over the years, i and my cousins have evolved several tactics for surviving thanksgiving, all of which feature leaving the house at crucial moments: touch football, drinking, basketball, drinking, darts, drinking, going out in albany, and drinking. my knowledge of troy's various saloons, taverns and bars, perhaps the greatest fruit of my four years' collegiate labor, is of course exhaustive and immensely helpful.
my friend dave (from north carolina, then san francisco) came to dinner from providence, where he's working on a secret project. not only did he mix readily with the eccentric bourke crowd, but he amazed everyone with his drinking stamina. i consumed an equal amount of hot wings and turkey during the entire ordeal. my cousin colleen and i were defeated in twelve straight dart matches at what used to be sutter's, a roughly paneled dive bar from my rensselaer days. our trip to albany gave me the insight to make the definitive phenomenological link between mullets and skinheads.
funniest moment of thanksgiving:
we're leaving the ruck (the former sutter's) at closing time (4ish a.m.), and dave has most of his pint of newcastle brown to finish. we're pulling on coats and the bartender says "looks like you need a traveler," and proceeds to pour dave's pint into a plastic cup.
best quote of thanksgiving:
dave remarks to me as i'm giving him the three-star tour of the home of uncle sam, "you seem really fond of this place." i say, "it's a function of distance." he says, "then let's get more fond."