We're the drunk guys at the end of the night

[June 28th, 2006] "We're the drunk guys at the end of the night," one of them says. "Perhaps you've had us before.""

"As opposed to the drunk guys at the beginning of the night, or the middle of the night," I reply.

"Well, of course I like to think we're unique," he says. "You may be," I reply, "but, like snowflakes, you all share certain common properties."

He decides to tell me a joke. "There's this penguin, his car has broken down, so he takes it to the local repair place, which is run by a walrus. While he waits, he goes to get a vanilla ice-cream cone. Of course he has flippers, not hands, and he sort of struggles with the cone, and ends up smearing a lot of it all over his little penguin face. He gets back to the mechanic's place and the walrus says, 'Looks like you blew a seal,' and the penguin says, 'No, just trying to eat an ice cream cone.'"

I laugh hysterically despite myself. "Ye gods, that's terrible."

They spend the rest of the ride boisterously singing the songs of the Portland Timbers' Army, of which they are among the most enthusiastic of members. "F, F-U-C, F-U-C-K, Fuck YOU!" is a favorite. "That one always goes down well at the youth league games," they explain. The other songs suffer from a lack of directness, compared with that one, although they all share certain common properties, such as volume, lack of discernible pitch, and great good cheer. More power to them.