the bastard has got to tell you...

...patriots fans are drunken fratboy jackasses.

so i'm talking to the roadie while waiting for go time and like ten jock types of various ages get on i'm their pats gear.

OK QUICK SIDEBAR: the bastard has no team affiliation when it comes to the gridiron so, i didn't start this from some boring loyalty to the war between the polises (we all know that the giants are i'm jersey no matter what logo they wear on the side of their helmet.

so the roadie and i look at each other and agree that this is a bad thing which i think has nothing to do with him being a cowboys fan.

OK FLASH FORWARD: the steward shoos the bastard to take a crap in the back of the plane because the captain was in the front doing just that and the bastard has to run the gauntlet past four guys trying to charge some booze and it ain't working only to find the rest of their party
of cocksuckery in my way "pounding sum brewskis brah, and it wahs wicked ahsum".

getting out, i open my door at the same time as the other door opens and one of the jockestra yells, "whu-oh, beep beep beep", and the bastard looks his unfortunate guy with me look at each other with much disdain (i really don't envy the tail-ees). i turn to the nearest jock and
ask him, "so, is that the clever one?".

he concurs that this meathead in fact is. It's gonna be a long flight.

—the bastard