Themeless Wonder Summer Vacation 2
Stories from Dan:
Chuck E. Cheese
Stories from Chris:
Kiss FM: The Day Pop Culture Died
Every summer, Dan and I go to Panama City Beach. We apparently go the week nobody else is there, but it's alright, because we seem to make things happen. We're social catalysts. And some of the more interesting happenings have been chronicled. Learn by our mistakes, I implore you:
went to a movie one of the nights. It was a good movie, but half the fun
was the small, would-be arcade outside in the lobby. It amazes me how
many people actually play “Golden Tee” and other such golf games,
but I was never into that. I used to try to play golf often. When I was
about 11, two friends and I would set up holes in a field behind our
neighborhood, and we would hit balls around the badly overgrown terrain.
This continued until we lost all of our balls, because we usually
didn’t find them after we’d hit them. We’d also have a tough time
keeping a straight face when saying “I can’t find my balls,” so in
retrospect, I think we deserved to be chased from that field by an old
woman whose house was nearby. She screamed “There are rattlesnakes out
there, get out!” We weren’t afraid though. We had golf clubs to beat
the snakes with, and our old, partially broken, lanky, heavy pieces of
steel could easily outmaneuver any snake’s venomous fangs. I’ve
found that the frustration of real golf often carries over into the
track-ball aided arcade games, and after mere minutes I’m reduced to
pushing the large arcade console over and watching it explode while
having decided not to play
Golden Tee, I made my way to Police Trainer, along with Dan. In Police
Trainer, you have two guns (For two players) and you take skill tests
such as accuracy, judgement, speed, memory, and advanced ballistic
tactics to decide what rank you get to be. Dan took his place at the red
gun, and I took my place at the blue one. However, upon drawing our
firearms, Dan realized he’d wasted all of his money outside on the
street, paying some midgets to dance around while he threw pennies at
them. I told him he’d just have to live without the thrilling game,
and so he stood aside while I inserted some quarters. Immediately I
realized that my gun was screwed up. If I pulled the trigger, the shot
would register about 3 inches below where I’d actually aimed. After
killing several innocent people, I learned to compensate, and was
getting better. That was when my friend showed up. My friend looked to
be about 9 years old, and strutted into the room like he knew he was
coming to do some damage. His glasses and baseball cap intimidated me
especially. He took his place at the other gun, and inserted some money.
Then I started one of the tests: Timing. As I was starting, I looked at
him and asked, “Does your gun work?”
he replied, while squinting.
trade? My gun is blue.”
gun doesn’t work, I heard you complaining. I’m not stupid.”
the targets popped up on the screen, I shot mine, then quickly shot all
of the targets on his side of the screen, amidst frantic whining. The
scores were displayed for the two policemen:
Required To Pass: 10
man..” he said, while I flashed him a Dirty Harry look.
lose. Wanna play again?”
should’ve taken the blue gun. Now get out.”
Even before we entered the vicinity of Panama City we were bombarded with billboards promoting some store called Alvin’s Island. Apparently this store was wildly popular, because every other sign mentioned it. Once we entered the city, we noticed that Alvin’s Island was a chain, since multiple stores pretty much lined the streets. What was so inconceivably satisfying about this store we had yet to find out. Also, the merchandise they sold still eluded our minds.
plot thickened when we first entered our room and turned on the TV. I
guess we should have seen it coming but, to our amazement, there was a
channel devoted to Alvin’s Island. Watching Alvin’s Channel
(cleverly named) was just like watching a Baywatch episode but with more
girls (hard to believe, I know). So after viewing Alvin’s Channel for
2 hours straight, we came to the conclusion that Alvin’s Island
produced mass quantities of 20-year-old girls in swimsuits and ocean
water. How wrong we were. When we finally could pull ourselves away from
Alvin’s Channel, we decided to go purchase some females. Yet, to our
disappointment, women were not one of the products sold at Alvin’s
Island. Neither was ocean water, which would have been more exciting and
entertaining than what they did sell.... seashells. That’s right,
seashells. Just like the millions upon million that sliced your foot
open while walking down to the ocean, except these were smaller,
smellier, and more brittle. After all that hype, Alvin’s Island ended
up being one of the world’s largest vendors of a product that you
could get stuck in your sandal treads for free. This spirit-shattering
discovery sent us into a deep depression where we spent the next 48
hours sobbing in self-pity and watching Alvin’s Channel, imagining
what could have been.
night, as we sat out by the pool, we discussed the obsession with soap
and natural botanicals that was present in so many females we knew. In
our city, we have a store called Bath and Body Works. I have no way of
knowing if this chain extends far enough for anyone reading this to have
ever heard of it, or if there’s even some sort of equivalent where you
live. But in any case, this store is a safe haven for women seeking bath
beads and several, several different kinds of lotion. Many girls I know
have countless different scents of these lotions, and you pay about 6
bucks for one little bottle of the stuff. The worst part is, however,
that they actually expect guys to notice the difference in smell,
something we're incapable of doing. The moment I hear a guy say “Gee
Susan, is that Funky Freesia you’re wearing? WOW! That smells even
better than Cucumber Melon!” is the day that I unload a clip of ammo
into someone’s face. Depending on the level of raw emotion and rage
the site of the totally whipped guy induces, I may or may not use hollow
and I think we should do away completely with these types of lotions and
bath products. If humans needed to smell good, we would have evolved
some sort of “Lotion Gland” by now. Perhaps that’s what sweat is.
Maybe sweat smells good, but since humans have such a distorted view of
so much, we’ve also been brainwashed to think that sweat smells bad
and “Blueberry Sky” smells delightful. Or if these bath products
must stay, then change the names to something more updated and real,
like “Unprotected Fruit Passion,” or “Strawberry STD Jubilee.”
Why not mix a little reality in with or bodily cleansing? It was heated
discussions like this that kept us awake at night, and entertained us
throughout the day.
While at the pool one day we met this guy named Cameron. He seemed
pretty cool except for the fact that he hit on girls that were a
"bit" younger than him, like in 7th grade. So being the
sensitive and compassionate individuals we are, Chris and I decided to
make his dating life a nightmare from which he would not awaken.
Firstly, we attacked Cameron in the hot tubs. He was there, lounging
with his ladies, and Chris and I, together with a few other random guys
we'd met there, walked by him time after time, always repeating the same
conversations. Oftentimes they were stolen from movies, such as this
classic dialogue from Wayne's World:
Did you ever think Bugs Bunny was attractive when he put on make-up and
dressed like a girl bunny?
No…. I was just wondering if you did….
After a while, he just started to ignore us so we were forced to take
more extreme measures. The previous day we met this guy Justin, and he,
along with his friends, agreed to help annoy Cameron. At one point, we
swam up to where Cameron and his hunnies were in the pool and had loud
conversations about the financial pros and cons of baseball card farming
in China and why Sesame Street should do an episode on the dangers of
high fructose corn syrup, hosted by Odd Job from the Bond films. When
this wasn’t enough and we had almost given up all hope, Justin
remembered a whale special he had seen on the Discovery Channel recently
(none of us knew where this was going, but we knew it was going to be
good.) He said that the whales spent several hours of the day slamming
their heads into the water sideways, which he most graciously and
accurately demonstrated to us. At this point all five or six of us
started launching up in the air and violently thrusting out heads
sideways into the water. It was fun, painful, and successful all at the
same time, because the splashing scared away the girls who were
apparently surprised that the pool had water in it and were totally
unprepared to get wet, except for the bathing suits, towels, sandals,
scuba gear, etc. that they had brought. Cameron just looked at us and
Then we dunked him.
always, we went Freestyle Walking one day. We were hoping to draw a
little attention, and we did. Just as Dan leapt from a ledge and
executed a highly dangerous Double Indy Fakeside, one of the several
roving security guards stopped and watched us. I flashed Dan a glance
that said, “Hey, keep a straight face and pretend we don’t see him.
You’ll notice that he’s armed only with a flashlight, nightstick,
walkie-talkie, and one flashbang. The flashlight is of no use to him
since it’s day, and we can easily take him down if he tries to use
that nightstick on us. If it comes to a fight, we’ll have to take that
walkie-talkie, because he may call for backup. If he throws the
flashbang, the important thing is to close your eyes and cover your
ears, so you’re not blinded and deafened by the stun grenade’s
explosion.” Dan, catching my glance, did as I suggested and we both
pulled a 360 Toe Grab off of the wall. I wiped out, and Dan laughed at
me, and the security guard looked at us sternly and said, “Excuse me,
but we’ve received several complaints about you two. Seems you’ve
caused quite a bit of property damage.”
just mad because you’re too old and slow to pull off a 1080 with a
grab,” Dan replied, and did a double backflip.
may be the case, but either way, you can’t be doing that here.”
“Fine. We’ll adhere to your rules,” I said. “We’ll take our mad FSW skills somewhere you can’t stop us.”
might that be?” the security guard asked.
ocean!” I replied slyly, thinking I had won.
walking in the ocean sounds great on paper, but in reality it’s pretty
tough. The best thing to do is bravely swim into an oncoming wave, and
throw your knees over your head when it crashes on you, causing you to
flip chaotically. I did this a few times, but once overestimated my
skills as an ocean walker, and also underestimated the size of the wave,
and was thrown violently to the ocean floor, where I stayed until the
wave decided I could come up for air and thus live. After I gasped for
oxygen, I turned towards the beach to see the security guard laughing
and pointing, trying to get a small group of other security guards to
laugh with him. They all turned and walked away. I think I heard someone
call him a loser.
day at the pool, Chris and I were up to our normal harassing antics when
we heard some commotion behind us. When we turned around, we saw a small
kid, probably about 11 years old, with an empty bottle of hair bleach.
He had apparently been pouring the contents of the bottle onto the hair
of middle school girls and told them that it was bleach. We swam over to
him and the following conversation ensued:
saw him fill it up with water,” Chris said to the girls. “Don’t
worry, it’s not bleach.”
the kid screamed in a tone of voice usually reserved for the deaf or
Chris replied. “20 bucks.”
I’m, uh, all out of money…FROM BUYING ALL THIS BLEACH!” he shouted
after carefully thinking of an excuse.
yeah, sure,” I said. “You know there’s no bleach in there.”
I answered. “I’m kinda bored anyway.”
my, uh, head hurts from, uh, THINKING ABOUT ALL THIS BLEACH I HAVE!!”
worry, I didn’t plan on hitting you in the head anyway. Come on,
let’s go,” I beckoned.
uh, have to go, uh, BUY SOME MORE BLEACH!” he yelled to us as he ran
girls’ hair never turned blonde, nor did we ever see him again.
the above segment regarding the kid in the pool...well, I admit, it
didn't quite happen that way. But close enough. So anways...One night,
we went to eat at a restaurant called “Hook’s.” Hook’s is shaped
like a giant pirate ship, and as we entered we saw a few sailors talking
to a waitress, who was kindly explaining: “This is not a real boat.
Please stop asking, and find work somewhere else.” We had a long wait
until we were to be seated, so we went to the top of the ship, where
people sat around and talked, watched a clown make animals out of
balloons, listen to a guy play a guitar and sing his version of Jimmy
Buffet’s hits (which everyone seems to think they can do,) or go hang
around an old arcade they have. Dan and I opted for the arcade, after a
few seconds of watching the clown make some balloon lemurs. The children
didn’t know what a lemur was, so they cried. The clown usually got
frustrated and said, “This is all I can do. Please, please
be satisfied. I can’t lose this job.” Then, if the kids kept crying,
he popped their balloon lemurs and hurled the kids over the side of the
boat. The little arcade was wonderful. They had Bad Dudes, one of the
greatest games ever, and U.N. Squadron, and several other great
classics. Everyone already knows about Bad Dudes. It’s just too cool
for words. For some reason, however, whenever I play it in an arcade, at
least one of the control sticks is broken so your Dude can only move
left, or up, or something like that. Even when I got Bad Dudes on my
computer it messed up. This game was no exception, so we didn’t play
it long. U.N. Squadron boasts the best characters in any game. The
pilots you can play as range from a robot with a human head to a talking
dolphin. If you play two players, your characters talk to each other,
too. The best combination is the little British baby, Bobby, and the
Japanese ninja. After beating the first level, they have the following
That was easy.
What? You’re just a baby.
I’m a baby.
I am a ninja.
game got old quick, too. But they still had one more classic: Final
Fight. Final Fight is a great game, because with 25 cents you can play
for an hour. We put in our quarters and played, when a kid approached
us. He reminded me completely of the kid from the movie theater, but I
didn’t mention it to Dan.
have this game on Super NES," he said to us, as I executed a pile
driver on a spikey-haired gang member.
and I didn’t respond, but instead beat another level.
know, you can throw those baseball bats in the Super NES version. I’ve
ok,” Dan replied, while beating another un-challenging level.
the Super NES version, it’s harder.”
I explained, “I made the Super NES Version, ok?”
kid looked up at me in awe, but retorted with, “I’ve beaten the
Super NES version in 1 hour, 14 minutes, and 32 seconds.”
we weren’t watching Alvin’s Channel and didn’t have the energy to
swim or FSW in the ocean, we went to the arcade provided by our hotel.
The arcade was pretty up-to-date, yet it still had a few games like
Lethal Enforcers and Vendetta for reasons my finite mind cannot
comprehend. The old games certainly were not bringing in any income and
were just taking up space and making the whole arcade look dated. Lethal
Enforcers is an abomination in itself since the second player’s gun is
pink. Anyways we spent most of our time psyching each other up to ask
the woman behind the counter for change. She looked about 60 years old
and was intently reading some romance novel with a Fabio look-alike on
the cover. Obviously not happy about being torn away from these romantic
tales, she would give us this face that is normally associated with
mental instability whenever we asked for change. For some reason she
never believed us when we told her that four was the correct number of
quarters when making change for a dollar.
No matter how nicely we taught her basic addition and explained
how the definition of the word “quarter” implied four, she would
always mumble something under her breath like “…darn kids…want
four quarters for a dollar bill huh?…trying to give me the
run-around…don’t think I won’t research this “4 for 1” theory
of yours…” I think she was a Congressman at one point. Anyways, once
we got any money, we would just waste it all on those stupid “gambling
for minors” games. The games at this arcade were the ones with the
quarters hanging off the edge of the platform (which was magnetized to
keep any possible chance of winning out of reach). We actually spent
more time swearing at the machines than we did sleeping the entire
vacation. After emptying all of our gas money into the machines, we
reached a point where we would stick all types of small objects into the
slots just to get some of our money back. At first we were worried about
the cashier lady seeing us, but we quickly realized that we could have
smashed through the glass with sledgehammers and she wouldn’t have
noticed. Besides, Fabio does take precedence over a couple kids trying
to cheat a machine.
Chuck E. Cheese
I visited the local Chuck E. Cheese “Restaurant” (I question the use
of the term “restaurant” because it implies more than one choice of
food). I was not surprised by the numerous kids playing around and
basically having a good time. Even though the only fun thing for me to
do now is to play the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Simpsons games
for nostalgia purposes, I can remember back to when I was younger when I
found several aspects of this whimsical place extremely entertaining.
The first thing that caught my attention was the mass of
rhythmically-challenged children attempting to dance along to the music
of the giant, badly disguised robots. The robots are an odd bunch,
consisting of Chuck E. Cheese (obviously), a hound dog, a bird, an
Italian chef, a furry purple victim of high-radiation exposure, and a
head that occasionally pops out of a trash can (hence the popular
nickname: head that pops out of the trash can). Due to the numerous
glow-in-the-dark bracelets and bouncy balls lodged in their joints, the
robots, instead of dance and play instruments, now just sort of spasm to
bad music (hence the rhythmically-challenged children trying to copy the
“dance moves” of their favorite celebrity sponsor of the “March
for Radiation” benefit program). The result is more frightening than
entertaining. I would love to have been in the room where this idea was
Executive 1: We need some cheap robots that will fall apart as well as
encompass all of the areas of the world that these children will
encounter, namely zoos, Disney World, European stereotypes, and side
effects of nuclear power.
Executive 2: Don’t forget spontaneous disembodied heads!
Either way, employees can only last for an average of 7 hours exposure
to repeat “I’ve Been Workin’ on the Railroad” sing-alongs and
spasmatic robots before attending severe depression and anger management
Another aspect the kids seemed to find entertaining was the games where
you win tickets. Personally, I am a hard-core believer in playing the
games solely for the entertainment provided by the game itself, not some
reward. But the majority of these kids were carrying around handfuls of
tickets that were probably stolen from the rich kid that was given the
equivalent of my college savings to spend on tokens. Due to Chuck E.
rigging the games, there is no possible way you can win more than 20
tickets without taking out a second mortgage. When they are done
pick-pocketing the aristocrats, the average kids strut up to the counter
with a mean 450 tickets, which is the equivalent of $100 from mom’s
purse, 7 hours of cheating the older games, and 4 hours of “bumping
into” the spoiled brats. Unfortunately, Chuck E. has taken all of the
potential ticket items and multiplied their retail value by the number
of times kids have broken out into seizures on the robot stage to get
the item prices in tickets. I calculated that if Bill Gates converted
his worth in Microsoft stock to Chuck E. Cheese tickets, he could buy 2
spider rings, and a pony tattoo. You can imagine what these kids are
getting. This brings us to another interesting point: Why are all these
spider rings still here? These rings have been in the lower section of
the ticket counter for as far as I can remember. My theory is that in
1994, a major corporation accidentally switched the production figures
of POGS and arachnid jewelry. Whatever the reason, I believe that the
fake insect population is now twice that of the actual one. Despite all
of this, everyone with an IQ barely high enough to accommodate basic
motor skills will have a great time at Chuck E. Cheese’s. Except for
KISS FM: The Day Pop Culture Died
I must issue a disclaimer. After reading our account of our latest trip to Panama City, you may make the mistake of assuming that all the stories we write are total BS. Though the PCB one was heavily embellished, this one is absolutely 100% true.
Riverbend, in Chattanooga, TN, is a giant "festival" along the Tennessee River. Bands come and play on big stages, tents have food and drinks, and everyone socializes. In short, thousands of rednecks get drunk and attempt to pick up 6th graders. There are normal people there too, but they're overshadowed by the rednecks, and their accompanying throng of 13 year olds attempting to look 18 and drink underage.
These 13 year olds passionately embrace a radio station known as KISS FM. KISS has overrun many parts of the nation, soaking us in an oily slime of N*Sync and Destiny's Child, and thus one of the tents there was a KISS FM tent. I was there, with several friends, and we happened upon this tent....
The tent was empty. Red and white stripes, a long table, and a cooler. Nothing else. Nobody there. Luckily, someone left a pen there, which made us believable. When you look from side to side in the crowd as if you're looking for a certain person, and tap a pen against the palm of your hand, people will always assume you've got a job to do.
You see, people are easy to fool. Of course, 13 year olds are even easier, especially when they're high off of the collective stench of alcohol, body odor, second hand smoke, and Bath and Body Works lotions that emanate from Riverbend. So I tapped the pen on my hand and looked around. Accompanying me were two friends, Andy and Joel. It was mere minutes before someone approached.
"Hey, are you guys from KISS 98?" The kid was about 10. He was sort of pudgy, and Indian. It's important to note. I nodded, and Andy frantically looked around for some sort of prop to BS him with. Inside the big cooler, someone had thrown a box of raisins. The cooler was empty besides ice, and Andy pulled the raisins out, and tossed them on the table. I did my best corny DJ voice: "That's right, we're here from KISS FM, holding a contest for raisins! Crazy, huh? That's right, we're crazy about summer!" I glanced behind me. "You want some ice? We're out here giving away free ice."
He nodded appreciatively. "Yeah! I love ice!" The three of us tried to contain or laughter as Andy tossed him a piece of ice.
"KISS FM's keeping you cool in the summer," I replied, rather proud of myself for that particular line.
"I wanna win the raisins! Hey, they're a little wet." He replied, furrowing his brow as he happily sucked on his ice.
"That's because they're cool."
He nodded appreciatively. Andy looked around for something, and finally picked up a piece of trash on the ground. It was the instructions for a "Salvation Bracelet," a string of several different colors of beads. Each bead stood for some aspect of Christian salvation. Andy handed it to the kid, and said, "Just fill this out and you'll be in the drawing for the raisins."
He nodded, taking my pen, and read the sheet. He looked up, confused. "Um...do I just pick a color?"
"Yeah, you got it, buddy," Andy replied. The kid circled Red, and wrote his name, address, phone number, and e-mail address on the back of the sheet. Andy later told me that he was going to call him and told him he won, and that he was on the air, but I don't think he ever did. Andy's full of crap like that.
We went back the next day, and an old, gross looking man was trying to attract little girls to him by offering them Back Street Boys CD's. Rather than try to fool people right there next to him, we opted to come back the next day.
Before even going, I called Andy, and we fully planned our course of action.
We met at Riverbend wearing similar polo shirts, and I gave them fake nametags that I'd made on the computer, complete with the KISS FM logo and fake names. We looked like we belonged there.
Andy, meanwhile, had snuck in 10 pairs of his used briefs, and signed the name "Richard Dawson" on the back of all of them. Joel met us there shortly after we'd set up the booth.
Who is Richard Dawson?
For you unfortunate souls who don't know, Richard Dawson is the original host of Family Feud. Charming, sexy, and smart beyond compare, he's the perfect person for our ploy.
Our booth was beautiful. Displayed pairs of Richard Dawson briefs, and signs telling people how to play the "Pop Quiz Game," so they could win an autographed pair of briefs from the Richard Dawson Collection. "Worn, soiled, and now signed, by Richard Dawson himself," we advertised. And sadly, people came.
They'd come in groups, and ask us who we were, etc. We weren't the normal radio personalities they were used to seeing. Andy was particularly vocal: "I'm Cap'n Brodie Bruce, I come on at 3:00 in the morning."
Most people said they had heard of us, and one guy went so far as to complain that Andy didn't play enough Phish and String Cheese Experience. Andy told him he'd heard that before, and that he would be happy correct the problem. (Note: See aforementioned comment regarding Andy and crap, and Andy being full of crap.)
The game was simple. We'd each ask a question, and they had to get one right to win. Questions one and two were always fixed or impossible, and question 3 was ridiculously easy, because we wanted to get rid of the underwear.
For instance, a group of girls approached, and asked to play the game. Andy asked them, "Ok girls, in the movie Ghostbusters, what actor portrayed the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?"
The girls grimaced in unison. The one's face lit up. "Oh! Is it Bruce Willis?"
Andy shook his head sadly. "Oh, sorry. Actually, it's Mark Hamill....yeah, the guy from Star Wars..."
"I knew that!" another one of the girls said. "Ok, give us another question."
"Alright," I said, "Who's first hit single was entitled 'Living La Vida Loca?'"
"RICKY MARTIN!" They all yelled, happy about their achievement.
"Ohhh, sorry. That's incorrect."
Andy nodded. "Yes, it's actually Weezer. Sorry."
"Ok, third question," Joel told them, trying hard to hold their pygmy-like attention. "Who is Richard Dawson?" The girls started to look at each other frantically, and then noticed that it Richard Dawson's picture and a short description about him were printed in big letters less than 2 feet away from them.
"The original host of Family Feud!" one said, extremely proud of herself.
"That's correct!" They jumped up and down, yelling like the school girls they are, and then we tossed them a pair of briefs.
"Let's go show these to John!" the girl with the briefs said, holding them up and whooping to the crowd of drunkards. Nobody thought it odd that the girl had mens underwear on her person. Probably most of the women did, that night.
Other encounters were equally as sad. One man put the underwear on over his jeans and ran around the concert with them on, telling people how great Richard Dawson was in between long drags on his cigarettes.
A scheme this brilliant could only end in violent conflict. Several full-grown adults had visited us that night, and proved themselves equally as ignorant as the sixth graders surrounding them. However, one approached with a certain sly glimmer in his eye, a sort of "Fear Me" look to him:
The man casually approached. "Whatcha doin, boys?"
"We're giving away free autographed Richard Dawson memorabilia," I answered truthfully.
"Ah, I see." There was a brief pause as we realized we were screwed. "Can you take it to another tent?"
"Why?" Andy asked, shrugging.
"Because you don't work at KISS FM," he profoundly said. I could almost hear him mumbling "checkmate!" to himself. I'm sure he was proud to finally outwit some of the wily kids who had no doubt been irritating him all night long.
But Andy doesn't back down. In fact, Andy has a habit of always carrying things one step too far. "Oh no, I work at KISS." He pointed to his fake ID badge. "I'm Cap'n Brodie Bruce, I come on at 3:00 in the morning."
This only angered our antagonist more. He snarled, "LOOK, I've worked for Cumulous Broadcasting, the company that owns KISS, for 15 years, and I've never seen you before in my life!"
Andy got up in his face, and with just as much ironic hate, said to him, "Look buddy, don't get hostile!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw security guards approaching. I nudged Joel and we began packing our stuff up hurriedly. A few seconds later, we pulled Andy away and left.
But when it was all said and done, 7 people left that night with used pairs of Andy's underwear.