cop you idiot!
Baloo: You can pick up your breakfast…
Me: I’m a cop you idiot! STOP WHINING!
And that’s how the day began. Ignorant Evan jumped in the shower, and Laurie and Baloo came up to my room. I said came up. The game plan was to get to the Hockey Hall of Fame early, because Tom wanted to drink before the 4pm game. I really wasn’t interested in going, but it was early, and East Side Mario’s didn’t open until 11am.
We got to the Hall of Fame and paid our admission. In order to get to the place, we had to actually go through a mall. Pictures were taken outside, and we went in.
I’ve been to Cooperstown, and that was a pretty cool place. But it seemed that walking into the Hockey Hall of Fame means that we see a dedication to Wayne Gretzky. Maybe I didn’t like it for the same reason I didn’t like Manilow. I’m not a hockey fan. They might as well rename the place the Wayne Gretzky Hockey Hall of Fame. We were treated to displays like Gretzky’s childhood photos, Gretzky’s trophies, his headlines, etc. But it didn’t stop there. We also saw stuff on his family. They actually had Gretzky’s brother’s hockey pictures. All that was missing was Gretzky’s used toilet paper and a few other things that I mentioned at the game but won’t in this column.
This Hall of Fame was about as interesting as a PBS special, or a Mets game. They had a big video showing hockey highlights. Too bad they were from 1996. Eventually, Laurie, Evan and I left, while Tom, Baloo and Mike stayed. They later claimed to have fun playing announcer and playing with the interactive games, where Baloo took a puck to the crotch, but I definitely consider the Hockey Hall of Fame to be the lamest part of the trip.
So now it was on to East Side Mario’s again. I was pumped. As Laurie, Evan and I walked down Front St., Laurie and Evan decided they wanted pancakes instead. Rather than enjoy the fine cuisine at East Side Mario’s, they chose to go elsewhere. They also wanted to check out the top of the CN Tower, one of the tallest structures in the world. Personally, I didn’t want to shell out $16 ($22 Canadian) to ride in an elevator—especially when I live in NYC. Despite being abandoned, I would not be denied, so I ventured to East Side Mario’s alone.
My luck with women is legendary. I am the type of guy that can walk into a Hooters, and get sat at the table with the WAITER who won a civil rights suit. I attribute being sat in Amy’s section to my bad luck being delayed in customs.
Knowing my luck, it came as no surprise that when I got to East Side Mario’s, and requested Amy’s table, she wasn’t there. I’d like to think it was because she was exhausted from our night of passion, but we didn’t have a night of passion. And true to form, I got sat at a table with one of the only waiters in the place. But rather than sulk, I decided to make the best of it.
My waiter’s name was Daniel, and after ordering my meal, I did what any American would do in my situation. I talked about Amy. He agreed on my assessment of her being the best damn waitress in Canada. I informed him of my disappointment that she was not there. But while I ate, there were plenty of great looking waitresses to admire, and the food was still good.
Daniel actually turned out to be cool. I asked him where Toronto people go for fun, and he pointed me in the direction of a bar/club called My Apartment. He also gave me detailed directions on how to get there. So I finished my meal, and went in search of My Apartment. It turned out to be fairly close to the Skydome—another bonus. I’ll talk about that place more later.
I went back to the room after that, got bored quickly, and went to see what was up with Baloo, Tom, Steve and Mike. Baloo mentioned that half the creatures went to East Side Mario’s to eat. I guess had I waited a little longer, I’d have seen them.
Before I continue, I want to say that as I am writing this, Milton officially asked people not to call him Milton anymore. He wants to be called Mo, and I will do that for the rest of this column. In other news, Yankee closer Mo Rivera has asked everybody to call him Milton.
So anyway, I did the only thing I could think of. I made the sacrifice and once again returned to East Side Mario’s. Inside were Gangbang Steve, Kwik, Phil, Bald Ray, 41 (who in Canada would be known as 61.5), George and Weird Paul. Soon, we all left, and after posing for pictures, we began our trek to the Skydome.
Of course, so many of us together had to lead to some zaniness. On the way out we met up with Laurie and Ignorant Evan. Our group was about 12, as we started chanting our way toward the field. It wasn’t time to go in yet, but it didn’t stop us from doing a few first place Yankees chants. We also saw some putz in a Met jersey, which led to anti-Piazza and anti-Met chants. Those who know us can get a picture of it.
Apparently, the creatures were low on beer, so we all made a trip to a place called The Beer Store. Nothing too major happened there, though we did run into some people giving away free deodorant. They sure have some strange giveaways in Toronto. I guess Canadians smell bad.
To cut on length, let’s skip to the game.
Like Friday, we all entered the Skydome separately. Baloo was there before I was, and shortly after Mo and Mrs. Mo came by. Word has it he didn’t have the cowbell, and had to go get it later. That detail is unconfirmed. The anthems played, and the game started. It was decided not to do roll call.
It didn’t take long to notice something major was different. It seemed Raul Mondesi had a convenient shoulder injury that made him day to day. He would not play for the rest of the series. I didn’t know verbal abuse hurts the shoulder.
He was replaced by rookie Chris Latham. Latham of course was given the Bronx welcome. He spent the day being verbally assaulted by Ray in two languages, hit was the horse’s ass chant, and victimized with much of the usual chicanery. During the game, the creatures spontaneously started doing the Rocky theme, and this forced a drunk Tom to run up and down the stairs. There were Tom drums, Little Anthony drums, and of course, the cowbell working better than ever.
I took a great picture of Rivera in the bullpen. He was looking straight at the camera and smiled for the picture. It seems we were a big hit with the bullpen. In fact, apparently feeling left out, and in response to a challenge, Randy Choate asked us to prove we knew who he was. So for the rest of the weekend, he was treated to various Randy Choate chants. Of course, Mendoza was waving up to us nonstop.
The game went as well as could be expected. We won 12-1. The only negative aspect of the game was Clemens leaving with an injury. I hope he’s ok. Also, I’m not sure which day this was, but Tino hit a homerun into the Yankee bullpen. One of the people there gave the ball to George.
I also want to mention that one of the best one liners of the weekend occurred on Saturday. Sheriff Tom was sitting with Gangbang Steve and made a crack about the girls who drowned off Rockaway. Steve said, "but Tom, that is a tragedy." Tom looked at him, took his beer, dumped a slosh on the floor, and said, "No, THAT is a tragedy."
And now I must talk about the women from Rochester. It was in the game, middle/late innings, when I see 41 bringing these two stunning blondes to our section. Their names are Laura and Sonia. Apparently, they decided to come over upon seeing our mayhem and hearing the cowbell. So as I understand it, Mo rings the bell, and beautiful women come over. How Fonzie is that? And why doesn’t this happen in real life? I give 41 credit for bringing them over, and Tom wants to let it be known that they also sat next to him. All I know is that my sunglasses almost fell off when my eyes bugged out of my head. I said head. Those reading this column will have to forgive me if I don’t remember much of the game after that, since I was getting whiplash moving my head back and forth between these women and the game. I said head again.
To those who have been hooked on this column because of the title of Part II, fear not. I am almost at the point where Phil gets mad. Clearly, we had just won the game 12-1, bringing our total in two games to Yanks 21, Jays 2.
Cowbell Mo led us out of the Dome again. In addition to the traditional beat, he mixed it up again. We marched out to When the Saints Go Marching In, to chants like “we got the fever, we’re hot, we can’t be stopped,” and “Just like yesterday.” Classic stuff, and I have pictures of it that will hopefully debut on the website soon.
After a brief dispersal, we all met up again in Kwik’s room. The mood was festive and jovial, for obvious reasons. It was so happy, that Phil was leading things by doing that spitting in your hand please rap thing. Various people joined in. Tom and Steve had a great rap war, and various people joined in showing just how white they were. We also broke into a spontaneous Salt N Pepa song. Go figure.
Pops rapped though. But more important, he did his famous electric football impression.
At this point, Laura and Sonia had left us for the day, promising to return Sunday, and perhaps even planning a trip to the Bronx. Though I was sad to see them leave, with my head clear, I was able more attention to the events.
I don’t remember exactly what happened next, but Tom said something to 41, and 41 said something to Tom, and it was time for a spontaneous hardcore match. The good news is that this was incident was where I got my only two topless pics. The bad news is that one was of 41, and the other was of Tom. I said hardcore. Anyway, Mo rang the bell, and did his ring announcing schtick. Tom seized quick control, but 41 came back. Soon, there was some outside interference, the highlight of which was Mo hitting 41 on the head with a Styrofoam box of french fries. The fries went flying, and a good time was being had by all.
Except one. Mr. Make It Happen, who had to sleep on that floor, did not appreciate the fries. So he got mad. “GET THE [insert colorful metaphor] OUT!” “I HAVE TO SLEEP ON THIS FLOOR!” “THIS IS MY ROOM, I HAVE TO SLEEP HERE, NOW GET THE [insert colorful metaphor] OUT!” Please excuse the lack of expletives, but this is a family column.
Anyway, respecting the man’s wishes, I left, as did Evan and Baloo. It was time to eat anyway. Guess where we went? Well you’re WRONG! I went back to East Side Mario’s for dinner. That is correct, 3 meals, 4 visits, 2 days. This time, Amy was actually on duty. So naturally I requested her table. There was nothing available at the time, but Evan and I convinced Baloo that it was worth the wait. So we waited. And waited. And waited. Seems that Amy had some big party at her station and simply did not have an opening. I said opening. But we were persistent. About a ½ hour passed. Finally, we gave in to our stomachs and sat at another table. Amy passed by several times and said hi.
Our waitress this time was named Ashley. If Amy was the best damn waitress in Canada, Ashley was definitely the coolest. Despite being busy, she did take some time to talk to us. I asked her about the My Apartment bar I heard about from Daniel, and she told us she had never been there. With a recommendation like that, how could we not go? She did confirm though that the drinks were cheap.
It was then I noticed the one bad thing about East Side Mario’s. On the wall, as part of the NYC theme, they had a big picture of the Mets logo. I filed an official complaint with Ashley, explaining to her that what we thought of the Mets. I told her that Mets stood for My Entire Team Stinks. Baloo got mad I didn’t say sucks, but I figured this was Canada. The meal ended, and I took one last look at Amy, as I prepared for the evening.
By the way, I heard that a bunch of the other guys had a misadventure at Hooter’s. Apparently, they waited over an hour for their food. Brian confronted the waitress, who told them the food would be out in 5 minutes. 20 minutes later, they asked again, only to be greeted by a waitress claiming that the creatures weren’t in her table. Needless to say, they walked out. Word on the street is that the food will be done real soon.
On the way back, we met up with Gangbang and Mike. They were going to get food, and then meet us at My Apartment. It was then we saw a strange Canadian form of transportation. You know how those stereotypical Chinese people have that wagon with people inside that they hold and run? The kind the basically says, “I have no dignity,” where they essentially replace the horse? Well they have those in Toronto. And naturally, we heckled them as we saw them running down the street. We did the Lone Ranger theme (William Tell Overture for those that care), and of course that music they play at the start of a horse race.
With that REVELRIE aside, we went back to the hotel to check on Tom, who had passed out. Baloo woke him up, and he joined us. We made the trip to My Apartment. When we got there, there was a $5.00 Canadian admission, and Tom didn’t want to go in there. He, Baloo, and Laurie went to some other place, and Ignorant Evan and I checked out My Apartment.
Honestly, I think Tom and company made a mistake. This was not a club at all. It was a large bar setting with lots of eye candy and a small dance floor. I think that had we all gone there as a group, the place would have been the highlight of the trip. It had stuff for all types of people. Those who liked to club could do so, and those who liked to chill out without dancing could do so too. With bleacher creatures partying and in a good mood, I think everyone would have had a blast. I think Daniel the waiter made a good call. Maybe next year, people will consider the place. And they played cool music too. We were treated to songs like “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” “Sweet Child of Mine,” and “Living on a Prayer.”
We left the bar, and found Tom, Mike and Steve at a pool place on the way back to the hotel. Steve is one hell of a pool player by the way. Tom managed to stay awake long enough to get back to the hotel.
Baloo was back in his room, and he, Steve, Mike and myself ventured to the pool area. By this time it was 1:30am, but we didn’t care. The pool never had a lifeguard and we had access. It was swimming time.
The pool area had a hot tub and a sauna. Baloo and Mike jumped in the regular pool, and I hit the hot tub while Gangbang turned on the sauna. It kind of sucked that the only company in that setting were guys. It would have been nice to share the hot tub with Laura, Sonia, and Amy, but the only way that happens is if I lie about it.
Ignorant Evan joined us about 20 minutes later. By 2:15 or so, I had had enough, and was getting ready to call it a night. Ironically, it was at this point when someone from the Skydome found us. To quote him, he said, “the poool clooses at 10:30. You guys have to get oot, ay?” So we got oot, and went our merry ways, putting an end to Saturday in Toronto.
I guess that’s enough for today. Stay Tuned for Marc’s Trip to Toronto Part III: The Jays Don’t Strike Back, AY?”
By MetsSuckBalls
FRIDAY MISCELLANEOUS—
I would have liked to have started part II with Saturday, but there were some things I forgot about that happened Friday that I think should be shared.
First, I forgot about the biggest pop of the night. Out of nowhere, and unexpectedly, Yankee Stadium security guard Shawn (or is it Sean) made an appearance. The bleacher crowd erupted with Honeymooners and Paul Bearer lines bringing another piece of the Bronx to Toronto.
Also, it seems that in some other stadiums, Toronto included, they actually have some sort of host walking around hyping up the crowd. They had different people on all three nights. I guess Friday night’s host was the most interesting. He was the spitting image of Drew Carey. The idiot had the nerve to show his face in our section. Predictably, he was greeted with a Drew Carey chant. Also, there were some “where is Mimi” comments. Drew ran away quickly but returned later to try to beg us to advertise his beer. He promised that if we showed the same enthusiasm, he’d arrange free beer. Do you people realize how pathetic it is when someone can’t bribe the Creatures with beer? It happened. Believe it or not.
Since it was still Friday, despite the ass whooping that was going on, we hadn’t completely crushed their spirit yet. They had a Canadian equivalent of a rowdy fan there. He was African Canadian (yes, I just invented that), and wore a tie. 30 people began yelling “what are YOU doing?” He also was the victim of several “Bryant Gumbel” chants. His dorky friend got the Arnold Horschack treatment.
Also, I forgot to mention one of Sheriff Tom’s Spanish comments. As we were all butchering Phil’s language, Tom stood up and shouted to Mondesi, “Tu es gordo y feo!” Naturally, since that means fat and ugly, the 30 plus of us began a big chant. A few innings and several beers later, Tom tried to recapture the magic. But this time, he shouted “Tu es GUAPO y feo.” That means he called Mondesi handsome and ugly.
Then there were the Lady Jays. Wasn’t Lady Jay a character on G.I. Joe? Anyway, these people were paid chicks that go around giving out t-shirts to the crowd to fire them up. Now don’t get me wrong, but if these chicks want to fire people up, they shouldn’t be handing out clothing, they should be taking OFF clothing, ay? These ladies tried to get wise at us, saying how they wouldn’t give out t-shirts. So we responded with a “we want puppies” chant.
Of course, patriotism became a part of the game as well. While we were thumping the Blue Jays (I said thumping), “we’re American” and “way to have a queen” chants were abound. Strangely enough, after all the classic bleacher chants, we did a USA chant, and some Canadian said, “NOW they crossed the line.” Go figure.
As the game ended, they cleaned the bullpen up, and sunflower seeds were thrown into the crowd. I caught two packs myself.
While I remember, I want to devote this paragraph to Bald Ray. I think he had some of the most classic comments of the trip. For example, as we were kicking the Blue Jays’ tails (I said tails), we decided to do a “we’re back tomorrow…and back Sunday” chant. Ray asked, “what about Saturday?” And no one can accuse the bleacher creatures of not keeping up on world affairs. We learned that Jamaica was in a civil war. Ray asked who they were fighting. Naturally these comments brought more hilarity and mayhem to an already jovial crowd. Ray simply smiled, said, “no speaka de English,” and continued to sing that great Spanish song that inspired “When the Saints go Marching In.” Bald Ray rules.
Naturally, after the game, I wanted to go back to East Side Mario’s. But the group decided to follow the Sheriff to a place called the Lone Star Café. Tom’s theory was that East Side Mario’s closes at 1am, while the Lone Star Café closes at 2am. The group kind of broke up at that point. Some went to the House of Lancaster, some went to find a pool hall, and myself, Ignorant Evan, Sheriff Tom, Baloo, Mike, and Laurie went to Tom’s place. There were no Amys at the Lone Star Café. And the food kind of sucked. And it closed at 1am after all. So to the Sheriff I say this…BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
By this time, Toronto was closed, so we went back to the hotel, and I went to bed dreaming of Amy and determined to fulfill my destiny to eat my remaining meals at East Side Mario’s.
SATURDAY—
Last year, I took a mini vacation to Vegas. While there, the biggest name in town was Barry Manilow. So my friend and I decided to fork over the money and go see the man who gave us hits like Mandy and Copacabana. Shortly into the first song of the concert, I realized something. I am not a fan of Barry Manilow’s. The bastard spent half the concert singing Christmas songs, and didn’t even do Mandy. I said do Mandy. And on that note, let’s talk about the trip to the Hockey Hall of Fame, which mirrored that experience.
Saturday morning started off simple enough. I had slept so well, there was a point I forgot I was in Toronto, and wondered where the hell my clock was. I was up by 8:30am, and out of bed, showered and dressed by 9am. The timing was pretty good, since I got a phone call from Baloo. He tried to disguise his voice, telling me that there was a breakfast waiting for me in the lobby. The night before, while Tom was commenting on a commercial about a bear taking a crap in the woods and handing toilet paper to his bear friend, Baloo told me he played similar pranks on other people in the hotel (including calling in wakeup calls for various rooms), so I knew it was him instantly. Rather than just spilling it, I decided to have a little fun. Basically, I started acting like Arnold Schwarzenegger, like those prank phone calls that can be downloaded from some website I found. The conversation went something like this:
Phone rings:
Me: Good Morning.
Baloo: Yes, I’m calling from the front desk.
Me: (quick interruption): STOP WHINING!
Baloo: I want to tell you that we have a breakfast…
Me: Who are you!
Baloo: I’m from the front desk.
Me: Go on, you’re malarkyting me. I’m a cop you idiot!
Baloo: You can pick up your breakfast…
Me: I’m a cop you idiot! STOP WHINING!
And that’s how the day began. Ignorant Evan jumped in the shower, and Laurie and Baloo came up to my room. I said came up. The game plan was to get to the Hockey Hall of Fame early, because Tom wanted to drink before the 4pm game. I really wasn’t interested in going, but it was early, and East Side Mario’s didn’t open until 11am.
We got to the Hall of Fame and paid our admission. In order to get to the place, we had to actually go through a mall. Pictures were taken outside, and we went in.
I’ve been to Cooperstown, and that was a pretty cool place. But it seemed that walking into the Hockey Hall of Fame means that we see a dedication to Wayne Gretzky. Maybe I didn’t like it for the same reason I didn’t like Manilow. I’m not a hockey fan. They might as well rename the place the Wayne Gretzky Hockey Hall of Fame. We were treated to displays like Gretzky’s childhood photos, Gretzky’s trophies, his headlines, etc. But it didn’t stop there. We also saw stuff on his family. They actually had Gretzky’s brother’s hockey pictures. All that was missing was Gretzky’s used toilet paper and a few other things that I mentioned at the game but won’t in this column.
This Hall of Fame was about as interesting as a PBS special, or a Mets game. They had a big video showing hockey highlights. Too bad they were from 1996. Eventually, Laurie, Evan and I left, while Tom, Baloo and Mike stayed. They later claimed to have fun playing announcer and playing with the interactive games, where Baloo took a puck to the crotch, but I definitely consider the Hockey Hall of Fame to be the lamest part of the trip.
So now it was on to East Side Mario’s again. I was pumped. As Laurie, Evan and I walked down Front St., Laurie and Evan decided they wanted pancakes instead. Rather than enjoy the fine cuisine at East Side Mario’s, they chose to go elsewhere. They also wanted to check out the top of the CN Tower, one of the tallest structures in the world. Personally, I didn’t want to shell out $16 ($22 Canadian) to ride in an elevator—especially when I live in NYC. Despite being abandoned, I would not be denied, so I ventured to East Side Mario’s alone.
My luck with women is legendary. I am the type of guy that can walk into a Hooters, and get sat at the table with the WAITER who won a civil rights suit. I attribute being sat in Amy’s section to my bad luck being delayed in customs.
Knowing my luck, it came as no surprise that when I got to East Side Mario’s, and requested Amy’s table, she wasn’t there. I’d like to think it was because she was exhausted from our night of passion, but we didn’t have a night of passion. And true to form, I got sat at a table with one of the only waiters in the place. But rather than sulk, I decided to make the best of it.
My waiter’s name was Daniel, and after ordering my meal, I did what any American would do in my situation. I talked about Amy. He agreed on my assessment of her being the best damn waitress in Canada. I informed him of my disappointment that she was not there. But while I ate, there were plenty of great looking waitresses to admire, and the food was still good.
Daniel actually turned out to be cool. I asked him where Toronto people go for fun, and he pointed me in the direction of a bar/club called My Apartment. He also gave me detailed directions on how to get there. So I finished my meal, and went in search of My Apartment. It turned out to be fairly close to the Skydome—another bonus. I’ll talk about that place more later.
I went back to the room after that, got bored quickly, and went to see what was up with Baloo, Tom, Steve and Mike. Baloo mentioned that half the creatures went to East Side Mario’s to eat. I guess had I waited a little longer, I’d have seen them.
Before I continue, I want to say that as I am writing this, Milton officially asked people not to call him Milton anymore. He wants to be called Mo, and I will do that for the rest of this column. In other news, Yankee closer Mo Rivera has asked everybody to call him Milton.
So anyway, I did the only thing I could think of. I made the sacrifice and once again returned to East Side Mario’s. Inside were Gangbang Steve, Kwik, Phil, Bald Ray, 41 (who in Canada would be known as 61.5), George and Weird Paul. Soon, we all left, and after posing for pictures, we began our trek to the Skydome.
Of course, so many of us together had to lead to some zaniness. On the way out we met up with Laurie and Ignorant Evan. Our group was about 12, as we started chanting our way toward the field. It wasn’t time to go in yet, but it didn’t stop us from doing a few first place Yankees chants. We also saw some putz in a Met jersey, which led to anti-Piazza and anti-Met chants. Those who know us can get a picture of it.
Apparently, the creatures were low on beer, so we all made a trip to a place called The Beer Store. Nothing too major happened there, though we did run into some people giving away free deodorant. They sure have some strange giveaways in Toronto. I guess Canadians smell bad.
To cut on length, let’s skip to the game.
Like Friday, we all entered the Skydome separately. Baloo was there before I was, and shortly after Mo and Mrs. Mo came by. Word has it he didn’t have the cowbell, and had to go get it later. That detail is unconfirmed. The anthems played, and the game started. It was decided not to do roll call.
It didn’t take long to notice something major was different. It seemed Raul Mondesi had a convenient shoulder injury that made him day to day. He would not play for the rest of the series. I didn’t know verbal abuse hurts the shoulder.
He was replaced by rookie Chris Latham. Latham of course was given the Bronx welcome. He spent the day being verbally assaulted by Ray in two languages, hit was the horse’s ass chant, and victimized with much of the usual chicanery. During the game, the creatures spontaneously started doing the Rocky theme, and this forced a drunk Tom to run up and down the stairs. There were Tom drums, Little Anthony drums, and of course, the cowbell working better than ever.
I took a great picture of Rivera in the bullpen. He was looking straight at the camera and smiled for the picture. It seems we were a big hit with the bullpen. In fact, apparently feeling left out, and in response to a challenge, Randy Choate asked us to prove we knew who he was. So for the rest of the weekend, he was treated to various Randy Choate chants. Of course, Mendoza was waving up to us nonstop.
The game went as well as could be expected. We won 12-1. The only negative aspect of the game was Clemens leaving with an injury. I hope he’s ok. Also, I’m not sure which day this was, but Tino hit a homerun into the Yankee bullpen. One of the people there gave the ball to George.
I also want to mention that one of the best one liners of the weekend occurred on Saturday. Sheriff Tom was sitting with Gangbang Steve and made a crack about the girls who drowned off Rockaway. Steve said, "but Tom, that is a tragedy." Tom looked at him, took his beer, dumped a slosh on the floor, and said, "No, THAT is a tragedy."
And now I must talk about the women from Rochester. It was in the game, middle/late innings, when I see 41 bringing these two stunning blondes to our section. Their names are Laura and Sonia. Apparently, they decided to come over upon seeing our mayhem and hearing the cowbell. So as I understand it, Mo rings the bell, and beautiful women come over. How Fonzie is that? And why doesn’t this happen in real life? I give 41 credit for bringing them over, and Tom wants to let it be known that they also sat next to him. All I know is that my sunglasses almost fell off when my eyes bugged out of my head. I said head. Those reading this column will have to forgive me if I don’t remember much of the game after that, since I was getting whiplash moving my head back and forth between these women and the game. I said head again.
To those who have been hooked on this column because of the title of Part II, fear not. I am almost at the point where Phil gets mad. Clearly, we had just won the game 12-1, bringing our total in two games to Yanks 21, Jays 2.
Cowbell Mo led us out of the Dome again. In addition to the traditional beat, he mixed it up again. We marched out to When the Saints Go Marching In, to chants like “we got the fever, we’re hot, we can’t be stopped,” and “Just like yesterday.” Classic stuff, and I have pictures of it that will hopefully debut on the website soon.
After a brief dispersal, we all met up again in Kwik’s room. The mood was festive and jovial, for obvious reasons. It was so happy, that Phil was leading things by doing that spitting in your hand please rap thing. Various people joined in. Tom and Steve had a great rap war, and various people joined in showing just how white they were. We also broke into a spontaneous Salt N Pepa song. Go figure.
Pops rapped though. But more important, he did his famous electric football impression.
At this point, Laura and Sonia had left us for the day, promising to return Sunday, and perhaps even planning a trip to the Bronx. Though I was sad to see them leave, with my head clear, I was able more attention to the events.
I don’t remember exactly what happened next, but Tom said something to 41, and 41 said something to Tom, and it was time for a spontaneous hardcore match. The good news is that this was incident was where I got my only two topless pics. The bad news is that one was of 41, and the other was of Tom. I said hardcore. Anyway, Mo rang the bell, and did his ring announcing schtick. Tom seized quick control, but 41 came back. Soon, there was some outside interference, the highlight of which was Mo hitting 41 on the head with a Styrofoam box of french fries. The fries went flying, and a good time was being had by all.
Except one. Mr. Make It Happen, who had to sleep on that floor, did not appreciate the fries. So he got mad. “GET THE [insert colorful metaphor] OUT!” “I HAVE TO SLEEP ON THIS FLOOR!” “THIS IS MY ROOM, I HAVE TO SLEEP HERE, NOW GET THE [insert colorful metaphor] OUT!” Please excuse the lack of expletives, but this is a family column.
Anyway, respecting the man’s wishes, I left, as did Evan and Baloo. It was time to eat anyway. Guess where we went? Well you’re WRONG! I went back to East Side Mario’s for dinner. That is correct, 3 meals, 4 visits, 2 days. This time, Amy was actually on duty. So naturally I requested her table. There was nothing available at the time, but Evan and I convinced Baloo that it was worth the wait. So we waited. And waited. And waited. Seems that Amy had some big party at her station and simply did not have an opening. I said opening. But we were persistent. About a ½ hour passed. Finally, we gave in to our stomachs and sat at another table. Amy passed by several times and said hi.
Our waitress this time was named Ashley. If Amy was the best damn waitress in Canada, Ashley was definitely the coolest. Despite being busy, she did take some time to talk to us. I asked her about the My Apartment bar I heard about from Daniel, and she told us she had never been there. With a recommendation like that, how could we not go? She did confirm though that the drinks were cheap.
It was then I noticed the one bad thing about East Side Mario’s. On the wall, as part of the NYC theme, they had a big picture of the Mets logo. I filed an official complaint with Ashley, explaining to her that what we thought of the Mets. I told her that Mets stood for My Entire Team Stinks. Baloo got mad I didn’t say sucks, but I figured this was Canada. The meal ended, and I took one last look at Amy, as I prepared for the evening.
By the way, I heard that a bunch of the other guys had a misadventure at Hooter’s. Apparently, they waited over an hour for their food. Brian confronted the waitress, who told them the food would be out in 5 minutes. 20 minutes later, they asked again, only to be greeted by a waitress claiming that the creatures weren’t in her table. Needless to say, they walked out. Word on the street is that the food will be done real soon.
On the way back, we met up with Gangbang and Mike. They were going to get food, and then meet us at My Apartment. It was then we saw a strange Canadian form of transportation. You know how those stereotypical Chinese people have that wagon with people inside that they hold and run? The kind the basically says, “I have no dignity,” where they essentially replace the horse? Well they have those in Toronto. And naturally, we heckled them as we saw them running down the street. We did the Lone Ranger theme (William Tell Overture for those that care), and of course that music they play at the start of a horse race.
With that REVELRIE aside, we went back to the hotel to check on Tom, who had passed out. Baloo woke him up, and he joined us. We made the trip to My Apartment. When we got there, there was a $5.00 Canadian admission, and Tom didn’t want to go in there. He, Baloo, and Laurie went to some other place, and Ignorant Evan and I checked out My Apartment.
Honestly, I think Tom and company made a mistake. This was not a club at all. It was a large bar setting with lots of eye candy and a small dance floor. I think that had we all gone there as a group, the place would have been the highlight of the trip. It had stuff for all types of people. Those who liked to club could do so, and those who liked to chill out without dancing could do so too. With bleacher creatures partying and in a good mood, I think everyone would have had a blast. I think Daniel the waiter made a good call. Maybe next year, people will consider the place. And they played cool music too. We were treated to songs like “Pour Some Sugar On Me,” “Sweet Child of Mine,” and “Living on a Prayer.”
We left the bar, and found Tom, Mike and Steve at a pool place on the way back to the hotel. Steve is one hell of a pool player by the way. Tom managed to stay awake long enough to get back to the hotel.
Baloo was back in his room, and he, Steve, Mike and myself ventured to the pool area. By this time it was 1:30am, but we didn’t care. The pool never had a lifeguard and we had access. It was swimming time.
The pool area had a hot tub and a sauna. Baloo and Mike jumped in the regular pool, and I hit the hot tub while Gangbang turned on the sauna. It kind of sucked that the only company in that setting were guys. It would have been nice to share the hot tub with Laura, Sonia, and Amy, but the only way that happens is if I lie about it.
Ignorant Evan joined us about 20 minutes later. By 2:15 or so, I had had enough, and was getting ready to call it a night. Ironically, it was at this point when someone from the Skydome found us. To quote him, he said, “the poool clooses at 10:30. You guys have to get oot, ay?” So we got oot, and went our merry ways, putting an end to Saturday in Toronto.
I guess that’s enough for today. Stay Tuned for Marc’s Trip to Toronto Part III: The Jays Don’t Strike Back, AY?”