Wildwood. Or, An Adventure in Deep Frying

This past weekend I returned to the East Coast to partake in my favorite summer activity:

Wildwood.

What is Wildwood, you may ask? Besides being the trashiest place on the Boardwalk, and the easiest place to spot teenagers of the jail-bait variety, it's also the world's biggest beach ultimate tournament. Roughly 3,000 ultimate players descend upon this hepatitis-drenched enclave with the purpose of playing ultimate and spending 48 hours intoxicated.

This weekend was no different. I played on Bayonet Tailgate Party in the 3-1 Beer league. The team consisted of only the best and brightest. Errr...drunkest and drunkest. It was basically all my favorite people assembled into a cyber pink ball of awesomeness (minus Jenee and Dan, whom I missed terribly), with the badass-est logo on the beach.

Evidence:

I know, we're terribly good looking and stylish. It's a blessing and a curse.

To get the boring part over with, we went 3-3, losing 2 games on double game point and 1 by three points. BTP was robbed of its championship dreams, but everyone had moments of glory and moments of hungover-ness on the field, some more than others (I was of the latter persuasion).

Friday started off early. Got off the plane at 7am after being con men and convincing our gate agent that I was suffering a terrible case of food poisoning and that we'd be missing our connecting flight to BWI. We were then picked up by my mother in Philly for a delicious breakfast and then dropped off at the Greyhound station, where I thought I lost my wallet (it was in Adam's pocket).

3 hours later we arrive in Wildwood after taking NJ transit down the shore. Approximately .2 seconds after the bus driving away do I realize I've left my purse (complete with wallet, passport, and birth control) in my seat. Commence sprinting after said bus. The operation was a success as the bus luckily hit a red light 1.5 blocks down.

After that we joined Adam's family on the beach, where 2pm beer drinking and cheesesteak eating commenced. After checking into the efficiency suite (best idea ever), we departed for dinner, once again with the Croce clan.

Sidebar: the efficiency suite is the height of Wildwood ghetto chic. Imagine 2 dark, musty-ish rooms. The first has a creaky pullout couch and a mattress on the floor...with a headboard nailed to the wall 2ft above. A "kitchenette" with full sized fridge (it held beer and only beer this weekend), mini stove, and unplugged microwave. A bathroom with a window that didn't open (leading to steam room-esque conditions) and broken toilet seat. Lastly, the "bedroom", with 2 full size beds maybe, MAYBE one foot apart from each other, with windows looking out onto the hotel's dumpster backyard. All class.

Back to dinner. I decide now's a good time to start drinking, so I start off with a Long Island. You can imagine where the night went from here. After hitting the nearest liquor store Adam and I do a "Tooter" (pre-mixed shot of death) and head to Old Man Steve's condo, where joyous/snarky reunions commence. LFaust proceeds to make me some kind of rum drink, and I think this is where the night went downhill. Or uphill, depending on how you look at it. We head to the Bolero, where I accost the likes of Danny and the Biggest Tim. I think shots were taken. Fast forward to about 1:45am--I'm being obscene towards Lauren due to a conversation she was having and next thing I know she throws her drink at me. I, logically, throw mine back.

Cue both of us being thrown out of the Bolero. Yes, it's the first time I've ever been thrown out of a bar, and of course it's due to Ms. Lauren Faust. Thanks, douchebag. Also, no matter what she tells you, she threw her drink first. Fact.

Passing out happened around 3am. Waking up was at 9am. Nausea was 9am-7pm.

Saturday night was equally amazing, but in different ways. After hitting the beer garden we return to Steve's condo for more Can Jam (laundry hamper + discs + holes), drinking, and hanging out. We set off for the Bolero once again, with Lauren and I timing our entrance so as not to incite the suspicion/wrath of the bouncers. Once inside it's the same usual shitshow. Packed dancefloor, terrible cover band, bar crowd 4 people deep. While there I was enlightened about websites like DateACougar.com, but after the day's hangover wasn't really feeling more drinking. Neither were a few others.

At 12:45am-ish eight or so of us head back to the hotel room for some hanging out. None of us were prepared to walk in to see MS scamper out of the bedroom with the most devilish look on his face EVER. For privacy's sake I'm going to forgo the rest of the juicy details, but the end of the night ended in creating a delightful sleeping nest out of sleeping bags and wet towels for a special someone (or so I was told...all the hanging out led to passing out around 3 again).

In between the devil smile and nest-creation much hanging out commenced, leading to a major 2am hunger session. Being 2 blocks from the boardwalk we figured everything would be open, and we'd have our choice of pizza, fries, and other gluttonously delicious treats. We arrive at the boardwalk...and it's empty. Yeah, you've got you random 15 year olds being daring and staying out late, but no neon signs welcoming us. Except....30 yards down we spot a yellow sign (I believe Lindsay called it "A yellow beacon of hope"). We walk up and enter a little slice of heaven. Corn dogs, funnel cakes, frozen bananas, deep fried Oreos/Twinkies beckon to us. A feeding frenzy ensued, and about $50 later we walked away overloaded with fried deliciousness. I had a corn dog and funnel cake, but that was nothing compared to a few others. Notably: Will got a funny cake covered in caramel, strawberries, and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Matt Shiel actually managed to get them to make a funnel cake with deep fried Oreos IN IT.

We returned to the hotel happy and stuffed. I passed out, but the aforementioned nest building ensued. Josh or Adam can give you the detailed run down.

Sunday was relatively low-key. We lost our second game, and were done for the day at around 1pm. Then, the heavens opened up and it started POURING. Games were delayed, then teams eventually started bailing. Julie was kind enough to offer us a ride back to BWI; we got in the car at 2:30 and arrived at the airport at 7:15pm. I was seriously worried that our airline wouldn't let us get back on our flight due to getting off in Philly on Friday--the customer service rep on the phone sounded pretty foreboding. However we get the BWI and the line is long and there's only one rep working. We get bumped to the front of the line because our plane was leaving relatively soon. The e-ticket kiosk gives us some trouble, so the one rep comes over, gets our passports, and hands us our tickets, just like that. We think she saw that there was an error with our reservation and didn't want to deal with it, and hit that big red override button. God bless that angry woman. The flights were happily uneventful, and 16 hours after leaving the shores of Wildwood we arrived at my house and promptly passed out.

Already looking forward to next year....