The Flask Fiasco

Another true story...


     Josh couldn't believe his good luck. "Hey, Eric," he said on the phone, "you won't believe it! I just won tickets to the Pats' game next week at Gillette Stadium!"
     "No way?!!? You lucky s.o.b! How did you do that?"
     "I entered an auction at a fundraiser and had the winning bid! I got two other tickets and a limo both ways. Want to go?"
     "You kiddin' me? Course I want to go! It's a night game, right? How much did that set you back?"
     "A  lot less than buying a ticket from a scalper, and it was for a good cause. We could split it three ways. I'm psyched! You think Joe would want to go?"
     "Anybody in his right mind would want to go! Give him a call."
     "O.K. I'll let you know the details. I've got to talk to the limo company and pick up the tickets in the city tomorrow."
   
     On the day of the Patriots' game, the limo proceeded from Boston to Sudbury, Massachusetts, where the three men lived, a distance of approximately twenty-one miles. The driver picked them up at Josh's house in the late afternoon and proceeded to Gillette Stadium in Foxboro, Massachusetts, another 33.5 miles directly south.
     The three men wore navy Superbowl Championship sweat shirts. Red, white, and blue poster paint smeared their cheeks. "Here's my card, in case you need to contact me," the driver said, handing each a business card when he stopped at the drop-off entrance. "This is where I'll meet you after the game." The three bounded out and headed for the security lines.
     "Make sure you have my cell phone number," Josh told the others. "I've got yours. Here are your tickets, in case we get separated."
     Eric and Joe checked their cell phones and headed to the line on the right. Josh headed to the left. "Let's get a beer," Eric said, after the two had made their way through security.
     "What about Josh?"
     "I don't see him. We'll meet him at the seats."
     Twenty minutes later, Eric and Joe had settled in at the forty yard line. Josh hadn't appeared. "Call his cell," Eric said.
     Josh's cell rang and rang without an answer. "I'll go back down to the security line," Eric said. "If he shows up here, call me."
     It took fifteen minutes to buck the throngs of spectators coming into the stadium and maneuver down three ramps toward the security gate they had entered. No sign of Josh. Eric dialed Josh's cell again without an answer and turned around to join the thousands heading to their seats.
     "No sign of him," he said to Joe. "And he isn't answering his cell. What the hell could have happened to him?"
     "Beats me," Joe said. "He'll show up eventually. We got the coin toss, and Belichick likes to receive the second half. Here goes kick-off!"
     At the end of the first quarter, Josh still hadn't shown up. Eric called again without an answer. "Where did he go? There's no answer."
     At the end of the half, Josh still hadn't shown up. Eric called again without an answer.
     At the end of the third quarter, still no Josh and no answer on his cell.
     The game ended at 11:30 P.M. Josh still hadn't appeared. "What the hell should we do?" Eric said.
     "There's nothing we can do but go to the limo. Maybe he got a better seat for the game and he'll be there." Joe took a last swig from his cup and tossed it in a receptacle. "Brady's unbelievable, isn't he?"
     Josh wasn't at the limo. "Where's the other guy?" the driver said.
     "Beats me," Eric answered, red paint dripping down his chin. "He went through a different security line and didn't show up for the game."
     "They probably held him for somethin'. There an arrest warrant out for him?"
     "No way."
     "Well, the traffic getting out of this place is always backed up. It will take at least forty-five minutes, in case he shows up."
     Eric kept calling Josh's cell.  Around 1:00 A.M. the limo turned into Josh's driveway, where the others had left their cars. Eric's cell startled the two men from their semi-stupor in the back seat.
     "Eric! Help me!"
     "Josh? Is that you? Where in hell are you? You didn't show up for the game!"
     "I know I didn't show up. I'm in the brig underneath Gillette Stadium. Can you come get me?"
     "I'll ask the driver to take us back. Hold on."
     After agreeing on a price, the limo driver turned around with Eric and Joe still in the back. Gillette Stadium was a ghost town when they arrived. The floodlights had been turned off and there were no tailgaters in the parking lot. A guard stood near the entrance. Josh stood next to him in handcuffs.
     "Get in," the guard said, unlocking the cuffs and handing Josh off to his friends.
     "What happened? Where have you been?"
     "I had a flask in my pocket and they pulled me out of security and held me in the brig. Thanks for coming back! I heard my cell ring and ring, but they took it away so I couldn't answer. I owe you big time."
     "We're not the only ones you owe! You also owe this guy exactly two hundred big ones," Eric said, pointing to the driver. "And by the way, the Pats won."