Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Manasquan’

I did mention there would be an abnormal amount of monthly recaps in the coming weeks courtesy of my laziness.  So September in December?  Well its better then a Christmas blog, don’t worry there were no arrests and no stabbings in Lisanti Land this year.  (see Christmas Dread Part I, Part II and Part III for more on that) As a matter of fact I did not even make it to the bar Christmas night.  Instead I ended up just falling asleep on my couch watching Seinfeld.  Very exciting stuff I know.

September is usually one of the better months for surfing in California.  Especially up here in the Ventura/Santa Barbara area.   All bets have been off this year considering it is by far one of the worst and strangest years of surfing I have ever experienced.  September did not disappoint in disappointing everyone.  There was a total of one NW swell that was the biggest let down since cheese in a can. One South swell I missed thanks to a non-surfing trip I took to Portland, Oregon for a family wedding and subsequent Vacation.  On said trip I managed to get myself into a family squabble impart because of a blog I wrote critiquing the wedding (see Portland Blogs: Part I, Part II, Part III and Part IV) and further proved to my parents what a fuck up I am.

There was one near epic day of crazy barrels at River Mouth that as far as I am concerned was the only worthy session of the whole month.  The city of Santa Barbara decided to close the Mesa Lane steps pretty much denying access to the only really consistently short board-able wave in town.  On top of all this I had to make a week long trip New Jersey for my sister’s wedding at the end of the month where I did manage among all the drinking to sneak in a couple of average surfs.  To continue with the theme of 2012 September was just another month of let downs and screw ups.  Here is how the numbers worked out:

Number of Surf Sessions: 19
Actual Days Surfed: 18

Total Time Spent in the Water: 31.5 hrs
Number of Waves Surfed: 531
Average Waves Caught Per Hour: 17

Spots Surfed:
New Jetty: 6
Emma Wood: 3
Santa Clara River Mouth: 2
The Pipe, Spring Lake, NJ: 2
Manasquan Inlet, Manasquan, NJ: 1
Riddle Way, Manasquan,  NJ: 1
Hollywood by the Sea: 1
Little Rincon: 1
Gold Coast: 1
Gudalupe Dunes: 1

Top 3 Surf Sessions (as per Surflog)

3) 9/12/12 AM Session: 2-3+ft, New Jetty
Time in Water: 1.5 hrs
Waves Surfed: 26
New Jetty is back baby.  I had heard rumors in my long hiatus from surfing that it was the case.   Then on Tuesday my friend Lindsay confirmed it.  I decided I would wake up and see for myself if it was true.  Expecting a lie and then a subsequent terrible Emma Wood session I climbed the dunes in low spirits.  Especially since the wind was whipping out of the west.  Sure enough I saw a set of chest high waves break off the jetty and just peel.  Stoked I called my boy Ryan and it was on.  The crowd was about eight strong but everyone was taking turns.  I was surfing really well although found that my lack of surfing had left me out of shape and struggling in the paddling department. Serves me right for nearly three weeks of drinking, partying and sloth.  After the session I went to the Ventura swap meet where I scored a boss ass lamp for my living room $15, an alarm clock $3, “Breakfast and Tiffany’s” and “The Young Frankenstein” $1 and Candide and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn $1.  What a score.  Then I had my dinner party which was ten strong including myself.  I served Chicken Parm over Linguine Rigati with garlic bread and stuffed apples for desert.  It was a fine evening.

2)  9/17/12 AM Session: 2-3+ft, Gold Coast
Time in Water: 1.5 hrs
Waves Surfed: 37
What a fun ass surf courtesy of more tropical action.  Its seems like all the best swells this summer were thanks to cyclones.  I started at Ventura harbor but it was all swampy with the tide at New Jetty and I could not judge River Mouth.  I had seen some good ones at Emma and went back there.  As I was checking Emma I noticed some decent looking lines coming in at Gold Coast, which loves these short period tropical swells.   I pulled up near the concrete retainer wall in the middle of the beach and picked a really fun peak.  For a change I was surfing incredible and the crowd was easy and fun as it usually is there.  Some how I pulled a front side submersible reverse.  I think I have only stuck maybe three of those in my entire life.  Nothing like a good day of surfing even if they are few an far between these days.

1) 9/26/12 AM Session: 5-7+ft, Santa Clara River Mouth
Time in Water: 3hrs
Waves Surfed: 40
Fucking barrel fest.  By far the biggest heaviest, most hallow day at the River Mouth of the season. I was a bit slow getting down this morning and very sore from all the surfing yesterday.  When I got up on the dunes I could not believe my eyes.  All I saw everywhere was spitting huge open tubes.  I almost fainted.  I ran back to the car, tore on my suit and joined the party.  I did not even do a turn till my 7th wave.  Everything was just a take off right into the pit.  Then the wind kind of got on it and made it a bit harder to get tubed but there were still plenty of heavy double ups that would let you in even if then did not let you out.  I had three where I was in a tube so big I could have drove a Mack truck through them.  Sooo fucking good.  It will make missing a week of solid swell while I am in shitty flat New Jersey tolerable at least.

The only really worthy session of September looked something like this only bigger!

The only really worthy session of September looked something like this only bigger!

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

This was a giant wave pre-storm surge in Cape May, NJ at a spot called Poverty’s which can be a really fun shore break barrel on a strong Nor’Easter. Looks like it bit off a more then it chew here.

I woke up this morning, my little toe was three shades of purple and looking rather infected.  Surfing was out for me, probably for a few days, yet this was the least of my concerns.  All that was on my mind for the last two days has been the absolute destruction and devastation to my home town of Manasquan, New Jersey courtesy of Hurricane Sandy.  As much as I hate New Jersey and it’s seemingly reciprocal feelings towards me to see what has become of it has been rather heart breaking.

Then I consider all of my friends and family back there and what they must be going through actually having to live in what has seemingly become a third world country. I was on the phone with my sister last night who evacuated to Pennsylvania with her husband.  They went back up to Manasquan and basically found out that more then four feet of water had filled the first floor of one of our family homes.  The cats although a bit freaked out were safe.  Most of the furniture was destroyed, the wood floors, the carpets, the appliances, three cars all ruined.  At this point power is estimated to be out anywhere from 8-10 days and there is the possibility that the drinking water is no good.

I fielded a call from Kooky Kyle later in the evening who is scalping generators, batteries and other survival apparel, currently making a small fortune.  He is doing a good deed as well even if it comes at a cost premium to those in need. Supply and demand is the American way after all.  In his defense he called me to see if my family needed anything from him.  My parents are currently in Florida.  At the moment they are planning on staying at their home there till things get a little more stable in New Jersey.

This was once a street in the beach area of Manasquan…

At the moment it looks like Bosnia over there minus the civil unrest, although I have heard rampant looting has broken out at the shore causing residents to have to show proof of residence to even get to their own homes now.  My parent’s beach house in Manasquan as of right now we have not a clue.  From the few pictures and the little bit I have heard things are pretty bad up there with most parts of the island buried in anywhere from 8-20 feet of sand.  Their house sits on the narrowest part of the island and on an estuary that floods around the house on a regular full moon storm high tide.

The house with the brick steps that are all torn up used to be rented by a friend of mine when I was 16. I used to store a board and wettie over there so that whenever my mom would punish me and not let me surf I would tell her I had to stay after school for something, ride my bike to his house and go surf.

One can only assume the house took it on the chin pretty bad. It was built on a floating foundation to begin with.   At the moment access to the island is very limited and from what I hear just about not drive-able with out heavy equipment.  Some of the bridges are completely blocked by boats and debris.  I had a quiver of surfboards in the crawl space of that house.  Let me stress the word “had”.  My entire family is safe and from what I know all of my close friends as well and in the end that is all that matters anyway.

This is the Brielle Road draw bridge looking rather inaccessible.

Things are heavy over there to say the least.  It was not only my town that took things tough.  From video it looks like Long Beach Island was ravished, parts of it still under water.  Casino Pier in Seaside Heights has been just about entirely washed away.  What was once a venue of rides and amusements, not to mention one of the top surf spots in NJ has been reduced to a pile of sticks and rebar.  The Ocean Grove pier another surf spot I frequented is gone as well.  I sit here writing this at a loss.  Part of me wishes I was home attempting some help to those in need.  Then again I don’t live there anymore.

The remnants of the once grand Casino Pier, Seaside Heights, New Jersey. Yes that is a roller coaster in the ocean.

I suppose my heart will always be in New Jersey no matter how much I try to deny it and be Californian.  Its Halloween here today and everyone is getting hammered in costume yet again for about the eighth straight night in a row. With the exception of my few friends here from New Jersey not a single person even mentioned if things were all good back home to me.  Its 3000 miles away on a completely different coast so who cares right?  Well whenever there is a fire or earthquake here I get calls from most of my loved ones back in NJ to see if all is ok here.  Hey to each their own.  As for me at the moment I don’t feel very much like partying.

I wish all my friends and readers in New Jersey the best of luck.  Hang in there guys one thing about Jersey people we don’t take shit from anyone or anything.  I know you guys will rebuild bigger, better and stronger then ever.  To my surfing friends out there; We may have lost a few spots but I bet when things clear we most likely gained a few as well. The red cross has set up a relief effort fund for the havoc that has been unleashed on the Jersey shore.  If you feel so inclined every bit helps https://www.redcross.org/donate/index.jsp?donateStep=2&itemId=prod10002.

The closest house with the first floor buried in sand was the residence of my boy Cory and his girl Tagan. Hey guys if you need a break from all the bull you are always welcome here at the Lisanti Palace. Heck the Palace would not be in my possession if it was not for Cory.

*all photos borrowed from various internet sources.  For more pictures of the damage to Manasquan use this link: http://photos.nj.com/star-ledger/2012/10/devastation_along_manasquan_be_24.html

For pictures of the damage done to Point Pleasant, NJ use this link: http://nickjonesphoto.com/sandy.html

Read Full Post »

Kooky Kyle takes the cake on the last UCB of the quarter with the topic “lightning”.  Him and I were actually discussing this topic while cruising around the streets of NYC on my most recent jaunt back east (see blog: A Trip Back East for those deatails). Out of all of my friends he was the only one to come see my performance in the East Village and for that I was rather stoked.  He had never heard me play before and I think was left a bit awestruck good or bad I do not know.  He gets one point for his efforts.  Sorry Kooky no double points for you.

I have two interesting stories to tell about lightning and although rather far fetched I can vouch for both and actually have witnesses for both.  When it comes to something as crazy as lightning anything is possible.  A fellow psychotic die hard surfer gave me some wise advice when I was a teen “There are two things you should never mess with, sharks and lightning”.  I have yet to heed his warning.  I fuck with both.  Surfing in some of the most shark infested water to surfing through full on lightning storms.  That brings us to our first story.

The Flaming Barrel

 About seven years ago or so I was out surfing in front of the Lost Castle (nickname given to my run down beach bungalow I lived in on 2nd Ave, Manasquan, NJ.  Currently we call my abode in Santa Barbara the Lisanti Palace although it is far from a palace and more like a run down crack house.).  It was mid August and the surf had been down for nearly two weeks.  We finally got an inkling of a tropical swell with a very short window.  I am talking hours here.

Conditions were trash with heavy onshore winds thanks to the extremely hot weather.  In the summer NJ on such days as a result of all the humidity is garnished with intense thunderstorms.  The storms bring a good deal of thunder and lightning. They also bring offshore winds with them.  The catch is the offshore winds usually only last while the storm is hitting.  This makes for perfect yet dangerous surfing conditions.

We like to call these surf sessions, electric sessions for obvious reasons.  My buddy Sorbo and I had paddled out at Sea Watch beach and were making the most of the crowded chest high blown to shit conditions.  As we are sitting out there we noticed the ominous black clouds on the horizon, which could only mean one thing, bad weather.  As always when adverse weather arrives on the beach there is a mass exodus of fleeing beach goers to escape the rain and lightning.

The storm cleared the line up and the wind began to pick up turning absolute garbage into perfect little cylinders.  Immediately we found ourselves getting shacked off our ass.  Then it started to rain, torrential down pour.  It was raining so hard it made it hard to see.  Still using my surf senses I was grabbing good tube after good tube.  The lightning started and we could tell this was not going to be one of these thunderstorms where the lightning stayed up in the clouds or hit far away.

Sorbo and I could see it hitting all around us and at one point even felt the heat from the strokes.  At this point we thought of leaving, but my justification for staying out was that it was most likely more dangerous to get out and run up the beach for cover.  Lightning loves to get people on the beach. Sorbo was a tough sale, but I told him I read it somewhere.  Rule of thumb when attempting to convince a person on anything tell them “you read it somewhere or saw it on the news”.  Nine times out of ten they will take your word for it.

Right after we made the decision to stay and surf I ended up snagging a solid head high bowl and backed doored the thing.  While in the barrel all I could see was yellow and orange and it was hot in there.  Then I came out and there was a huge crash of thunder.  I was all disoriented and Sorbo was sitting on the shoulder with a crazed look in his eyes.  According to his account a bolt of lightning hit the wave as I pulled in and all he saw was a bright flash of light and then me coming out of the barrel.

I believe that because I was in the tube the voltage went all around me with the water but never touched me.  I came out griming with no idea what happened or how close I had come to be fried.  Shortly after the storm cleared, the wind went back onshore and the crowd showed back up.  By far it was one of the strangest surfing experiences I have ever had.

The Circle of Death

It was the summer of 2002, mid August. Like I said that is peak thunderstorm season.  A group of my close friends, including my old roommate Cory, Mookie, CH, Brian M. and a few others were helping out with this free one day surf clinic at Manasquan Inlet courtesy of Quicksilver.  This was before all the surf camp mambo jumbo of today.  I was working at Ocean Hut Surf Shop at the time and was let out early to go represent the shop as another instructor.  I got there just as the thunderstorm was beginning to roll in and everyone scurrying off the beach for their lives.

I was standing under this cabana type thing they have up on the ocean walk there (Manasquan does not have a board walk, but an asphalt paved walk way along its beach front) slyly filling my pockets with Quicksilver promo gear.  I heard one of the loudest crashes of thunder I have ever auscultated in my entire life.  Upon looking up I saw all of my friends lying on their backs on the beach.

I wanted to go running to their aid, but then checked myself.   The lightning was not letting up and if they got hit they were probably dead anyway and I was not nearly qualified to give the kind of aid they would have needed for survival anyhow.  I stood there momentarily horrified.  Then one by one they began to get up and stagger back to the cabana.  As it turns out a bolt of lightning struck the sand directly in front of them and the whole group was brought down by the excess shock. Cory claims it was one of the scariest moments of his life.  All I can say is it was nuts to witness.

Read Full Post »

Where have I been you ask?  I really hope no one is posing this question.  There was a time when my life could have been like one of those “Where’s Waldo” books.  These days I am rather happily complacent (complacent is a stretch) at my quaint Santa Barbara home.  To be honest I am rather happy, at least the happiest version of Chris Lisanti I have yet to know.

For the last seven days I have been running amuck back in my old stomping grounds Manasquan, NJ and the East Village, NYC.  Life is funny, five months ago if you told me I would be sitting in an airport terminal at Newark, NJ in August writing a recap blog I would have made some strange PHSSSSST type sound effect and cruised.  Here I am.

Proximity

How did I get here?  It all started with a night of depression drinking followed by a series of parties.  That’s right every now and again my reckless lifestyle puts forth an opportunity.  I met this incredibly nice guy, Ken at a party of a mutual friend.  We got to talking and next thing I know he was calling me to work on some music with him for this original play he was looking to put on over the summer.

At first I was hesitant, but I read the script and fell in love with the play, well I think it is the last few lines that always get me all choked up being a hopeless romantic despite my cavalier façade of a womanizer.  Then Ken played me some of the music and I was sold.  He had written one of the most fun contemporary scores I have ever heard for a show.  Being rather burnt out on doing any work what so ever for musical theatre this was saying a great deal.  I signed on not quite knowing what I was getting myself into.

I showed up to this potluck dinner at this ridiculous mansion up in the hills of Montecito, immediately thinking I was in the wrong place.  As usual I arrived about a half hour late.  I find it easier to walk into a party with everyone already there so I can case out the situation and make a stealthy escape if I find the scenario to be one of agitation.  Upon walking in the door I found myself being hugged by eight different people.

That was almost enough to send me running for the hills, but they seemed harmless enough and they were after all theatre people.  It was an amazing evening and the passion these young people had for their craft was mesmerizing to me.  They ended up sucking me in to their “family”, the Proximity family.  Being on my own again for the first time in two years it felt nice to belong to a group so full of goodness and love.

We delved into work and next thing I knew I found myself learning dance steps for a music video, on the beach dressed in all black running through the ocean like a banshee, playing saxophone at a benefit event in a group who’s style was deemed “electro-pop-funk” where I took the stage for the first time in eight years.  Then there were exhaustingly frustrating eight-hour rehearsals, tantrums, disagreements and finally the formation of a remarkable piece of work.

We ran three shows in Santa Barbara for a packed house and were well received.  I had friends in the audience who never even knew I played the sax and were blown away.  From Santa Barbara we were rushed out to NYC to do the show all over again in the East Village, the first time I would play in the city in ten years.  Life can be amazing at times.

NJ

 I took full advantage to of the opportunity.  I usually only get to see my family once a year at Christmas time.  The last time I was at the Jersey shore in the summer time was when I lived there four years prior.  I decided to build a few extra days in before the show to go spend some quality time with my folks and sister.  Truth be told I had been feeling a little bit home sick the last few months and wanted to remind myself why I left.

All I can say is that NJ is a hellhole.  Its hot and sticky even at 2am in the summer and then in the winter you freeze your ass off.  No thank you, I will take the predictable moderate climate of Santa Barbara any day.  The surf was flat the entire time yet some how I managed to break my toe while fucking around in knee high surf finless.   If you want to know more about my Jersey surf sessions visit the surflog.

It rained nonstop for two whole days and was deemed by the weather service a record rain fall for that time of year.  Seriously?  Last time I was home for Christmas I got dumped on by five feet of snow and was stuck inside for three days.  The last time I surfed in NJ before this trip I cut my foot open requiring eight mattress stitches and severed a tendon that never really healed correctly.  That is what you get when you don’t have medical insurance boys and girls.  I am telling you New Jersey hates me.

I did have a grand old time on the party scene, getting to pre game with my boys Kiefer and Greg P at his pad in Asbury, met up with my old roommate and downtown SB partner in crime Cory Kisiel, which lead to a black out, old habits die hard.  Kooky Kyle brought me by the Porch to catch up with none other then Bojangles and Scotty B.  My friend Micheala took me to some fun bar in Asbury that had plastic sand pails full of rum (that was a mistake).  Kooky, Val and I went to some bar in Avon that had tiny little 8oz beers for a $1 where I ended up getting absolutely sloshed for $13.

Kooky and I hit on some random girls just to show my sister what a lurk was all about.  I pretended to be from California, but it went horribly wrong.  As it turned out they knew me from when I lived in NJ and call me out. “Your name is Chris Lisanti right? Weren’t you a pro surfer?”  We slunked away defeated into the corner and had a laugh and half about it.  They were ugly anyway and lucky I even talked to them.  It was only to entertain Val who was nice enough to be my designated driver.  I have a woman I am seeing back in Santa Barbara right now who as far as I am concerned is far better looking, intelligent and straight up more amazing then anything Jersey could even try and temp me with.

I even ran into former Jerseyite Beth Anne, now living in Laguna, but was in town visiting her family as well.  As usual we exchanged the same words “I hate this place, can’t wait to go back to California”.  I bumped into former Lisanti Land character Jiggles, who I barely recognized thanks to a major weight loss.  I guess we should not call him Jiggles anymore.

Catching up with my family was as good as it ever could be.  Besides a few tiny scuffles my mother and I got on famously.  We had some quality walks on the beach, I cooked a few scrumptious dinners, and breakfasts, including banana fosters waffles.  I think everyone gained a few extra pounds on my stay.  My parents and I played a round off golf at the course I used to be the assistant greens keeper at (I asked if the same horse’s ass owned it and I could immediately tell by the look in the girl’s eyes who took our fare that it was, look for an odd jobs on that job one of theses days).  Apparently they have been practicing cause they stomped my ass.  I was easily fifteen strokes behind.  I think it is just that I play better high and the chronic in NJ sucks, on top of being highly illegal.

On my last day I even got to catch up with my good old friend and one of my very first minions, Sorbo.  If you remember back to the myspace.com days he was almost killed in a horrific motorcycle accident.  Since then I guess he has been just floundering trying to figure out his next step in life.  We ended up bombing some hills in the Brielle Cemetery together.  I had not skated that since I was in high school.  I gave him a passport to Lisanti Land and an open invitation.  I really hope he takes me up on it.  A little time out in my world I think will do him a bit of good.

NYC

The last time I was in New York City was also four years ago and my time and a good deal of my money was spent at these gnarly ultra private clubs in the meatpacking district.  I am talking about places with no sign that look like an abandoned building, but then were super luxurious inside.  This time I was there on business to help tell the story of Shandy Wilkes through the melodic prowess of my soprano saxophone.

The show ran from Thursday the 18th to Saturday the 20th at the Robert Moss Theatre in the Village.  Initially I was far from impressed by the capacity of the small sound stage.  As soon as I pulled out my horn and began to blow I fell in love with the room.  By far one of the best sounding spaces I have played in.

Taking the train in everyday was quite the three-hour adventure, driving from my parents’ home in Manasquan to Metro Park, 45 minutes.  Taking the train from Metro Park to Penn Station another 45 minutes, then finally walking from 32nd street to 4th street in the village around another thirty minutes or so.  It was fun for the three days I had to do it.  If I had to commute into the city every day like most workers do I would kill myself.

Friday night’s show went down in front of a packed house, standing room only at times.  I felt in my opinion it was the best I had seen the actors perform the show.  I was blown away and that is saying a lot for me.  Saturday I went into the city with my parents, where we met up with my aunt and ejoyed a nice Italian dinner before heading over to theatre.  It was the first time my parents have heard me play live in ten years.  They really enjoyed the show, although no comment was made about my personal playing either way.  From my mother that means it must have sounded good cause although not apt to give a complement she is the first to criticize.

All in all I would have to say it was one of the more enjoyable trips I have had back to my childhood home.  Still it is very nice to be back in California, which really feels like home to me. One thing I will say and maybe this is me getting sentimental in my old age is that I felt a bit sad to be leaving my family behind for another six months till Christmas.

A special thanks goes out to Micheala for filling Nick the Kook’s shoes in his absence, being in Chile, driving me to surf, lending me a board and helping me stay in the party.  Sorbo gets a salutation for helping me pack and ship some new threads I bought. For those of you who don’t know him, Sorbo is a master at the art of packing and shipping.  Kooky Kyle and Cory Kiesel for buying me one two many drinks and my folks for being decent to me.   And my boy Ryan back in California for holding down the fort.  Thanks everyone, with out you Lisanti Land would be not half as fun.

Here are some really terrible photos I took with my cell phone.  Enjoy and thanks for reading.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Read Full Post »

Every Halloween I like to post a tale from a Lisanti Halloween Past.  For me Halloween has always been one of those ridiculously insane Holidays where I have almost died, been arrested, made trip to hospital or a combination of all three.  I have a few Halloween blogs from the old Myspace Blog and over the next few days I will post them up here as blasts from the past and then on Halloween post a brand new Halloween tale from the Lisanti Archives of gnarl.  As always any text seen within the blog in the color red is a commented added for this edition.

Halloween of my junior year of High School I was running with the artsy crowd.  A group of musicians, artists and alternative thinkers.  Basically it was our excuse to think we were better then all the “cool kids” and gave us an excuse to smoke pot and drink on a regular basis writing it off as helping our cause.  Now unlike in NY where trick or treating and vadalism all go down on the 31st in NJ the day before Halloween is called Mischief night and that is when you go out, break shit and cause trouble. I grew up in NY and moved to NJ at 15 for those of you who are new to this blog.

We did not go out on Mischief night opting to get high instead.  So Halloween was going to be our night.  We began this night as any other in my buddy Matt’s garage crowded around the bong while doing shots of Smirnoff (plastic Handle, of course, classic high school).  After getting good and baked we headed to Wall’s favorite health and recreation spa located in South Wall (I wont give the name of it so as to not find myself in trouble later, but you should be able to figure out where I am talking about) to relive a Halloween past time for this group.  It was only my 2nd Halloween here in NJ and I spent the first one with my girl friend at the time so this was all new to me.

Turns out the last two Halloweens this crew would go down to the aforementioned health club and knock over the three outside vending Machines near the pool before bolting from security. I am always amped to get into trouble was down for the challenge.  The thing we forgot was that the previous years no one got as baked. I in no means condone drug and alcohol use among minors, but I was young and dumb as you will see as you read on.

We got to the back of the health club via the woods and hopped over the fence by the soccer fields and stealthily made our way to the Pool.  The lay of the land was there were three vending machines spaced out along the grounds.  One next to the pool, one near the tennis bubble and one up against the side of the racquetball courts.  To accomplish this imbecilic ask we had to break up into teams of three or so in order to make sure we tipped them all at the same time cause when the shit fell down it was super loud.  If we attempted to do each individually we would definitely get clipped.

Stew, Hugine and Jay took the one near the Tennis bubble, Ellen, Fisher and Shelly took the Racquetball one and Matt and I got the Pool.  Everyone got into position and when each team was ready we quickly shined a flashlight in the air.  When all three were seen we would count to three silently and flip the machines.  Everyone had three people but Matt and I so we had our work cut out for us but were up to the task.

As we knocked our’s over Matt’s sweater got caught on something on the front of the machine and he ended up going over with it.  At that moment all that was heard was the crashing of vending machines that had fallen over with a loud bang  followed by the shattering of broken plastic and to my dismay Matt’s scream of sheer pain.  I look down and his arm is now caught under the vending machine crushed by the weight and there is blood everywhere.  I guess the broken shards of plastic shrapnel must have cut him up good.

I looked toward the other side of the compound and saw the other teams retreating off into the woods unknowing of our situation.  I quickly was able to pick the machine up enough for him to get his arm out.  When he pulled it out the shit was mangled.  I’m not going to lie dude’s arm was definitely broken and the lacerations from the plastic definitely needed stitches.  Matt sat there in shock for a moment, but before we could take stock on the situation a security guard was hot on our trail.

I was like “Matt we go to run”.  I ripped my shit off and made it into a make shift sling for him to hold his arm with as we took off running.  Security was on us from all angles.  They even had the golf carts out chasing after us. We made it to the fence and I could tell by Matts eyes he was not going to be able to flip himself over the fence.  I cradled my hands and boosted him up and over the fence.  He fell to the other side flat on his face landing square on his good arm.  As I would find out very steadily would no longer be a good arm.

I made the hop over the fence, pick up Matt on his feet now with two broken arms and we took off running through the woods as fast as we could till we came out on the street.  By now I figured security had to have called the cops and they would be out patrolling for us in the surrounding streets of the perimeter of the club.  I pulled off my jacket and put it over Matt so as not to bring attention to ourselves.   After all a kid shaking from shock with two broken arms and blood all over might alarm some people. Then I grabbed some decorations off some guy’s front lawn and made ghetto costumes to pass as trick or treaters.

It was good we did too cause the next block we came to there was a cop car eyeing up everyone around.  By the time we made it back to Matt’s house he was just about ready to pass out.  The crew was not there either.  I figured they probably went out looking for us.  I had to drive Matt to the Hospital in his car with just my learners permit, an act that if I caught doing would make  me not able to get my license till I was 18.

We arrived at Jersey shore and Matt was fucked up.  He ended up with 2 broken arms, casts all the way up to his shoulders, surgery on both and 133 stitches combined.  It was pretty funny.  He could not do shit for himself for around a month or so.  Worst part was we had to tell everyone he fell down a flight of steps in order to not get busted for the health club thing.  Everyone at school thought he was a retard.  It was classic.  Another epic Halloween in the can.

Imagine getting crushed by one of these.

Read Full Post »