Monday, April 13, 2015

Dave's First Seder


Fuck.

I looked at my phone that had been tossed to the corner of the room in the midst of my drunken slumber. The buzzing of the alarm sent the phone in muted circles like an Autistic dog trying to catch its tail. I scrambled over to see the time, 4:48am and a text from a girl that I met the night before, "So glad we decided to see that Guster show last night, let's do it again soon!"

Ah yes, there was a Guster concert last night, and maybe even some making out in the back seat. Ke$ha came on during the encore, still trying to make some sense of that but....FUCK. My flight was scheduled to leave in 80 minutes. I didn't have a bag packed. I didn't even have a bag, I had left it at a buddy's house a week before. So my two options were to go to the airport with nothing or blindly take the bag I took to Park City 4 weeks ago (that I never unpacked) Grab and go...surely there will be something usable in there.

I ordered an Uber (with a 3x surge at 4:55 in the morning...wtf?) swooped a buddy down the street and we were off to LAX. The trip wasn't off to an ideal start but the plane was delayed a couple minutes and we were the last two on board. I popped a valium, ordered a scotch, next stop SMF.

A few years after I moved to LA, I started coming up to Sacramento for minor holidays, Thanksgiving mostly. It's too hard to fly all the way back to the Eastern time zone for less than a week so instead I hang out with my adopted California family in Granite Bay. The attendants are a motley crew of old frat brothers, the Vegas gang the siblings of my friend Paul. Every time we get together it is bad news for whatever local municipality we stay in. This however was not a Thanksgiving trip. It was a Seder. Seder is special.

Growing up in the Waspy suburbs of Indianapolis, I didn't know any Jews. I've never been to a Bar Mitzvah, I don't know what a Snowball is (if it isn't a frozen projectile or two girls passing cum between their mouths) I've definitely never been to Temple or participated in the holy events surrounding Pasover. I had never been up to Paul's Seder because it typically overlaps with Coachella and well...Eat, Sleep, Rape, Repeat.

I wasn't on the original planning email of the trip, so all of the information I received was second hand. "Bring a Hawaiian shirt," was the only semblance of instructions I was given. Not that anything mattered since I had an old ski bag full of smelly socks with me and maybe a pair of goggles. Regardless, I did not get the memo about a linen suit, or about the duck costume, or that I would be wearing said duck costume, riding the back of a motorcycle...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Friday started off innocently enough. We went to a sushi lunch and began drinking heavily because of course we did. Next order of business was a run to Party City for decorations and a thrift store to get me outfitted.

Want to guess what happens when you drink a bunch of sake at lunch and then take the family (not my family) AMEX to Party City? Spoiler alert, you buy hundreds of dollars of stupid shit. Furthermore, when you take the same buzz to a Goodwill you might walk out with a golden linen suit and a Hawaiian shirt that would make Jimmy Buffett blush.

Next was a thousand dollar beer run and finally around 5pm we were ready to party.

Our group arrived in waves. It seemed like every 45 minutes another car would run to the airport and bring more people. A few of our crew were stranded in random airports across the country. Weather, equipment malfunction, but for the ten of us or so that made it successfully to Granite Bay, it was go time.

Every family has its own traditions. Some do the movie thing, others are really into food. My California family parties...a lot. So when plans for Friday night came and we were tasked with the option of storming the local Granite Bay Bars or getting a hotel downtown, there was never a doubt that we would snag a block of rooms at the Hyatt Regency.

The $100 a night Hyatt Regency, sometimes I miss the mid-sized city.

We trashed our rooms quite thoroughly, though not quite Mardi Gras bad. Our damage bill didn't reach the thousands and no one was threatened with litigation. When I Googled "broey bar Sacramento" the name Lowenbrau kept coming up. I clicked for a Yelp review.

"OMG I fucking hate this place, nothing but entitled bros, throwing money around and trying to take home sluts."

Need I say more?

I don't remember much more about the night other than the fact that a shot of Jameson was something like 2 dollars. College shot prices are hazardous to your health. I think about half the group booted, others stayed up til like 5am at a strip club, I attempted to catch up on some sleep but managed to wake up with an all time hangover Saturday morning. The Seder was yet to even begin, but I was already down for the count.

The first miracle of the trip happened at a Taco Bell in Roseville. A steak and egg breakfast burrito from the Bell can cure you of the gravest ills. I strongly recommend it.

So we get back at 12, just in time for the old guys/young guys basketball game. This isn't a normal basketball game. We played 2 rounds of 'You Got Served' and shotgunned a beer before the tip. Also the hoops are at 9.5 feet so people like me can dunk.

I was able to get a few baskets before I was mercifully subbed out. I started stretching on the sidelines to infer that I had tweaked a hamstring. In all actuality I was on the verge of booting and needed my squad to win before I re-entered the rotation. By some miracle the old guys (me) won, we all signed the ball, I think we cut the fucking net down. It was so obnoxious, but I loved every second of it. 10 beers later, a few lines of adderall and it was time for the Seder production meeting.

Yes. This dinner had a fucking production meeting.

At 4:30 Dave will put on the duck costume. McIvor will check ID's at the front door and stamp guests as they arrive. When all guests have arrived Dave in duck costume will ride on the back of a motorcycle waving an American flag and pump up the dinner guests. Other Dave will then play a heavily distorted version of the National Anthem on electric guitar.

I'm sure this is exactly what the ancient Jews in Israel envisioned when passing down the story of Passover.

Matt is in charge of the pinata. Gil, download a One Direction album. Ben, where is that fucking strobe light. Ari, go run a sound check on the amp. I've seen angry Assistant Directors run a meeting. Seder Paul puts them all to shame. See this may sound like an absurd family tradition, this zany Passover meal. But it's HIS tradition and he takes it very seriously.

"Why did we get a strobe light this year?"

"Because we didn't have one last year and each year we need to elevate to keep it fresh."

Ah yes, the comedy principle of "yes, and..." now he's speaking my language.

***

I've ridden mopeds both domestically and internationally. I've taken a dirt bike off a jump. I have never ridden on the back of a motorcycle. It is terrifying. Blind in a duck suit, it is pants shitting scary. And as I was waving that American flag for the arriving guests our speed never eclipsed maybe 12 miles per hour.

Yet I've never clutched harder to anything in my life than the other Dave aka war hero (for real) Dave's chest.

When he dropped me off I jumped and I cheered. I high fived the dinner guests, but mostly I sprinted to the bathroom to take off my duck costume and take a stiff pull of whiskey as I promised myself never again to get onto the back of a motorcycle.



After war hero Dave's riveting performance of our National Anthem (see above) it was time for dinner. Well, no. It was time for a lot of wine and some readings. Some Hebrew, some English. I was far too gone to follow, but there was lots of singing and clapping involved. In my heightened euphoric state I remember enjoying that quite a bit.

The whole dinner goes in waves, there is the wine wave, then some flat bread, then salad and a matzah ball I think? I remember finally when it was my turn to read I had become very nervous. I thought that the moment would crush me and I would embarrass myself in front of all these fine Jewish folk. But alas, when I finished they cheered because we had made it to the end of the Seder story and the meat could be served. More specifically the duck!

Someone else put on the duck costume and a duck pinata full of peeps was presented to the table, I think there was some brisket and I'm fairly certain one of the adults (like actual adult over 50, not a twentysomething "adult") crowed, "we're gonna need some more wine."

Yes, yes we are.

Around the 17th bottle of wine, someone announced "Kentucky is going to lose!" and now the Indiana crowd had something more to celebrate. It was quite the night. You ever talk to someone you know you're never going to see again and just make shit up for the purpose of driving a fascinating conversation? I do this sometimes when I'm drunk and talking to adults. I hope that one older woman doesn't honestly try to follow my Senatorial career.

We went back to the garage for an all night marathon of Civil War, I made buffalo chicken dip at like 3 o clock in the morning and then my trip ended just as it began...blacked out waking up late to my phone alarm.

Fuck.

Ben we're going to be late, our flight leaves in an hour.

The rush to SMF begins...unshowered, wearing whatever I finally fell asleep in and sans any of my new Goodwill acquisitions. (RIP gold linen suit.)

I look back at the car for a moment before I run to my gate. Paul's mom rolls down the window. "Dave, you're such a delight. You're part of the family now, come back whenever you want." I smiled for a minute and let this process. There are only two things that really matter in this world, your health and people that care about you...and on this particular day, at least I had one.

We rush to the Southwest counter only to find out their server had crashed and we would need to wait in line for a paper ticket.

Dreading the idea of an afternoon in Sacramento airport lamenting a missed flight I did something far outside my character and caused a scene.

Sweaty and strung out I approach the counter.

"Sir did you wait in line?"

"No, I need to speak to the person in charge. If my ability to use a mobile boarding pass hadn't been taken away by YOUR issue, I would not be in danger of missing my flight right now."

Maybe my breath was too bad, maybe my quasi-drunken demeanor made the check-in lady nervous. But she frowned and handed me two boarding passes. Home free right, because who the fuck lives in Sacramento, there can't be a security line right?

Wrong.

Easily a 45 minute line.

Did I care? I dragged Ben to the TSA pre check line and shoved my documents in some woman's face. She didn't give a shit, she hated her job and wanted to be at an Easter brunch. She lets me through and all is looking good until some hero approaches me at the conveyor.

"Let me see your boarding pass."

"Sorry sir, I'm running a bit late."

"Do you have a first class ticket? Global entry? Pre-check?"

"No but I've already been cleared by her, go talk to her."

"I'll talk to YOU."

And then I stared at him and said in a very pointed tone.

"I'm going to walk through the metal detector now, are you going to stop me or not?"

It easily could have gotten me arrested or on some no fly list, I NEVER fuck with the TSA. But he walked away like the bitch that he is and we made it through security.

We were now sprinting to our gate, no shoes, no belt, shit raining out of my bag. Drenched in sweat I triumphantly arrived at my gate only to see that we were delayed for 2 hours.

Fuck.

When we finally got on the plane I felt something bumpy in my pocket. I pulled out a small trophy.

"What's this?"

"Oh, you don't remember man? We had an awards ceremony last night, you won Seder MVP. First time a rookie ever snagged it, pretty legendary."

"Why is it so sticky?"

"Oh, well you named us all Co-MVPs and made us all take a shot out of it...you even made a toast."

"What did I say?"

"To my California family, some people may not understand, but this is what we do. See you next year."

Maybe I was watching too many Fast/Furious movie but I have to say, for a toast I don't remember giving, that's pretty damn touching.

***

My bag takes forever at baggage claim, we can't get an Uber at the airport, so nearly 6 hours after we left Granite Bay I got back to Venice and was abruptly kidnapped by my roommate for an Easter Egg hunt by the beach. I finally laid down in my bed around 8pm dead to the world. I knew the following day would be terrible. I was hungover, riddled with anxiety and mysterious bruises were beginning to appear on my body.

But it was all worth it. It's not about the boozing, the debauchery, the food. It's about friendship, community. It's about family.

I'll be honest, last week was shitty. Monday I felt like hell, Tuesday wasn't much better. I think Wednesday night I was finally back to zero. And then well...it's Thursday which is basically Friday. Some things are worth the pain. Tradition, family, among others.

You get through it.

Our chat the next week...

"It truly is the most wonderful time of the year. Always a pleasure, never a chore."

"From Anat: 4/23/16 Seder next year, mark it down."

"#davesfirstseder is trending right now guys, 1 million see yas are talking about this"

"Great performance guys. Mom is still talking about how it was the best seder yet, BUT THAT BASKETBALL GAME WAS BULLSHIT!"

"I'm so hungover, I think I'm gonna get fired."

None of us got fired and I've already booked my flight back for next year where somehow, some way, we will find a way to one up the insanity from this year's Seder. And to my friends (and now family) that made it possible, thank you for making #davesfirstseder the greatest weekend of my fucking life.

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