My last five weekends
1) Unified Journal Tryout
2) Mock Trial in Seattle
3) Moving Kim into her apartment in NYC
4) Vegas
5) NYC for parties, nonexistant Duke game, and scotch tasting
Suffice to say, I'm a bit run down. And I'm greatly looking forward to this coming weekend where I have nothing to do but watch TV, play poker, and catch up on my reading.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
*So now I'm on a journal. I was accepted onto the Law and Business journal as well as the Sports and Entertainment one. I chose to join Law and Business? Why? There were a lot of little things involved. For instance, the acceptance letter that L&B sent me was on nice paper, while the S&E one was on normal photocopy paper with black streaks on the bottom.
I think the real lesson is that you can do your journal tryout, be absolutely rip-roaring drunk by 9 PM on the Sunday when its over, and still have it be decent enough to get on. I like lessons that have absolutely no applicability to my future life.
*I take issue with the preview of the next episode of the Sopranos. For those of you who have been watching, the doctors have been very concerned with whether or not Tony is going to have brain damage as a result of his coma. He comes out of the coma in the latest episode, but seems to be dazed and not really with it. However, in the preview of the next episode, you see Tony giving orders and getting annoyed (in his hospital room), thus dispelling any possibility that he got brain damage from the coma. Why build it up like that only to destroy that possibility in the preview? They should have just forgone the preview for this week.
*Okay one more Vegas story. Me, Al, and Goozh are at the blackjack table on the last night. The dealer is absolutely owning the table, nailing 21s off of whatever upcard he has. After one particuarly unlikely 21 (like off of a 6 upcard), we're dying and Al is like, "How about some sympathy!" So the dealer gets a 20 on the next hand, starts collecting everyone's money, and when he takes Al's bet the dealer slams the table and says, "Awwwwww!" We absolutely lose it. What a great dealer.
*I'm watching the Sixers/Pistons game right now, and for those of you who don't know, Shavlik Randolph is a sub for the Sixers who actually is in the rotation - he gets some decent minutes. After a sequence where he got a block, an offensive rebound, and then a pass to Igudola for a layup, the commentators started singing his praises. The stat team had to come up with a little blurb on Shav. Here it was:
Shavlik Randolph
McDonalds High School All-American
Averages at Duke: 16 minutes, 6 points, 3 boards (I forget the actual #s)
Undrafted free agent
Eh, good for Shav to find his way onto a team regardless and get some PT. More than can be said about, say, William Avery.
*Here is the expected letter to the editor saying that we're judging the lacrosse team too quickly. This guy might think OJ was proven innocent too.
*If you didn't hate the French people already, here is yet another reason to hate them and their way of life. How dare you try to fire me for incompetence!
I think the real lesson is that you can do your journal tryout, be absolutely rip-roaring drunk by 9 PM on the Sunday when its over, and still have it be decent enough to get on. I like lessons that have absolutely no applicability to my future life.
*I take issue with the preview of the next episode of the Sopranos. For those of you who have been watching, the doctors have been very concerned with whether or not Tony is going to have brain damage as a result of his coma. He comes out of the coma in the latest episode, but seems to be dazed and not really with it. However, in the preview of the next episode, you see Tony giving orders and getting annoyed (in his hospital room), thus dispelling any possibility that he got brain damage from the coma. Why build it up like that only to destroy that possibility in the preview? They should have just forgone the preview for this week.
*Okay one more Vegas story. Me, Al, and Goozh are at the blackjack table on the last night. The dealer is absolutely owning the table, nailing 21s off of whatever upcard he has. After one particuarly unlikely 21 (like off of a 6 upcard), we're dying and Al is like, "How about some sympathy!" So the dealer gets a 20 on the next hand, starts collecting everyone's money, and when he takes Al's bet the dealer slams the table and says, "Awwwwww!" We absolutely lose it. What a great dealer.
*I'm watching the Sixers/Pistons game right now, and for those of you who don't know, Shavlik Randolph is a sub for the Sixers who actually is in the rotation - he gets some decent minutes. After a sequence where he got a block, an offensive rebound, and then a pass to Igudola for a layup, the commentators started singing his praises. The stat team had to come up with a little blurb on Shav. Here it was:
Shavlik Randolph
McDonalds High School All-American
Averages at Duke: 16 minutes, 6 points, 3 boards (I forget the actual #s)
Undrafted free agent
Eh, good for Shav to find his way onto a team regardless and get some PT. More than can be said about, say, William Avery.
*Here is the expected letter to the editor saying that we're judging the lacrosse team too quickly. This guy might think OJ was proven innocent too.
*If you didn't hate the French people already, here is yet another reason to hate them and their way of life. How dare you try to fire me for incompetence!
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
My "distaste" for male lacrosse players really became fleshed out senior year at Duke. Me, Roth, James, and Mark lived in a small apartment complex called Campus Oaks, and annoyingly enough a lot of the male lacrosse players lived there too.
And they all did amazingly annoying and stupid things.
Okay, not all. Its not as if I witnessed every single one of them do something stupid or annoying. But when some of them would act, the others would not prevent them from doing so. When a few of them took turns bodyslamming each other into a car (for about a half hour) in order to set off the car alarm (which to them sounded like "Bombs over Baghdad") none of their teammates stopped them. When they resumed doing it after a cop came and told them to stop, it was only when a teammate (oddly enough the owner of the car) told them to quit it.
When one of them would get it in his head to kick out all of the posts from the guardrail, nobody said, "Hey moron! There are two two-inch nails sticking out of the post, and when you kick it off the second floor guardrail it could kill someone if it lands on them!"
They were a very homogeneous group - they all looked exactly the same. You could identify one from a mile away. They all were the same build - sort of square, but tall also. Same stupid haircut. Same types of cars. Same color.
And now... three of them are accused with raping a stripper.
For those of you who aren't going to click on the link, I'll give a one paragraph summary. The lacrosse guys threw a party, and invited two black strippers over. The strippers became worried when the guys got too excited and agitated, and the girls started to leave. Racial slurs were yelled at them, and then one particularly convincing lacrosse player somehow persuaded the girls to come back. After they came back, the girls were separated, and allegedly three of the lacrosse players took one into a bathroom, where they gang-raped her. The Durham police department has ordered DNA tests for 46 of the 47 lacrosse players, as the perpetrators were identified as white, and there is only one black lacrosse player on the team. DNA tests are due back this afternoon.
I'll assume that the rapists were not smart enough to use condoms. Natural selection I'm hoping will be proven yet again, as it will be decidedly tough to procreate in jail.
But wait... am I "pre-judging" these guys? After all, don't we live in a society where you are innocent until proven guilty? Do I want to sound like this editorialist for the News Observer? Or these protestors?
Yes, I do. I'll withhold my final judgment until the evidence comes in, but lets just say that if I were a betting man, I'd take the DNA tests coming in as saying that they had sex with her. And you know what the defense will be?
It was consensual.
And then it will be the word of white, upstanding, rich, well-lawyered Duke students against a black, young, stripper, mother of two. And I don't quite know how that will turn out, but I have an inkling.
But you know what they say:
Where there's smoke, there's fire.
And they all did amazingly annoying and stupid things.
Okay, not all. Its not as if I witnessed every single one of them do something stupid or annoying. But when some of them would act, the others would not prevent them from doing so. When a few of them took turns bodyslamming each other into a car (for about a half hour) in order to set off the car alarm (which to them sounded like "Bombs over Baghdad") none of their teammates stopped them. When they resumed doing it after a cop came and told them to stop, it was only when a teammate (oddly enough the owner of the car) told them to quit it.
When one of them would get it in his head to kick out all of the posts from the guardrail, nobody said, "Hey moron! There are two two-inch nails sticking out of the post, and when you kick it off the second floor guardrail it could kill someone if it lands on them!"
They were a very homogeneous group - they all looked exactly the same. You could identify one from a mile away. They all were the same build - sort of square, but tall also. Same stupid haircut. Same types of cars. Same color.
And now... three of them are accused with raping a stripper.
For those of you who aren't going to click on the link, I'll give a one paragraph summary. The lacrosse guys threw a party, and invited two black strippers over. The strippers became worried when the guys got too excited and agitated, and the girls started to leave. Racial slurs were yelled at them, and then one particularly convincing lacrosse player somehow persuaded the girls to come back. After they came back, the girls were separated, and allegedly three of the lacrosse players took one into a bathroom, where they gang-raped her. The Durham police department has ordered DNA tests for 46 of the 47 lacrosse players, as the perpetrators were identified as white, and there is only one black lacrosse player on the team. DNA tests are due back this afternoon.
I'll assume that the rapists were not smart enough to use condoms. Natural selection I'm hoping will be proven yet again, as it will be decidedly tough to procreate in jail.
But wait... am I "pre-judging" these guys? After all, don't we live in a society where you are innocent until proven guilty? Do I want to sound like this editorialist for the News Observer? Or these protestors?
Yes, I do. I'll withhold my final judgment until the evidence comes in, but lets just say that if I were a betting man, I'd take the DNA tests coming in as saying that they had sex with her. And you know what the defense will be?
It was consensual.
And then it will be the word of white, upstanding, rich, well-lawyered Duke students against a black, young, stripper, mother of two. And I don't quite know how that will turn out, but I have an inkling.
But you know what they say:
Where there's smoke, there's fire.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Handle Race
There is 1.75 L (1750 ml) in a handle of vodka
According to google, 1 shot = 44.3602945 ml
That means there are 39.45 shots in a handle of vodka.
The idiotic idea behind the "handle race" (courtesy of Fishman and Al) was to create two teams of ten out of the Vegas participants, and see which team could finish their handle of vodka first. The problems with this idea are obvious:
1) This would be approximately four shots per person
2) We have no earthly idea what a "good time" is
3) We're staying at a casino, meaning we will probably lose a lot of money after the race
4) What is the "reward" for the winning team?
In any event, I flew in on Friday, and we had the handle race on Friday night. The drink of choice was Gordon's vodka, a poor choice even for jello shots. Al and Cooper drafted teams of 9 - we only had 18 people, meaning that each person would have to drink a bit more than 4 shots. Of course, some people would drink more, some people would drink less. We weren't pouring the vodka into anything but our mouths; no shot glasses involved. Just chug and pass the bottle.
Cooper's team consisted mainly of his med school buddies. Al's team consisted of most Vegas regulars (like me, Ben, Lacker, T-Bag, and a few of Cooper's med schoolers who looked strong).
We start off on fire. Lacker, Al, T-Bag, and Brouchna (sp?) all take ginormous swigs for at least 4-5 seconds each. I even manage to get a 3-4 second swig in. We're clearly dominating the other team. But do we take a break? Again, we have no baseline as to what a good time is.
We keep at it, but slow down a little bit. The other team has drank like half of what we have. But then suddenly, they rally!
Of course, their rally consisted of a pure Cooper move - they started pouring the vodka out into the sink. But we didn't know this at the time. We only knew that their bottle was magically a lot lower than it should have been.
Fishman boots at some point while all this is going on.
We near the finish, and victory seems assured. Al takes a gigantic swig in an attempt to finish it. He is unable to, passes it to me, and then boots out the balcony. I take a few swigs, pass to Lacker, who knocks it out. We've won! 9 person team time?
Four minutes thirty-six seconds. Unbelievable. Cooper's team? I don't think they even finished.
The aftermath of the handle race was where the hilarity was. I went and played craps with Ben, but while this went on, Brouchna was being carried through the casino floor. It was quite a sight to see. He had a med school buddy on each side carrying him by his arms, while his feet made feeble attempts to walk. T-Bag supposedly booted on the casino floor (details on this part are sketchy), and then after being placed in bed, threw up all over himself in his sleep.
Let us never speak of this again.
There is 1.75 L (1750 ml) in a handle of vodka
According to google, 1 shot = 44.3602945 ml
That means there are 39.45 shots in a handle of vodka.
The idiotic idea behind the "handle race" (courtesy of Fishman and Al) was to create two teams of ten out of the Vegas participants, and see which team could finish their handle of vodka first. The problems with this idea are obvious:
1) This would be approximately four shots per person
2) We have no earthly idea what a "good time" is
3) We're staying at a casino, meaning we will probably lose a lot of money after the race
4) What is the "reward" for the winning team?
In any event, I flew in on Friday, and we had the handle race on Friday night. The drink of choice was Gordon's vodka, a poor choice even for jello shots. Al and Cooper drafted teams of 9 - we only had 18 people, meaning that each person would have to drink a bit more than 4 shots. Of course, some people would drink more, some people would drink less. We weren't pouring the vodka into anything but our mouths; no shot glasses involved. Just chug and pass the bottle.
Cooper's team consisted mainly of his med school buddies. Al's team consisted of most Vegas regulars (like me, Ben, Lacker, T-Bag, and a few of Cooper's med schoolers who looked strong).
We start off on fire. Lacker, Al, T-Bag, and Brouchna (sp?) all take ginormous swigs for at least 4-5 seconds each. I even manage to get a 3-4 second swig in. We're clearly dominating the other team. But do we take a break? Again, we have no baseline as to what a good time is.
We keep at it, but slow down a little bit. The other team has drank like half of what we have. But then suddenly, they rally!
Of course, their rally consisted of a pure Cooper move - they started pouring the vodka out into the sink. But we didn't know this at the time. We only knew that their bottle was magically a lot lower than it should have been.
Fishman boots at some point while all this is going on.
We near the finish, and victory seems assured. Al takes a gigantic swig in an attempt to finish it. He is unable to, passes it to me, and then boots out the balcony. I take a few swigs, pass to Lacker, who knocks it out. We've won! 9 person team time?
Four minutes thirty-six seconds. Unbelievable. Cooper's team? I don't think they even finished.
The aftermath of the handle race was where the hilarity was. I went and played craps with Ben, but while this went on, Brouchna was being carried through the casino floor. It was quite a sight to see. He had a med school buddy on each side carrying him by his arms, while his feet made feeble attempts to walk. T-Bag supposedly booted on the casino floor (details on this part are sketchy), and then after being placed in bed, threw up all over himself in his sleep.
Let us never speak of this again.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
"We have a fairly high-end, fairly expensive, double backup electrical system that rarely fails, and when it does it's always these goofy lizard things," Trask said.
I miss Duke.
I miss Duke.
Fudge Lacker
The nickname for Lacker started approximately one Vegas trip before "Chang" became my nickname. If I recall correctly, it came from Gibbs, whose mantra during that trip was, "Shut up Fudge." It, much like Chang, stuck, and Fudge is simply Vegas vernacular, with a bit more staying power than, "Back Duke or back off" or the million Old School quotes.
In any event, Fudge has made strong moves as the Vegas tradition has gone on. For instance, last year he famously "slow-played" three queens in a game of beeramid, getting Ben so good with them that Ben's only defense is that, "He didn't mean to do it!" In that very same year, Lacker, after being assigned two beers on the final card, shotgunned the two of them and then, did a third because, "he was still thirsty."
This year, there were two Lacker incidents in particular.
After Smith and Wollensky, we were supposed to head to the shady casino that has "Switch Blackjack," so Ben could get his revenge on the game that cost him $500 in approximately one hour last year. However, fatefully, Gibbs was intent on going to the Hooters casino, which was in the complete opposite direction. So we walked to the Hooters casino instead.
It was a complete disappointment.
Here is the basic problem - it takes a basic amount of skill / intelligence to be a dealer in the casino. You need to be able to do math. The average large breasted (or hot but water bra aided) Hooters waitress cannot do this math. So the solution, for Hooters casino, was to place average looking female dealers in Hooters shirts. What a disservice to the shirt! Needless to say, we left that place fairly quickly. The closest casino was the Tropicana, so we headed there.
On one end of the craps table at the Trop was me, Cooper, and his buddy (the roller for the Steakhouse Bet). On the other end was Al, Lacker, and Ben. If you were ever to pick craps "teams", you would go with Al and crew with little hesitation. As the dice got to Al, we decided to "don't pass" him. It worked, and was a sign of things to come.
Lacker shot from the don'ts. We all decided to pass him. I started yelling down at him, claiming there was no way he could make himself seven out. His point number was a 4. Not good for us. But sure enough, he hit the 4, much to our enjoyment and his dismay.
Al, Ben, and Lacker switched to "pass." We stayed on the pass line. And what ensued was the greatest run of rolling I have ever been a part of in my life.
I don't recall exactly how many times Lacker passed or for how many minutes he rolled for. But my estimate is that he won for us 14 times. That might be a little high; I really wish I kept track. However, considering that it is about a 50/50 chance of winning a pass bet, anything close to that number is absolutely insane. We simply crushed the house, and crushed it loudly. It was one of those moments where the entire table is cheering and pumped up, and every other table in the casino is wishing they were us.
I even started betting the hard eight and hard six, two absolutely terrible bets with a house edge of 9 percent. Lacker hit it for me FOUR times. Lacker eventually sevened out, right after Gibbs told me and Cooper, "I don't have a good feeling about this roll." The guy has been rolling for liike a half hour and you don't have a good feeling? Thanks for the mush Gibbs.
We each left the table with approximately 6x our original stacks.
Later that night, there is a knock on our hotel room door, and it is Lacker. He asks for a spot on the floor and I say fine, cause I had no idea where Gibbs was. At around 8 AM, with the room semi-awake, Lacker gives the room a warning.
"Don't use the shower."
"Why?"
"I was on the crapper and had to throw up. Its kind of clogged in there."
Fishman, who had just walked in, "God damnit! The only reason I came in here was to take a shower!"
Gold.
The nickname for Lacker started approximately one Vegas trip before "Chang" became my nickname. If I recall correctly, it came from Gibbs, whose mantra during that trip was, "Shut up Fudge." It, much like Chang, stuck, and Fudge is simply Vegas vernacular, with a bit more staying power than, "Back Duke or back off" or the million Old School quotes.
In any event, Fudge has made strong moves as the Vegas tradition has gone on. For instance, last year he famously "slow-played" three queens in a game of beeramid, getting Ben so good with them that Ben's only defense is that, "He didn't mean to do it!" In that very same year, Lacker, after being assigned two beers on the final card, shotgunned the two of them and then, did a third because, "he was still thirsty."
This year, there were two Lacker incidents in particular.
After Smith and Wollensky, we were supposed to head to the shady casino that has "Switch Blackjack," so Ben could get his revenge on the game that cost him $500 in approximately one hour last year. However, fatefully, Gibbs was intent on going to the Hooters casino, which was in the complete opposite direction. So we walked to the Hooters casino instead.
It was a complete disappointment.
Here is the basic problem - it takes a basic amount of skill / intelligence to be a dealer in the casino. You need to be able to do math. The average large breasted (or hot but water bra aided) Hooters waitress cannot do this math. So the solution, for Hooters casino, was to place average looking female dealers in Hooters shirts. What a disservice to the shirt! Needless to say, we left that place fairly quickly. The closest casino was the Tropicana, so we headed there.
On one end of the craps table at the Trop was me, Cooper, and his buddy (the roller for the Steakhouse Bet). On the other end was Al, Lacker, and Ben. If you were ever to pick craps "teams", you would go with Al and crew with little hesitation. As the dice got to Al, we decided to "don't pass" him. It worked, and was a sign of things to come.
Lacker shot from the don'ts. We all decided to pass him. I started yelling down at him, claiming there was no way he could make himself seven out. His point number was a 4. Not good for us. But sure enough, he hit the 4, much to our enjoyment and his dismay.
Al, Ben, and Lacker switched to "pass." We stayed on the pass line. And what ensued was the greatest run of rolling I have ever been a part of in my life.
I don't recall exactly how many times Lacker passed or for how many minutes he rolled for. But my estimate is that he won for us 14 times. That might be a little high; I really wish I kept track. However, considering that it is about a 50/50 chance of winning a pass bet, anything close to that number is absolutely insane. We simply crushed the house, and crushed it loudly. It was one of those moments where the entire table is cheering and pumped up, and every other table in the casino is wishing they were us.
I even started betting the hard eight and hard six, two absolutely terrible bets with a house edge of 9 percent. Lacker hit it for me FOUR times. Lacker eventually sevened out, right after Gibbs told me and Cooper, "I don't have a good feeling about this roll." The guy has been rolling for liike a half hour and you don't have a good feeling? Thanks for the mush Gibbs.
We each left the table with approximately 6x our original stacks.
Later that night, there is a knock on our hotel room door, and it is Lacker. He asks for a spot on the floor and I say fine, cause I had no idea where Gibbs was. At around 8 AM, with the room semi-awake, Lacker gives the room a warning.
"Don't use the shower."
"Why?"
"I was on the crapper and had to throw up. Its kind of clogged in there."
Fishman, who had just walked in, "God damnit! The only reason I came in here was to take a shower!"
Gold.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Wheat Thins
So the Hard Rock hotel rooms were pretty nice. Each room had a nice wide flatscreen plasma TV in the wall, and the floors were actually pretty soft (from what I hear). Each room also had a pretty stocked minibar that was full of items like six dollar bottles of water and three dollar candy bars. Apparently the minibar was on motion sensors - whenever something was moved it immediately would be charged to the room. And Fishman had the rooms on his credit card. So he was extra antsy about charges that he would eventually be forced to pay.
The incident of the first night was not unexpected: Gibbs got very drunk and took one of the six-dollar bottles of water out of the minibar.
The manner in which Fishman found out that items were removed was the most humorous part of the whole situation. Every day, a guy from the hotel would knock on our door and ask if we needed anything refilled in the minibar. Which would then lead Fishman to try to figure out just what was missing, and finally a speech from Fishman pleading for us to simply stay away from the minibar.
Fishman claimed that he already had four minibar charges on his credit card. Tension about the minibar and really the whole room situation was coming to a head. We had already "lost" a couple remote controls, nearly destroyed the plasma TV in a vain attempt to turn it off without the remote, vomited on the bathroom floor, and vomited in the bathtub, rendering it completely clogged and useless.
So on the last day, the minibar refiller guy knocks on the door yet again. This time, he just needs to replace some items that have expired. So he's going about his business, and he turns to leave, and says, "Oh I'll get you guys some more wheat thins too."
And we all explode in laughter. Fishman emerges from the bathroom livid. Who ate those damn wheat thins? Who would even eat wheat thins? We eventually ascertain that it was T-Bag, who was fed "graham crackers" by his friend as he laid on the bathroom floor on the night of the handle race. Cooper checks his phone, and in his picture of T-Bag lying on the floor are some mysterious brown cracker things on the floor. No box though. But there was our proof. After all, where would someone even get graham crackers?
And mysteriously, 3 hours later, the picture in the phone was deleted.
This is one of those incidents where you really had to be there.
So the Hard Rock hotel rooms were pretty nice. Each room had a nice wide flatscreen plasma TV in the wall, and the floors were actually pretty soft (from what I hear). Each room also had a pretty stocked minibar that was full of items like six dollar bottles of water and three dollar candy bars. Apparently the minibar was on motion sensors - whenever something was moved it immediately would be charged to the room. And Fishman had the rooms on his credit card. So he was extra antsy about charges that he would eventually be forced to pay.
The incident of the first night was not unexpected: Gibbs got very drunk and took one of the six-dollar bottles of water out of the minibar.
The manner in which Fishman found out that items were removed was the most humorous part of the whole situation. Every day, a guy from the hotel would knock on our door and ask if we needed anything refilled in the minibar. Which would then lead Fishman to try to figure out just what was missing, and finally a speech from Fishman pleading for us to simply stay away from the minibar.
Fishman claimed that he already had four minibar charges on his credit card. Tension about the minibar and really the whole room situation was coming to a head. We had already "lost" a couple remote controls, nearly destroyed the plasma TV in a vain attempt to turn it off without the remote, vomited on the bathroom floor, and vomited in the bathtub, rendering it completely clogged and useless.
So on the last day, the minibar refiller guy knocks on the door yet again. This time, he just needs to replace some items that have expired. So he's going about his business, and he turns to leave, and says, "Oh I'll get you guys some more wheat thins too."
And we all explode in laughter. Fishman emerges from the bathroom livid. Who ate those damn wheat thins? Who would even eat wheat thins? We eventually ascertain that it was T-Bag, who was fed "graham crackers" by his friend as he laid on the bathroom floor on the night of the handle race. Cooper checks his phone, and in his picture of T-Bag lying on the floor are some mysterious brown cracker things on the floor. No box though. But there was our proof. After all, where would someone even get graham crackers?
And mysteriously, 3 hours later, the picture in the phone was deleted.
This is one of those incidents where you really had to be there.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Steakhouse Bet
The steakhouse bet has become a much anticipated part of our Vegas trips. Its not a tradition steeped in history, as last year was the first time we did it, but it is something that we think about pretty much constantly in the time leading up to it.
Last year we "won," although that was basically because of Al. If you're lazy and have not clicked the link above, you will want to get that out of the way now, or else you might be lost as to what I'm talking about.
This year Cooper invited a lot of riff-raff from Columbia Med school. So we had a grand total of 17 people this year involved in the steakhouse bet, as opposed to the 10 we had last year. That means an $850 pass line bet. It also meant that high carding it for who was going to roll might get a little bit difficult. How were we going to figure out who was going to roll? We had a few options:
1) High card, suits don't matter, redraws for top card ties
2) Rock/Paper/Scissors tournament
3) Roulette wheel spin, with each person getting 2 numbers on the wheel
We ended up selecting option 3 and headed off to the MGM, as that was the closest casino to Smith and Wollensky's. After much waiting around for Fishman and Miller to inexplicably walk the mile (they refused to take a cab) from the Hard Rock to the MGM, we collected the money and went to the roulette table to figure out who was going to roll. One of Cooper's flunkies got the honor. Cooper, who was of course already wasted, declared that this guy was the guy who he wanted all along to get the roll.
You see, craps is a game where logic leaves the most rational people. I know that statistically, it does not matter who rolls. I know that if some moron puts his arm onto the table during a roll and hits a die while its in the air, it has no effect on what the roll is going to be. I know that statistically there is no such thing as a "better" shooter.
But I know that I bitch at people when they put their arms over the table when I'm rolling. I also know that I did not want certain people rolling. This guy was a mystery.
So we roll up to the high roller table ($100 minimums) and its completely empty, as its only 7:30 PM. 14 of us (3 people not there) encircle the table, and Cooper's guy lays down the $850 for chips. The dealers look a little confused. He puts it all on the pass line, and we all just stand around the table.
Gibbs and I start chanting, "Steak! Steak!" Noone else joins in.
The guy takes the dice. He rolls. I'm standing right on the end. The first die is a 4. So we will not have a 2/3/12, meaning no instant crap out. We just need the 3 to get the front line winner.
The second die is a 3.
An eruption of noise comes from our table. My first instinct is to raise my arms in ecstacy. Unfortunately for Cooper, he was standing right behind me, and I hit him in the mouth. Ignoring that, I run around with everyone else and we're all so insanely happy. The dealers and pit bosses are clearly not. We take the chips to the cashier and get the hell out of dodge.
Steak! Steak!
We get to Smith and Wollensky and begin the arduous process of deciding what we're going to eat. I end up starting with a bowl of wisconsin cheese and ale soup, followed by a gorgonzola crusted rib eye. Sides we ordered were the hash browns and the legendary truffled macaroni and cheese.
So let me review my meal. I start with a heavy bowl of cheese soup. I then go to a gorgonzola crusted rib eye in about a half inch of cheese sauce. I eat that with the ultra rich macaroni and cheese.
I was not in good shape. But I eventually recovered at the Tropicana (more to come on that in a later post).
As a table, we ordered ten bottles of wine. Our total bill (without tip) ended up to be $1,640. So we all had to throw in an extra ten dollars. Not the end of the world. Although part of the reason for this was because of some Columbia jackass who ordered a $91 3.5 pound stuffed lobster. Who does that?
All in all, the steakhouse bet was another rousing success. We've avoided Wendy's yet again.
The steakhouse bet has become a much anticipated part of our Vegas trips. Its not a tradition steeped in history, as last year was the first time we did it, but it is something that we think about pretty much constantly in the time leading up to it.
Last year we "won," although that was basically because of Al. If you're lazy and have not clicked the link above, you will want to get that out of the way now, or else you might be lost as to what I'm talking about.
This year Cooper invited a lot of riff-raff from Columbia Med school. So we had a grand total of 17 people this year involved in the steakhouse bet, as opposed to the 10 we had last year. That means an $850 pass line bet. It also meant that high carding it for who was going to roll might get a little bit difficult. How were we going to figure out who was going to roll? We had a few options:
1) High card, suits don't matter, redraws for top card ties
2) Rock/Paper/Scissors tournament
3) Roulette wheel spin, with each person getting 2 numbers on the wheel
We ended up selecting option 3 and headed off to the MGM, as that was the closest casino to Smith and Wollensky's. After much waiting around for Fishman and Miller to inexplicably walk the mile (they refused to take a cab) from the Hard Rock to the MGM, we collected the money and went to the roulette table to figure out who was going to roll. One of Cooper's flunkies got the honor. Cooper, who was of course already wasted, declared that this guy was the guy who he wanted all along to get the roll.
You see, craps is a game where logic leaves the most rational people. I know that statistically, it does not matter who rolls. I know that if some moron puts his arm onto the table during a roll and hits a die while its in the air, it has no effect on what the roll is going to be. I know that statistically there is no such thing as a "better" shooter.
But I know that I bitch at people when they put their arms over the table when I'm rolling. I also know that I did not want certain people rolling. This guy was a mystery.
So we roll up to the high roller table ($100 minimums) and its completely empty, as its only 7:30 PM. 14 of us (3 people not there) encircle the table, and Cooper's guy lays down the $850 for chips. The dealers look a little confused. He puts it all on the pass line, and we all just stand around the table.
Gibbs and I start chanting, "Steak! Steak!" Noone else joins in.
The guy takes the dice. He rolls. I'm standing right on the end. The first die is a 4. So we will not have a 2/3/12, meaning no instant crap out. We just need the 3 to get the front line winner.
The second die is a 3.
An eruption of noise comes from our table. My first instinct is to raise my arms in ecstacy. Unfortunately for Cooper, he was standing right behind me, and I hit him in the mouth. Ignoring that, I run around with everyone else and we're all so insanely happy. The dealers and pit bosses are clearly not. We take the chips to the cashier and get the hell out of dodge.
Steak! Steak!
We get to Smith and Wollensky and begin the arduous process of deciding what we're going to eat. I end up starting with a bowl of wisconsin cheese and ale soup, followed by a gorgonzola crusted rib eye. Sides we ordered were the hash browns and the legendary truffled macaroni and cheese.
So let me review my meal. I start with a heavy bowl of cheese soup. I then go to a gorgonzola crusted rib eye in about a half inch of cheese sauce. I eat that with the ultra rich macaroni and cheese.
I was not in good shape. But I eventually recovered at the Tropicana (more to come on that in a later post).
As a table, we ordered ten bottles of wine. Our total bill (without tip) ended up to be $1,640. So we all had to throw in an extra ten dollars. Not the end of the world. Although part of the reason for this was because of some Columbia jackass who ordered a $91 3.5 pound stuffed lobster. Who does that?
All in all, the steakhouse bet was another rousing success. We've avoided Wendy's yet again.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Vegas Part IV has come and gone, and there are many stories to be told. We stayed at the Hard Rock Casino, the first time we were actually off the strip. It was as expected - difficult to get necessities like Wendys, but also not too much riff-raff. While the motto of Vegas may be, "What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas," that makes for a boring blog. So this week will be, "Vegas Week" in the Rhino Alert, where various stories will be told. Unfortunately for you (the reader), most of these stories will be not nearly as funny to you as they are to me (and the people who were actually there). Nonetheless, prepare yourself for a good time.
The Tenative Schedule:
Tuesday: Steakhouse Bet
Wednesday: Wheat Thins
Thursday: Fudge Lacker
Friday: Handle Race
Other random stories will, of course, be thrown in as I remember them.
The Tenative Schedule:
Tuesday: Steakhouse Bet
Wednesday: Wheat Thins
Thursday: Fudge Lacker
Friday: Handle Race
Other random stories will, of course, be thrown in as I remember them.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Evan's Losing Bets for Saturday's Games
George Washington (+8.5 spread) over Duke
Montana (+460 money line) over Boston College
Indiana (+3 spread) over Gonzaga
Let us prosper together.
And of course tonight, Go Murray State (+740)!!! Thirty-five dollars (what Al owes me) times 7.4 = One Happy Evan
George Washington (+8.5 spread) over Duke
Montana (+460 money line) over Boston College
Indiana (+3 spread) over Gonzaga
Let us prosper together.
And of course tonight, Go Murray State (+740)!!! Thirty-five dollars (what Al owes me) times 7.4 = One Happy Evan
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Last year, I was talking about Vermont for the two months leading up to the NCAA Tournament. I said that I was going to "money line" them in their first round game against whoever they were going to play, mainly because I was impressed with Taylor Coppenrath. They were seeded 13th and faced Syracuse. The money line for the game was +400, meaning that 10 dollars on Vermont would win 40 (plus the 10 you bet) if Vermont pulled the upset. They won in overtime.
This year, I was intent on money lining whoever was playing Gonzaga in the first round. My reasoning was simple - Gonzaga is overrated. They have beaten exactly one ranked team this year (Michigan State). While they have some close losses to Memphis and UConn, they also have a lot of close wins over very crappy teams in their super weak conference. I also got to watch their games when I was out in Seattle. Let me tell you, if you think Duke gets a lot of calls, you should see the calls that Gonzaga gets. In the semifinals of the WCC tournament, the first 11 points of the second half that Gonzaga scored came from the foul line. They were in the bonus after like 3 minutes. The fouls were mostly touch fouls, and the opposing team got a T for thinking about complaining. That game still went into OT. Gonzaga ended up as a 3 seed, playing Xavier in the first round. I was ready to break out the wallet, until I saw the line.
Xavier +214
For comparison, lets look at the other 14 seeds' lines.
South Alabama +360 (v. Florida)
Murray State +720 (v. North Carolina)
Northwestern State +260 (v. Iowa)
Not ideal. Apparently Vegas thinks the same exact thing that I do - that Gonzaga is uber-overrated. So whats my new best bet? Murray State. UNC is full of freshmen who might be intimidated by the bright lights and drama of the tournament. Also, Roy Williams sucks.
So there we go, UNC loses in the first round and I make a boatload off of it.
Also, I have Duke v. BC in the finals. So count on BC to lose today to Pacific.
This year, I was intent on money lining whoever was playing Gonzaga in the first round. My reasoning was simple - Gonzaga is overrated. They have beaten exactly one ranked team this year (Michigan State). While they have some close losses to Memphis and UConn, they also have a lot of close wins over very crappy teams in their super weak conference. I also got to watch their games when I was out in Seattle. Let me tell you, if you think Duke gets a lot of calls, you should see the calls that Gonzaga gets. In the semifinals of the WCC tournament, the first 11 points of the second half that Gonzaga scored came from the foul line. They were in the bonus after like 3 minutes. The fouls were mostly touch fouls, and the opposing team got a T for thinking about complaining. That game still went into OT. Gonzaga ended up as a 3 seed, playing Xavier in the first round. I was ready to break out the wallet, until I saw the line.
Xavier +214
For comparison, lets look at the other 14 seeds' lines.
South Alabama +360 (v. Florida)
Murray State +720 (v. North Carolina)
Northwestern State +260 (v. Iowa)
Not ideal. Apparently Vegas thinks the same exact thing that I do - that Gonzaga is uber-overrated. So whats my new best bet? Murray State. UNC is full of freshmen who might be intimidated by the bright lights and drama of the tournament. Also, Roy Williams sucks.
So there we go, UNC loses in the first round and I make a boatload off of it.
Also, I have Duke v. BC in the finals. So count on BC to lose today to Pacific.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
SANTA MONICA, California (AP) -- A former TV game show host and his wife were killed Monday morning when their small plane crashed into Santa Monica Bay, authorities said.
Thanks for the heads up CDW.
Monday, March 13, 2006
I would write up a post about how exahusted I am from helping Kim move all of her stuff into her new apartment in NYC, but that would be boring... its enough to say that every part of my body still hurts from Friday and Saturday.
What is really interesting is what happened Saturday night. Me and Kim went to a party at Kate's, and you could tell that Cooper was drunk from the minute you saw him - his hair was all disheveled and he was wearing a jacket in what must have been a 90 degree room. Anyway, about an hour into my visit I kind of want to go because I've been lifting and carrying things since 9 AM, and of course Ben, Al, Gibbs, and Cooper are pissy about this. Cooper, carrying a small cup of scotch, stumbles over and manages to accidentally spill half of it onto my shirt. So now I'm absolutely reeking of scotch.
In any event, we decide to stay for another hour, and eventually my shirt dries. I give it a smell, and for some reason it doesn't smell like scotch at all! It smells like detergent! I give it some more smells to confirm and then have other people smell it, and it smells normal! Amazing! No residual smell! The high concentration of alcohol in the scotch must have aided in its evaporation, but I do not know the exact scientific explanation. Regardless, I was able to wear the shirt home the next day.
What is really interesting is what happened Saturday night. Me and Kim went to a party at Kate's, and you could tell that Cooper was drunk from the minute you saw him - his hair was all disheveled and he was wearing a jacket in what must have been a 90 degree room. Anyway, about an hour into my visit I kind of want to go because I've been lifting and carrying things since 9 AM, and of course Ben, Al, Gibbs, and Cooper are pissy about this. Cooper, carrying a small cup of scotch, stumbles over and manages to accidentally spill half of it onto my shirt. So now I'm absolutely reeking of scotch.
In any event, we decide to stay for another hour, and eventually my shirt dries. I give it a smell, and for some reason it doesn't smell like scotch at all! It smells like detergent! I give it some more smells to confirm and then have other people smell it, and it smells normal! Amazing! No residual smell! The high concentration of alcohol in the scotch must have aided in its evaporation, but I do not know the exact scientific explanation. Regardless, I was able to wear the shirt home the next day.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Random Thoughts on Seattle
*The city itself is very picturesque. It is located right on Elliott Bay, so if you walk along 1st Ave you are basically walking along the bay. The city isn't very wide, and it is very uphill (think San Francisco style) from 1st to say, 4th Ave, so you almost always have a very nice view of the water. There are also a lot of mountains in the distance that you can see when the view is clear.
*It did not rain during the three days I was there, so I'll have to say I did not get the full Seattle experience. It sort of drizzled a little bit on the last day, but considering how much it supposedly rains there, my thoughts on the city may be a bit different if it was raining the whole time.
*While the city itself is very picturesque, in another sense the city is ugly. In that the people are for some strange reason not attractive. After the first two days I thought to myself, "I have not seen one attractive female in my entire time here in Seattle." It was scary. So on Sunday, when I had nothing to do but wander around and sight-see, I deliberately tried to identify attractive females. I walked literally the entire length of Seattle, and went to all the reall crowded places. And not one attractive female. It was inexplicable.
*There are a lot of homeless people in Seattle. Or because there are not a ton of people walking around, the homeless people stand out more. In any event, you get asked for change like on every street in Pioneer Square, which is where we were staying. The problem wasn't as bad as you moved uptown.
*A lot of the city closes on Sunday. Restaurants' and shops' normal business hours just did not include any hours on Sunday.
*The layout of the city was a bit odd. Things appear to be just kind of plopped down in random places. Right across the street from Key Arena are 3 story apartments. There is for some reason a crappy amusement park uptown in Seattle Center. There was a monorail that ran from Seattle Center to Pike Place Market, which was a span of 10 blocks. Also, the monorail was not working.
*Apartment prices are cheap there. $800 for a studio, $900 for a one bedroom. And housing seemed plentiful.
Despite the numerous negative comments I have here about the city, its an alright place. But I just can't see myself living there. I suppose it is a bit of East Coast Bias.
*The city itself is very picturesque. It is located right on Elliott Bay, so if you walk along 1st Ave you are basically walking along the bay. The city isn't very wide, and it is very uphill (think San Francisco style) from 1st to say, 4th Ave, so you almost always have a very nice view of the water. There are also a lot of mountains in the distance that you can see when the view is clear.
*It did not rain during the three days I was there, so I'll have to say I did not get the full Seattle experience. It sort of drizzled a little bit on the last day, but considering how much it supposedly rains there, my thoughts on the city may be a bit different if it was raining the whole time.
*While the city itself is very picturesque, in another sense the city is ugly. In that the people are for some strange reason not attractive. After the first two days I thought to myself, "I have not seen one attractive female in my entire time here in Seattle." It was scary. So on Sunday, when I had nothing to do but wander around and sight-see, I deliberately tried to identify attractive females. I walked literally the entire length of Seattle, and went to all the reall crowded places. And not one attractive female. It was inexplicable.
*There are a lot of homeless people in Seattle. Or because there are not a ton of people walking around, the homeless people stand out more. In any event, you get asked for change like on every street in Pioneer Square, which is where we were staying. The problem wasn't as bad as you moved uptown.
*A lot of the city closes on Sunday. Restaurants' and shops' normal business hours just did not include any hours on Sunday.
*The layout of the city was a bit odd. Things appear to be just kind of plopped down in random places. Right across the street from Key Arena are 3 story apartments. There is for some reason a crappy amusement park uptown in Seattle Center. There was a monorail that ran from Seattle Center to Pike Place Market, which was a span of 10 blocks. Also, the monorail was not working.
*Apartment prices are cheap there. $800 for a studio, $900 for a one bedroom. And housing seemed plentiful.
Despite the numerous negative comments I have here about the city, its an alright place. But I just can't see myself living there. I suppose it is a bit of East Coast Bias.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Friday
1:00 AM - I leave Charlottesville to drive to Baltimore/Washington Airport.
3:15 AM - I arrive at BWI and park in long term parking. I find the bus shuttle stop, and see that a bus arrives every 30 minutes until 4 AM, when the buses run every ten minutes. So I figure, worst case scenario, I'll be in the parking lot for an additional half hour.
3:45 AM - The worst case scenario has occurred. I must have arrived just when the bus left the stop. In any event, standing alone in long term parking at 3:45 AM is a very weird experience. The only sounds were of planes being moved in and out of hangars.
4:15 AM - I make it to the terminal, and actually find a row of chairs without arms, so I lie down on them to try to sleep before the 6 AM flight to Seattle.
5:30 AM - I meet up with the other members of the mock trial team and get on the flight.
10:15 AM - We arrive in Houston, which is where we must transfer from to get to Seattle. Our plane arrives late, and our gate is in a different terminal. We then find out that the train between terminals is broken, so we have to walk to the other terminal. Great.
10:45 AM - We make it to the other terminal as our plane begins to board. I get a breakfast combo from Wendy's on the way and scarf it down.
3:00 PM - We touch down in Seattle. Our competition starts at 8 PM EST (5 PM West Coast Time, which I'm now going to refer to as the timestamp.)
5:00 PM - Our competition begins. We're plaintiffs, which means that I'm one of the counsels. This is a decidedly more stressful position than as a witness. I'm ready for a beatdown, as I've never taken evidence or anything like that.
5:15 PM - No objections are made during my terrible opening statement. I'm relying on notes, the other guy is not as he clearly has it memorized. But when you've been preparing for months like these teams have then you have a bit of a jump on us.
6:15 PM - I receive my first objection based on a rule of federal evidence, and I have no idea what the rule says or its exceptions are. I somehow stumble my way past the objection in one of my more harrowing feats of bullshit.
7:15 PM - I get absolutely owned on my cross-examination of a witness. Total beatdown, as she has me rattled from the first second. Of course, I haven't prepared enough anyway. The same objection that I had no clue what the rule was is brought up again, and the judge says something to the effect that the objection was already overruled. Then he reconsiders and says he wants to hear what I have to say about it. I explain myself so poorly that I basically admit the objection is correct. But again, somehow I get through it.
8:00 PM - This painful first trial is now over. The judges give us "comments", which basically amount to how my co-counsel was great but I was terrible. Well, that makes sense - he's in Trial Advocacy right now. We'll find out the next day who won.
8:10 PM - We meet up with our coach and get comments on what we did well and didn't do well. He thinks we won for some reason. I decide that I need to totally rewrite my opening statement before I go again at 2 PM the next day.
8:30 PM - We walk back to our hotel and I make my first observation about Seattle - there are a lot of homeless people around. It might be just the ratio - there are a lot of homeless people in NYC, but you don't notice them that much because there are like a billion people moving through the streets. In Seattle, there aren't that many people around, but there are a fair amount of people asking you for change. Not a good thing.
10:30 PM - After going out for some dinner with some of the members of our other mock trial team (UVA sent two four-person teams out for this competition), I finish up my new opening statement. Totally revamped and hopefully it'll go better. However, I won't have much time to practice it before I actually give it. I give up and go to bed, as its 1:30 AM EST, and the red-eye flight was not helpful for sleep.
Saturday
8:15 AM - We meet downstairs before heading out to the courthouse. We have two trials today. In the previous night's trial we were the plaintiffs, and when we are the plaintiff I am an attorney. Today's first trial we are the defendant, which means I'm a witness (and therefore have much less to do). Still, I'm fairly nervous about knowing my stuff, and I'm also trying to learn my new opening statement, as well as try to figure out what in the hell went wrong on my cross-examination the night before. In short, I'm just trying to get through this debacle without making too much of a fool of myself.
9:00 AM - The first trial begins, and I just kind of sit and listen for the first 2 hours. It drags on and on as the judge (who is actually just a practicing attorney) refuses to actually sustain or overrule objections. She just hems and haws and kind of concedes parts of objections. It makes this trial take forever.
11:10 AM - I finally take the stand. The previous night I was able to control my coughing fits with some Halls cough drops, but I forgot them on this day. As a result, I have a massive coughing fit on the witness stand. The judge pours me a drink from her bottle that has vitamin C water in it and gives me some cough drops. That was nice of her.
12:30 PM - The trial that never ends finally ends, giving us a whopping one hour and thirty minutes until the next trial. My nerves are up on me.
1:00 PM - Most of the team goes to go get some fish and chips for lunch, but I can't stand seafood. So I go to get a bowl of pho, which is the Vietnamese noodle and meat soup concoction that Kim got me started on. I get it to go, and eat it up in the hotel room. I manage to burn my tongue like a moron. Just the thing I needed before I have to speak extensively for three hours.
1:50 PM - We joke around with the other team in a friendly manner. The girl starts talking about how in their program 1Ls are only allowed to be witnesses, while 2Ls can be counsel because you need to take evidence before you can be a counsel. She's like, what year are you? I'm like, 1L.
She also talks about how they only get credit for doing this. I'm respond, "I don't get credit for this." She gets a very surprised look on her face and says, "You don't?" I say that I get to put a line on my resume that says I did it.
This team also has a lot of older women in the audience. You are allowed to bring in friends/family to watch, and apparenty every grandmother on the other team is watching.
2:00 PM - Our trial starts, and I give my opening statement. It goes pretty smoothly, with two moronic objections by the other team that are overruled by the judge, who doesn't seem like he wants to take any crap. The other team has brought along a projection screen, a projector, and a laptop to use during the trial. We dub them "team powerpoint." Other teams we faced brought along gigantic laminated blowups of the exhibits. During my trial, I use a posterboard to write 4 words down during my opening statement, and use 8 photocopies of invoices. There is a enormous technology/funding/preparation gap, and I find it pretty funny.
2:35 PM - The trial is moving along quickly, and I begin my direct examination of our expert witness. It goes insanely well; I manage to get him qualified for all sorts of things that he is not really qualified to speak on. What helped this was the fact that my opposing attorney seemed a bit inexperienced (much like myself). He was being fed objections from his co-counsel (you are only allowed to make objections if you are the lawyer who is going to cross examine the witness, or conversely has already direct examined the witness), but made them badly and at inappropriate times. And unlike the previous day, I'm ready for most of them. It goes extremely well.
3:20 PM - I begin my cross examination of the defendant, and it starts off fairly well, considering I decided like 30 seconds before my cross what I was going to talk about. However, a bad thing happens at the end. I get slightly rattled when I realize that I do not know how to get a certain thing into evidence (it turns out I wouldn't have been able to anyway), and then start thinking about how this is most likely the last time I'll have to speak for the entire weekend, unless we somehow make the semifinals. Those two factors contribute to my saying, "no further questions," when I needed to ask one crucial question to get out an important point for our case. I sit down, and my co-counsel asks me if I asked her about that issue... and I'm like, "FUCK!" (but quietly).
4:30 PM - We get done, and I'm quite relieved. Our coach comes up and talk to us and lets us know that we actually won 3-0 on Friday night, and had the second highest score of that round. We lost 3-0 on this morning, but he thinks we won this one that just got finished. That would put us at 2-1, and while only the top 4 teams advance to the semifinals, we have an outside shot at making it.
This kind of dumbfounds me. I was absolutely terrible the night before. The teams that we're facing have prepared extensively for this - they have almost everything memorized. Our team (and the other team from UVA), are changing up or drafting their statements and Qs the night before, and in some instances during the actual trial. The main difference appears to be the lack of flexibility by the other teams. When they hear an objection that they did not prepare for, they can't get past it. When a witness doesn't give them an answer they like, they can't find a way to get the answer. While we're ad-libbing most of our trial, we're doing an okay job of it apparently.
5:30 PM - We head out to a sports bar to watch Duke/UNC and await the results of our last trial. Parts of me want to win and get to the semis, but the lazy part of me wants this to just be over.
6:30 PM - We find out that we won our last trial, giving us a 2-1 record for the weekend, but due to the tiebreakers involved (like number of points we won by), we end up fifth. Just missing out on the semifinals. In other words, good, but just bad enough to avoid having to go the next day. We celebrate and then proceed to mock the other teams, especially team powerpoint. The other UVA team also finished 2-1.
Overall, I think it was a great experience, even though I was dreading it. I got a lot of trial experience, and while I still do not know the federal rules of evidence and still am terrible at cross-examinations, I think I improved a lot throughout the two days. And the fact that other schools have this sort of thing as a class they get credit for, while we just kind of do it as an extracurricular, makes it even funnier that we placed so much higher than the majority of them.
Comments on Seattle to follow in the next post.
1:00 AM - I leave Charlottesville to drive to Baltimore/Washington Airport.
3:15 AM - I arrive at BWI and park in long term parking. I find the bus shuttle stop, and see that a bus arrives every 30 minutes until 4 AM, when the buses run every ten minutes. So I figure, worst case scenario, I'll be in the parking lot for an additional half hour.
3:45 AM - The worst case scenario has occurred. I must have arrived just when the bus left the stop. In any event, standing alone in long term parking at 3:45 AM is a very weird experience. The only sounds were of planes being moved in and out of hangars.
4:15 AM - I make it to the terminal, and actually find a row of chairs without arms, so I lie down on them to try to sleep before the 6 AM flight to Seattle.
5:30 AM - I meet up with the other members of the mock trial team and get on the flight.
10:15 AM - We arrive in Houston, which is where we must transfer from to get to Seattle. Our plane arrives late, and our gate is in a different terminal. We then find out that the train between terminals is broken, so we have to walk to the other terminal. Great.
10:45 AM - We make it to the other terminal as our plane begins to board. I get a breakfast combo from Wendy's on the way and scarf it down.
3:00 PM - We touch down in Seattle. Our competition starts at 8 PM EST (5 PM West Coast Time, which I'm now going to refer to as the timestamp.)
5:00 PM - Our competition begins. We're plaintiffs, which means that I'm one of the counsels. This is a decidedly more stressful position than as a witness. I'm ready for a beatdown, as I've never taken evidence or anything like that.
5:15 PM - No objections are made during my terrible opening statement. I'm relying on notes, the other guy is not as he clearly has it memorized. But when you've been preparing for months like these teams have then you have a bit of a jump on us.
6:15 PM - I receive my first objection based on a rule of federal evidence, and I have no idea what the rule says or its exceptions are. I somehow stumble my way past the objection in one of my more harrowing feats of bullshit.
7:15 PM - I get absolutely owned on my cross-examination of a witness. Total beatdown, as she has me rattled from the first second. Of course, I haven't prepared enough anyway. The same objection that I had no clue what the rule was is brought up again, and the judge says something to the effect that the objection was already overruled. Then he reconsiders and says he wants to hear what I have to say about it. I explain myself so poorly that I basically admit the objection is correct. But again, somehow I get through it.
8:00 PM - This painful first trial is now over. The judges give us "comments", which basically amount to how my co-counsel was great but I was terrible. Well, that makes sense - he's in Trial Advocacy right now. We'll find out the next day who won.
8:10 PM - We meet up with our coach and get comments on what we did well and didn't do well. He thinks we won for some reason. I decide that I need to totally rewrite my opening statement before I go again at 2 PM the next day.
8:30 PM - We walk back to our hotel and I make my first observation about Seattle - there are a lot of homeless people around. It might be just the ratio - there are a lot of homeless people in NYC, but you don't notice them that much because there are like a billion people moving through the streets. In Seattle, there aren't that many people around, but there are a fair amount of people asking you for change. Not a good thing.
10:30 PM - After going out for some dinner with some of the members of our other mock trial team (UVA sent two four-person teams out for this competition), I finish up my new opening statement. Totally revamped and hopefully it'll go better. However, I won't have much time to practice it before I actually give it. I give up and go to bed, as its 1:30 AM EST, and the red-eye flight was not helpful for sleep.
Saturday
8:15 AM - We meet downstairs before heading out to the courthouse. We have two trials today. In the previous night's trial we were the plaintiffs, and when we are the plaintiff I am an attorney. Today's first trial we are the defendant, which means I'm a witness (and therefore have much less to do). Still, I'm fairly nervous about knowing my stuff, and I'm also trying to learn my new opening statement, as well as try to figure out what in the hell went wrong on my cross-examination the night before. In short, I'm just trying to get through this debacle without making too much of a fool of myself.
9:00 AM - The first trial begins, and I just kind of sit and listen for the first 2 hours. It drags on and on as the judge (who is actually just a practicing attorney) refuses to actually sustain or overrule objections. She just hems and haws and kind of concedes parts of objections. It makes this trial take forever.
11:10 AM - I finally take the stand. The previous night I was able to control my coughing fits with some Halls cough drops, but I forgot them on this day. As a result, I have a massive coughing fit on the witness stand. The judge pours me a drink from her bottle that has vitamin C water in it and gives me some cough drops. That was nice of her.
12:30 PM - The trial that never ends finally ends, giving us a whopping one hour and thirty minutes until the next trial. My nerves are up on me.
1:00 PM - Most of the team goes to go get some fish and chips for lunch, but I can't stand seafood. So I go to get a bowl of pho, which is the Vietnamese noodle and meat soup concoction that Kim got me started on. I get it to go, and eat it up in the hotel room. I manage to burn my tongue like a moron. Just the thing I needed before I have to speak extensively for three hours.
1:50 PM - We joke around with the other team in a friendly manner. The girl starts talking about how in their program 1Ls are only allowed to be witnesses, while 2Ls can be counsel because you need to take evidence before you can be a counsel. She's like, what year are you? I'm like, 1L.
She also talks about how they only get credit for doing this. I'm respond, "I don't get credit for this." She gets a very surprised look on her face and says, "You don't?" I say that I get to put a line on my resume that says I did it.
This team also has a lot of older women in the audience. You are allowed to bring in friends/family to watch, and apparenty every grandmother on the other team is watching.
2:00 PM - Our trial starts, and I give my opening statement. It goes pretty smoothly, with two moronic objections by the other team that are overruled by the judge, who doesn't seem like he wants to take any crap. The other team has brought along a projection screen, a projector, and a laptop to use during the trial. We dub them "team powerpoint." Other teams we faced brought along gigantic laminated blowups of the exhibits. During my trial, I use a posterboard to write 4 words down during my opening statement, and use 8 photocopies of invoices. There is a enormous technology/funding/preparation gap, and I find it pretty funny.
2:35 PM - The trial is moving along quickly, and I begin my direct examination of our expert witness. It goes insanely well; I manage to get him qualified for all sorts of things that he is not really qualified to speak on. What helped this was the fact that my opposing attorney seemed a bit inexperienced (much like myself). He was being fed objections from his co-counsel (you are only allowed to make objections if you are the lawyer who is going to cross examine the witness, or conversely has already direct examined the witness), but made them badly and at inappropriate times. And unlike the previous day, I'm ready for most of them. It goes extremely well.
3:20 PM - I begin my cross examination of the defendant, and it starts off fairly well, considering I decided like 30 seconds before my cross what I was going to talk about. However, a bad thing happens at the end. I get slightly rattled when I realize that I do not know how to get a certain thing into evidence (it turns out I wouldn't have been able to anyway), and then start thinking about how this is most likely the last time I'll have to speak for the entire weekend, unless we somehow make the semifinals. Those two factors contribute to my saying, "no further questions," when I needed to ask one crucial question to get out an important point for our case. I sit down, and my co-counsel asks me if I asked her about that issue... and I'm like, "FUCK!" (but quietly).
4:30 PM - We get done, and I'm quite relieved. Our coach comes up and talk to us and lets us know that we actually won 3-0 on Friday night, and had the second highest score of that round. We lost 3-0 on this morning, but he thinks we won this one that just got finished. That would put us at 2-1, and while only the top 4 teams advance to the semifinals, we have an outside shot at making it.
This kind of dumbfounds me. I was absolutely terrible the night before. The teams that we're facing have prepared extensively for this - they have almost everything memorized. Our team (and the other team from UVA), are changing up or drafting their statements and Qs the night before, and in some instances during the actual trial. The main difference appears to be the lack of flexibility by the other teams. When they hear an objection that they did not prepare for, they can't get past it. When a witness doesn't give them an answer they like, they can't find a way to get the answer. While we're ad-libbing most of our trial, we're doing an okay job of it apparently.
5:30 PM - We head out to a sports bar to watch Duke/UNC and await the results of our last trial. Parts of me want to win and get to the semis, but the lazy part of me wants this to just be over.
6:30 PM - We find out that we won our last trial, giving us a 2-1 record for the weekend, but due to the tiebreakers involved (like number of points we won by), we end up fifth. Just missing out on the semifinals. In other words, good, but just bad enough to avoid having to go the next day. We celebrate and then proceed to mock the other teams, especially team powerpoint. The other UVA team also finished 2-1.
Overall, I think it was a great experience, even though I was dreading it. I got a lot of trial experience, and while I still do not know the federal rules of evidence and still am terrible at cross-examinations, I think I improved a lot throughout the two days. And the fact that other schools have this sort of thing as a class they get credit for, while we just kind of do it as an extracurricular, makes it even funnier that we placed so much higher than the majority of them.
Comments on Seattle to follow in the next post.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Eh, may as well give Fishman some fodder before I leave for Seattle and then back to Cinnaminson for my spring break.
So I get back from class yesterday and am starving. Last time I went to the store I found some Pasta Roni boxes on sale, and found a variety I like. Homestyle Deluxe Creamy Garlic. With that many words in the title, you know it has to be good.
Anyway, I get the water, milk, and butter boiling, and then I bust open the box. And inside the box was the pasta... and a topping package... but no seasoning package! I was like, god damn you whoever makes this! So I opened up another box of the same variety, got the seasoning package out of it, and dumped it in.
But now I'm left with a box of rotini that is more or less useless.
So I looked on the side of the box and saw a phone number for comments/questions. I had nothing to do while the pasta was cooking, so I decided to call. I got through to someone more or less immediately, and told him that my box didn't have a seasoning package. He asked me for all the information on the box, and then where I bought it, and then my address so he could send me a coupon for a new box. He was incredibly polite the whole time.
So that worked out well. And yes, I realize the cost of a box of this stuff is like $1.25. But dammit, I was pissed off.
Evan 1
Quaker Oats Company -.5
So I get back from class yesterday and am starving. Last time I went to the store I found some Pasta Roni boxes on sale, and found a variety I like. Homestyle Deluxe Creamy Garlic. With that many words in the title, you know it has to be good.
Anyway, I get the water, milk, and butter boiling, and then I bust open the box. And inside the box was the pasta... and a topping package... but no seasoning package! I was like, god damn you whoever makes this! So I opened up another box of the same variety, got the seasoning package out of it, and dumped it in.
But now I'm left with a box of rotini that is more or less useless.
So I looked on the side of the box and saw a phone number for comments/questions. I had nothing to do while the pasta was cooking, so I decided to call. I got through to someone more or less immediately, and told him that my box didn't have a seasoning package. He asked me for all the information on the box, and then where I bought it, and then my address so he could send me a coupon for a new box. He was incredibly polite the whole time.
So that worked out well. And yes, I realize the cost of a box of this stuff is like $1.25. But dammit, I was pissed off.
Evan 1
Quaker Oats Company -.5
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