So Donovan and I roll over to Lincoln for Third Thursday as we do every time its in Lincoln, representing for the board which is comprised at the moment solely of Omaha residents. We make good time in The Colorado, and get to Lincoln and begin the tedious task of finding somewhere to park in the Haymarket. We spy an open spot, but I've already driven past it. What did I do? Slam the brakes right in the middle of 15th street, and put it in reverse, cars-behind-me be damned!
Little did I know the car behind me was a cop.
Lucky for us, the cop was too busy talking to his pal out the window, a bicycle cop. Never saw it. Whew! That was a close one.
To the bar! After driving around for another five minutes! You bet!
We're at the bar for, I don't know, maybe an hour and Donovan walks up to me saying "Come on dude, we're riding in the limousine."
I'm taken aback. First of all, I'm enjoying a pint of Boulevard that I have just purchased, and he wants me to leave? Secondly, in a limozeen? Whose limozeen? Where are we going? Will my beer still be here when we get back?
Never mind answering all of those questions, when this is the Awesomeness that awaits:
The Excursion. 44 feet of the pimpest, sweetest limo I've ever had the pleasure of sitting in. The driver asked us where we wanted to go -- we replied, just drive around, anywhere! Does it really matter when you're a passenger in The Excursion?
The inside was lined with rope lights, mirrors, real wood trim (not that cheap veneer wood like you get in a lesser automobile like, for example, a Lexus). The sunroof stayed closed for a moment before we opened it so Donovan could poke his head out to examine his kingdom from 10 feet above the ground. The stereo was changed from Neil Diamond's 60s to Mike D(iamond)'s 90s. The drinks were off limits.
We were wishing we had a camera to document all of this awesomeness, but wouldn't you know it, the one event I leave my camera at home, this happens! But I did have my camera phone, which takes pretty crummy photos, but is better than nothing.
Here's a peek inside:
Fairly dominant, huh? You bet.
The driver was the coolest guy ever. He said he was glad to drive around people like us who were just happy and having a good time. The people he hates were "sloppy drunks and wanna-be gangstas". We're just simply Awesome, so we were a gas to chauffeur.
--
When it dawned on us that Lincoln is a college town, we figured there had to be a place with cheaper suds than Yia-Yia's. Something Macro. Something cheap. Something...Pabst.
One block down. 13th and O. The Watering Hole. Penny Pitchers. Very awesome.
Penny pitchers? Can you even comprehend that? I had $2.75 left on me, and that was enough for 275 pitchers! Or 200 pitchers with a 75 cent tip! Or 175 pitchers, a 75 cent tip, and a dollar for the vagrant wandering outside that kept asking me for a buck! That's good times.
As you can see, I enjoyed it thoroughly.
We polished down a few pitchers of the PBR, and glanced at the NBA Finals on and off. When the Pistons blow-out was nearly over, I became extremely intrigued. Why? The chance of a Darko sighting, of course!!
Darko Milicec. Drafted #2 by Detroit just behind LeBron James and just ahead of Carmelo Anthony. Habitual benchwarmer and tackling dummy/punching bag for the Wallaces in practice. He's a big slow white guy from an Eastern Bloc country, Serbia I believe, who only gets into games when Detroit leads by 25+ and less than two minutes remain.
Sure enough, Darko got in, and got a rebound! Cheers to Darko!
And I took a drink.
Darko got a basket, for the Pistons 100th point! Another drink for Darko!
Everyone thought I was nuts. But you have to understand, it was Darko!
Never mind, apparently no one else understands why Darko is cool except me. You bet.
--
A Darko sighting would have been a good capper to the evening -- certainly better than the urinal full of puke -- so we decided to head for home. I'd been dry for 90 minutes, it was 11pm and that would put us at midnight getting home. So we headed out.
As we passed Yia-Yia's, some of our friends were still outside in the beer garden, so we stopped by to chat for a minute. It was here, moments later, that we realized the Darko sighting was not the finale to a good night -- but merely the appetizer before the real final act.
Strange guy in a brown muscle shirt, long scraggly hair, barbed wire tattoo around both arms, sidles up to the table. Wants to talk. Near as we could tell, no one knew him. No matter. He seemed to be no trouble, and he was talking to one of the other guys, so as long as he wasn't bothering me, I didn't care. A few minutes go by, and I notice a cop hurridly walk into the bar, then another. One of them says into his walkie-talkie "He's in a brown shirt." Never dawns on me. We go on conversing.
Until the cop comes over and grabs the strange dude that had wandered up to our table -- the one in the brown shirt -- and says "We have a warrant for your arrest."
The best part?
The perp says, "oh, OK" and stands up, walking off with the cop as he cuffs him and gets hauled off to jail. No fight, no "It wasn't me!", no nothing! Kinda disappointing but at the same time, really really funny. "We're arresting you!" "Oh, OK."
You bet.
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