Hasn’t Baltimore been through enough?


One of the best perks about working in Sales, is that I get to do fun things with clients and spend other people’s money to do it! A group of us used to take Washington DC clients to a Baltimore Orioles game as a great way to spend time with them and develop better relationships with our clients. OK, come on it’s the Orioles, no one ever really cared about the game – we just drank and had a fun time. Here’s a few highlights from our last trip.


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We would go with about ten to fifteen people from different areas and invite about a hundred clients so it was always a big crowd. The last time we went was an absolute disaster; the forecast was calling for a washout, the sky was black and it was a torrential downpour! Rain like that only exists in the movies so I should have known that shenanigans would be on the menu.


We were taking Amtrak for convenience to avoid the airport and also so that we could enjoy the bar car on the way. As we were dodging the downpour on the platform waiting for the train, we saw the train heading down the tracks. I couldn’t wait for the train to arrive to get out of this heavy rain and also to get away from the woman standing next to me. She was on her phone chatting away louder than loud and complaining about the rain as if her holding that phone in her hand instead of an umbrella was the smart thing to do. As the train stopped and the doors opened, the girl in front of us marched up to get in the train still chatting away like a little yenta. As she was gabbing and not paying attention to anything but her conversation, low and behold she didn’t mind the gap and fell in between the train and the platform. It was a combination of the heavy rain, the conversation, but mostly it was the hooker boots she was rocking on the platform. I can see wearing those in a club or on the runway, but on Metro North in a rainstorm? It’s no wonder she fell.


It was like it happened in slow motion in front of me. Boom: the doors open, boom: she’s stepping forward, boom: she’s in between the train and platform, boom: she’s still on the phone screaming “Oh my God, I fell in the tracks, I’m in the tracks.” At this point she landed with a heavy thud on her elbows and her legs were dangling down under the platform – yet she didn’t stop talking or put the phone down! The New Yorker in me did what any normal person would do in the face of commuter roadkill: I started hysterically laughing and lifted my bag and stepped over her to get a seat on the train as she was staring up at me screaming “What the fuck are you doing?” and then back into the phone “Can you believe this guy just stepped over me? I’m in the tracks.”


At this point, the conductor had arrived to see what was going on and help her up and as I was walking to my seat I looked back and realized that my friends hadn’t moved and were staring in disbelief that I had just done that? As the conductor went above and beyond to help that nitwit on her phone, we got seats on the train. We couldn’t stop laughing at how she never missed a beat on her call when we look up and where is the only available seat on the train for her to sit: right across from us. I couldn’t stop laughing and staring because she was soaking wet head to toe and yet she still stayed on that phone for another hour after that giving me dirty looks the whole time.


So we got to Baltimore and the weather wasn’t letting up. Out of a hundred people confirmed, only about nine brave souls showed up. We sat in our empty section since no one showed up and there was a long rain delay. When the game went on, we just drank to make the best of it. As my friend Karen and I were talking, she just freaked out and started screaming at the top of her lungs like a psycho. I didn’t even get the words out of my mouth “What the fuc…” before this rocket flew right in between the two of our heads and hit the seat in back of us. A pop fly that was inches away from clocking one of us in the noggin and neither of us were paying attention! The ball landed with a thunderous boom and the guy in back of us snatched it. We were freaking out as everyone laughed their asses off and then the guy wouldn’t give us the ball. I was like “dude, that almost hit us in the head!” and he was like “dude, if you were paying attention instead of gabbing, you would have gotten it.” Forget being on TV, if that hit us we would have been hospitalized or dead…


After the game, we tried to make our way through the crowd and out of there. If you’ve ever been to a baseball game, you know that the crowds are crazy and mostly drunk and it takes forever to get out of the stadium. I was walking with Amy, a colleague I’d just met earlier that day, and my impatience took over. I’m not sure exactly what came over me, but I knew that this crowd just wasn’t doing it for me. I linked arms with her and leaned in close so we were face to face and asked “How fast can you go?” “What are you talking about?” she asked and looked very confused and not expecting me to start shouting at the top of my lungs: “GET OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!!! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!! SHE JUST SHIT HER PANTS!!!” and I started pulling her fast through the mass of people. It was as if the crowd parted like the Red Sea and I just kept shouting “SHE SHIT HER PANTS – GET OUT OF THE WAY” and people were moving like hotcakes to get away from us. She tried to pull her arm away and was pissed “What’s wrong with you? Are you crazy – stop pulling me” “You wanna stay here instead?” as we looked at people staring at us and then I started screaming again.

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Some drunk guy tried to help us and pointed as he shouted “Dude, there’s a bathroom right there, take her in there.” I screamed back “DUDE, SHE SHIT HER PANTS AND SHE’S COVERED – SHE NEEDS A SHOWER” which parted the people ever further away from us. When I tell you that we made it out of that stadium and back to our hotel faster than a speeding bullet, I’m not exaggerating. We had three drinks in the hotel bar by the time the rest of our group got back.


As we were waiting for the others to meet up with us, she was obviously annoyed at me. I thought she was being a little bit ungrateful as I had just gotten us out of the crowd like a streak of lightning, but she was embarrassed. She tried sitting across the bar from me, but it was no use because there was no one else in there. Her phone rang and she started chatting away, and I leapt into action. I ran right over next to her phone and started screaming again “Amy, get your clothes on someone’s at the door!!!” and started hysterical laughing. She was pissed before that, yet this pushed her over. “Come on, It’s my mother. It would be funny if it was my husband, but it’s my mother for god’s sake.” I thought she’d think it was funny, but she absolutely didn’t and you know who thought it was even less funny than Amy? Her mother who started screaming “Where are you? I thought you were at a work event? Why are you undressed? Who is that? Where are you?” and Amy stormed off into the corner trying to explain “Mom, I’m not undressed…he’s an idiot…It is a work thing…”

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At this point the bartender was laughing at what I’d just done and I was in the middle of telling him about how we got out of the game so fast when our friends arrived and we were telling them. Amy was pissed at me and didn’t really want to move past this and be friends with me for some reason…She was mad that everyone was laughing at the antics instead of taking her side and a few drinks later she admitted that she thought it was funny too…but she would have thought it was funnier if I did it to Sue instead of her. Needless to say, it was a fun trip and we made the best of it despite the weather and if you’ve learned one lesson from this post it’s this: Don’t wear hooker boots in a rainstorm on a train platform – no good can come from it!


I was DOA when my Imodium went MIA

My recurring travelling nightmare...

My recurring travelling nightmare…

Last week I was in Chicago for a work trip and I lost my stash of Imodium AD. My Imodium Ad stash isn’t like the pimp-stache I used to rock above my lip back in college that was nicknamed the tickler; this is one has a serious job to do. It’s not a fancy monogrammed tin or anything, just a plain old Advil travel size container that I use to transport my tiny little life-support system. While out gallivanting one night at the bar “networking” I apparently dropped it out of my pocket and went into full panic mode.

Tken during my second Junior year in college - no one told me that the pimpstache was just a little too much...

This was taken during my second Junior year in college – no one told me that the pimpstache was just a little too much…

I used to keep my Imodium AD in a round mint tin that I was very attached to, but that met an unfortunately tragic end. Long story short, I was following my brother and sister-in-law to the Long Island Expressway through some back roads that I was unfamiliar with when they got out to hug me goodbye. THEY STOPPED THE CAR AND GOT OUT TO SAY GOODBYE ON THE EXPRESSWAY! WHO DOES THAT? Why they couldn’t just waive and drive on like normal people do is anyone’s guess, but we were coming from a funeral so emotions might have been higher than usual. As I got out of the car to see why they stopped, the tin dropped to the ground and rolled right onto the Expressway. It was like it happened in slow motion and I immediately freaked out as it took all of three seconds before it was run over by a hottie in a red hoopdie who sprinkled my Imodium all over that highway like confetti!


As you can imagine, I responded as any normal person would after seeing something so traumatic: they had to restrain me from chasing it into the street like a psychopath while I was screaming like Shirley MacLaine in Terms of Endearment when she’s in the hospital and it’s time for Debra Winger’s shot. My stomach dropped and I fell to my knees crying out in pain – I almost had a heart attack at that sight while those two just laughed their asses off. There was not one ounce of sympathy that I was on my way to the airport and might need to risk my life and make the flight commando now. Meryl Streep had an easier time making Sophie’s Choice than I did getting over seeing something I treasure destroyed like that…Needless to say I stopped and refilled and replaced the tin so everyone could rest easy…

As I’ve highlighted before, me traveling for work is normally difficult , but adding this to the mix doubled my stress load. My first stop the next morning was at 8:30 AM, so I did what I could and hit the market kiosk in the hotel lobby. Why they don’t offer items in bulk I’ll never guess, but they only sold Imodium AD in two packs. I did the only sensible thing and got ten of them figuring I could stop at CVS after my appointments were finished and fully restock. Since it was a busy Wednesday morning, there were quite a few corporate travelers like me filling the lobby as I waited in line to pay at the Front Desk.

As my turn to pay arrived, the Agent looked at the heap of Imodium AD I had placed on the counter and gasped. He looked from the pile right up at me and said “Oh my God, Are you OK?” Normally, this really wouldn’t have been a big deal if there weren’t four people on line in back of me and he hadn’t said it so loud that they all heard and immediately looked at what I was buying. I scowled back at him and said “Yes, thank you for asking” and took out my wallet to which he replied “Buddy, I’m not going to charge you for these…if you’re in pain and need that many – they’re on me!”

I guess it would have been a nice gesture if he hadn’t been talking so God damned loud that everyone and their mother could now tell that gastric disruption was going to be a big part of my day. I guess it might not have been that bad if the elevator had come a little quicker after me paying for them so that I didn’t have to ride down to the hotel entrance with two of the people from the line staring as if I might lose control of my colon at any moment. You know that look of disgust mixed with judgment mixed with a hint of the stink eye? That’s what they were coming at me with and I really can’t blame them. What could I do? It wasn’t like I could tell the front Desk Agent or those people that it was preventative… I guess we all have our cross to bear…


What’s the lesson we learn here? Right, always have a backup case for your Imodium because there might come a day when the hotel lobby might not have Imodium and you’ll really be screwed!  I almost felt like it was a little bit of karma from the night before. I proceeded to explain to a colleague (that bears a more than striking resemblance to Julianne Moore but from The Kids Are All Right, not Boogie Nights) that if she took more than four minutes in the restroom, the assumption was that she was dropping a deuce. She tried to dispute that logic, but come on – I wasn’t being judgmental – just factual. You know those people that come back after a spell and try to pretend they met a friend and got to talking on the bathroom line – they’re liars! They didn’t see a friend in there – they dropped off a friend in there! Own the deuce and the amount of time you took for it – we all know that’s what you’re doing. You’re not checking your messages or emails at 10:30 PM! If you’re just going in to pee – there is no way it takes that long. Am I wrong here? I may be crazy about a lot of things, but I’m not sure I’m off the mark on this one…


NY Post finally caught on to me…


I saw this article about New York families hiring disabled people to come to Disney with them and although I am not usually a big fan of the NY Post, I got a kick out of it. I don’t pretend to think of myself as a trend-setter but come on people! I was using a wheelchair inappropriately at Disney years ago – now they catch up? How stupid am I to not realize that money was to be made on it though? I guess I should take notes because not one of these people were propelled skyward into a crowd, peed their pants or were mistaken for a retarded person yet….If you don’t remember my famous Disney story when I was mistaken for a retarted person TWICE in less than a half hour – read it here!

Here’s the article:


Here’s when I was mistaken for a retarded person TWICE in less than a half hour: https://immodiumabuser.com/2011/01/11/when-i-was-mistaken-for-a-retarded-person-twice-in-less-than-a-half-hour/  If you haven’t read this – you’re in for a treat. If you have already read it – it’s worth another read…

When I was mistaken for a retarded person TWICE in less than a half hour!!!

I won’t bury the lead and make you work for it: I was actually mistaken for a retarded person TWICE in less than a half hour. Breathe that in for a second and chew on it. Now that it’s out of the way, here goes. It was Spring Break so I headed to Disney World with my aunt and two cousins and of course, chaos ensued. I will bypass the long drive from New York to Florida and that whole crazy situation entirely because no one wants to hear about a Passover Seder gone wrong, a diet saboteur, dog vomit in the car or a highway flashing anyway; let’s head right to the good stuff.


After we checked into our hotel, we decided to hit the water to lounge around and relax. I should clarify this and say that they wanted to hit the water and I wanted to hit the bar to lounge around and relax. I hate the outdoors and I HATE the heat so I was not in my element. After a few drinks in the shade, they convinced me to go in the water. I hadn’t unpacked so my cousin went into the gift shop to get sunscreen for me since I was absolutely not going anywhere near the water without it. Of course, me sending a boy to do a man’s work bit me in the ass because he got the wrong sunscreen.


I’m OCD and I cannot touch anything with my fingertips, so I can’t put on my own sunscreen. I usually get a spray bottle, but he got a regular bottle that you have to rub on. I had to have my aunt put the sunscreen on me and then I went into the water with them. Needless to say, I should have gone to my room and got my own sunscreen because the one he got wasn’t a high SPF nor was it waterproof. As a stupid ass is prone to do, I proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon getting sun poisoning on parts of my face, back, neck, stomach, arms and legs. I say parts of my body, but it was more like sporadic streaks of sun poisoning where the sunscreen had washed off. I easily could have passed for an albino ET with patches of psoriasis. It looked like my normally lily-white pasty complexion had been assaulted by a bus full of preschoolers holding red crayons.

Now do you see how important Sunscreen is?


The next day, we hit the parks like a tornado – rushing through to make sure we could go on everything multiple times. Maybe it was the youthful energy of me in my twenties, or maybe it was the delirious nature of sun poisoning, but we were literally running from one ride to the next. Because of my sun poisoned state, I had to wear a big T-Shirt, khaki shorts because they were loose on me, and flip flops because my poor battered skin couldn’t bear anything too constricting.


Everything at the park had such long lines to get on and it was getting very frustrating until it hit me – we need a wheelchair! (Keep in mind that you can’t do this nowadays, and I am probably the reason, but back the, this trick worked.) I got a wheelchair, put my aunt in it, she pretended that she was handicapped and we sped right up to the front of every line we got on. People were literally forcing us to the front of the line because they felt bad for us. They didn’t think someone in a wheelchair should have to wait on line and I must say that I actually agreed with them. My two cousins are goody goody’s and felt very hesitant about the wheelchair and the faking until we left them at the back of the line and went on Pirates of the Caribbean ride without them. They met up with us over an hour later (meanwhile, we had been on two other rides and got a churro while they were still on that line for Pirates) and after that, they didn’t leave our sides.


My aunt and I took turns in the wheelchair and, in all honesty, I must say that she was really much better at it than me. She was a little over the top sometimes with her facial expressions, grunts, and hand tremors, but it played well. We spent the afternoon shooting through each and every line like we were royalty and it truly was like the park was there just for us. Need a table to eat lunch at? People cleared out of our way for us. Want a good spot to watch the parade? The crowd parted like the Red Sea for us. It was great – until, as it is want to do – karma came and bit me in the ass.


It was getting late and the park was closing. Everyone was heading out and I’m not sure if you’ve ever been in Disney World when it’s closing, but it’s like a madhouse getting out of there. For some reason I didn’t fully flesh out in my mind at the time, I thought that we could make it to Space Mountain one more time before they closed. My aunt was in the wheelchair, my cousins were walking on each side of it, and I was pushing her and I just knew in my heart of hearts that we could make it. We had to get there fast if we wanted to make it, so I just started to run like Forrest Gump. Not knowing what else to do, my aunt held on for dear life in the wheelchair and my cousins started running along-side as we made our way. The ground started to slope down a little, but it wasn’t a huge incline so I didn’t really pay that much attention to it.

My aunt leaned back in the chair to say something over her shoulder to me and what I heard was “Go faster – speed up” when, in actuality, what she said was “You Bastard, there’s a curb!” What happened next went by so fast and happened in such a quick instant, yet what I saw felt like it was happening in slow motion and was absolutely the funniest thing that I have ever bore witness to in my life still to this day!!!


As I was running full steam not paying attention to anything ahead of us, the wheelchair ran right into a curb and there was a thud of impact just as my aunt was thrown forward from the chair and into the heaving crowd all the while screaming at the top of her lungs. With that scream – the world stood still – and people everywhere froze in an instant. My cousins scattered like mice to get away from us and the scene we were causing. Right on that curb was a vendor holding a huge jug of glow in the dark light sticks that bend and interlock into necklaces and he was right in my aunt’s trajectory.


As her now airborne body was thrust forward and she started screaming, his face froze with fear and he threw the bucket of light sticks into the air and reached out to try and catch her – shocked that a paralyzed woman was being thrown from her wheelchair right into his arms. Imagine his shocked look when she landed on her feet and ran off into the crowd because she was embarrassed as I was screaming “It’s a miracle, she can walk.” I then fell to the ground in a heap next to the overturned wheelchair with its wheels still spinning, hysterically laughing with absolutely no control of my body and peed my pants right there. Yes, as a twenty-three year old man, I am not embarrassed to tell you that I peed my pants at Disney World!


As I lie there on the ground, tears of laughter running down my face, unable to fully process what just happened because I couldn’t regain control of myself; there were a ton of people in the crowd staring – not quite sure what to make of me or what to do when I heard it. That one voice in the crowd that just rose right above the others somehow: “Oh my God – that retarded boy just fell out of his wheelchair and he’s crying!” and with that I peed my pants for the second time!!! Yes, as a twenty-three year old man, I am not embarrassed to tell you that I peed my pants at Disney World TWICE! I was laughing and crying at the same time while rolling around on the pavement I just peed on – twice – and muttering “She thinks I’m retarded…She thinks I’m retarded…” and just could not regain control of myself.


Imagine if you will the memory that I have and am sharing with you – now picture the memory those people who witnessed this must have went home and recalled. I couldn’t stop heaving and laughing and for the life of me just could not get off the ground. When I finally did, there were still a ton of people around trying to help me, but not one of them was my aunt or my cousins. I tried to compose myself and stop laughing, but I just couldn’t. I was pushing through the crowd trying to find them all the while still laughing with tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t even look back on the carnage I had just left because the vendor who threw the light sticks when he tried to catch my aunt was now down on all fours cursing us as he tried to sift through the trampling crowd around him and pick up that scattered mess. If I were able to speak coherently at that moment in time, I might have tried to offered him an apology, but finding a men’s room seemed like a smarter course of action.


I thought that since I was wearing soaked khaki shorts and you could tell that I had just peed my pants twice, it might be better to take off my shirt and tuck it into my shorts to hide the wet spot and head for the monorail. (We were staying in the Contemporary hotel and you had to take the monorail to get back to the hotel.)


As I walked by, I was trying to control the laughter and the tears, but people were literally parting the aisles to let me pass so as not get anywhere close to me. I guess if I saw a guy passing by that smelled like piss and was crying as he walked by – I wouldn’t get too close either. I could see my family standing on line as the monorail was pulling up and once they spotted me, one look said it all: I was a mess they wanted no part of.

They proceeded to board and get on the monorail hoping I would miss the one they boarded and be forced to take the next one. I was the last person on and tried to shimmy over to where they were when I just gave up and sat down alone – still laughing to myself. That’s when I looked up and saw myself in the mirror and almost died. When I took my shirt off and tucked it into my shorts to “hide the wet spot” from peeing my pants, I wasn’t even thinking of the sun poisoning. I had completely forgotten all about it. Here I was with my pasty white/sun poisoning streaks all over my body like a zebra with blood red enflamed racing stripes and I was laughing hysterically (by myself mind you) when I heard that voice. An elderly lady gasped at the sight of me and said to her husband for the whole car to hear “Is that retarded boy on the monorail all alone? Do you think he’s alright?” and that was it for me.


Thankfully, I didn’t pee my pants for a third time, but I did collapse into a heap of laughter and if there were any fluids left in my body – I surely would have peed them out right there. My aunt later told me that it felt like the longest monorail ride in the history of Disney and there was not a sound except for my hysterical laughter and the people that were whispering to each other and pointing at me. They were afraid to laugh because they didn’t want anyone to know they were with me but people staring really thought that there was something wrong with me.


There are times when we laugh at other people and there are times when they laugh at us, but that day was absolutely one of the funniest things I have ever witnessed in my life so I don’t care how many people laughed at me. Granted, I was humiliated and publicly peed my pants twice so they did have a really good reason for laughing. Also, I made a scene in Disney of all places and an enemy for life of that poor light stick guy, but until the day that I die it will be one of the funniest memories I have.


For some odd reason, my wife still refuses to ever go to Disney World with me. Come on, it’s been years, what are the odds I’d pee my pants again? She also says that you shouldn’t say the word retarded – you should say M.R. but no one in that crowd or on that monorail was confusing me with a Mr. – They actually thought I was retarded. I’m not sure how that should make me feel being mistaken for a retarded person twice, but I guess that if I was walking by and saw an adult man on the ground lying next to a wheelchair while rolling around in the fetal position with tears streaming down his face and he was having fits of hysterical laughter and then literally peeing his pants, I might assume that something was wrong too.