Shattered Phones, Arrests, And College Football: The Worst Stories From Labor Day Weekend

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Shattered Phones, Arrests, And College Football: The Worst Stories From Labor Day Weekend

Not sure if anyone heard, but colleges are playing football against each other again. It’s a time ripe for drinking, getting sunburnt, and forgetting that you can’t actually drink like you’re still in college.

That being said, no one who submitted the stories you’re about to read remembered that.

Long weekends are a gift and a curse. On one side, you get an extra day off work. That’s great. But on the other, you get an extra day to drink yourself into a hole like the irresponsible idiot you are. Labor Day Scaries are some of the top-five worst Scaries of the year.

As always, all original and unedited stories from anonymous readers.

Please console me. I’m an intern in DC this semester and am from a southern school with a very large presence in Washington. I don’t know if you’ve heard that it’s football season, but it’s football season.

Decided to hit up the alumni event at a bar (am underage af) and probably should’ve just died there. Met some dude, wasn’t interested, the bar had beer from our college town brewery, spent $60 on shots for people that didn’t want them (intern budget, my friend), texted a friend to talk shit on an evil ex WHILE THEY WERE AT THE SAME WEDDING, was contacted by the evil ex and played it off. Hopefully.

Uninteresting dude swooped back in at my drunkest and i tried to get him to sneak onto the bar’s fire escape. It worked. This was like 10pm. Got busted, peaced the fuck out before I could get thrown out, somehow hopped in an uber with this guy to ARLINGTON. VIRGINIA. Friends were like what the hell and then I also was like what the hell and ubered back to the district. Pretty sure that was $30 but I’m afraid to look. Also might be in a fight with my best/only friend who yelled at me for all of this. Nothing happened with this guy but I’m pretty sure there’s a faint marking or two on my neck… congress is back on Tuesday and I have meetings on the hill. Also, I’m homesick af. Tell me it will all be okay.

I can’t tell you it will all be okay. That would be irresponsible for me to do, and that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to bring these stories to light and let others say, “Hey, maybe blacking out on a pontoon boat for three straight days wasn’t worst case scenario for me.” That being said, never talk shit via text. Paper trails are a huge “no.” As someone working in DC, you should know that.

Went to burning man had to call in sick for the next three days. I am a shell of my former self.

At least you weren’t that one person who attempted to run directly into the fire. Wait, you weren’t that one person who attempted to run directly into the fire, were you?

This worst weekend story is not about me. My weekend was awesome; I went to Cancún for my sister’s wedding. It was lit. This story is about a scene I witnessed at the airport waiting for my flight home.

I came to my gate to wait for my plane to board. Sitting a few rows away from me was a man in a wheelchair and a lady (not in a wheelchair). I couldn’t tell if they were dating or related. The lady looked very upset and yelled at the guy several times, creating a scene. I thought she was just bitching about a canceled flight or something, and I was thinking “Woah lady, it is not a good look to be yelling at a guy in a wheelchair.” She yelled things like “There are no other flights today” and “I can’t believe you.” It wasn’t until an airport employee came to talk to her that I realized what was going on.

The employee explained that they would need to be escorted back to customs and try to find another flight. Wheelchair Guy, confused, turned to his lady friend and asked what was going on. That’s when she yelled “YOU’RE TOO DRUNK AND WE CAN’T GET ON THE PLANE.” I had been looking down at my phone the whole time, but I snapped my head up out of extreme curiosity. I realized that the wheelchair had been provided by the airport, Wheelchair Guy’s eyes were completely glazed over, and he was not wearing any shoes. Keep in mind that it’s 2PM on Sunday. This guy obviously was not ready to leave Mexico and was hell bent on making the most of his last day. He likely will not remember what happened today, but I bet his pissed off lady friend will remind him how much of an idiot he is every day for the rest of his life.

Get a load of this guy. Getting so drunk in international waters that you literally can’t stand when you’re getting ready to go back to the ol’ U.S. of A? That guy definitely put up a fight to go to the wedding in the first place considering it was the first weekend of meaningful college football games, and let me tell you, he made the most of it.

So I’m writing this to you on my new iPhone. That’s the only good thing that happened this Labor Day Weekend.

Buckle up.

So I’m spending LDW with some good college friends at the beach. We hit up a hopping bar Saturday night. I start to feel like it’s time for bed around 1am Sunday morning so I leave by myself and walk the one mile trek back. Didn’t tell anyone I’m leaving either.

I am pretty drunk but manage to get back to my buddy’s place unscathed. Only issue is I don’t have a key to the condo. So drunk me forgets the guys are still at the bar and begins to pound on the door so they can let me in. His neighbor calls the cops for noise, saying she’s scared. I can’t articulate the address of where I am to the cops other than that this is my friends place I’m staying at. Cops don’t believe me and arrest me for disturbing the peace even though I am completely cooperative and polite, although unable to make coherent sentences.

The cops tell me to call my friends to verify my story. I pull out my phone and it looks like it had re entered the Earth’s atmosphere after being dropped from the International Space Station. Couldn’t tell you how that happened, but knew I was completely alone on this one now.

I just spent 14 hours in the local jail wearing soaking wet clothes since it rained Saturday night. When they released me at 4pm Sunday, I walked five blocks north to my buddy’s place… where I was 14 hours earlier. First move was to go buy a new phone.

Also – I don’t even have a speeding ticket. I have (had) a cleaner police record than a new born child. Time to start lawyering up. Ask Crime Dog Ruff if he has any advice.

And this beach town? Yeah it’s a 4 hour drive, if there’s no traffic from where I live.


As someone who routinely asks Crime Dog Esq. for advice, he’s not authorized to help either of us out. Half the reason I took this job was so I could get free legal advice from him, but he’s just out here turning me down left and right.

You never want to exit a long weekend with both a shattered phone and a new police record. One of the two? You can shake those Scaries off by next weekend, maybe the weekend after. But both? That has “sober til’ October” written all over it.

*immediately goes to trademark “sober til’ October”*

I think I’m dying today. I got home at midnight last night from a 7 day cruise. Mai Tais by day, vodka-sodas by night gained me 8lbs and the worst Labor Day hangover you can imagine. I’ve got the shakes and a straight liquor sweat going on and I just got called in to work, where I’ll be under bright florescent lights for the next 4 hours. Send help. Or a hitman.

Oh God I also just discovered $284 in bar gratuities on top of my $448 gratuity-included drink package

As someone who was sent on a 5-day cruise full of people listening to EDM, I’ll say this: I ain’t goin’ on no cruises any time soon. That was your first mistake. Your second mistake was tipping when there were already tips. You aren’t Pablo Escobar. Stop splashing money like you’re printing it.

So I was a bridesmaid in a friend’s wedding Saturday. An incredibly creepy groomsman, 20 years my senior, told everyone at the wedding he wanted to get in my pants so he kept getting me jack & cokes (beer was the only thing being served so he snuck it in). I managed to make him believe I was a lesbian by being way too inappropriate with my best friend. Texted my real sisters telling them about this guy and then stopped texting them and they PANICKED and called half my friends thinking he attacked me. I then blacked out, had to be laid into bed by another friend’s boyfriend and then fell off of and smacked my head. I woke up the next morning in between two friends and found out I peed in the middle of the night. Oops.

Just remembered one more thing. I accidentally tackled a 4 year old going for the bouquet.

You need to get away from these “beer only” friends as soon as possible. I want to help you, but you put yourself in this creepy situation by associating with these psychopaths from the beginning. Full open bar or get out.

The following events created massive scaries by association.

So this weekend a few of my great college friends, old roommate, and I head down to my parents’ beach condo for the final big weekend of the summer. Friday night, hit up the bar scene, drinks flow, dancing happens, the usual. Seems like a great start to hopefully a great weekend, right? Wrong.

Saturday, wake up and it’s raining. What do you do at the beach when it rains? Bar hop. We bounce around having a few drinks, including the famous Chug-a-duck, watch the Maryland game, and hit up a margarita happy hour which included free tequila shots. Fast forward to a couple hours later when we’re out for the night we realize our one buddy, who I’m pretty sure had enough Titos to float the Titanic in, is missing. Text him and find out he’s home.

When the bar closes we head back to find out he is indeed, not home. After calling and texting we see that his phone is dead. Wake up the next morning and he is still missing. Panic mood sets in. Go looking for him and after hours go by decide we have to call his girlfriend. She calls the local PD and found out he was arrested. We call the police department every hour and are constantly told his release is going to be within the next hour.

Around 4:30pm there is a knock on the door and I open up to find a disgruntled, damp clothed, buddy of mine, who had been sitting in a jail cell for 14 hours. We ask why he didn’t call us and he pulls out an iPhone that was once flat but now in a V-shape. We find out he has a court date in October. He lives in another state.

We go to dinner and go out for the night leaving him to sleep the rest of the night. Needless to say, I woke up this morning hungover with the most scaries by association ever. Only thing that has me calm…it wasn’t me.

Wow, time is truly a flat circle and we’ve officially just received the alternate story of what we read above. Do these two know that they submitted the same story from different perspectives? No, because if you’re that hungover and scared, you avoid talking to anyone and everyone. Will this only amplify the guilty party’s Scaries once he reads this column? Undoubtedly.

My Labor Day weekend started Thursday at noon because I took a half day at work. I proceeded to drink promptly at 1pm to tailgate for my alma mater’s first football game in their new stadium. I blacked out by 6pm. Fell asleep for the entire 1st half of the game. I woke up and saw my manager walking past my section, so I screamed for her and insisted we take a selfie together (I forgot this detail until I received a text and the picture from her on my work phone the following day). Then I started to mentally prepare for the 9am flight I was taking to Vegas on Friday morning. I woke up to go to the airport and knew the day would be a doozy. I got on the plane, and right after take off, I had a barfy sensation. The plane was still ascending and the seat belt signs were on, so I had to vom into a bag in the middle of my seat, causing a humongous scene. I was prepared for a hungover flight home from Vegas, but not from home to Vegas. I now have a cold, lost oodles of money via roulette, and made a drunken fool of myself at a family reunion. And possibly the worst part? My flight leaves Tuesday and I won’t get home until 10pm when I have to be at work on Wednesday. The 3 hour time difference might actually kill me. Prayers appreciated.

Did you go to Bruno Mars in Vegas, though? My girlfriend’s mom did and she sent me a bunch of videos. Now considering going there for New Year’s Eve to see his follow-up. Already picking out my outfits and learning the deep cuts. I need to cancel my trip to New Orleans before I can make this happen, unfortunately.

But yeah, I don’t have any advice for you. Just don’t do what you did moving forward, okay?

And now, for the long one.

I’ll preface this by saying I failed to heed the advice I’ve heard from many a grandex employee across your multiple podcasts. I fucked up and I have the scaries to prove it.

Going into this weekend I had all the hopes and dreams of an innocent child. I was going to Atlanta, FSU was going to win, and I was going to get blitzed in celebration. Obviously things fell apart in my plan if you checked the scores this weekend.

I get off work at 6pm and head straight home, gather my bags and take a quick shower for the road. I’m ready to go at about 7pm, my girlfriend was not. After a few hours we’re finally on the road to Atlanta and all is well. We make it to our hotel and get to bed around 3 or 4am. I’m still young, and the CFA kickoff game isn’t until 8pm Saturday evening, I can just sleep in so no big deal.


Around 6am I’m awoken by my parents, who are also going to the game, banging on my hotel room door asking if we’re ready to get breakfast. I am not, but they’re paying so fuck it. I pull my ass out of bed and wake up my girlfriend. We go to breakfast and immediately start slinging down mimos.

Now that I’m thoroughly buzzed and feeling good about my day we walk back to our hotel. We change into our game day attire and head to the stadium.

I’ll fast forward a bit, but to set the scene let me say my family is an FSU family, and my Uncle’s side of the family is all about Bama. My parents and uncle are in box suites. My cousin and I with our girlfriends are in Club seating of the Bama section. Enemy territory, whatever, at least I’m at the game.

After halftime things start going south for Florida State and the Bama fans are talking shit. Another FSU fan in the row behind me wasn’t having that and dishes back the trash talk. Bad idea hombre, there’s 3 of us and about 30,000 of them. Shut the fuck up. He apparently didn’t feel the same way. I’m pretty drunk at this point, so I don’t know exactly what happens but some food got thrown. Said food hits my cousin who absolutely loses his shit and storms off with his girlfriend yelling at him for “being a jackass.”

FSU is losing and I’m being eye fucked by a bunch of mouth breathers looking to start a fight, so I start panic drinking. Like switched from michy ultys to double fisting whiskey gingers, panic drinking.

4th quarter roles around, our starting QB goes down, my cousin is nowhere to be seen, his girlfriend is fuming. I’m barely able to stand at this point. To my relief, the game finally ends and we can leave. I pound the 2 whiskeys I had just bought and proceed to blackout.

I wake up around 8am to the sound of my parents banging on my hotel room door. I get up to answer the door and immediately get the worst spins I’ve had in my life. I mean I’m spinning more than a dreidel on a merry-go-round. I would love to go back to sleep but we have a checkout time and I’m my parents ride to the airport.

We stop for some cajun food on the way and I learn my cousin and his girlfriend have broken up, she left him in the parking lot of the stadium and will be staying in Atlanta rather than returning home with him. Sucks for him, but at least his team won. Anyway, I see my loving parents off to catch their plane.

Now here’s where we return to my opening statement. I failed to heed the advice I’ve heard from many a grandex employee across your multiple podcasts. One story in particular comes to mind, the story Goldman told about his drive back to Austin from Shreveport. I should’ve learned from his mistake.

I’m now face to face with a 6 hour drive back to Florida with a crippling hangover, a residual BAC that probably isn’t safe, and a stomach that was just stuffed with a delicious crawfish etoufee.

I apologize to the employees of the Alabama visitors center for what I did to that bathroom. My bad.

An agonizing 6 hours later I’m home. I throw on some netflix, toss on the ride the wave shirt I just got in the mail last week, and lay back to relax on the couch. Safe and sound in my panic room, right? That’s what I thought too. My cat missed me so much he decided to jump up onto my lap. He ripped my brand new shirt.

Listened to the OCC podcast and dealt with the shakes all morning.

Went to FSU-Alabama, got blitzed, ate spicy food, drove back 6 hours with a crippling hangover, cat tore my scaries shirt in a sickening twist of irony.

I hope everyone else had a better weekend than me, but college football is back so probably not.

College football is officially back, baby. Let’s go.

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Will deFries (Twitter / Instagram) is a Senior Editor at Grandex and the world's foremost authority on Sunday Scaries (Twitter / Instagram).

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