Walk The Plank: House Boating 2010

It's been a while since it's been a while huh? Your boy JS just took a little break from the real world and headed out to the Shuswaps last week with a gnarly crew of 10 Alberta boys to, as the locals say, go house boating. This was my first year going and most of the boats 3rd year, so I was in good hands and came prepared to take on whatever the lake had to throw at me. I can't tell you fools everything because A) A lot of it is really, really fuzzy and B) most of it could get a lot of dudes in a lot of trouble so I'll pick and choose my spots.

First off, for those of you that have never been house boating you should drop whatever you're doing and go right now because it's fucking amazing. Here's a little run down of how a day typically runs; Wake up in the morning, survey the damage from the night before, feel like death, kick the boat off the beach and head for open waters, start cleaning up, make breakfast, start feeling less like death, park somewhere in the middle of the lake, go for a swim, feel like a fucking champion again, destroy the bathroom with monster shits, crack a beer, make a scene by pulling into the floating store WAY too hard, head back out into the middle of the lack, fuck around, drink more beer, make dinner, pull back into Nelson Beach sometime in the evening, cruise for sluts, lather, rinse, repeat. It was a pretty hard week for sure.



Night 1 Highlights: As we're pulling into the beach we come up with the brilliant idea to chant "Walk The Plank!" anytime someone does the walk of shame off our boat. We get a bunch of chicks on the boat, cruise around from party to party a little bit, next thing I know half of us are in the kitchen and out of one of the rooms walks victim number one. We waste no time screaming walk the plank at the top of our lungs as she scurries past us. Maybe 15 minutes later another random piles out of one of the rooms and we're right back at it. WALK THE PLANK! WALK THE PLANK! And the fucked up thing with this one was that not only did she not care, she fucking came back not long after to try and get in on the chants just in case we got another one fired up. The next morning as we're pulling away from the beach, what do we hear from the boat next to us? "Walk the plank! Walk the plank!" as they cheer us on out. Needless to say this was just the beginning of a sweet reputation for the boys on Hec 1.

Night 2: Night one was pretty fucking wild and as we were floating around in the water that day (luke warm bath water temperature. Just fucking unreal) we were figuring there was no way we'd be able to top it. Boy were we wrong. First we start off by throwing on the jean shorts in honor of one of our buddies birthdays, who, by the way, fucking bitched out at the last minute cause he was too scared to get time off work. He can go fuck himself. BUT ANYWAY, the boys that didn't come with pre made jean shorts pulled out a fucking hunting knife and went to town on whatever jeans they had with them. It was fucking awesome and we all looked just fucking sweet in our way too short cut-offs. Thankfully jeanshorts wearing a pair of jean shorts didn't open up some kind of wormhole, because I probably would have felt a little bad (mostly because the trip would have been cut short).



As we pull up to the beach we get the sweet idea to stand on the front of the boat, and pull in just fucking blasting "She's Got The Look" by Roxette. Let the beach know we were here and we were ready to rape and pillage. This night got pretty greasy so I don't remember all the details but at one point I was on the top of this boat that had to have at least 100 people on the top just dancing the shit out of the place. I was chugging shots of Cuervo straight from the bottle with this kid who looked exactly like Justin Bieber so you know things were going to get hairy. I'm not sure how we got from point A to point B here, but, at one point there was a bunch of us and a bunch of chicks naked in the hot tub with foam covering most of the top deck. I'll let you guys fill in the blanks.

Night 3: Night three was easily the lamest night of them all. The entire boat struck out hard. There was only about 10 boats on the beach, and most of those other boats didn't seem like they were there to rip it up, so everyone was pretty fucking cranky by the end of the night. So cranky, in fact, that one of our boys got on the radio and started spewing the hate, I guess trying to get into a fight or something. I only heard it briefly before I passed out but the next day our reputation was never higher.

Me? Oh not much happened. I just took the hardest tumble of my life down the entire set of stairs at the front of the boat. She was a little slippery up top due to all the foam from the failed hot tub party, and I touched my foot to the first step on the top, and didn't touch another one until I crashed into the last couple at the bottom. I hopped up right quick and walked it off like nothing had happened. Thank god for the best pain killer of them all; alcohol/stupidity. My elbows are pretty bunged up and the right side of my ribs looks like someone took a baseball bat to them, but I'm none the worse for wear.

Night 4: Not only was it our last night, but It was the self proclaimed Captains birthday so we got it started pretty early in the day. We were one of the last boats to roll up to the beach that night, and to celebrate Captain Squirt's birthday we cranked Pennywise's Bro Hymn and came in chanting like a rock n' roll tornado. As we get right up next to the boat beside us we realize that it's a full-on family boat. Just fucking great. The night turned out okay for the most part. We did our thing. Trolled around. Nothing out of the usual, that is, until near the end of the night.

Let me preface this story with a little background about the main character. Our buddy The Nark is one of my favorite people to party with ever. He's one of my oldest friends, I've known him since we were like 6 or 7, he's the friendliest dude of all time, and quite possibly the grossest eater of all time, and boy can he fucking pound them back. The Nark is probably the nicest dude I know, but through a series of fateful events he ended up becoming a tough guy in AJ and SJHL. He's a big fucking boy. He's about 6'3, 6'4, and as of right now he's pushing 270 (not exactly in game shape). And I've never seen him lose a fight. Ever.

So anyway we're hanging out on the boat, two of the dudes, let's call them the Anti-Poon, were inside playing cards with these trashy sluts (yes these dudes are so bad they can't even take down a couple of wasted, dirty sluts). We found out a little later on that these chicks happened to be the same ones The Nark and JS ran into the night before, and The Nark thought it would be a sweet idea to steal their camera for some reason. Thankfully they got it back like an hour later because I'm sure things could have gotten a little hairy. And it just so happened that this night, night four, a 60 of vodka had disappeared off their boat. So now we're kind of piecing it together that they're probably just here to scope our boat out and make sure we didn't have it, which we didn't. So eventually one of their dudes comes over to get them and to also sniff our boat out too. Now, this dude was pretty big. I'd say about 6'2", 220. Beefy but not jacked. What's that? Yes, he did have a super gay mohawk, camo shorts and fucking Ugg boots. Just a real beauty this guy was.

We figure whatever, might as well let this douche take a gander around our boat just to get him to fuck off and make sure he didn't fuck with our stuff. He does his tour around the boat, finds shit all, and makes his way back to the front where most of us are hanging out. He's chatting a little bit, but the entire time I can feel him eying the shit out of me. I guess these chicks were convinced that I stole the camera, and so naturally it must have been me that also made off with their booze. The only problem was that The Nark fessed up to it the night before, and was once again, fessing up to it. "It was your fucking buddy who stole the camera last night" the douche says staring at me. "No man, it was me. I was pretty wasted, I wasn't paying attention, it was an accident but you guys got it back and we're done with that now" The Nark says. The douche keeps chirping at me trying to get me to cop to something I didn't do so eventually I tell him it's time to get off our boat. "What the fuck did you just say?" the douche asks. Being the jackass that I am I say it slower and louder so he can understand me this time. "I, said, it's, time, for, you, to, get, the, fuck, off, our, boat". The douche isn't too impressed but once 8 of our boys start moving in closer he slowly makes his way off the boat. We get the gate closed but he's still fucking glaring at me so I get my gums flapping. I'm beaking this dude and his friend like I've never beaked before.

While this is going on Captain Squirt (who is maybe 5'7", 160 lbs) is doing the whole "hold me back" act. It's pretty much over, the dudes are about 20 feet down the beach and we're all turning to go back inside when all of a sudden Squirt gets a fire in his belly, and has the smart idea to hop over the gate and try and scrap the dude. For fuck sakes. He starts by running after the dude but within half a second it turns the other way and Squirt is tailing it back toward our boat. Before anyone even has a chance to react The Nark's shirt is floating down out of the air like some kind of Bugs Bunny shit, and he's got the guns loaded up and ready to go. And boy did he start landing some fucking bombs. Chasing dude around the beach and just laying a beating on him. They eventually fall to the ground and The Nark pulls out some fucking BJJ! He gets the douche into his guard and is feeding him shots from the bottom until eventually the other dude jumps in and pulls his friend out of the fire. We all start losing our minds giving The Nark props as those dudes high tail it back to their boat, still beaking as if they had anything left to prove.

The Nark being the stand up dude that he is eventually went over to their boat and squared everything away. But man it was a good fucking scrap. No one got too hurt and it was amazing to watch, so what else can you ask for really? We were full of adrenaline now so we stayed up drinking for a little while longer. The next thing I know, as I'm crawling into bed, the boat starts up and as I'm falling asleep I can feel us pulling away from the beach. "Gonna be an early fucking morning" I groan.

For 11 dudes we did a sweet job making that place spick and span and we didn't break anything, so that was an added bonus. Pitched in on gas money for the boat after we packed up our respective rides, said goodbye to all the boys and I was on my way to a horrible fucking Greyhound ride back to Vancouver.

There was a few things I'd probably do differently, and definitely a few guys I'd like to replace next year (you better start saving your fucking scheckles BM) but I'm going back every year I can. Good fucking week boys. Good fucking week.


js