WOULD ANYBODY CARE?
Background: Woods and I went to college together. His demeanor freshman year reeked of North Philly, unfortunately his license read: Radnor, PA. Nobody really warmed to Woods his freshman year, and I didn't either. But when he stole my DJ Quik ("Quik is the Name") CD sophomore year, locked his door and blasted "Skanless" out of his three-feet KLH speakers, well, what can I say, I was smitten. He had the foresight to put the song on repeat, but that is where the foresight ended, as did his consciousness. He passed out next to bottle of Mad-Dog (banana flavor), and the song -- at all 110 watts -- went undeterred for 45 minutes before somebody finally broke the lock and shut it down. Ater that we were good buddies. Good enough that he asked me to be a groomsmen at his wedding this past winter. With that background, I present a tribute of selected images and text.
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Woods apparently broke his back when he fell off a ladder while making a bolting motion upon a piece of defenseless timber.
His ladder gave way and he fell to the floor. Luckily for him, he landed on his feet. Not so lucky for him, he has no
discernible arches in his feet. He landed in such a way that his spine compressed. His compressed spine reminds me of the
time in college when he drank for 26 straight days. He called it the "Time of Infinite Greatness". His tally was 9 bottles
of Ten High bourbon and one pus-swollen liver. I wouldn't be surprised if he embarks on another "Time of Infinite Greatness"
during recovery.
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Woods always wanted to do whatever it took to win the overall intramural championship in college. His dogged determination
was cute, but lacking any stamina or coordination, he was not allowed on any of our teams. He once even tried to bribe his
way on
to the Ultimate Frisbee team by offering to sober-drive the captain around for two weekends. No dice. But a careful perusal
of the intramural charter uncovered a swimming event. Woods, a former high-school swimmer, broke out the Speedos and headed
down to the Natatorium. There is no record of Woods ever swimming in any of the intramural swimming events, but he came back
from said event
with wet hair and promises of a 4th place finish.
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Prone to bouts of unmentionable, but unquestionable saltiness, Woods did like being surrounded by people he didn't know. At
one of his parties he grew visibly agitated at what he viewed as 'randoms'
overunning his party, drinking his Natty Lites. Choosing what he saw as the only viable option to rectify the problem, he
went to the CD-changer, put in the Who's "Live at Leeds" CD, cued up "Who Are You?" and dialed the volume up to 11. He then
pointed to everybody he didn't know -- and in perfect synchronization with The Who -- screamed out "Who the *@$@_ are YOU!"
until everybody -- those he did and didn't know alike -- walked out in shock.
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On a random fall weekend, Woods went down to the Gun and Knife Expo at the Roanoke Convocation Center. It was there that he
made a purchase of one blow-dart gun. As his housemates voiced their obvious concerns about a lethal (albeit somewhat gay)
weapon being just mere feet away from them, he promised his darnedest to only use his darts on the rubber Gumby doll hanging
in his
room. He said the first time he used it outside his room, he would break the blow-dart gun in full view of the housemates.
Predictably this stance lasted about two weeks (or more accurately, until his next bad-beer buzz). He broke his promise
when, for no known reason, he
stole a pair Vans shoes from a housemate, shot darts through them and then stuck them back in the housemate's closet.
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I visited Woods in Charlottesville a few years after college. We went to the nearby Foxfield Races (for those not in the
know, Foxfield is where a bunch of white college kids dress up in ties, set up bars on the back of Dad's Jeep Cherokee, watch
horses run by, drink like lil' fishies and hit on girls in sundresses. Not a bad time. By 4 p.m., everybody is a casualty
of liquor). Woods also brought his work buddy. Woods' work buddy picked a fight with a table of what looked like water polo
players. Woods' buddy was 5'2...had two kids...possessed a restraining order from his estranged wife...was wearing a faded
Seth Joyner jersey at the time. Woods gamely defused the situation by offering to "top up your damn drinks" and letting the
water polo players
borrow his Big Head Todd CD. Maybe it didn't rank up there with the Good Friday Accords or the Versailles peace treaties,
but it was nice to see peace reign; even nicer to know that it was all thanks to Woods and his crappy-ass CD collection.
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Woods took me to what I consider the second best bar in America: Bob 'n Barbara's. At Bob 'n Barbara's you'll find the slickest house band in all of America: Nate Wiley and the Crowd Pleasers. You'll also find cheap PBR (they were doing PBR back when the only people wearing trucker hats were the guys doing mowing your lawn), a great jukebox and a few drunk UPenn girls who somehow (regrettably) found about this South Philly drinking oasis. Anyway, thanks Woods.
Top Five American Bars:
1. Outlook Inn - Louisville, KY
2. Bob 'n Barbara's - Philadelphia, PA
3. Barbary Coast - Wilmington, NC
4. Summers - Arlington, VA
5. Filthy McNasty's - New York, NY (R.I.P)
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The first year after college, Woods came to visit me in Washington, DC for New Year's Eve. I had to work late that night, so
when Woods arrived, I gave him the key to my apartment. I arrived home around 10 pm and knocked on the door. No answer. I
knocked on the door again. Nothing. This was before either of us had cell phones, so I had no idea what to do. I finally
ended up sleeping on a neighbor's couch...pissed! I went back to my apartment the next day expecting to see "Police Dep't:
Do
Not Cross" tape and a body chalk outline. But I found nothing of the sort. All I got when I knocked on the door was Woods
in his boxers.
Me: Dude!
Woods: Duuude. I think somebody spiked my drink. I had a couple beers and then the next thing I knew I had passed
out on my backpack. Sorry, man.
Me: Worst. New Year's Eve. Ever.
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Woods came to visit in me in New York a few years back. He came up on a Thursday night and we got blitzed at the Magician;
so blitzed that I made a 1 a.m. proclamation that I was calling in sick for work the next day. No sooner had I said that,
than the bartender brings over two shots: tequila and bourbon. Huh? "They're from the ladies," the 'tender says. Huh? Now
this was in the Magician early days so on a Thursday night there was just myself, Woods and these two girls. It was the
first and, sadly, last time that I have ever been courted as such. Anyway, I get all girly and demand to drink the tequila
("I can't handle that brown water straight"). Woods gulps the bourbon down. The girls see this, and immediately come over
and start making the moves on
him. I made the moves on the rest of my Brooklyn Lager. I had failed some sort of Shot Challenge, and was now paying the
consequences. Woods, having a girlfriend, humored the girls for a bit, but then said he wasn't interested. I immediately
piped up that I had no girlfriend. They immediately left.
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So get well soon and all that other stuff, Woods. Just don't develop any major addictions to Vicadin or start telling me about all the great books you are reading. Let that spine heal. I want you in game shape by September...for FOXFIELD!
P.S.: Buy a new shirt.