On our way to see Joel in Sacramento, we pit-stopped in Davis, biding our time while waiting for a call. A call that would never come. We took a walking tour of campus, defiled a work of art, and then headed to the pool for some good old fashioned
P.S. We fucking hate the G Street Pub.
We still hadn't heard from Joel, so we tried to find him at work. Matt from Maxim Healthcare didn't know Joel, but is a stand-up guy. With heavy hearts we headed for Old Hangtown and Coloma, CA pop.
A tame game of "What's in that truck?" included "the way I want to be remembered," "the great American novel," and "better times," and brought us into Placerville, along with a rousing rendition of American Pie.
We had never been to the Buttercup Pantry for dinner, but if we hadn't, we would never have met the sweet angel sent from heaven that is Autumn, 2 years of service. She didn't get us drunk or anything, but she's 27, has a 2 year old, and prefers the life in gold country to her old one in Antioch. We're not sure we agree, but we didn't get hidden tattoos at Zebra either. And if you're ever at the Buttercup Pantry try the Burger of Champions, it's the best in town.
(For those keeping track, we've now met a Summer and an Autumn over the years, we look forward to meeting you soon Winter and Spring.)
We took a piece of the pantry with us, we hope the next patrons at table 14 didn't need salt or pepper. Then we made the drive to Coloma, for the first time at night, and were delighted to find that the Crickens were not at Campsite N after all. We stole some firewood (don't get caught), and enjoyed another Coloma first, beer pong! Well, we're not sure we enjoyed it. After a hilarious round of Shabooyah (and a not so friendly request to be quiet), we crashed.
We rose the next morning and spent some time learning about Coloma's history. Oh, we mean Culloma (who knew?). After a chat with the blacksmith we headed back to Old Hangtown, where a less friendly waitress served us brunch. No chili fries or burgers this year. The chili fries though, are awesome.
The warmongering store still exists, and it's still populated by a group of guys that resemble the cast of American History X. And we don't mean Elliott Gould. And we do mean the neo-nazi skinheads. We were surprised to see this. Guess they ran out of "I heart the Third Reich" flags.
The Hangman's Tree was as difficult to stomach as ever, not only because of the cold bitch behind the bar, that should have been working at the G Street Pub. We fucking hate the G Street Pub. The help made no attempt at conversation, and didn't even let us sample the Das Komet.
49'er Liquors yielded it's usual porn library, expired OJ, and the sweet golden nectar of the gods, and by that we don't mean nectar at all, and we do mean Old E. We headed to the river, had a fantasy draft of Kee Tov counselors (something like that anyway), and enjoyed our favorite few hours of the year.
After a shower and Happy Hour at campsite N, we made our way to Marco's. We were distraught to find out that Grant no longer owns the joint, but we reveled in the fact that the Marco's staff was so lenient about letting us bring in our own booze. That didn't matter much for Jamie though, because at this point he didn't need any more.
"Hey, is that your friend passed out down there by the fence?"
The other 3 of us tried to work our free beer magic with Katrina (who had a terrible haircut) but all we got was some vino and the butt of a pitcher from 6-year old Cole's mom. You never know when your camp counseling experience will get you free beer. When we weren't allowed to help the staff do dishes we stumbled to the Coloma Club. We made a new friend at a picnic table outside who didn't have any dope but thought we might.
Once inside the club, all hell broke loose. Actually the only thing that was loose was D.O.'s wallet. We saw some more Mallard staff and some former ECHS gauchos. Looking for food, D.O. made a trek into the kitchen - the first time he didn't get caught, the second time he did. Chris was a good sport and even let Adam pull the tap. We got a free Coloma Kool-Aid, which still remains the most disgusting drink we're ever had. Chris likes them though, and he was in a tornado once.
Our parting gift was 4 free bags of chips, which we enjoyed while once again stealing firewood. We got caught but stole it anyway. We built a raging inferno, exploded a glow stick, and called it a night.
Thus ended another great trip, and if you're wondering about crazy Ray, we were told "eh, he's probably in jail."
We've also been told that it's always good to end with a quote, so here goes:
"My name is Jamie (yeah!)
and I get low (yeah!)
when my dick's (yeah!)
in ...
ROLL CALL!"
Yours in savagery,
Jamie, D.O., Adam, and Zach
All the pictures from the trip are here. Last year's story is here.
