They call it the Big Apple because it's big

I was in New York for a big family event over the weekend. Here are some of the highlights that don't involve hookers.

-My hotel was right in the middle of Times Square. Like right in the middle of it. I could walk out of the hotel and instantly see 100 people with cameras and buy a three-bite hot dog for $4. And they had those shitty tourist shops with the I ♥ New York shirts and postcards with the Statue of Liberty.

Right as I walk into the hotel, I see a bunch of kids in matching polos with instruments; clearly a marching band. FANTASTIC! I'll be serenaded by fucking saxophones and clarinets at 5 am.

But when I got closer, the polos read, "Baylor." Oh. The Baylor marching band. (Beat). OH! THE BAYLOR MARCHING BAND! Five minutes later down the elevators came the Bears hoops team who would lose to Penn St. in the NIT Final a few hours later. The Nittany Lions also walked right by. As I got in the elevator to go up to my room, out steps Baylor coach Scott Drew. I said, "Take the Memphis job." He said, "Thanks, fella."

-The next night I got hammered at a family event (they had Goose!) and then met up with a friend in the Village that disappointingly looks nothing like that Village from that movie cleverly titled, The Village. (I have been to Greenwich Village before. That was just a way to bring in a forced movie reference. New York is actually my bitch).

So I meet up my buddy in the Village and then we walked to the East Village, which, again cleverly, is east of the Village. (Geography is also my bitch.) We get to this cool dive bar that was playing early 90s grunge and was reasonably priced.

While catching up, I noticed some dude who looked all too familiar. I didn't say anything at first because I was wasted and I thought no way would I know anyone in New York aside from the buddy I was with.

But as we stayed there longer, this guy looked just too fucking familiar not to go up to. So I broke up his conversation with his table and asked him his name. Sure enough, it was A.J. from Deadspin. We flirted, exchanged phone numbers and hugged goodbye. It's now been three days. Still too soon to call?

-My last day in town, I went to the Bronx to see the new Yankee Stadium. It looked like the old Yankee stadium but bigger, more expensive and equally as architecturally boring.

-Another night I found myself wasted again after a family function (open bar! I had the tequila shots with a side of whisky and coke, rum and ginger ale and wine.). I was again in the Village and all I had to do was take a piss. I probably would have paid to take a piss I had to piss so fucking bad, yet I wouldn't pay cover at any of these bars to go inside just to take a piss. (So I guess I wouldn't have paid to take a piss).

As I'm walking down the street looking for a place without cover, this homeless looking guy comes up to me (dressed to the nines after said family event) and says, "coke." I smile, and keep walking.

I then go into a place without cover that turns out to be a comedy club -- very Seinfeld-esque. But I'm wasted and about to piss myself so I just dart for the bathroom. I somehow end up in the women's bathroom and piss in the stall with the door open. Again, I had drank an entire liquor store. Naturally, two cute Egyptian girls are standing in line waiting for me to finish my five-minute piss. When I was done, I realized I was in the wrong bathroom yet seized the moment to flirt with two cute girls. I asked how my ass looked. They said it looked good. The cuter of the girls said it was her birthday. I would have given her a two-foot birthday gift but I left the bar to go meet up with some cousins.

On the way back to one of the bars with a cover, the same homeless looking guy passes by me and says, "cocaine." Because I didn't get it the first time.

I told him I'd take two.

And that's what happens when a Californian goes to New York for three days.