crossroads

That is the beauty that is today, October 1. 2005 American League Champions.
Hell yeah.




rewind to last night: Crossroads Irish Pub, approximately 9:00pm
(the names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Tommy (to Mike): God, these guys are terrible.

(Enter very drunk guy, late 20s/early 30s, wearing a Yankee jersey and fitted cap)

Yankee Drunk: Yo, what did you say? The Yanks are the best f-ing team ever!

Tommy: No, they're really not. They're playing terribly. Except for Jeet's home run, they haven't done crap tonight. Don't worry, I'm actually a Yankees fan too, dude.

YD: Oh, no sh-t! Yo, what's up man!?!

Tommy: Um... not much. Just trying to watch the game here...

YD: Yeah man... I love the Yankees! My boy here is a die-hard Sox fan.

Tommy: Cool, cool.. are you just in town visiting him?

YD: Nah, he's actually from Reno. Our boy's getting married tomorrow, so we're just out drinking it up...

(the 5'5" Reno Drunk two seats down yells something unintelligibile, and I just give him the head nod and glass raise)

Tommy: Oh... Reno... didn't know Red Sox Nation spread that far.

YD: Yeah dude, totally... (and then realizing he has no idea what I'm talking about) wait, what?

Tommy: Nevermind. Yeah man, Yankees fans in Boston! There's like 5 or 6 in the bar tonight... I'm pretty psyched! I wore my Yankees t-shirt under my sweater to work today, showing it to all the crazy Sox fans in my office. It was great.

YD: Yeah? (YD starts to lift up Tommy's sweater) Are you still wearing it? Break that s--t out!

Tommy (smacking YD and pushing him almost off his stool): Yo!!! Get off me! I'll take it off a little later, man.

YD: Oh, you call yourself a real fan? You gotta take that sweater off.

Tommy: I'll take it off when I f-ing feel like it. I've lived in Boston for 5 years; I'm over the whole "shock value" thing of wearing the "NY" around Sox fans.

YD: Oh yeah? Well I've lived here for 10 years, and I still wear this stuff all the time. Yankees, baby!

Tommy: Ok, you're cooler than me, I guess. You've been here longer and you're wearing a jersey. Congrats, dude.

RD (Reno Drunk): You're not wearing your shirt dude?! You're a f-ing p--sy.

Tommy: Wait, what did you say? Because I think it's a little easier to hear outside... I thought I heard you call me a p--sy, but I'm sure that a cool kid like you wouldn't say something like that.

YD (motioning to RD as if to say "shut the hell up", and then to Tommy): Hey hey hey, there's no need for that... why are you getting so upset?

Tommy: Well, actually, I'm having a good time. I'm here with my buddies, Sam Adams in one hand, watching the Yanks... but, for me at least, having poser super-fans trying to take off my clothes while their midget friends call me a p--ssy kind of qualifies for a reason to get a little agitated... don't you think?

YD (nervously laughing): Wait, what?

Tommy (deadpan): You heard me.

YD: Hahahaha... you're all right, man. Let me get you a drink... we've been doing car bombs all night... you want one?

Tommy: Nah, man... I'm sticking to beer tonight. Thanks though.

RD: No carbomb? You're such a p-ssy... hahaha, just kidding man.

Mike (aside, to Tommy): What? Did you just threaten that guy, and then he offered to buy you a drink?

Tommy: Yeah. He's a winner.