Memories from the weekend;

It’s been decades since we had a turnout like this year.  What gives?  Was it the Chairman’s choice of accommodation:  a centrally located, large, well-equipped compound?  Or was it the main event:   to experience what our gun-toting neighbours to the South know and love?  Or maybe it was just the stars aligning for 13 assholes with time on their hands.  Whatever, the following came together for a couple of days of brotherly warfare:  John (Chair), Rob, Mowbs, Gary, Daryl, Leo, Beaups, Scotty, Cruiser , Cookie, Freud, Guy, and your faithful scribe.

Upon arrival, John handed out golf shirts.  This deserves special mention because of the logo:   Two swords crisscrossing with the letters A O T W placed in each quadrant. A foreshadowing of the logo came in John’s email earlier in the week, “As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”  A nice sentiment reflecting John’s philosophy on life, i.e.,  two assholes are better than one.

Choosing a venue for this event is a balancing act of money, location, tradition (sausage, bonfire, golf), risk assessment (noisy assholes), age-in-place amenities, and an open, airy space for fart mitigation.  The fact that all of us happily spent 80 per event of the weekend in a screened in porch speaks to the rightness of John’s choice.

Food was a key theme for the weekend.  And lots of it.  But then when that’s your business, you’d excel on that point.  A trip to the kitchen revealed the boxes and boxes of snacks, baked goods and a fridge full of pre-cooked quality breakfasts and Saturday dinner meals.  The only thing missing was Ferrero Rocher chocolates.

Friday night was the usual catch-up in terms of health updates, lifestyle changes resulting from retirement, and marital harmony.   On that last point, the merits of hearing aids and whether to get them came up.  But then the argument was made that your wife will come find you if her incessant talking from another, far away room failed to register.

Male plumbing issues came up, and the one poor fucker among us who needs the “rotor rooter” to clean out an apparent build-up.  Someone helpfully suggested the dribbling is not a sign of age but rather from not jerking off enough.  On the topic of children, Scott McCallum talked of Elizabeth now driving his BMW, and that one day he found a tampon in glovebox.  Amazing how life can come full circle, with the return of the “Paddy Wagon” all these years later.

Also on deck for some hefty discussion was the American election.  In response to the abortion issue, one member made the claim, “Well I was a miscarriage, got no extra slap on the ass, and STILL I turned out okay.”

The quality of conversation probably peaked around 10PM, as red wine, bourbon and multi packs of gummies took their toll on cognition and judgement.  Case in point was Rob’s heavy head the next morning, even though he was last to arrive.  Surprisingly, Mowbs retired earlier, but rumour has it this was so he could review his notes from a gun shooting course he took in preparation for Saturday’s event.

Saturday morning got off on the right food with a solid breakfast of quiche, croissants and plenty of coffee.  It was then off to Branford for the Main Event, billed as “RamboFest.”  With ear and eye protection in place, we were each given some ammo to sample a couple of pistols as well as two rifles, the last one being an AK47 style assault weapon.   Our instructors were well trained and no doubt highly motivated to make sure trigger-happy fingers were kept out of harm’s way, and barrels were pointed in the right direction.  This macho outing was followed by lunch at Camp 31 Alabama BBQ.  After which it was back to the screened in porch and another box of red wine.

John’s culinary skills came into play a few hours later, beginning with a few pizza appetizers.  At this point the bonfire was going.  But like a drug addict’s need to chase the high, it was no longer sufficient to add a log or two, but rather an entire bag of logs, with nylon mesh still in place.  This was followed by a civilized sit-down dinner of baked Salmon, potatoes, and veggies.  Again, John set a very high bar in this department.

In a continuation of the discussion around the progression of life, there was an idea floated about our partners.  Specifically, the observation that after menopause there is another stage that wives go through called “Mentalpause”:  diminished and stunned, but on the upside they are nicer people, it’s just that sometimes they need to be grabbed by the ears and shown who is in charge.

Sunday morning saw another generous breakfast spread, followed by cleanup before heading to golf...a 15 minute drive to the charming and hilly Pine Valley Golf Club.   Gary, who was recovering from a shoulder injury, assumed the role of ball spotter, and took a golf cart to serve as an advance scout.  This year’s winning team was captained by Leo (no surprise), with teammates Beaups, Floyd  and John  coming in at 1 over par.

Over a light lunch it was time for the final act: the vote.  And on this it was a clear choice, with Cookie capturing 38% of the vote (5 of 13), followed by Floyd at 23%, Scruiser 2 votes, Leo and Harps with 1 vote each and Donald Trump received 1 vote!   In a sign that this outcome was a possibility, Steve flashed us his “draft speech notes” sheet, and like the smooth operator that he is – and why he can afford a Porsche Cayenne – delivered a confidence-inspiring speech that assured us of good things to come in 2025.  And so the torch is passed, and we await next steps, i.e., September 2025 date options (not the 20th please!).  Thanks again Johnny for a great job.

Voting:

Cookie 5

Freud 3

Cruiser 2

Leo 1

Harps 1

Donald Trump 1

Golf Winners

Boomer, John, Freud and Beaups

Attendees; John, Cookie, Boomer, Scruiser, Harps, Daryl, Nob, Freud, Potsy, Beaups, Mowbs, Deano,  and Guy.

Absent; Rod, and Mel