Puh Puh Puh Paga 2007

Inside the huddle
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
It has happened again. My No Tsu Oh brethren and I went to Rimini for Paganello. Buona Pasqua bitches.

We passed a good time, chere. The not so buona part was losing in the finals to UTI, a London-based frisber powerhouse team. The short story is that UTI played a great game with few forced errors. NTO did not. I definitely did not as the cankle was not game ready, and I'm way out of shape. Didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that - just a video about how to berle crawfish. How many pounds does the camera add? I digress. Mi scusi.

The annual pilgrimage was good but not great. The good part was visiting Italian friends that I only get to see onced (that's a coonass word, piss off) a year: Raffa, Cris, Sara, Luca, Chiara, Pippo, the bartenders at The Barge. Partying with the other teams is also a zesty undertaking. ZESTY!

The not great part of the tourney was coming down with a stomach virus on Tuesday. I was in bed for roughly 18 hours that day. Guess where the other 6 were spent. I slept about 2 hours on Wednesday morning in some sort of hallucinating trance-like state. As I lay there shivering under mounds of covers, I could only wonder if HST felt like this during one of his epic drug binges.

20 Car Bombs at The Barge
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
The good news is that I managed to hold it together for the plane ride across the Atlantic and the train ride across Italia. Then the wheels fell off upon arriving in Rimini on Thursday.

Without being too graphic, I can tell you that I only left my hotel room for a quick 20 minute round trip to The Barge to catch up with the team for a fleeting moment of festivities. Turns out 20 minutes is plenty long enough to lose "Battle of Wits" versus Schultzy. Stumped? Think Princess Bride. There was no iocane powder, but there was a shot of Italian K-Mart vodka. I nearly yacked from the smell, but I think the 80 proof shooter momentarily distracted the virus. Unfortunately, the virus awakened with renewed vigor and forced me to sprint back to the hotel.

We have GayTor
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
The highlight of my trip was penning a ransom note to a rival team after we gained possession of their mascot. Please note that I said "gained possession" not "kidnapped" as it is my understanding that a teammate "found" said mascot unattended and cowering in the corner of the party tent fearing molestation and loss of another limb. I channeled my inner Strongbad in an effort halt offensive action by the other team (who shall remain nameless so that Google powers can't be used for reprisal). If you're interested in more details, you need to bring me a High Life. Then we can chat.

The trip from Rimini to Milano was relaxing but bittersweet as the finality of next year's impending team retirement sunk in. I'm glad that the team will close on a high note. How can I know it's a high note? Simple. No matter what happens next year, we will have won the tourney at least five out of nine tries. That's preety good. Plus, I have built many solid new friendships and strengthened existing relationships. I am very proud of that.

I'd be more proud to play a shit ton of points next year. Time to start running.

The trip ended on a huge positive with a visit to Raffa and Cris in Como. Visiting Raffa and Cris is an annual highlight of the trip and an illustration of a relationship strengthened by my annual trips to Italia. There is no way that either Raffa or I would have guessed that we'd still be good friends after a brief stint together in grad skule. Small world; short life.

Raffa & Cris
Originally uploaded by JaseMan.
Anyway, Raffa and Cris had big news to share. The renovations to the family home were complete with all three apartments being livable. Most importantly, they told me that I was to be an Americano Uncle. Bambino/a is on the way. Sweet!

Attention coworkers and colleagues, I will be unavailable for corporate exploitation during Easter 2008 and the surrounding weeks. Please plan accordingly. Cheers.

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