As all of you are well aware of by now Coombsy is a goldmine for fantastic comments and wonderful acts of randomness. Whether it be the trips he takes or the races he may or may not hate Coombsy has always kept me entertained. This held true for the trip we took to Vegas in December '09. On this trip we were down a Duke (We were without Ricky. Darn you ADP and your blackout periods.) but we did our best to keep morale high and the misdemeanors low.
As we tramped and vagabonded our way across the strip we decided to stop off at the old Coca Cola World for a look around and a tray of refreshing beverages from around the world. It is here where our first Coombsyism makes its appearance. We had hammered our way through five continents and 14 countries when we reached our final drink. It was an Italian drink called Beverly. It was clear in appearance and from its smell it had some heady pine notes. (Quick aside, if I were a drinking man I know I would be one of those pretentious wine drinkers that thinks a trip to Napa Valley for the wine festival is the greatest vacation ever.)
|We didn't know what we were in for. Look at our adorable innocence.|
We were looking forward to giving Beverly a go. We were in for quite a shock. As the liquid first touched my lips I knew something was wrong. My taste buds seemed to be rejecting my offering and my eyes were starting to water in rage. It was horrible. I felt like I was drinking a cup full of slightly sour dental floss. We all had the same reaction of revulsion and horror and what had occurred. We took back our tray of drinks and started to leave the store feeling subdued. As we went down the escalator Coombsy put into words what we all thought. "Stupid Beverly, just like a woman to let you down." We all paused and as one looked and Coombsy and just started to laugh. Who can argue with a man like Coombsy? I surely couldn't at that moment. It was all I could do to keep standing and trying to breathe.
The second comment came not much later in that same day. For the first days of our trip we had been staying with Danny's sister and brother-in-law at their house. We were very grateful to them and their hospitality but on our last night we wanted to stay and one of the casinos because it is a must when you go to Vegas. Our room was booked with two queen beds. We had four people (myself, Coombsy, Danny and McKell) and so we were going to have to sleep two to a bed. We were walking down the strip talking out our plan of action. We joked that sleeping with Coombsy would be the short end of the stick and he came back with this wonder "Well someone is going to have to man up and sleep with me." It was so great. Here we were on the strip in the middle of a busy day and Coombsy loudly busts out with his man up phrase. We had no fewer than 4 people turn and give us a weird look which is a pretty hard thing to accomplish in Vegas.
|This was our "classy" hotel choice. I can't resist a place that might house a dragon.|
As it turns out Danny ended up with Coombsy but I got the real short end of the stick. I spent my night huddled on the edge of the bed fending off wild blows from McKell's elbows cursing the decision to which we had come. We are all grateful though that I can manage to drive well even on a few hours of restless slumber since I had a seven hour drive ahead of me in the morning and we didn't want to drive.
As the Vegas trip drew to a close we had come to appreciate Coombsy's stance on women and his desire to not be alone in a Vegas hotel bed. Never again will I be able to hear the name Beverly and not smile.