With the closing of my three part series dissecting the JERSEY SHORE UNLEASHED special…it’s only appropriate I share with you my own MDW escapades that took place at the Jersey Shore this weekend. It was everything I hoped for and more. But first, before even getting to the Jersey Shore to put my pocketbook in a circle and dance to the techno version of “Disturbia,” I had to endure a most grueling task…jury duty. Now, I have expressed my thoughts on jury duty before and after being told by a really polite woman (I’m being totally sarcastic here) I was forced to bite the bullet and travel to the First State to do my duty as an American citizen.
En route to the big DE, a friend dropped me off at the train station near our old college, to make my journey in the public transportation world as short as possible. Happy to ride in a car and not have to pay for gas, I graciously accepted this gift and hopped out of the car and onto the tracks to wait for the love of my life: NJ Transit. Now, whether I really am this dumb or whether my mind was fighting with every nerve and fiber the thought of leaving New York, I actually end up getting on the wrong side of the train tracks only to head BACK to New York. La De Figgen Da. Awesome. After the train conductor looked at me like I had cerebral palsy, he informed me I indeed was on the wrong train. So I get off the train to wait for one on the correct side of the tracks, only to find that the next train was cancelled. Ok, deep breaths. Now, me and two Mexican gentlemen (who were very nice) had to sit on the side of the road for about an hour to wait for the next train.
But my journey doesn’t stop there, no no. After taking NJ Transit I get the special pleasure of taking the Septa to Philadelphia. Now, the Septa is always a special treat…you really feel as if you are in the middle of some kind of circus, watching everyone letting their freak flags fly. But on this special evening, there was one particularly interesting individual, whom I believe fist pumped so hard in Belmar he accidentally fell into a different state, and now needed to get back. First, he was wearing sunglasses. It was 11:30 p.m. Next, he kept checking his blonde locks in the window as a mirror. And fine, I’ve done this once or twice before but not in the way this young man did. He kept swooshing his hands through his hair and puckering his lips. People were literally laughing at him, I saw it. Next, he decided to do faux pull ups on the luggage racks above our heads. This is where it gets not so funny. I kept eyeing this creaky, rusty luggage rack and had this fallen on my head, I would be quite displeased. It took about three stern looks in the window to make him stop.
I knew that with all this action happening before I even entered the state of New Jersey, it was bound to be an eventful trip. Once I reached the golden, pristine shores of Jersey, my bones ached from missing it so much. I had forgotten how marvelous these wonderful creatures are that roam the sandy lands and how many of them should really donate their body to science so we can finally see what makes them tick. Particularly on Saturday night is when they really started to show their true colors. At a local bar with a cover band, my friends and I saw a most rare site this early in May-the drunk almost Cougar.
Now, the drunk almost Cougar isn’t a Cougar, she is just too old to be acting the way she is. This particular case this woman was front and center for this shitty cover band, swaying and dancing to the music. One of my friends honestly thought she was pregnant, and I had to explain to her that she was not pregnant, but had drank so much that it looked like she was expecting triplets. The best part of the evening is when fake Cougar got so into the music that her nipples slowly started to seep out of her dress. It was even better because the entire bar was watching her, mouths agape. I have no idea where her friends were or why they didn’t tuck her areolas away…but then again if that was my friend, I probably would pretend not to know her too.
Aside from her, you had your usual scene. Men who got wayyyyy too excited to have dance offs with each other’s, along with conducting a fist pump maneuver to each and every song, no matter what the genre may be. We also met a man wearing an old fashioned cowboy shirt, with lapels and everything. He was drinking and Budweiser because, and I quote, “it matched his outfit.” Then he told me he had recently moved from New Jersey to live on Long Island. Oy. Way to go from bad to worse, cowboy.
A seagull also shit on me this weekend, and I’m totally serious. Though I had to go into the freezing ocean, I hear that brings good luck, so I’ll take it.