Parade Day in New York: One Binghamton Student's Account of His Alcoholic Odyssey

Leatherslinger: What will you be doing this weekend in Binghamton?

Search: Being white.

Leatherslinger: You are aware it is Parade Day, no? There will be many drunken white racist firemen and policemen running the streets with no impunity.

Search: Oh, you mean "a Saturday"?

But this is much different than just "a Saturday". This is Mardi Gras, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Boxer Day, Easter and Independence Day all rolled into one. This is an event in which raw Binghamtonians from across the universe descend upon the city for a true Babylonian orgy of booze and debauchery. This day is called.... Parade Day.

Since Binghamton cannot book "major acts" to play on St.Patricks Day, it is forced to celebrate St. Patrick's Day the first week of March. Now some of you may ask "Search, you are not Irish, and seem to be vehemently against large groups of whites, why partake in such an event?". Well my gentle snowflakes and snowflakettes, there is a force far more powerful than race, which brings me to such an event, you guessed it, booze. And also the pure and unbridled chaos that is spawned from such an event, this too, drives Search to participate in such a tumultuous affair.

As stated in "Warm Up..." the entire East Side brigade reunited for the Parade along with Tin Mans West Virginian contingency consisting of Pauley, Mrs. Pauley and Spinner Chain. Also, Winger invited McKann, the gentleman featured in the gripping tale "Deranged Biker and Myself Visit Winger in Albany...". So in total, our outfit consisted of 11 raging alcoholics, each with little and no respect for ourselves and others when in a state of alcoholic bliss, on a day in which martial law could be declared on the city. My God I live for shit like this! So our boozing started at 10AM, at Tin Mans parents house.

The night before we took it easy to prepare for the marathon of liver punishment, and held a pre-shift meeting at Tin Mans house. Tin Mans mom and dad prepared us breakfast consisting of S.O.S(Shit On a Shingle), a gruel-type beef concoction that was remarkably good, fruit salad and Danishes. And oh yeah, Jagermeister, Tin Mans dad offered us Jagermeister to complement our breakfast. Tin Man's mom gives Tin Man's dad a "get as drunk as you want pass" once a year, and today was it, so Tin Man's dad was taking it for what it was worth. Naturally me, being the rebel bad ass I am, obliged the double shot of Jager offered. Deranged Biker, Winger and Dr. Shmoove followed suit. An elderly woman living next door was in her backyard when we heard from Mrs. Pauley "Oh my gosh she fell! Someone should go help her!" Tin Man said "No we shouldn't that bitch is evil and crazy." I chimed in with "Well maybe she felt the urged to drop to the ground and make snow angels." which I genuinely believe she did.

Throughout the entire morning(afternoon, evening, and for the rest of his smelly life probably) DB had been letting loose the most horrific farts I've ever had the displeasure of smelling. It was as if he was surviving on a diet of Newport cigarettes, Asbestos and mayonnaise. I remarked that he had "farted out the soul of a 7 year old boy". The West Virginians looked at me with an inquisitory look, and I replied "I'm from Binghamton, I don't know how else to describe things." After breakfast was done, a few beers were downed and a mild buzz was generated, and then we converged on the hotel where our West Virginian visitors were residing.

I was carrying a case of Budweiser heavies from Tin Man's house to the hotel, repeatedly making it lighter and lighter during the short trip. It was my going rate for carrying booze around. In the hotel room, Pauley, Mrs. Pauley and Spinner Chain were getting ready to paint the town booze yellow. The anticipation of the maniacal activity was eating away at us, thus not giving them much time to get ready. The major consensus of us decided to wait in the lobby and continue drinking. It was there when the first random act of potential violence took place. I started things off with a joke for Spinner Chain, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted Winger, what seemed like at the time, tying his shoes:

Search: Why do women wear perfume and make-up?
Spinner Chain: I give up.
Search: Because they stink, and they are ugly.

I was met with a look of revulsion and confusion. It didn't matter, that joke is funny drunk or sober. The next moment, I see a darting blur heading in my direction, it seems Winger was not tying his shoes, but was actually down in the 3-point stance attempting to tackle me to the ground in the lobby. But me being one of the sharpest and most alert individuals to ever walk the Earth, nimbly avoided the tackle, and locked Winger into a vicious headlock under which I was told "Search chill out man!". This was advice I was willing to take, for now. After some more juvenile recreation in the lobby, Pauley and Mrs. Pauley were finally ready to go.

Our first stop on the magical, time altering tour, was an Irish pub in the middle of downtown Binghamton, in perfect view of the Parade that no one would be paying attention to, because it seemed the entire city could have blown a BAC of .infinite. We crossed over the mighty Chenango River, and I gave an impromptu informational speech about the river in my glib Native American voice. "Here we have the mighty Chenango River, or as my people call it 'aluexme charante', you can find in this hallowed body of water, a shopping cart, a baseball card collection, a 12 pack of half drank Coors Light, and Tin Man's neighbor swimming after a rough day of snow angels."
We arrived at the Irish Pub, where I told Marcy, my partner in crime, to meet up with us so the rawful actions can begin.

I acquired a "crystal" doorknob, as featured in the story "Warm-Up..", and turned it into a makeshift ring. I couldn't find a hoop to affix to the doorknob, so I slid it between my fingers and pawned it off as such. It was a smash hit of the day, in my alcohol induced mania I thought it was. Several times I casually overheard "WILL YOU TAKE THAT FUCKIN DOORKNOB OFF?! I'M GONNA FUCKIN STEAL IT!", I naturally assumed they were jealous or they were just joking. I repeatedly attempted to pay my tab at the bar with the doorknob stating, "I could buy this whole building with this mu'fukin rock!". Deranged Biker kept telling people it was the Hope Diamond, which I followed up with telling patrons I was a cat burglar. It seemed the more people were annoyed by the doorknob, the cooler I thought it became, God I'm an asshole.

Marcy and I went back into our similar routine, where I start a conversation with a girl, and then at the height of the conversation, simply walk away. This never gets old for me and if you are drawn in by such a ruse, don't be upset, if you can't take a joke, fuck you. We found our first mark, a young woman wearing a t-shirt stating "Irish Girls Do It Better". What a witty conversation piece. The following conversation ensues:

Search: So what is exactly, "it"?
Girl Mark: Ummm, you know, everything, just like ya know, stuff.
Search: No, I don't know, please enlighten me.
Girl Mark: Well oh jeez, I umm...
Search: Hey listen, I have to tell you something.
Girl Mark: What's that?
(Search walks away)

At that instant Marcy snaps the photo of the Girl Mark, confused and disoriented. Marcy decides it's a good idea for him, me and his two cousins to do an Irish Car bomb. This became the point of no return, after the shots were fired, I knew I was going to either make a lot of friends this day or a lot of enemies. I spotted two redhead sisters the East Side had fraternized with. I became trapped in conversation with the younger one "What have you been up to?" I asked. The younger one said "I just had a baby!". "Did these grow any?!?" I exclaimed as I grabbed her breasts. "Oh my gosh, you're such an asshole Search!" she yelled. I got the feeling this statement would be repeated over and over to me, but if I showed them my trusty doorknob jewelry piece, they would understand. I deftly moved on the older sister, I initiated conversation with, "Look babe, I just...I just think we need to get back together, my love for you will never die. Please don't leave me baby." Completely confused, she hesitantly smiled and staggered off.

Marcy and I weaved through the crowd when I heard someone say "I know you're not Irish!". I turned to see Leatherslingers racist friend, who attempted to shake my hand. I sized him up, laughed at him and walked away. I wasn't about to tee off on him, spend the rest of my day in jail. I disregarded his existence and walked through the crowd. Marcy stopped me and said "You want to kick the shit out of him?", he then notified Deranged Biker who shared the same sentiment. Surprisingly despite sorely outnumbering him, I let him go about his way. Martin Luther King, Jr. would be proud.

After that, an on the spot photo shoot took place featuring me, my doorknob ring, and any hapless sucker who would walk by and get trapped into a picture. I swear to you, I made it unequivocally known that I owned the Hope Diamond, and the entire bar was lucky enough to have their picture with me. I made my way to the door and found sign on the door of the bar read "No alcohol to leave the bar as per Binghamton Police department". HA! I wonder if they forgot to add, "please enforce law yourself, half of the force is drinking outside and drunk." I stumbled outside to "watch the Parade" or, find how much booze I can grift.

The sunlight must have reacted with my drunkenness, turning me into an abject hooligan. My eyes turned into targeters as I zeroed in on any alcohol unattended. I focused on an open 12 pack of Bud Light sitting idly in a snow bank. Deranged Biker and I moved in for the kill. The owners of the 12 pack came over to thwart my grifting. Out of reflex I went to reach for my trust doorknob, but then decided talking my way out of this situation would be better than denting up the ring. I casually explained to them exactly who I was and why it was perfectly fine to give me a beer, as I already had one in my pocket. They gave me another one as I sauntered off, I'm very shrewd when I booze.

Following the perfect heist, I spotted a group of West Side raw Binghamtonians drinking 40's in front of the Irish pub. I pulled rank on them, being a West Side veteran, and began drinking out of all of the 40's I could find.(Editors note: As I am writing this story, I am still fighting off the cold I received from recklessly drinking out of all of these bottles). Winger gave me two broken cell phones, for me to smash after having a fake conversation with my "stock broker", creating a scene, which I am exceptionally good at. I decided it was time to make a call. I stepped out into the middle of the crosswalk, brandished the cell phone and yelled "WHAT?! WHAT?! SELL SELL SELL! I SAID FUCKIN SELL! 30,000 DUECHMARKS!" and then sent the cell phone hurdling to the Earth. Marcy took the photo perfectly, as I could feel the crowd circling around me, I decided to put on a show. I started stomping the phone and then looked up and pointed at the first person I saw and exclaimed "THESE BASTARDS COST ME 30,000 DUECHMARKS, I'M GONNA FUCKIN MURDER MY STOCK BROKER!". Tin Man observed the fracas and overheard someone in the crowd say "Wow, that guy was really mad, did you see him smash his cell phone?". We decided to take our show downtown.

At this point, things became incredibly blurry. The alcohol was steadily coursing through my veins, people and objects were fading in and out of focus, and I was certain that I was invisible and invincible. For the next 3 hours, I was jumping in and out of reality, so my recollection of the events are skewed and blurry. Our caravan touched down in downtown Binghamton and the madness began.

It seemed as though everyone split into several different directions, so I haphazardly stumbled into a bar and began pounding shots and beer with fury. I turned to see Tin Man's mother and sister. I'm sure a conversation took place, because I saw their lips moving, and I imagined I was responding in kind. This took place for approximately 10 minutes before I felt my underwear hurdling up my ass crack. I was a victim of a wedgie. I whirled around to see what deviant bastard would do such a thing, and perhaps to tattoo my Hope Diamond across their forehead. It was Tin Man's dad. Tin Man's dad gave me a wedgie, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it, other than a Binghamton official(fireman) attacked me in a manner of a juvenile 7th grader.

For the next hour and a half, Tin Man's dad, in full fireman regalia, attempted to convince me to take the fireman's test and join. I starkly reminded him out of the 137 fireman in Binghamton, zero were black. Also, while he may be colorblind for work performance, I bet he is probably speaking for himself. I damn sure wasn't going to be the Rosa Parks of the BFD. After this failed attempt to recruit me to the BFD, I demanded I get in a picture with Tin Man's parents. I politely excused myself by saying "Look they got fuckin food and shit! I'm out!". I stumbled to the table and gorged myself on ham and cabbage, breaking the cardinal rule of beer drinking. Cabbage and beer do not mix, period. It causes a tumultuous affair in your intestines thus causing methane to assault the noses of those around you. After I finished this science experiment, I strolled outside, met up with Marcy and went on to our next debacle.

For some god-forsaken reason, we found ourselves not in a bar, but a coffee shop, that's right, a coffee shop. This went against all my principles and I'm still unsure as to why this was, but at this point I could spit pure ethane alcohol, so I pardoned myself. I spotted a young lady my friends had defiled in high school and her friend seated in the coffee shop, so I focused my broken down drunk game on her. I was firing game at her to which it was ill received, and she said something to the effect of "I think you should go like, stand over there, like or something". Obviously she forgot I was Search and such a request from a person like her was offensive and rude, so I responded in kind.

"Gimmie your hat, axe wound!" I screamed as I ripped her funny Irish winter hat off her head, and threw it across the room. I signaled for Marcy to leave and we exited stage right. After that, we went back to the bar where I had "my accident" a few months back. Every person in the bar who was my myspace buddy I screamed in a mock valley girl voice "OH MY GOSH YOU ARE MY MYSPACE BUDDY! OH MY GOSH!". Whether or not they got it, laughed, thought I was a madman(which is true), it didn't matter, I was going to have my fun at their expense whether they enjoyed it or not. Yet more violent drinking continued, and I began to debate whether my liver has written out a will. I felt the broke cell phone needed some attention, so I went outside to put on another scene in the middle of the street.

Being a veteran of the fake phone smash, I instinctively know when a large enough crowd is around. As the crowd encircled me, I took out the phone, "answered it" and screamed "WHAT?!....WHAT?!...I AIN'T NO FUCKIN GAY! I LOVE MY FUCKIN WIFE!" and gunned the phone at the sidewalk. A flurry of cell phone flew into the air as I continued my steady stream of obscenities. A passer-by stopped me afterwards and said "hey man, that was your cell phone dude." I responded in a sleazy used car dealer voice "It's nothin but monnnney, babyyyy!" and staggered off into the crowd.

I met up with Tin Man, Spinner Chain, Pauley and Mrs. Pauley then walked into our next alcohol purveyor. Once arrived in the bar, I felt it was time to flash some more of my Hope Diamond for the, as I was told "millionth and a half time" to some of the spectators. I was certainly setting myself up for a pilfering, but I didn't care, who would dare attempt to steal my precious Hope Diamond? I went outside to smoke a cigarette and saw three girls laughing and giggling while walking around the corner, I screamed out to them "OH MY GOSH, SAVE SOME COCAINE FOR ME!". My party erupted in laughter, partially because it was funny, but because mainly it was true. I'm still surprised how I am still functioning, partially coherent and not fucking dead, so I test the waters and continue steadily pouring alcohol into my face. Tin Man wanted to find his dad, so I informed him of recent wedgie exploits and where to find him. The West Virginian crew, and the East Side crew headed off to find Tin Man's dad.

Here is where it happened, the most devious and diabolical plot one could ever conceive. No, it was not the reunion of the Village People and no, it was not a signing of J.Lo to another movie...but it was the theft of my Hope Diamond. Tin Man's cousin, Slimy Jimmy, had been eyeing my Hope Diamond all day, and had a serious hatred for it. I'm not sure why, maybe it was because I kept showing it to him over and over again, but who knows. We were all seated at the bar, and I was speaking to Pauley, when Pauley snatched the Hope Diamond right out of my hand.

To make matters worse, passed it off to Slimy Jimmy. An intense wave of sadness and hatred coursed over me. I affixed my eyes on Pauley, ready to commit a violent triple homicide in a matter of minutes. He noticed my penetrating gaze and said "What's up Search?" I said "FUCK YOU PAULEY!". He said "Do you want your ring back?" I said like a little kid, "yes". I turned around and harassed more people, and upon my return. Pauley had my precious Hope Diamond. My eyes lit up as though it was Christmas, I snatched it from his hands, placed it securely in my pocket, and bought a round for everyone. Sometimes things just work out.

Spinner Chain and myself decided to head across the street to yet another bar to, that's right, continue drinking! As we headed across the street, he saw a girl, stopped her and said "I need you back in my life, I am total mess without you!" She said "FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!". I turned to investigate the situation to find it was the same girl my friends defiled in high school with that stupid hat. "Oh no the fuck this bitch didn't!" I thought in my head. How dare she insult my friend when he is pouring his heart out to her, what type of heartless bitch is she? Well, I remedied the situation by taking her hat back off her head, and throwing it in a puddle and walking away. "YOU GUYS ARE ASSHOLES!" I could hear trailing off in the distance.

It was steadily approaching 5:00PM and I was amazed I hadn't pissed, nor shit out any of my vital organs. So our party decided a few more drinks and heading back to the hotel was our best bet. Our entire gang of hooligans began our walk back to the hotel, when I decided it was time for some vandalism, coupled with reckless and non-thought out decision-making. We passed by a garbage can, which I punted as hard as I could into the air. "ARE YOU FUCKIN STUPID!?" Slimy Jimmy screamed at me. Apparently there were 2 police cars behind our group. If I was to go to jail that night, so be it. I was not a stranger to process of arresting and was ready to that the heat. I had enough of his silly questions, coupled with his attempted plot to steal my precious Hope Diamond. So I responded in a threatening and demonic scream "YEAH SLIMEY JIMMY, I AM FUCKIN DUMB, I'M THE DUMBEST MOTHERFUCKER YOU WILL EVER MEET IN YOUR LIFE, I AM A GOD DAMNED MORON SLIMEY JIMMY! REALLLL DUMB." By the grace of the booze gods, the fine officers of the law continued on their route leaving us unscathed.

Now one would think all of this nonsense and hi-jinx would end there? Wrong. On our stumbling way back into the hotel, Deranged Biker had much more to do and say. Deranged Biker laid out in a swimsuit model position on a table near the elevator as two young ladies stepped off the elevator. "Hey ladies, how are we tonight?" Deranged Biker asked in the most sexually suggestive and profane manner he could. As we all got off the elevator, Deranged Biker spotted a random guy and said in a confrontational voice "What pal? You wanna suck me off?!". The gentlemen took some offense to the statement, but swallowed(pardon the pun) his pride and continued on his route.

Back in the hotel room, I found a remote control in my pocket, apparently I stole it from the bar where Tin Man's dad gave me a wedgie, and I began muting people in the room when Slimy Jimmy asked "Why the hell did you steal that?". I said "I had to Smiley Jimmy, I had no choice." He said "What reason did you have to steal that, please, just tell me" in a condescending voice. "Because it was Gods will Slimy James" I said. No more than 45 seconds later, Deranged Biker and Slimy Jimmy broke into a crazed and frenzied wrestling match, to which Slimy Jimmy was the victor. Deranged Biker sat against the wall, and to add insult to injury, Slimy Jimmy threw a blanket over him, and told him to think about what he did. We decided to head back to the East Side at this point for some more food at our favorite dive bar. Honestly, did you think it would stop with a drunk wrestling match, stolen remote and hotel harassment, I think not!