Mutiny on the Bounty

I was going to title this, "Who was that Mexican dude? (as the character in question was a vital part of the story)," but thought it wasn't conservative enough. I could have also titled this, "What the fuck are those things crawling on your pants, Tony?" However, that might have been a little over the top. For now, I'm sticking with the seafaring, pirate theme. It works.

Here's what happened.

The day began at a luncheon my dad managed to get tickets to. He had three, so my buddy and fellow Giants fan, Matt, came as well. The luncheon was to celebrate the opening night of the Giants season (yes, I'm writing this while visiting the Yay). To celebrate, free food and beer was offered. To save money at the ballgame, which we had tickets to and was right after the luncheon, Matt and I took full advantage of the free refreshments. This allowed us to enter the park with a full stomach and a proper buzz. As we soon figured out, though, we didn't drink nearly enough, because the Giants have a seemingly horrible team this year and almost put 40,000 fans to sleep. The only redeeming part of the eventual loss was that Barry Bonds hit a home run, putting him one closer to Hank Aaron's record.

After the game, Matt went back to his home in Berkeley and I met up with a few friends at MoMos bar across the street. It was with this group of friends, as it always is, and at this point in time, that the momentum of the evening shifted. What was earlier a mellow day at the ballpark, cheering on the home team and enjoying some beer with my dad and a friend, was soon to become a reckless, yet eerily typical, night of debauchery on the San Francisco waterfront. Why the shift in momentum, you might ask? I'll blame it on Matt (a different Matt, also known as Mixle), Ophir (aka Tweet), and Anto (aka Tony, aka Dirty Toof). With the exception of my friend Gibby, these are my longest friends and the scums that I grew up with on H-Block. For some reason, the reuniting of this group always leads to long nights and interesting stories the following morning. This night would be no different.

We left the yuppies and overpriced drinks at MoMos and headed to a liquor store. After gathering our alcohol of choice, we decided to find a spot on the water to drink (I have been singing "On the Dock of the Bay" in my head for months now, so it was only fitting to find a dock somewhere). Because it was after hours, and not too many tourists were out, we decided to head down to the Wharf. Before the commencement of our drinking, I decided to pick up some In and Out Burger. After getting my food and rejoining my friends outside, I noticed we picked up an extra person. Tony and Ophir were chatting it up with this Mexican cat whom I thought they knew (as I'll later find out, this was not the case). He was offered a beer, and now our group was up to five.

We left In and Out and walked to the dock (if you've ever been to the City, think yelping seals and docked boats). While drinking on one of the docks, a security guard approached us, informing us that people sleep on the boats that were docked nearby and that we should take our party down the road. Noticing our disappointment, the security guard made a concession, stating that he knew the owners of the boat at the very end of the dock, and knew they weren't on it, thus we wouldn't be such a disruption down there. His point was that we could drink on the far end of the dock without disturbing anybody. In our minds, though, we interpreted this as: "hey, why don't you go hang out on my friend's boat...they're out of town...they won't mind." So that we did.

While on the boat, drinking our beers and reminiscing, we started talking about setting out to sea and how cool it would be to be pirates on the open waters (I just wanted to be a Goonie for a night, challenging Chester Copperpot for his riches). The guy who joined our group seemed very entertained by our shenanigans. I assumed, though, that if he knew Tony and Ophir, this wasn't so out of the ordinary for him. Anyway, while we're drinking and doing our pirate talk, Tony decides to pull up the anchor and untie the rope that latched us to the dock. Quickly realizing we're not the tough pirates we thought we were, everybody jumps ship, leaving Tony the demoralizing task of dropping the anchor and tying the boat back to the dock.

After a few more beers, and being chastised by Tony for not living up to our pirate talk, we decided to board another ship. We told ourselves that we were just going to lounge and have a drink, but we all knew in the back of our minds that Tony would make another attempt to set us a sail. As we all predicted, the anchor eventually was pulled up and Tony untied us. As Tony fully declared his role as captain of the ship, we decided a rebellion was in order and proceeded with a mutiny. As Tony tried to convince us to come back on the ship, the tide started to pull him from the dock. At the last moment, Tony realized he couldn't be a captain without shipmates, he decided to jump ship with us. However, he waited too long and was not in close reach of the ladder. In his feeble attempt to save himself, he reached for the ladder but fell into the Bay. While Tony is struggling for his life, trying not to be dissolved by the toxic pollutants in the Bay water, Mixle and that other guy start taking pictures with their cellphones. Apparently Tony's demise was more comical than it was life-threatening. Lucky for Tony, a big crab-trap floated by and he was able to use that to push himself up to the ladder. This allowed one of us to throw a hand down and pull him up.

Now on dock, and dripping with radioactive, neon-colored water, Matt looks at Tony's pants and realizes he picked something up while in the water. Matt takes a closer looks and says, "Tony, what's that crawling on your pants leg?"

Tony looks down, doesn't see anything, "What do you mean?"

"There's something crawling on your leg. In fact, there are a bunch of things crawling on your leg!"

Now we all start examining Tony's pants leg and see what Matt was talking about. Little mutant worms were squirming around, inching their way up his pants. These weren't the type of worms that you use as bait when you go fishing. These were X-Files, martian worms. They looked like the white, squiggly strands of puss you can squeeze out of the pores on your nose (it sounds gross, and I hope you all know what I'm talking about or I'll feel really embarrassed). Anyway, they were creepy and numerous...enough to freak Tony out (he's not the most tidy or hygienic person I know, either). So, Tony proceeds to take his pants off and throw them into the water.

We now realize that it's time to go. As we walk through Pier 39, heading back to the car and Tony in his boxers, our fifth companion says in a Mexican accent, "Hey, you want some churros?"

As it is very late, there aren't any stores open, and the guy doesn't appear to be carrying any churros, Tony questions, "Why would I want some churros?"

The guys says, "No, do you want some churros?"

Maybe it's because Tony is hard of hearing (or just really drunk), but everybody else clearly heard, "Do you want some shorts?" The guy was offering Tony something to wear so he didn't have to walk the streets in his underwear. After translating for Tony, we walk to the guy's car, where he pops his trunk and pulls out some shorts and a dry Bob Marley shirt. Tony puts the shorts on and changes his shirt. Tony thanks him and we head back to Matt's car, leaving the guy behind and essentially calling it a night. While in the car, though, on our way to Oakland, someone asks, "Who was that guy?" Surprised, I say, "What do you mean? Isn't he your friend, Ophir?"

Ophir tells me he didn't know who he was, and Tony confirms the same. Apparently he just struck up conversation with Tony and Ophir while I was getting a burger prior to our drinking, and because he was a cool enough cat, he was invited to have a few drinks with us. Now, Tony was wearing his shorts and this guy is going to tell his friends about the crazies he met last night on the Wharf.