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Tuesday, September 16, 2008
In hindsight, we should have seen it coming. Sunday night had all the ingredients for an wild party: full moon, Segal’s going away party, costumes, alcohol, and a Porters staff ready to unleash the fury after a long retail summer. In hindsight, we should have closed the entire company down on Monday, as most employees looked like extras from a zombie movie. But then, hindsight is 20/20, and without the benefit of hindsight, sometimes you just need to dive head-first into a blinding maelstrom of booze, dancing, and fake blood.
(30 Irish Carbombs x 3) + 20 carbombs = 110 car bombs, an Auld Dubliner record, by far. And this occurred in the first 30 minutes of the night.
Not that some employees even remembered the first 30 minutes. Nicky B. and Finn, fresh off a 3-day bender in Reno, came dressed to the nine’s and ready to party. Finn, slumped at the bar and helpless to stand up, had a religious experience when Chappy started brining him a continuous flow of chicken wings. “I think… he’s an angel” Finn whispered with the reverence of a true believer.
Harley checked ID’s with his infrared ear-light while ski bunny Eleanor danced the night away with Nicky B. Kathy joined them on the dance floor, along with Miller, Yonto, and many others. Faithful Line rep Matt Connelly provided classy tunes while looking quite classy in a double Polo combo with collars up.
At one point I told Jeremy Nobis “Hi I’m John Segal from Porters. I think you could really make it in this industry, someday. Maybe even be an A-list guy, maybe. All you’re missing, I think, are these magical Superfeet Kork footbeds.” Then I started sniffing a footbed lovingly. Nobis seemed confused by this.
Chappy won best costume by a landslide, even improving his outfit throughout the night by tearing nipple-vents in his vintage Polo shirt. Two pastel cable-knit sweaters were later discovered on the Burton van, covered in dirt, holes, and blood.
Segal himself was having a blast, clearly, all night. In fact, he even did his own Segal impression by losing his cell phone. What a showman that guy is! His lady-friend Christina looked splendid in a T-Rex tail. She even received some sage love advice from Harley, who said “your relationship can only rise as high as your level of communication.” You know what? He’s right! We love this man.
Alex, never one to dress up, pulled out all the stops with a bag full of Segal tributes. Surrounded by drunks, he tried his best to properly roast Segal. Screams of “Blink 182 in South Lake!!!” and “downsize grandma!” and “the toilet’s clogged again!” rained down from the crowd. Broken Volant Spatulas served as awards.
In the end, the best Segal tribute happened the next day, when the entire company was late to work and completely hung over. Finn even spent some quality time in the bathroom. Now if that doesn’t remind you of Segal, nothing will.
Labels: Auld Dubliner, Segal, Squaw Valley
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