I spent a few days with “Woody” from the story last week; being in his company make me think of this story, which I had to capture while still fresh in my mind. Some facts, places, and people might have been changed to protect people’s identities and to make the story better. Deal with it.
[Background]
The events of this story took place on Sunday, August 10th, 2008 in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. My friends and family rented a house for my bachelor party. Through the course of the weekend one of the guys whom we shall call “Gambo” took offense to the antics that were taking place in the house, especially one that indirectly-directly impacted him. This one specific event caused Gambo to mope around the house and not talk to anyone. On Saturday evening, a minor confrontation broke out between Gambo and a gentlemen we shall call Woody (actually a confrontation between me and Gambo also broke out). Woody was one of the principles in the act that caused Gambo to freak out and stop talking to us. Woody took responsibility for any damage and called in a specialist at a very low cost (a fraction of the deposit on the place). Gambo, who booked the house, wasn’t satisfied for some reason. Gambo came out of his funk on Saturday night, but still wasn’t talking to Woody. This leads us to Sunday Morning…
It had been decided after the specialist repaired the damage to the house (outstanding work I might add), we would all go out and get lunch. I picked a local Indian place to piss off my friend “Nuesbaum” who doesn’t like ethnic food. The pressure from the last few days had lifted since the damage was fixed and the security deposit was coming back (which nobody expected to be returned except for Gambo). Woody and I got into Republicaster’s car. As we were pulling out, Gambo got into the back seat next to me. The next 6 minutes won’t ever be forgotten.
[The Ride]
{Scene: Republicaster, Woody, and I are in the driveway of the house, getting ready to leave for lunch. Gambo is looking at the car.}
Woody: I hope he doesn’t think he is getting a ride with us.
Joey: I doubt he will get in the car, Gambo is non-confrontational, he knows better than to come in here with you.
{Gambo gets in the car. I hear Republicaster saying “Oh shit” under his breath. The car is silent for a full minute}
Joey: Man I can’t wait to get me some Indian food. I wonder if Nuesbuam is going to make it through lunch before he ruins himself.
Gambo: He isn’t coming, he is going to get Burger King with some of the other guys
Joey: What the hell…
Woody (to Republicaster): Man, that specialist did a great job today.
Republicaster: No doubt man, we got lucky finding him. Good work.
Woody: Gambo, you like what he did?
Gambo: Yeah it looks fine.
{Woody nodds}
Gambo: I just want to let you know that I am not paying you for the specialist, I don’t think I should have to.
{Woody remains silent}
{Woody turns around to face Gambo}
Woody: You don’t think everyone should pay for the damage. Everyone was down there laughing and half the people in the house were in on it. It’s a bachelor party – everyone should pay. It should just come out of the deposit money.
Gambo: I don’t think I should have to pay for that damage.
Woody: That’s because you are a rat.
{Silence from everyone. There are much nastier words in the English language, but when Woody called Gambo a rat, it sounded like the absolute worst thing in the world}
Woody: Republicaster, can you believe this guy? He can’t relax and be part of the group, he needs to create a problem… needs to act like a RAT
{Gambo is looking at me with pleading eyes, I just look back with a a sad nod. I felt bad for the guy, but he got on the crazy train, now he need to sit back and enjoy the ride}
Woody: I can’t believe I am sharing a car with a rat. This guy has a been a complete jerk all weekend. A total RAT. You ever see a rat chew a hole in a wall? Then he climbs in the wall and makes more holes. And then he gets in your kitchen and eats your food and poops all over your counter. That’s what Gambo is doing. He is crapping in my kitchen!
Gambo: You think I should…
Woody: RAT!
Gambo: Why should I be expected to…
Woody: RATS CAN TALK! When a Rat got into our house, my mother made me chop off it’s head with a shovel….
{Woody is now sweating with rage and the thought of rats. Republicaster and I are fighting the urge to laugh.}
Woody: I am done with this guy. Nobody should talk to RATS, it’s bad for your health.
{Republicaster nods in agreement as we pull into the Indian Restaurant’s parking lot, Gambo is just staring out the window like nothing happened}
[Conclusion]
Lunch was a curry flavored session of tension. The other guys didn’t know what happened, but they knew something was up. Gambo and Woody stayed away from each other and when the meal was over he did not join us in the car ride home. Actually, I think we just got in the car and left knowing that Nuesbaum’s car had room (they met us after they got back from BK). Woody and Gambo kept their distance until the car ride back to New Jersey as they were both in my car. Gambo put on his earphones and listened to his iPod the entire ride home not saying a word to either of us. Woody made a few Rat comments, if Gambo heard them, he didn’t react. I didn’t speak to Gambo for a few months (actually not until days before the wedding). That is another topic to be covered in another place.
The boys didn’t get their deposit money returned for months, but none of them said anything to me about it – not even Woody, who told me after he got the check that he wasn’t expecting to get one. Eventually Gambo stopped talking to the group and after some initial questioning from the guys, they stopped asking about him. I have no doubts that this incident had something to do with his previous self-imposed exile.
