It's official. Thanksgiving is the most dangerous holiday of the year.
If you're reading this right now, that means you made it through'hopefully unscathed. For that, I commend all of you. I know it wasn't easy.
When the producers run out of locations to film the 'Survivor' reality series (I believe the current edition is Survivor: Scranton), they'd be hard-pressed to find a more daunting challenge than Survivor: Thanksgiving.
Before I go on, let me be quite clear, I love Thanksgiving. With the exception of Presidents Day, it's probably my favorite holiday?? OK, it's definitely my favorite holiday.
But all the things that make me love it so much in the first place also happen to be the things that make it so freaking dangerous.
Take my break, for example.
Wednesday, Nov. 23
Dubbed the 'Funnest Night of the Year' (though obviously not the most grammatical), by my older cousin Rob. He's pushing 30 and married, so you can understand why I was a bit skeptical prior to the big night. Besides, how great could a night in a smoky bar full of kids I hadn't talked to in five years really be?
Turns out, with $2.50 Jager Bombs, things can get a lot more entertaining than you'd expect. Entertaining, yes, but it also got dangerous. If you've ever spent 45 minutes talking with an old classmate about why college wasn't right for them, you'd understand.
Thursday, Nov. 24
The big day, complete with turkey, the Macy's parade and one heaping helping of frigid football. I'along with 10 cousins and the only two uncles who can still run without needing to be put on an IV afterward'braved the 14-degree weather for our annual 'Turkey Bowl.'
Usually a delightful tradition, the Turkey Bowl lost some of its luster this year, when upon walking outside I immediately lost feeling in my face. On a positive note, the lingering affects of the Jager quickly wore off. But, they were replaced by a burning sensation in my frostbitten fingers.
Friday, Nov. 25
After sleeping off the turkey and nine servings of cranberry sauce, I loaded up my car and headed east to spend the remainder of the weekend with my girlfriend Ang at her house in Milwaukee. Here again, holiday cheer was borderline-dangerous.
A game of fireside Monopoly is equal parts fun and frightening. My advice for those trying to navigate the long free hours of the Thanksgiving break is simple: Don't beat your girlfriend in Monopoly. Even if you own almost every property (with hotels) and you've managed to acquire both the utilities and the railroads, you should probably find a way to lose. Of course, how you approach this situation depends on how much you like sleeping in the snow. It's up to you.
Luckily, Ang doesn't hold a grudge. She beat me in gin about nine times in row, so that softened the blow. (I know, you're probably thinking, 'Jeez, Joe, Monopoly and gin, you sure know how to entertain a girl.' To that I say, 'Just wait till I break out my backgammon board.')
Throw in some treacherous blizzard driving and a suicide mission to a local mall, and it's a wonder I made it back to Madison in one piece.
The funny thing is, now that I'm back and Thanksgiving is finito, I can't wait to do it all over again.
