Sunday, April 01, 2007

Atlantic City: A Portrait of PWN3GE

Once again, the ol' gang of myself, Mike, Rusty, and Chrissy ventured to El Ciudad de Atlantic for a day of pure f'dupitude. However, this time around, our friend Danielle came along for the trip as well. Because she is quite new to our collective insanity, we felt it was in her best interests to provide her with some warnings beforehand:
  • We will likely be discussing the sadomasochistic sexual exploits of nearly-deceased actors and/or cartoon characters whenever we come up to a toll booth.
  • We will not likely be acting like anything resembling an adult.
She seemed to take said warnings in stride. I can say this with relative certainty, because my prediction that she would dive out of the car onto the AC Expressway did not come true. So far, so good.

True to form, we did indeed engage in some toll booth funnery, both to and from Atlantic City. Once again, I'll spare the exact details of the particular "conversations," out of fear that my friends list will plummet from 119 However, I'll list the focal points of the conversations and allow you to fill in the blanks of debauchery on your own:
  • Alan Thicke
  • Mr. Belding
  • Toucan Sam
  • Rusty's dog
  • One other individual that is just too wrong to specifically mention. Oh well, "Life Goes On," as they say
Our first non-toll booth order of business was simple; read each billboard to find out which casino offered free parking. For the third consecutive trip, Trump Plaza was the oh-so-lucky recipient of our merry group of misfits. As we approached the casino, I mentioned that I always miss the entrance to the Trump Parking Garage. Of course, as we were laughing...I missed the entrance to the Trump Parking Garage. We quickly found another entrance, parked the car, and got into the elevator to the casino itself. Because we have the collective maturity of a daycare center, we made sure to press every button on the elevator before we exited. This was met with a rather insincere "THANK YOU" from the woman who proceeded to enter the same elevator. Pfft. Ingrate.

Our first stop was the Mall Formerly Known As Ocean One, which is now chock-full of high-end stores like Armani and a bunch of places with French names I can't pronounce. As we walked, Danielle seemed concerned that the shopping center was directly on top of the Atlantic Ocean. I quickly reassured her, "Well, if we die, at least we die in style." Her nervous laughter indicated that she was rethinking the whole "not jumping out of the car when she had the chance" thing.

Eventually, we made our way to the end of the mall where the fountains are. If you're ever wondering where your precious quarters go after you piss them away at the slots, look no further...

Picture stolen from some website

At any point, you will see a couple of dozen gawkers staring at this glorified light show (myself included). Now for some reason, the architects placed this little button o'fun in plainview of people like me...

Now, I seriously had no real intention of bringing this aquatic lightshow of fun to a screeching halt. I mean...yeah, I had my elbow right on top of the button. And yeah, I looked at my friends and said, "Wouldn't it be funny if I accidentally hit this and..."


I quickly turned around to see the product of my idiocy: no water, no lights...just a bunch of tourists staring in disbelief. Because I base all my scientific beliefs on The Price is Right, I nervously turned to Mike and asked, "Do you think this is like the Range Game where they can't start it up again for another 62 hours?" Well, we kept walking away and turning around; as of last glance, there was another 61 hours and 58 minutes to go.

Not ones to ever fully leave the scene of a crime, we went to the candy store at the other end of the mall. Yes, the same candy store featuring Leminem and the Poolar Bear (no typo there) from before. Yes, the same candy store that charges $2.50 for a quarter-pound of jelly beans. Well, inflation be damned...Rusty and I needed us some JB goodness. Though $3.43 worth of banana-flavored jelly beans hardly sounds like a prudent purchase, it was enough for my bank to call me sixty seconds later to verify that I had indeed made said purchase with my debit card. I guess I have misunderstood identity theft all along. Here, I thought criminals bought stereo systems and computers with stolen bank information. Instead, we apparently are dealing with underground Jujyfruit rings. Be on the lookout, people; they could be smuggling sugar into YOUR neighborhood.

But I digress.

We continued walking along the Boardwalk, a/k/a America's Debunker of Evolutionary Theory (tm). Eventually, we came across an offer that was too good for us (i.e., Mike) to pass up...

In fairness, Mike only went because Rusty agreed to pay for his "special reading." Though I don't remember exactly what the psychic told him, I'm sure Mike will add the specifics of his
clairvoyant experience...particularly since it lasted a grand total of four seconds.

We continued walking, occasionally going in and out of different stores in the sincerest hopes that we'd find more pictures for my blog. Fortunately, we didn't have to venture too long before we hit our jackpot. Now, before I show this picture, I will preface it by saying this...
  • I am fully aware of what the statue actually is.
  • I am fully aware of the statue's inherent innocence.
  • I am fully aware that I need to grow up.
Now that you are fully aware that I am fully aware...

"Dan," you say.
"You're sick."

Now the intention of our trip was not for gambling or to take pictures of alleged prepubescent incest. We honestly came to AC for two reasons and two reasons only: Ripley's Believe It Or Not (again) and Go-Karts. We went to Ripley's first for the sole reason that it was closest to our lazy asses. Like I mentioned, this was our second go-through, though it was Danielle's first. Now when you enter the "museum," the first thing seen is a statue of the world's tallest man. Mike reminded me that I had my picture taken next to him last time. He was also quite curious as to whether or not I've grown in the last year. I'll let you decide...

Personally, I lean towards yes. Then again, my delusion has been well-documented.

I could continue to contextualize our insanity in Ripley's through more words. But I've already been typing for an hour-and-a-half (and have an entire section to go), so I'll just let the pictures do the talking here:

Ok, everything up until this point has been the undercard. The main event of the evening was a battle of two titans. David vs. Goliath? Ali vs. Frazier? They pale in comparison to...
Mike vs. Dan

This wasn't over some mythical biblical epic or some meaningless world championship. Oh no. This particular battle was over supremacy in the ultimate battle of wits, courage, and skill: Go-Karts. We have faced off twice before. The first time, I defeated Mike in an incredible come-from-behind victory. Spectators (and/or 5'2 people named Dan) have gone on-record to state that Mike's performance made him the "Michelangelo of Choke Artistry." Unfortunately for me, MvD II went to Mike on a night where we decided that 15-degree weather and go-karts were a great combination. As I slowly regained feeling in my fingers and toes, I begrudgingly admitted defeat, vowing that his victory would indeed be his last.

So the stage was set. Since we were in Atlantic City, it was only appropriate that a wager of incredible magnitude be made to commemorate Round III of our epic battle. Thus, the loser would have to do the following:
  • Wear a sign on their shirt that said "I Got PWN3D at Go-Karts."
  • Buy the winner the drink of his choice at any boardwalk location.
  • Verbally inform the cashier of said establishment, "I got PWN3D at Go-Karts."
Now for some reason, my memory of the match is foggy (psychologists apparently refer to this phenomenon as "selective memory"). All I know is...

*sigh* PWN3D.

Until next time...