That was me
by: Tucker Max
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STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. FUNNY AS HELL, BUT EXPLICIT.
I attended the Cal/Stanford hockey game on November 19th and the Cal/Stanford
football game on November 20th, 2004. If you were at either of those games, you
might have seen me.
The hockey game:
That guy who barged to the front of the 200+ person line to get in and walked
through the gates without even a ticket, yelling something about having his own
will call booth in the ladies room...that was me.
That guy who took nachos from the girls in front of him, telling them, "You
should feel honored that someone as important as me will even eat after
you"...that was me.
That guy who goaded the three Asian girls behind him into a huge catfight by
telling one that her engagement ring was clearly bigger than the others...that
That guy who, when his friend said "Oh! Catfight!," responded with, "No dude,
there aren't anymore cats; they just ate dinner"...that was me.
That guy who peed in an empty water bottle and, after using it to warm his
hands, threw it on the ice...that was me.
The football game:
That guy tail-gating with people he didn’t know and feeding beers to the
ridiculous Cal bear mascot through a tube in his eye…that was me.
That guy who snuck a Camelbak full of vodka into the stadium by using a
three-year-old child to hide it…that was me.
That guy screaming at the top of his lungs, threatening to rape and dismember
the families of the Stanford football players...that was both me and my buddy
That guy being escorted out of his seat by four cops in the FIRST quarter...that
was just me.
That guy arguing with those same campus cops, giving them a mini-lecture on the
finer points of probable cause, defying them to try to illegally search him and
threatening a six-figure civil suit if they touched him...that was me.
That guy calling the Head of Campus Security "Lord of The Plastic Badge Boob
Squad," and telling the other students at the security check point to not answer
questions or produce ID because fake cops can't do anything to you except throw
you out of the game if you don't cooperate…that was me.
That guy being immediately escorted out of the stadium after saying this…that
That guy who was stumbling drunk taking pictures with random people who
recognized him from a website right outside the stadium and in front of the cops
who threw him out...that was me.
That guy who ended up watching the game from Cheapskate Hill (a huge mountain
behind the stadium where you can get views of the game that are obstructed by
trees), and stealing people's beers because he already lost his wallet…that was
That guy who was yelling at the guy who was in AA and four months sober that
"rehab was for pussy-ass quitters," and that "it's only alcoholism if you drink
alone," and to "act like a fucking man and get off that pussy-ass wagon"…that
That guy who ten minutes later was shot-gunning beers with the formerly
four-month sober ex-member of AA, in front of his terrified sponsor...that was
That guy who convinced three Japanese girls he was a rich, single doctor with an
Asian fetish so that they would give him their sandwich…that was me.
That guy who threw that same sandwich at a dog in front of those girls when he
realized it was Tabouli...that was me.
That guy who ran out of beer, and in order to get more convinced two gay guys
that he was a former Marine who left the service because he hated George Bush
and didn't want to go to war…that was me.
That guy who, after drinking four of their beers, yelled at those same gay guys "I
LIED YOU FUCKERS! WHEN I GET BACK TO IRAQ, I'M GOING TO KILL AN EXTRA BABY FOR
EACH OF YOU!!"…that was me.
That guy who tried to go directly down Cheapskate Hill instead of walking the
long way around, and ended up tumbling the last 50 feet down the hill like he
was Cary Elwes in "The Princess Bride"…that was me.
That guy who was so dirty and filthy and disheveled and bleeding at the bottom
that a random old lady in a wheelchair and her granddaughter who was pushing her
stopped to help him clean off...that was me.
That guy who fell asleep in the vestibule in the Haas B-school waiting for his
friends to come out of the game (who were busy storming the field after Cal
won)…that was me.
That guy who looked so pathetic and dirty while sleeping in that vestibule that
a homeless guy rooting through the trash for cans came over and TOLD HIM WHERE
THE LOCAL SHELTER WAS AND GAVE HIM DIRECTIONS HOW TO GET THERE...that was me.
That guy who had to borrow a phone from a traffic cop, who was busy directing
cars, to call DrunkRex because he lost his cell at some undetermined point
during the day…that was me.
That guy standing on the corner of the stadium looking for his buddy DrunkRex,
who had four guys walk up and say, "Tucker Max? Dude, what happened to
you?"...that was me.
That guy who, while walking to meet his friends, took a beer from someone's
cooler and had to run away when several people started screaming at him…that was
That guy at Raleigh's (a Berkeley bar) eating chicken nachos with his hands and
caking his mouth in guacamole to the point where the bartender asked him to
please wipe his face because other customers were getting sick...that was me.
That guy at Raleigh's kicking the port-a-potty out back and yelling at the girl
inside to hurry up because, "Bitch, there is a celebrity out here who needs to
piss!"...that was me.
That guy who had to resort to peeing in the alley because the bitch in the
port-a-potty decided she was going to stay in there all night because the "fake
fucking celebrity" was rude…that was me.
That guy who almost got his ass beat by a crazy cracked out homeless person
because he accidentally pissed on his "house"…that was me.
That guy who started the "Take off that red shirt" chant in the middle of the
patio and forced some dude to take his red fleece off and stand there in 50
degree weather for an hour, even though he had nothing on underneath...that was
actually my buddy DrunkRex. I could care less about the Stanford/Cal rivalry.
That guy who told DrunkRex about the hot Asian girl who came out to meet him,
"Find out if she is fucking. If not, get her out of here. We can't be having
this 'I just wanted to meet him' shit."...that was me.
That guy who tried to pick up a girl by walking up and saying, "I have never hit
a woman in my life, mainly because I am afraid I would like it too much and not
want to stop"…that was me.
That guy getting kicked out of the bar after that girl told a bouncer I
threatened to hit her…that was me.
That guy at In-n-Out eating three double-doubles and spilling sauce all over his
shirt while yelling that the place was a cult and that the employees could read
his mind...that was me.
And finally, the asshole who ended up typing this out as he watched SportsCenter
alone at 4:30am that night because he doesn't even have the patience to talk to a
girl for more than 5 minutes...yeah, that IS me.
Welcome to another day in the life of Tucker Max.
To get in touch with Tucker, visit TuckerMax.com!
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