The Brother in law visit's NY

After a lengthy absence, I'm attempting to make a comeback at blogging.

As a welcome back gift, here are a few highlights from Memorial Day weekend when Erin's brother came up for a long weekend. Enjoy.

Kris got in Thursday evening and we picked him up in Buffalo. It was a pretty standard drive back to Rochester followed by several Gin & Tonics at our apartment. Around 12:45 Kris decided that he needed a cigarette and he and I headed to the store to grab a pack. Once we got in the car, I quickly called an audible and made this statement "Kris, you know who else has cigarettes that are open right now? Bars". Brilliant idea. Kris and I head out to Park Bench and grab a few more drinks. During a game of pool I could tell things had gone south for Kris as he was having trouble making contact with the cue ball. I promptly decide we should go home and tell him I will meet him outside after I go to the bathroom. Upon walking outside, I see no sign of Kris. I eventually find him yanking on the backdoor of a pizza place, and I'm not really sure if he thought we were home or he wanted pizza. I motion him back down the stairs, at which point Kris took what I like to call a "misstep" and goes tumbling down the stairs into the middle of the alley in front of the bar. Kris is not well. He starts rolling on the ground and moaning heavily. Yikes. I eventually get him up, and after he shoots down my suggestion of street meat, I get him into the car, at which point he passes out. Kris is snoring by the time we make the 1 mile drive to the house. Kris is not waking up. I manage to shake him hard enough to get him conscious in order walk upstairs. I'm pretty confident that Kris will make it from the parking lot to our apartment without incident. I am wrong. While walking across our back parking lot, I turn around to see Kris walking right behind me and then suddenly peeling off to his right as he takes his second fall of the past 10 minutes. Kris is really not well. The fall is followed by some more rolling around and heavy moaning. I see a cut on Kris's head. After Kris manages to sit up I notice that blood is coming from his head wound. Blood is pooling rapidly in Kris's hand. I'm in over my head. I seem much more concerned about the blood than Kris. I take my t-shirt and wrap it around his head to hopefully stop the bleeding. Kris states that I am an "excellent brother-in-law", for that comment I award myself two points. I eventually get Kris upstairs and onto the couch. I then go and wake Erin up to help me. Imagine her thought process to see me with no shirt on and her brother passed out on the couch covered in blood. Erin is not pleased with either of us. Erin makes the executive decision that he doesn't need stitches. I am thankful and immediately go to bed and passout. The next morning we rehashed the evening and apparently Kris had been drinking at the airport, on the plane, and when we got home. He also decided that dinner wasn't too appealing and drank his dinner as well in Minneapolis. This is the lesson, always eat dinner before a heavy night of drinking.

Not one to be deterred by mere flesh wounds, cuts, scraps, or deep thigh bruising. We all rally to go out Friday evening because it's Kris's birthday. We head out to Acme Bar and it was a pretty standard evening. James Burgum was randomly in town (Kris's best friend from Casselton) and he met us out. Acme was running a special with $2 Corona's and Heinkens. Jackpot. Like I said, it was a pretty standard evening with everyone buying Kris drinks for his birthday. Shortly after 12, Kris decides he needs to buy a round of shots for everyone at the table (7 of us) to thank us for all the drinks and a good birthday. Now, I'm not sure how the conversation went between Kris and the bartender and I'm still not sure if the bartender was being NICE to Kris or throughly hated his guts, but Kris returned to the table with 7 double tequila shots... Jose Cuervo Tequila shots... Jose Cuervo Tequila shots that had been sitting by an oven all evening. Kris was also nice enough to bring with him a salt shaker and lemon wedges that were smaller than my thumbnail. I immediately see this going poorly. I stand up to look around and figure out my exit strategy should I get sick. Plus the smell has already made me nauseated. I locate a door immediately behind me that is open and leads into a small alley. Perfect. We do shots. I feel that my stomach is unhappy with my current course of action. I step outside to shake it off. I rally. Hot Cuervo will not win this evening. Then, disaster... The doorman walks over and tells me I can't be in that alley and closes the door. This is followed by my buddy Andy talking about the tequila shot and how bad it was. I begin looking for my second exit strategy. I have just thrown up a little in my mouth. This does nothing to help. I bolt for the front door as things have taken a drastic turn for the worse. I throw up some more on my way to the door. The doorman sees me making my exit and I guess my face said "I am currently yakking in my mouth and am trying to hold it together until I get outside". He yells "You're out of here buddy". I give him the thumbs up as a round the corner and yack back into the alley. I turn around to cheers from a car that was leaving and chants of "Go Red Soxs". I point to my Red Sox hat and give the thumbs up. Someone else in the car makes a derogatory comment about Papelbon. I respond with the fact that the Yankees aren't even .500 right now. This does not please the car and they leave. I am then forced to sit outside the bar for the next 10 minutes as everyone closes their tab because I got kicked out. The lesson: warm Cuervo shots always go poorly.