The Night I Was Mr. Playboy

[Jukebox Johnson]

Several years ago I was on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. It is a resort type barrier island not far from Savannah GA. I was there for the purpose of playing in a croquet tournament at Port Royal. I also happened to have a friend in the food/bev industry who shared an apartment at the time with about four hot girls also employed in the food/bev business. On Thursday night was the main dinner party associated with the tournament and was also 'girls night out' for my friend's roommates and a night he has to work. So they (the girls) told me to me them at such and such club, the hottest spot on the island, after I was finished at the dinner. The dinner was in the Members Dining Room at the Club House and I was dressed (minimally) in khakis, blue blazer, white shirt and red paisley tie. Dinner was fine and there were drinks. I was one of the youngest men in the room at that party and this was before viagra; the hungry looks on some of the the older women were obvious. They were all dripping with big rocks, etc.

But that is just the prelude. When the dinner was over and all the drinks were done there, I went to the meat-market where the girls were waiting for me. On the way I hit the pipe a few times and when I rolled in I was feeling good, considering I was walking into a resort meat market full of tourists alone and not knowing anyone and about 3/4 blitzed. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to see a table full of beautiful women waving at me and calling my name, gesturing to an empty chair right between them all. I stumbled to the chair as calmly as possible and ordered and drink while greeting and hugging about six women.

As my eyes got adjusted to the light i could see that very few people in the bar were sitting down and VERY few of them were men. Most of the bar was single men three deep standing along the walls and I was the only man in the room sitting with six women. I was so blitzed at the time I didn't realize the attention I was attracting at first. I was the only man with a blazer and tie, sitting with a table full of hotties. They assumed I was SOMEBODY and i played along. I was not too fucked up to pick up on this point and niether were the girls. At one point a guy came over and asked me if I worked for "the bank"; I gave him the single nod and a wink, while the girl next to me laughed. Later a guy actually came up and asked me what my 'secret' was. One of the girls at the table looked at the guy and held her hands out, palms facing, about 12 inches apart. The guy was crushed, leaving without a word. Another guy tried to speak to me and I cut him off by asking him what he shot (his golf score) that day. He just lowered his head and walked.

That night I was Mr. Playboy. It's the only time for me but it was great.

[Martini Time]

Blazer? Necktie? Pipe? Croquet?

Will you marry me?!?

Good story Juke! Mine pale in comparison.

[Mongeaux]

If I had a night like that I could die happy. Cheers!

[Endolas]

Darn. With the paisley tie, I figured everyone thought you were gay. :-D

Seriously, though, that story kicked a lot of ass. Nice.

[Atavist]

I like that story.

I love it when that happens.

[thirsty4beer]

i like that story

it has never happened to me

[frankennietzsche]

You can never go wrong with paisley ties (as long as they don't clash with your shirt or jacket.) Classic.

[Lifer]

You lost me at Croquet.

[Leftboston]

You lost me at Croquet.

My friends play Cape Cod Rules Croquet. Rule 1 is if you take a shot you have to have a drink in your hand. Rule 2 is don't forget Rule 1 or you will be penalized. IT is a great drinking game. That is one of the things I miss about not being in Boston with my old friends. Cutthroat Croquet and beer coolers everywhere.

[Apothecary]

Ten years ago and about one week after I rolled my car whilst on a bender I was standing at the bar. I had, say, ten to fifteen stitches in my left cheek under my eye and three or four in my chin. I still had a black eye, too. I had a wallet full of cash, a couple of gold cards and I was well dressed. And only twenty-six years old to boot. I'm a tall fellow - 6 foot one - and I manage to stay fit (I go running drunk, sometimes). A hottie standing at the bar said, " What the hell happened to you?"

" I play pro hockey", I said.

" Holy shit!" she replied. "Who for?"

" Well I've been with Adarondack for awhile but I've been up in the show for a few weeks."

Her mind was blown. This girl knew about the NHL. "Detroit? Fuck, fuck.....you play for the Detroit Red Wings?"

Like I said.... she knew enough to know that Detroit's farm club was in Adarondack.

She called a bunch of buddies over. " What are you doing in Halifax?" another sweet thang asked.

" I grew up here. I'm on the injury list and I missed my parents, so I came home."

One of the sweeties' boyfriends and I got to shooting-the-shit about the game. " When did that happen?" he asked while nodding at my face.

" Last week in Toronto."

"What's your name, man?" he asked.

Shit. I told him my real name. Afterall, I had opened a tab with my gold card.

"Holy fuck!" he said. " I know who you are! I saw that game!"

He called to the crowd, " Buy this guy a fucken beer !"

I got too plastered to take one of the babes home. I did get a steamy hot kiss from the girlfriend of the aforementioned boyfriend, though.

- Cheers

p.s. I suck on skates, having quit house-league-hockey in grade eleven to play bass in a rock band.

[cannon1013]

During the late seventies and early eighties I had 2 buddies, one a dead ringer for Bobby Miller who played for the Boston Bruins around that time and the other a dead ringer for Bob Seger. I'm not talking looked kinda like..or in the right light like..I'm talking photo quality, the real one dies and this one slides in, dead ringers. I used to love going into town (Boston) with both or either one of them. You've heard of guilt by association..well..there's also getting female attention like you read about by association. Man..the times I had with those guys. I also got to lie my brains out to. A major record producer.....NHL talent scout...you name it. Those were the days.