misspent youth

MisspentYouth

It had to be sometime in '95 considering Kill didn't have his driver's license at the time, though I'm so unreliable with time that you need not worry too much about it. I was either 14 or 15 but probably not 13 or sixteen, thankfully the story in question does not rely on those details.

One lazy summer day, my friend Anthony decided to visit from Southwest Philly with his buddy Chris Seamon (who could forget that name), to join Kill and myself for a day of Golf at Ron Jaworski's Eagles Nest Golf Course.

Considering none of us were any good at so much as chip and putt, the predictable outcome of the day was us sucking pretty badly and getting bored, so we decided to have fun with the Golf carts. We raced, played chicken and eventually Anthony crashed his cart, fuckin' fuck up.

We were whisked into the club house by an employee of the course and read the proverbial riot act, while we were being reamed out the owner of the course, and former Eagles quarterback and present ESPN analyst Ron Jaworski made his way in. Anthony began to ignore the reaming that we were recieving and preceded to tell Jaworski that the Eagles sucked, fuckin' fuck up.

In the end the angry course employee asked us to supply our names and phone numbers, thinking quickly on my feet I supplied the name John Pazzetti. "Spell that.", ordered the frustrated course employee.

I hadn't planned on that, it was a good sounding fake name, but how the fuck do you spell it? "P-a-z-z-uh-e-t-t-um-i" I replied, proud of myself for getting through it, hopefully he won't ask me to spell it again.

Kill followed my lead with "Chris S-c-a-r-p-o-n-e", smartly he just spelled it out before being asked.

Even fuckin' fuck up himself Anthony was able to play along with "James M-a-s-s-a".

Chris Seamon, our ride and oldest among us was last, all he had to do was provide a fake name and we were scot free, his answer, "John S-m-i-t-h".

Nick Romano