chicken and rice

There’s a halal food cart that is notorious in the city for being the ultimate go to spot when you’re wasted out of your mind and want to stuff your face with the great quantities of food. After midnight people from all over flock to it like Muslims during Hajj. The only thing anyone gets there is a platter called chicken and rice. An ungodly combination of chicken, lamb, and beef over rice pilaf served with a sinfully tantalizing white sauce and the hottest god damn red sauce that could very possibly be Satan’s piss. It’s at the corner 53rd and 6th and you haven’t lived until you’ve had it after a hard night of drinking. No matter what the time of day, there is always a line of salivating people halfway around the block waiting dutifully for their chicken and rice. They even have a website.

I have a friend named Joe who has chicken and rice flowing through his veins. Once he cut himself on a broken bottle and chicken and rice hot sauce came out. I’m pretty sure if he lived closer to it he would eat it for breakfast lunch and dinner, every day for the rest of his life. No matter where we are in the city at the end of the night, Joe is always willing to pay a ludicrous amount of taxi fare to get chicken and rice.

The other night after picking up a fresh batch of the tasty morsel, we were settling down to feast when a massive fight broke out between a group of Koreans and Pakistanis. People were wildly flailing their arms at each other and chicken and rice went flying everywhere. They were so drunk I don’t think I saw anyone actually land a punch on anyone else. As an example of how loyal people are to chicken and rice, the people waiting in line who weren't part of the fisticuffs not only ignored the ruckus all around them, but also took the opportunity to cut ahead in line and get closer to the front.

Then I noticed Joe, scampering in between the brawl, dodging flying fists and drunken bodies everywhere. I yelled at him, “Joe what the fuck are you doing?” He put his head down like he was storming Normandy and bee-lined to a strewn chicken and rice container which had landed face up and grabbed it like his life depended on it. Running back cradling it like a new born child, Joe screamed “Hail a taxi! We gotta get the hell outta here!” The shit was straight out of a movie.

moving

This weekend i helped my friend Sally move into her new apartment in union square. We had a u-haul and parked it in front of her old apt to fill it with her stuff. At some point during the move, a traffic cop pulled up and told me that if i didn't move the u-haul right away i would get a ticket for being too close to a fire hydrant. I was waiting with the u-haul since we anticipated this happening but i didn't anticipate the keys being left upstairs in her apt. I tried to shoot the shit with the cop to buy time for the keys to come down so we could move, but that bitch just stood there writing the ticket. Not 20 seconds after the cop handed me the ticket my friend came down with the keys and the last box of Sally's stuff. Nothing like $115.00 ticket to get your move started. Sally rented the u-haul, sucks for her.

We had 2 others besides Sally and i helping with the move and with the u-haul only having 2 seats up front, the other 2 guys hopped in the back along with the stuff. A minute or two into driving we hear banging on the walls and screams of agony coming from the back. They call us saying they were boiling from the heat and about to pass out from a lack of oxygen. I hit pot holes in the road deliberately and tell them to man up.

About half way to our destination, the good ol’ nypd decide to pull us over. Sally was already shitting bricks about the parking ticket and now she was really freaking out. I tell her, “lock it up bitch, just follow my lead.” Luckily the popos were just inspecting random truck vehicles; since the whole 9/11 thing they been stepping up their game. When I opened up the back for the officers to have a look, my two friends fall out shirtless, covered in sweat, gasping for air. Fortunately the boys in blue were chill and they didn’t care that we had people looking like they were illegal immigrants, beat up and raped, locked in the back of our u-haul. My friend said he was having hallucinations of mailmen trying to grab his face and that he would rather have rusty nails jammed through his eyes than go back into satan’s lair. They opted to take the subway the rest of the way.

sup

Hello, my name is Kevin. I started this blog to post random shit and share some stories that result from the side effects of consuming alcohol. Some are funny, others are crazy. Laugh, cry, do whatever, shit i don't really care. "Umbais" is the name of this place my friends and I always hit up at 5 am for drunk munchies. The real name of the place is Mamouns and they sell the best damn falafel sandwiches you've ever had for $2.50. We started calling it umbais after a friend from out of town called it that because he couldn't remember the name; every time we took him there we were smashed out of our minds.