Never Mess with the Irish
On behalf of JimboWeekend; Brandon, Dan, and Myself must apologize for our lack of blog posts during our Europe trip. After our first three days in Mykonos, our brains had turned to mush from the Ouzo and lack of sleep.
It would have been near impossible to craft a sufficient blog post as it became seemingly more difficult to form sentences and remember our own names. We did however keep an accurate Iphone note of what we did along the trip. This way we could recall details later on. From our notes, we slept a total of 10 hours in Mykonos over the three nights we were there; 4 hours the first night, 4 hours the second night, and 2 hours the last night. I relate this feeling of exhaustion to any Vegas vacation; by the time your stay is over, you’re ready to leave and never come back. Surely, our next stop would be a bit mellower.
We arrived in Ios and quickly became aware that Mykonos was regarded the #2 party island in Greece; Ios was known as the craziest among the locals. Feeling like camels in the Sahara, we began to hydrate and eat since we had forgotten to do so in the previous days. Being the professional nap-taker that I am, I urged Dan and Brandon that we needed to rest up before we began our next leg of partying. We went back to our rooms to get a glorious 3-hour nap. I awoke only to find Dan throwing up; apparently his nap didn’t go so well. Dan is one of the toughest dudes I know, but he’s no match for Gluten. His Celiac disease got the best of him this time. It turns out the restaurant hadn’t taken the proper precautions when cooking Dan’s meal. He was forced to worship the porcelain Goddess as Brandon and I searched for medicine along the beach. All we were able to find was an orange, a bottle of rum, and 1 tums pill that a storeowner gave us out of his pocket. Fearing what the tablet might have actually been, Dan and Brandon split the tums tablet in half like true friends would.
Dan was looking and feeling better but still wasn’t 100%. Our wolfpack was now down to two. With Dan resting, Brandon and I decided to wander down to Far Out Beach club. Thanks to Dan’s Glutten intolerance, we missed the wet t-shirt contest by 10 minutes. We arrived to the club as the party was winding down but still managed to meet a few people from around the world. The club felt like a circus as everyone was pushing each other into the pool. Brandon and I walked around with our GoPro filming the craziness, we then met a group of 20 Irish guys and girls. We soon became BFF’s after I explained to everyone that Brandon and I were both 50% Irish. A couple people in the group were slightly more rowdy than the rest; they continually tossed each other into the pool. One of the girls emerged out of the water just after getting pushed in, she yelled to Brandon, “Push her in,” and pointed and the culprit. Brandon had no choice but to pick her up and toss her in the pool.
Here’s a picture of some of the hooligans we met:
Everyone laughed, as Karma had become a reality for the Irish girl. Within 5 seconds, a bouncer appeared who looked like an ex-convict from out of a Greek Prison. We estimate he was 6ft 5in, 255lbs, and only communicated by a series of grunts and frowns. He proceeded to throw a haymaker punch at Brandon’s face. Being the agile Irish-American that he is, Brandon avoided the punch to the face but was clocked across his neck. Both the ex-convict bouncer and Brandon regained their balance only to find themselves in another altercation. Confused, Brandon threw up his arms in disbelief and yelled, “What the F@*#??!.” The bouncer proceeded to throw another haymaker at Brandon’s face. Again the punch narrowly missed him but struck him on the neck.
Let’s pause for a moment to fully appreciate this situation. Even if Brandon was at fault for throwing someone into the pool (note that this had been going on by almost everyone at the party) I highly doubt bouncers are taught to KO their customers. I imagine the typical situation is that we’d be asked to leave.
Back to the story: I didn’t see the two punches but heard everyone yell and scream. By the time I turned around, the area between Brandon and the bouncer became congested with other bouncers and the 20 Irish hooligans. I turned around only to see the bouncer giving Brandon a final drop kick to his back as he was pushed away. I immediately got to Brandon as he was being escorted towards the exit. With our strongest fighter still sick in bed, I remember feeling unprepared for such an event. If Dan was there I predict we could have beat up the entire club’s staff, but that just wasn’t the case. All was not lost in the “Battle of the Far Out Beach Club,” mind you that we had just made friends with 20 Irish folks. Thank God for Ireland, Guinness, and Jameson.
The club was on the verge of a riot as the Irish Clan was ready to go up in arms for their newly found American friends. They began yelling at the bouncer as he retreated to a back exit of the club. No one quite understood what the Irish group was yelling due to their thick accents, but everyone knew they weren’t joking around. The other bouncers at the club began to panic and the club owner sprinted over to Brandon. The tables had surely turned. The entire Irish group pounded their whiskey/beer and began a full on verbal assault against the owner and staff. It was as if we were brothers from birth, even though our countries were separated by thousands of miles.
Here’s a picture of the main Irish guy yelling at the club owner. The girl in yellow is the one who was thrown in; she was also the most likely to throw the first punch at the owner.
Moral of the story, if you ever find yourself in a fight or some sort of violent altercation, always pick the side of the Irish. To say Brandon and I are thankful for our new Irish friends would be an understatement; tonight we drink for Ireland!
Stay tuned for the next update from as we share our experiences from Santorini, Greece.
-Jimbo