For good or ill, gift giving amongst my male friends is not very good for birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries, Halloween, or any other occasion that normally requires a gift to be given. As far as I am concerned this works out just fine as long as everybody agrees to not give gifts. The moment one guy decides to give a gift to someone then they have broken the unspoken agreement and we are all pretty much confused as to what to do the next time. This story is about my effort to try and confuse the hell out of all my guy friends by giving my good friend Dustin an 18th birthday gift.
In the United States, a male’s 18th birthday is a significant one as it allows you to purchase cigarettes, vote, join the military, and go to (most) strip clubs. My friend Dustin was having a party at his house for his 18th and everyone was going. Early on there would be family members and close friends and the latter parts of the evening would bring the rest of the town to make sure Dustin began his adult life as a celebrity in Simi Valley, as he still is to this day.
Being a close friend, I was expected to arrive early and partake in the gift giving portion of the day. With about an hour to go I had no gift and I had no idea what I would give him. And then I had one of the greatest ideas I have ever had in my life — I would shit in a box and give it to him. The only way this idea could get into my head, I think, is that I was listening to Kevin and Bean a few weeks earlier and heard them talking to a guy who ran a service where he would mail the shit of his dogs to people and was making a lucrative living on the internet doing this.
In my head, here is how I saw it going down: I would shit in a large box filled with packing peanuts so Dustin would open the box, see the peanuts, and just start digging around with his hands until he eventually found the prize and then everyone would laugh and I would be the coolest person ever. But here is how it actually went down.
I had to find a box. The only box I could find of reasonable size was a box for a mini humidifier that was maybe 8 inches cubed and the cardboard was the same type of cardboard that they use to encapsulate VHS tapes or maybe a box of Oreos. So I went into my bathroom and hovered over my toilet. First off, it is difficult to be straining your quads and then take a shit. Second off, I didn’t realise exactly the direction that everything comes out when you are taking a shit. So I hovered over my toilet, held this box underneath me and hoped it would just land right inside. It ended up hitting the side and a little on my finger holding the box. Oh well. I anticipated there might be problems which is why I planned on showering right after. The box was maybe a quarter full — very good quantity as far as I was concerned. I put the box on the sink and jumped in the shower. My bathroom at this time was not that big and the heat from the shower collected easily outside, especially when you need extra time to wash the excrement off your finger after trying to shit in a small box. I got out of the shower only to find that my box o’ shit was starting to melt — not totally, but having the contents turn into liquid was definitely something I needed to deal with quickly. First plan of action was to put the packing peanuts in the box. Of course I had none, so I decided to take about 10 pieces of paper, rip them all up into small shreds and dump them into the box. This had the effect of giving the brown contents a sprinkle effect but in no way did it cover the contents or anything like I had originally planned. Whatever. So I closed the box and then needed to seal it. So I found electrical tape and wrapped the box. I used one really long piece to wrap it horizontally and another to wrap it vertically until I had this black electrical tape cube. I put the cube in a paper grocery bag and then covered that bag with another grocery bag. At this point I was feeling extremely giddy and was just grinning from ear to ear with visions of Dustin opening his gift. I sprayed the bag with a load of cologne, walked to my truck, put the bag in the bed of the truck, and drove to his house rocking out to some happy hardcore trance music.
I show up at Dustin’s house and run inside. I immediately find Dustin and tell him to open my gift. He takes the bag and is about to open it when some family member called him upstairs. He put the bag on the pool table, which was in the centre of the house, and said he would be right back. I was almost hysterical at this point. I waited outside on the back patio bouncing up and down and found my other good friend Joe. Nobody else knew about what I had done and I was overflowing with anticipation. I eventually told Joe of what I had done just to be able to share my feeling of extreme excitement with someone. Dustin was upstairs for ages. I remember hearing somebody inside say “What is that smell?” and I just started freaking out with laughter. For all I knew the shit could have completely melted and was liquefied being held in by about 100 yards of electrical tape. We were soon to find out.
Dustin finally came down and I immediately rushed to him and said that he had to open my gift because it was “time sensitive.” He grabbed the bag and went outside. Opened the bag and found a black electrical tape cube which was thankfully not seeping any substances from its cracks. He started removing the tape but it was proving to be difficult for him since it was two really long pieces of tape. A crowd had gathered at this point and everyone was curious to see what was in the black cube. His brother Zak came over to help. Zak held the box with his two fingertips while Dustin pulled the tape making the box spin really fast in front of Zak. At this point I almost fell onto the floor laughing. I had visions in my head as they reached the end of the tape and the box opening up and splattering shit all over Dustin and Zak as it spun around super fast because Dustin was pulling the tape so hard. Dustin noticed my condition and asked me: “Luke, what is this? Cat shit?” and I then proceeded to laugh even harder somehow sputtering out “No, of course not. Who would give their best bud cat shit?” And my answer was absolutely pregnant with truth.
Now I would like to write that my vision of the spinning box splattering open actually happened but it didn’t. Dustin slowed down right at the end and took the box from Zak. He opened it up and immediately freaked out and threw it against the wall where it did actually splatter but no persons were directly affected. Everyone around was screaming to know what it was. Joe and I were rolling on the ground struggling to breathe. I mean honestly, who shits in a box and gives it to their best friend?
I anticipated revenge but I have made sure to be out of the country for all of my birthdays since then and Dustin has never been able to get me back, although I am curious to know what he would do to top that one.
They went to the VIP section to try and use their unique appearance as a bargaining chip but that was ineffective.
which, although small, packed a hell of a roar and brought many sorts of instruments and flags to back it up. The other long side of the field is a very mellow seated section which appeared to be filled with the older crowd who enjoyed watching football and were likely members of the club. The other short side is what they call “La Popular” where the general hooligans and riff-raff sit. And by sit I mean go absolutely bonkers for 2 hours.
On a bar about 15 feet long there were 15 people holding onto this piece of cloth that was being used by 4 other leaning bars above them while it was raining to the point they could not see the other side of the stadium. The footwear of these acrobats was definitely not adequate for jumping and screaming while on a bar 4 feet high on a stadium stand at maybe a 50-degree slant.
last inch of sound out of themselves to encourage their team.
rather packed with people, understandably due to the rain. The three animals squirmed halfway into the thick of people before they realised that policemen were not letting anyone through this exit. Many other people started to leave too, only to pack this corridor even more. Lemur had a frantic guy and his child try to squeeze to the front, only to be lodged right in front of Lemur. Lemur had his snout about 1 inch away from a guy who was needlessly panicking and turning his head fast and wildly. Meanwhile the kid of this guy was punching Lemur in the Lemur goods, definitely needlessly. The police waited until the rest of the stadium was out before they would let the hooligans out — and quite rightly so. The crowd eventually brute-forced their way past the police and ran for the exits, no doubt to hunt down the other sections in a brutal race through the streets of La Boca.
You just got off the bus and then you were in the middle of a dusty road with a few shops that sold really crappy t-shirts to the local workers for $3. I entered the nearest store and started asking for a hotel. A rather attractive looking lady decided she would test her drawing skills and gave me a 20-minute lecture on what there is in Arrecifes as well as where to find it and at what time. I could not have run into a nicer lady and I felt extremely well prepared all of a sudden. I walked to the prescribed hotel which was only 2 blocks but quite a chore with a giant bike box. I enter the lazy-looking “El Rutenero” hotel and book my 70-peso hotel room. It was a very nice room by any standard and I was pleased. I asked to build my bike in the reception which he obliged. While in there I 
became the local California celebrity who had a “que buena caja” which can probably be interpreted in a nasty way if you are American.
staying at the hotel who were racing on Sunday. The comedy had mostly to do with all of our race preparations which basically involved drinking some sort of alcohol and not getting much sleep. We were instantly friends. I left to find the Vudu bar which was on the corner of the one main street in town. As I ate, the air was filled with the noise of small wimpy motorcycles riding back and forth. I had chosen the area of town where all the kids take their shitty little moped and rev the engine and pop 3-inch wheelies with their fat girlfriend on the back. There were all sorts of bikes but for the most part they were the standard run-of-the-mill variety. Many were customised though — blue lights, handlebar flares, extended mirrors, FMF exhaust pipes, modified springs to accommodate for the weight of these fat girls, extra loud horns, and flashy paint jobs. 
There were a few larger sport bikes that made an incredible noise which doesn’t make too much sense since the town is only one mile square. Only a few daring souls impressed me but would have fallen on their face flat if they heard stories of Kamran and me riding at speeds in excess of 173 mph through traffic or using every lane on PCH swerving from side to side. It reminded me of “cruising the Regal Cinemas” in Simi Valley. My pizza was burnt and I didn’t tip. I even asked for a new pizza which I got — and it was burnt. Tough to do in a foreign language.
Get a grip, you late bastards! Do you know how annoying it is to wait for people when they are late? You know who you are. I go to the track and end up setting up camp with the guys from the hotel. They have a larger group that I was not aware of. All very nice people from a place called Lomas near my house in BsAs. I figure out that I am to race in the open category for people under 38. To clear things up: there are basically three levels of cycling here. The lowest, which is the open class called the “inactivos” since they don’t race often. Then the promocionales and finally the elite. The promocionales would represent our Category 2 and 3 while the elite are basically sponsored pros. So I was racing in the weakest class but I was fine with that considering my training had been no more than 2 hours most days on a flat circuit that gets tediously boring, followed with beer and wine.