It all started when a friend named Al needed to get out of Philly for a while. His life had taken a few turns and he was planning to go to the Keys and get his head together. As it happened, G-Vegas sits along the road to redemption. He said he’d be stopping in for a few days. We said great and alerted the local constabulary.
A couple of days later, another friend, BG, said he needed a four-day vacation and he really didn’t care where it was. I suggested he go to New Orleans, Asheville, or Tybee Island. Or, I said, you could just come down and hang out with Al and the boys. A day later, he was booked and coming in.
It wasn’t but a day or so later that G-Rob called it Mastodon Weekend. Why? As he wrote, “The mastodon was big, ugly and wild. It is also gone because it couldn’t evolve.”
We’re all old, or, at least too old to be planning a weekend like this. And yet, because we are big, oafish, animals who refuse to fully evolve, we’re doing it. Al will be in town this time tomorrow. BG will be here the next day.
If that were the extent of it, it would be enough. We will eat meat. We will gamble. We will terrorize most of downtown. Other things will happen that probably aren’t fit for these pages. It will be the type of thing we aren’t proud of when it’s over, except for the fact that secretly we will be.
These kinds of weekend tend to take on a life of their own. Before we knew it, we had people deciding to come in from all over the place. I don’t have a full list and I’m not sure who will be in town, but if early indications are correct, there will be between 12-18 guys from six states and two countries lumbering through downtown over the next few days. Safe to say, we’re ill-equipped to handle this kind of thing.
And yet, that’s exactly what we’re doing.
I wouldn’t expect too many posts over the next few days. Feel free to keep up with my Twitter feed if you need your dose of Otis uselessness. Otherwise, we’ll see you on the other side.
If I survive.