Legra’s Law * 7 * – Boozehounds

It is now 2011 and I should note that this law was written in 2005. Although in 2010 I would be on the “Boozehounds” softball team, this was in no way related to that outfit. Pure coincidence.

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It was the summer after I graduated college. I was fresh back from my trip to Europe; and needless to say, I had no job, no glimmer of a job, and thus no hope of money. It’s funny how even when you’re in the doghouse though, you can always find a way to throw yourself a bone.

I hitchhiked a ride to the city via NJ Transit with only lint in my pocket and my accommodations to stay at Casa de Casey (aka Casey’s dorm room). A friend at the time, Benny had his parents visiting from out of town, and we thought to take them to a prominent and fitting establishment of the time… Ryan’s. (Note: Ryan is not our friend… it was our local, located in an alleyway bar.) Imagine Cheers meets home in an alley. The evening was full of great conversation, drinks, laughter, and drinks. Not too much drinking – just enough for an evening when you know that you don’t have to drive… so I guess void out the last comment. Slowly, groups of people began leaving. The parents are usually the first to go, then the amateurs, followed by the team players, and eventually the “boozehounds.” (While not necessarily proud of this classification, this is the group that included yours truly, for I could more often than not “hold my own.”)


All of my other friends had long since gone and since Ryan’s was a place I called home for many years, someone in the fine establishment, be it brother or bartender, would usually offer up the next round. Like many stories, it was now too late and I can’t remember exactly how I got back to Casey’s dorm, but I did… and somehow alone. I called Casey and there was no answer. Hmm? Weird? No big deal, I dialed another friend, Anthony… no answer. I called Benny’s cell phone (who was also staying at his parent’s hotel) … nothing. So I ran through the gambit again. Casey. Anthony. Benny. Maybe just one more time. Casey. Anthony. Benny. After trying a few other – not so well known – acquaintances and getting no reply I was starting to get worried. And with worrying comes exaggeration. So I did what many of us would in that situation. I called everyone repeatedly: Casey, Casey, Casey, Casey, Casey. Next Anthony, Anthony,Anthony. Lastly, Benny, Benny,,, you get it. I was desperate. NA-THING!



At this point the security guard watchdog of the dorms was starting to get suspicious of why no one had yet come to pick me up and declare me as a guest, and I knew very well that sleeping in the entrance of Pace University was not a viable option, so I had to think. I couldn’t drive home – no car and no shape. I couldn’t take the train – no money and too late. Who was I going to call? I had tried everyone. What was I going to do?



Short of calling my mother, I didn’t really have any options, so I did the only other thing I could come up with.



“Hello, Operator,” the woman on the line greeted.

“Hi. I need the number to the Marriot Hotel on West Street, please,” I requested.




At this point, you might be piecing together that I called Benny’s room at the hotel and woke him up at 4:00 am. I did not. I did however call the room that Benny was staying in which was also his parent’s room and woke them up at 4:00 am. A half-asleep parent picked up the phone and a full drunken but very calm me had to explain to them that I was stranded, and while very apologetic, had nowhere to go.



As I would expect, Benny’s parents only scolded me for thinking that I was a bother to them, “Jen, you did the right thing calling us. Come over immediately.” Only the most understanding and hospitable set of parents could turn a drunken 4 am phone call into a brilliant idea!



And so I was on my way. But remember, just as a hound dog has to use his nose to find its way home, I had to use my feet to get to my destination. So in my very cute but tight and not the easiest to walk in summer dress and my “Fabulonsous” shoes (see Legra’s Law *6* The Art of War – for further info – I told you, Cassano-duds that you didn’t beat me), I began my “Homeward Bound” journey. After a night of drinking, this was not the easiest mission, so I opted to take my shoes off and walk barefoot instead. Looking back, I know that maybe this was not the most sanitary idea but again, friends, these stories are for you to learn from….. not follow. About half way there, however, my very cute but tight and not the easiest to walk in summer dress, got me a free taxi ride. The taxista feeling sorry for the girl he saw walking barefoot in New York City at 5:00 am, or maybe just a dirty dog, took me to the hotel where I waited for Benny to come down to the lobby and collect his boozehound friend.

Moral of the story: If you are going to be a boozeHOUND, make sure you know at whose doghouse you’re staying.

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