Category Archives: DrunkStories

The 2007 AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-Am

So it’s Saturday afternoon and I’m talking to Dave. He’s got a couple of all-access, exclusive, AT&T corporate sponosored passes to the final round of the 2007 AT&T Pebble Beach Pro-Am. Dave and Da Son plan to drive down to Monterrey and stay the night. So why don’t I buy a ticket and join them? Sure!

I go to the website and quickly buy a ticket. It’s only a general admission ticket and I know that I’ll have to wait outside all the VIP areas while Dave and Kev get the first-class treatment, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’ve never been to Pebble Beach, let alone a PGA event, and I just want to go and hang out with my friends.

The three of us hop in the lesbian wagon (Kev’s Subaru Outback) and made the trek down to Monterrey. Being the good friend that I am, I let Dave sit in the front seat without a fuss. It was only about an hour and 45 minute drive–I could manage. It was still very uncomfortable, but at least I didn’t have to drive, eh?

After checking in to our hotel (two queen size beds, I’ll sleep on the floor, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine) we schlepped on over to downtown Monterrey. It was a little cold and rainy and the streets were disappointingly empty for a Saturday night. Dave can’t shut up about Cannery Row so we head down there and invade Bubba Gump’s (still, nobody out, where is everyone?)

Enough of that crap. We finally decide to buy some beer and just go back to the hotel room. And then we’re outside the room, talking and drinking beers, when the door to the room next to ours opens. “Oh shit,” I thought. “They are coming out here to ask us to be quiet, we’re making too much noise.” But that would not turn out to be the case.

Out walked a couple of cats with smiles on their faces. These guys looked ready to party. One guy had a CamelPak filled with vodka and OJ. This is where things get interesting.

Remember when I said that I only had a general admission ticket, while Dave and Kev had VIP all-access passes? Well, Deric and Marc, our neighbors, were down here for the golf tournament too. And, as it turns out, they had VIP passes from Buick. But guess what? They weren’t going tomorrow, so hey, do you want our passes?

HELL YES I DO!

What luck. Boy, was I grateful. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I was resigned to my fate. I knew that I’d be outside the velvet ropes watching Dave and Kev drink for free all day, but now, thanks to Deric, I was going to be able to join my friends!

Deric, thank you so much. Your kindness and generosity really made my week, my month, my year!

Deric and Marc were some really cool cats. Boozers, like us. Golfers (hacks), like us. Friendly and outgoing, like us. Deric and Marc were good people. Too bad they live so far away from us (hours north of San Francisco). These two guys would fit right into our circle of friends seamlessly.

(By the way, if you’re ever in the Ukiah area, and need some work done on your Pontiac Buick GMC Cadillac Subaru Mazda, stop by the Ken Fowler Auto Center and ask for Service Advisor Deric O’Shaughnessy, I’m sure he’ll take good care of you.)

I don’t recall exactly what time we finally crashed out. We partied with Deric and Marc for a few hours, and then I made my little bed on the floor under the desk; I didn’t want anyone stepping on me in the middle of the night. And then it was 6am.

You know, for spending approximately five hours on the floor I felt pretty good. I was so excited about the tournament and last night’s events and our new friends and my new VIP pass that I’m surprised that I slept at all. But I was awake, and alert, and after a hot shower I was ready to rock!

Being corporate sponsored VIPs, we got our own parking lot and free shuttle to Pebble Beach. The driver dropped us off right by the VIP area, so in we went.

Free food. Free booze. Free swag. We grabbed Pebble Beach hats and umbrellas and gift thingies and this and that. We had a big ol’ breakfast buffet and fresh gourmet coffee and excellent service. I would have been so miserable on the outside looking in (THANKS DERIC!!!).

So we followed Vijay Singh, who was playing with Tom Watson, for a few holes. We walked over to the picturesque hole #7, the short par 3 at the end of the peninsula, practically on the edge of the cliffs. Waves pounded against the rocks while sea otters hunted for food and sea lions barked in the distance. I kept saying to myself, “I can’t belive I’m here.”

We watched Vijay and Watson finish #8, then we walked back to the VIP areas. We stopped to watch Phil Mickelson for a couple holes. Then it was time for lunch.

By the time we got back to the VIP area they had replaced breakfast with an incredible lunch spread. The food was sooo good! Seriously, I can’t remember the last time I ate so well. The service was awesome, again. “Can I take your plate for you, sir?” “Can I get you another cocktail sir?”

Now it was time to hunt for some more swag. We found the concessions area along the 18th fairway. Huge tents were set up with all kinds of AT&T Pebble Beach stuff. Hats, shirts, shoes, all kinds of golf paraphenalia. Dave picked up some new shoes and a Pebble Beach derby. Nothing fit me so I bought nothing. Kev got a new golf cap with “Da Son” embroidered on the back.

We headed over to the 18th green to watch Vijay, Watson, and Mickelson finish. The sun was out, the wind had died down, and it was HOT standing there in the sun. Jackets came off. I closed my eyes and lifted my face towards the sun and reveled in its warmth. Sounds of cheers and sea-side wildlife and all-around happiness filled my ears. I could smell the BBQ behind the grandstands. What a moment…

Here’s where things get interesting again. Standing behind the guard rail around the 18th green we struck up a conversation with one of the local Sheriffs, who was there for security. He had some stories to share about John Daly.

On Friday night, John Daly hooked up with some fellow boozers at one of the many pubs at the golf course. After awhile, Daly and crew got a little punchy and security had to step in. The next day Daly was so hung over he could barely play. On one of the holes he stepped off into the woods to get sick. Daly played terrible on Saturday and did not make the cut. So I guess ol’ JD fell off the wagon pretty hard again.

We headed back to the VIP area one last time for some more drinks and snacks. By this time it was 4pm. We had been there since 7am. We had eaten and drunk our fill. We had walked most of the golf course. We had obtained an obscene amount of freebies and swag.

We were exhausted. It was time to go.

The shuttle picked us right outside the tents and dropped us off right by our car. What incredible service we had all day long. First class, all the way (thank you so much for my pass, Deric!).

It only took us about an hour and 20 minutes to get home. Once back at Kev’s we posted up on the couches. None of us felt like getting up; we were sooo tired. But I finally mustered up the strength to drive home. I was asleep by 8pm.

Pictures? Sure, I have some. Most of them were not very good, however. Cameras were not allowed at Pebble Beach so I had to snap pics on the sly. Most were blurry and unfocused.

I kept the best ones and posted them here.

The First Annual Reno Golf Getaway

Last week I spent three days in Reno for our first annual Reno golf getaway. We played three different courses: D’Andrea, Red Hawk, and Lakeridge–and stayed at the Silver Legacy hotel on Wednesday and Thursday night.

What a week. I slept less than 3 hours each night and was drunk every day. And amazingly, each day of golf I played progressively worse.

Dave and I stayed out half the night, each night, playing craps. I managed to break even for the week–so I’m happy with that. But Dave… didn’t do so good.

Wednesday night we’re at the craps table and Dave is fucking fucked up. Hammered. Really, really drunk. He’s betting $50 on the hardways but the damn guy keeps hitting ’em. When he wins he slings $5 chips at each dealer at the table, and gives two to the pitboss because “he’s wearing a suit”.

This goes on for awhile until Dave has over $1,000 in chips in his pocket, plus more on the table. Holy crap. Don’t lose it all, Dave!

So I turn to him and say, “Dude. Let’s be smart. Let’s cash out that grand, take it up to the room and stash it. Then we can come back and gamble with what you’ve got left.”

Dave is drunk and not listening to me. He loses big a few more times, but still has that grand in his pocket. I suggest we cash out a few more times and Dave finally caves in. So we start off for the cashier.

I turn my back for ONE second and Dave is gone.

I figure maybe there is another cashier and he was headed that way, so I wander the floor looking. Can’t find him.

So I think, “Well maybe he’s already up at the room.”

I head up to the room. No Dave. I throw in a dip and crack open a beer. I wait. No Dave.

Finally I call him on the cell.

“Dave. Dude. Where the fuck are you? I’m up at the room having a dip and a beer. Where have you been?”

Silence. After a long pause…

“IT’S ALL GONE DUDE. I LOST IT ALL.”

Dave, you fucking jackass.
When I turned my back he went right back to the craps table. This time he bet $100 and $200 on the hardways, and lost it all in a matter of minutes.

I sleep for a couple hours and then it’s time for day two of golf.

Red Hawk golf course sucked. The people were not very friendly or accommidating. We were an hour late teeing off due to bad scheduling and the backup.

Drinks were extremely expensive. We all had doubles every time the beer cart girl came around, and tipped her so good every time she ignored the rest of the course and its players, and just followed us around.

Red Hawk the course was just punishing. Brutal, even. Every fucking shot was in the sand trap. Bunkers were everywhere, strategically placed so that every shot was almost guaranteed to go in. I was pissed. I shot somewhere around 110.

Night two at the casino and Dave is up $1,000 at craps. Think he lost it all again?

Day three of golf at the most beautiful, nicest course I’ve played in a long time. Lakeridge golf course is an old course with mature landscaping and beautiful scenery. We smoked cigars and basked in the sun and had an enjoyable round. I played the worst of the three days of golf, and ended up with a 120 something. But I didn’t care. It was one of those days where nothing could bother me, and it just felt damn good to be alive.

So after Three nights of 2-3 hours of sleep and three days of booze I’m ready to come home. I finally walk in the door at 10pm on Friday night, and sleep until noon the next day.

Click here to see the pics.

Truckee or bust

So I managed to get the cabin in Truckee for the weekend. I called the guys and quickly set up a Friday night trip. Dave and James were in, Scott was a probably, and Ange never called me back.

Friday morning I drove the Expedition to James’ house and then to Dave’s. We left Dave’s house in Discovery Bay at 2pm.

It took us 8 hours to get to Truckee.

Normally that trip would take 3 hours (with no traffic). But it was Friday. And there was a winter storm warning.

It was smooth sailing up ’til Auburn. Past that it was all stop and go until about Donner Summit. CalTrans was out in force, inspecting every vehicle. 4 wheel drive or chains were mandatory. If you didn’t have one of the other, you had to turn around and go back down the hill.

I’ve never driven in such an awful winter storm. The roads were completely white–covered in snow and ice. The snow was coming down hard and I could barely see. We had to stop periodically to get the ice off the windshield wiper blades.

So around 10pm we finally got to the cabin. Scott called to say he couldn’t make it–and I wasn’t surprised. His truck doesn’t have four wheel drive, and I doubt he’d want to drive the six hours in the snow to get up there anyway.

Once inside we cracked open the beers, poured some shots, started the charcoal, and called a taxi. By the time we were finished eating our steak dinner the cab was ready to take us to North Shore.

First stop: The Biltmore. I hate this place. I’ve only ever lost in this casino. It took me about 10 minutes to lose 40 bucks at the quarter slots. Defeated, I walked over to the table that Dave and James were playing blackjack, and watched.

Dave quickly lost $200 and James was down as well. Fuck this. Dave announces that he’s never coming to the Biltmore again. Time to walk across the street to Crystal Bay.

It felt good to get outside. It was a little after midnight. The snow was still coming down, but not as hard. It was freezing cold–the temperature on a nearby light-sign-thingy read 18 degrees. I looked up and down the street, and a weird foggy halo type glow surrounded each street light and casino sign.

Once inside Crystal Bay we just sorta stopped and looked around. I really didn’t feel like gambling any more, and I don’t think Dave and James felt like playing blackjack. Off to our left was the craps table, with only 1 guy playing.

Have you ever played craps before? Neither have I (before Friday night). I can remember walking around the casinos in Las Vegas and Reno, and every once in awhile I’d hear this uproar. I’d scan the floor to see where it ws coming from, and most of the time it was the craps table. People would be cheering and giving each other high-fives and having more fucking fun than anyone else in the casino. In comparison, if you looked around you’d see zombies with expressionless faces in front of the slots, people rubbing their temples or holding their head in their hands at the blackjack tables. But people around the craps tables? They’d seem to be having a blast.

Sometimes I’d stand next to the craps table and watch. The dealers are always very funny and personable people, whereas blackjack dealers are hit or miss. The action around the craps table is fast. Chips and dice are flying around the table. I’d try to figure out how to play by watching, but I was never able to. Craps has always been the game I wanted to play, but never got around to learning how.

So there we are, the three of us, standing by the door and all looking at that craps table. None of us knew how to play, but somehow we all knew that now was the time.

As I approached the table, the one guy that was playing alone left. Now we’ve got this craps table all to ourselves. What a perfect time to learn eh?

And we did learn. The dealers were more than happy to teach us the basics. One dealer in particular, Ron, was outstanding. He helped us out by explaining the best bets–when and why to do so. If we made a bad bet he explained to us why, and recommended a better one. Ron looked *just* like Chris Cooper, the actor (Syriana, The Bourne Identity, Seabiscuit, The Patriot, Me Myself & Irene, among others). Ron both saved us money, and made us money. A lot of money.

I think we all started with 40 bucks. A couple hours later Dave had a huge stack of green $25 chips in front of him (later Dave would tell us he had over $1000). And Dave was on fire. It was unbelievable. He made us sooo much money! He couldn’t lose. Soon, we were the ones making all that commotion and ruckus in the casino. High fives and cheers and good times were had by all.

Three hours later we all walked away with our winnings. I think Dave ended up with $600 or so. James and I are more conservative gamblers (it’s not uncommon for Dave to bet half his stack on one hand in blackjack) so we walked away with less.

So let me tell you this: I can’t think of another game I’d rather play in a casino. In fact, I can’t imagine playing anything other than craps ever again. Craps is sooooo much fun! It’s fast, it’s exciting… and when you’re hot, and making everyone around the table money, it’s the best feeling in the world. I highly recommend learning the game. Seriously. Stop throwing away your money on slots.

The three of us sat at the bar and drank for another hour, recapping the highlights of the evening. Dave says that he still likes blackjack, but craps is his new favorite game. I have to agree. I can’t wait to play again.

30 minutes and a taxi ride later we’re back at the cabin. After some more shots and a snack it was time for some sleddin’. Dave and James grabbed the snow shovels and made a little bobsled run next to the cabin. Jackass (Dave) is wearing shorts and it’s in the low teens. Minutes later he’s covered in snow and shivering. It was 6am. I couldn’t hang any longer, so after my photographer duties were fulfilled, I turned in.

Next thing I know it’s noon and my head is pounding. Dave has breakfast ready, so crack open a beer and grab some eggs. For the next four hours I cleaned and straightened up the cabin while Dave and James drank beer and played cards.

We left the cabin around 4pm and drove down town. We went to Bar of America for happy hour and El Toro Bravo for dinner. Can I just tell you that Dave and James are jackasses? At dinner, in a very cramped dining area, and in front of an “audience”, Dave and James staged a mock argument. Expletives flew around the room, as Dave and then James raised their voices and cussed one another out. One family got up and left. I suppose when you’re drunker’n Cooter Brown it’s some funny shit, but when you’re sober, like I was, it was embarassing. OK fine, I thought it was funny too. I guess I’ll never grow up.

The roads were completely clear and the weather was nice and there wasn’t any traffic. We made it back down to Sacramento quickly. Dave decides that we have to stop at Fry’s to take advantage of a sale on hard drives.

Once inside, Dave starts break dancing in the middle of the isle. He can pop and lock and do the robot, sure. But sadly, Dave can no longer flare… or backspin. His backspin barely made 180. Sad, just sad.

I walked around a blind corner and slammed into a shopping cart. I took the opportunity to feign a knee injury, so I fell to the ground and howled in pain. I rolled around on the ground, crying, clutching my knee, and yelling for help. The couple driving the shopping cart looked upon me in horror–much to Dave and James’ pleasure. But I eventually let the couple off the hook–I got up and walked away. My name is Tom Bissell, and I am 34 years old.

An hour later Dave was home, and an hour after that James was home. I finally pulled into my driveway at 11:30pm. I slept for 12 hours straight.

Click here to see pictures from our trip!!!