Bebbles decided to sit up as he realized bumper-to-bumper traffic was not conducive to sleep. Fez, seeing that Beebles had risen from his slumber, cranked up the volume on the car stereo.
Bandz a make her dance
Bandz a make her dance
These chicks clappin'
And they ain't using hands
Fez was rapping along with Juicy J and it wasn't long before Beebles and Funk joined in on the fun. The car buzzed with energy.
2 Chainz, four bracelets
Let me see that ass clap, standing ovation
If yo girl don't swallow kids, man that ho basic
As the three got louder and started moving to the music, the car started to shake back and forth on the bridge, drawing inquisitive looks from adjacent travelers. But Fez, Beebles, and Funk were in a world of their own and didn't have a care in the world as to what anyone else thought of their antics. They were a mere 16 hours away from the start of the most challenging athletic endeavor they had ever faced: the 2013 Penn Tower Classic.
As Fez, Beebles, and Funk made their way across the GWB, Smits was finishing up work in his office several blocks south of them on 34th Street. The day had been a long and grueling one for the structural engineer. He had been summoned to the field in the morning to help with construction inspection at the World Trade Center site, then returned to the office in the afternoon where he was assigned the task of completing urgent calculations for his project manager. Stressed, hungry, and eager for the night's coming festivities he stormed out the front door and weaved his way through the pedestrian traffic, rejecting two requests for spare change on the way down to the subway station. When the Queens-bound E train finally arrived he sat down in the air conditioned car, laid his head back against the window and closed his eyes. Flashes of narrow fairways and tightly cut greens were interspersed with images of women dancing in clothes which showed off ample cleavage.
As the subway slowed to a stop at the 67th Avenue station, Smits darted out the door and up the stairs to his apartment. He quickly got undressed, showered, and got ready for the arrival of the three other KeyPAP co-founders and co-presidents. Smits was elected to serve as host for the first PTC. The reputation of KeyPAP put a lot of pressure on him to provide stellar hosting services. He was determined to live up to these lofty expectations.
At 7:00pm Fez, Beebles, and Funk arrived, 2 Chainz still blasting through the car stereo as they parallel parked along 67th Road. Smits walked out on the street to greet everyone.
Smits "Gentlemen, good to see you again. How long did it take you guys to get here?"
Fez "Only like an hour and 69 minutes."
They brought their luggage up to apartment 6N, finally getting a chance to kick back and relax. Each member of this foursome bad been a top notch and well respected member of the academic community at The Pennsylvania State University four years prior. Due to each of their separate vigorous pursuits of a graduate education they had seldom found the time or money required to have a post-graduate rendezvous. But now that Beebles, Funk, and Smits had professional degrees to their names, life had slowed down enough for this raucous crew to be reunited.
They wasted no time breaking into Smits' liquor cabinet. They threw back several shots of Absolut Pears, the official alcoholic beverage of KeyPAP, before making their way to the first bar of the night on Austin Street. They ordered a round of cocktails and beer after being seated by the petite Asian waitress. Fez almost immediately acquired a target of the opposite sex a few feet away. He quickly threw back the last of his drink and made his way to the bar for the first approach of the night.
Fez "Did you come here tonight to meet your dream man?"
Girl "[smiling] Maybe. Let me know if you see him."
Fez "Let me help you out. He's about 5'-7" Italian and used to be a cheerleader in college."
Girl "Wait, you were a cheerleader in college? I'm sorry, but that's a deal breaker for me."
She turned away and walked back to her group of friends before Fez even had a chance to explain. He had shed blood, sweat and tears, suffered broken bones and even a mild concussion for that gig, and this broad wasn't even going to give him the light of day. Such is the state of the present day American dating scene.
The drink orders started to come more rapidly after the dejected Fez returned to the table. The foursome engrossed themselves in vigorous discussions. Topics included alternate universes, popular music, vertical bacon smiles, new sexual positions, and athletics. Before they knew it the clock was tolling 11:00pm.
Originally, the KeyPAP co-founders and co-presidents had planned to spend the night at local bars in Queens for a few drinks and light conversation in order to rest for the PTC the next morning. But the Manhattan nightlife became too much of a temptation to supress. Once they got within a short subway ride from the city, they were drawn into the bright lights like an asteroid which wanders into Earth's gravitational pull.
The men took the R train into Manhattan, arriving just before midnight. They walked out onto the 34th Street sidewalk, gazing up at the skyscrapers which loomed over mid-town.
Beebles "The night is still young; let's drink!"
Smits "Where do you guys want to go? I only know a few places."
Funk "My friend is working at Libation tonight. Let me see if he can get us in."
Funk fired off a text to his contact as the men strolled down Broadway, taking in the sights: buildings squeezed one right next to another, hipsters propped up against dingy buildings taking smoke breaks, thin women in tight clubwear. They were filled with excitement.
A minute later Funk's text message was answered.
Funk "He said we're in. Let's go there now."
Twenty minutes later, despite not meeting the club's dress code, the co-founders and co-presidents of KeyPAP were granted access to the front doors of Libation. Through a missing link in the chain of communication, the bouncer had not been warned of their arrival by Funk's inside contact. But the men gave off such a strong aura of professionalism and confidence that he couldn't justify turning them away - shorts or not.
Once inside they were whisked upstairs to the VIP floor which overlooked the masses of full-paying customers. The dance floor below reeked of sexual awkwardness and desperation. They were grateful to have their own bar service upstairs, as well as the power to grant select females access to this coveted area of the club.
As the club began to fill up, Fez, eager to rebound from his first approach of the night, was the first to take advantage of this privilege. While Smits, Beebles, and Funk were reminiscing about old times, Fez quietly tip-toed down the stairs and made his way over to a pair of blondes at the far end of the floor. He pulled out his iPhone which had a picture of his young nephew on the lock screen.
Fez "Hey, can I ask you a question? Is it creepy for me to have this picture on my phone?"
Blonde 1 "That all depends. Do you know that kid?"
Fez "Yes, I know him. He's my nephew."
Blonde 1 "I think that's okay then."
Blonde 2 smiled and nodded in agreement. Since his departure from the VIP floor was sudden and unannounced, Smits, Beebles, and Funk took a minute to realize where Fez had gone and what he was out to do. Once they spotted him and his prey on the first floor they hastily moved over to the edge of the balcony to see if Fez could make this approach a success.
After observing his fellow clansman for a few minutes, Beebles decided it was time for him to take action. His loins ached for a dish of hot china, and much to his delight he was able to acquire a target in the form of a petite Korean broad. Off he went to the first floor to try to meet the needs which his boner placed on him. The two elder clansmen remained on the VIP floor sipping their cocktails while watching their brethren battle it out below. Talk was light between the two men; each had something weighing heavily on the mind, but didn't dare speak of it. KeyPAP is a respectful organization and one of the pillars of their relationships was the proper respect for competition. Funk and Smits would be slugging it out on the greens in just a few hours. There was nothing to be gained by either man in a discussion of the impending Penn Tower Classic.
The hours went by at a snail's pace compared to the number of drinks consumed. Smits and Funk made a steady stream of cocktail orders while discussing married life while Beebles and Fez tried to close on their prey by inviting them upstairs for VIP club service and titillating conversation. At 3:00am, an hour before closing time, both Fez and Beebles made their way back to Smits' and Funk's table exhausted from their efforts, but with nothing to show. In the game of slaying pussy the peaks and valleys are extreme with virtually no middle ground. On the eve of the 2013 Penn Tower Classic it was just not meant to be. Maybe the PTC weighed too heavily on their subconscious minds, maybe the women were legitimately not attract to the them. At this point only pure, cumbersome conjecture can be offered.
Smits hailed a cab in the street just outside Libation's front doors. Beebles slurred out one more "The night is still young!" chant, but it was clear his heart wasn't truly in it. At almost 4:00am the men arrived back at Smits' apartment and literally collapsed onto the floor a mere four and a half hours out from tee-off.
To be continued . . .
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