December 30, 1997. We had our posse positioned Fishman side, middle back and middle up, and we were having a grand ol' time dodging bowls between the "Isle Nazi" that was hovering in our isle making sure that the ticketholders were in their proper seats. We have all seen these ushers, the ones who try to confiscate everything in sight for their own personal enjoyment. This gentleman, who was taking his job way too seriously on a NYE run, seemed to have a personal vendetta against our group... it could have been the dank smell that made him keep an eye on us. However, here's where it gets interesting.

I pack one up in the middle of AC/DC BAG, courtesy of my friend Kmo, and I handed him his sack back. Usher Joe seemed to have picked up on this and went in for the seizure. Sure enough, he took the bowl out of my hands, and I thought -"end of story, I lost my bowl." Oh no, this guy wanted to know what was in my pocket as well. Take your pick as to what was in there... schwag, boomers, tabs, so needless to say I was very hesitant. 

Next thing I know he's reaching in my right pocket and I almost flip out. He says if you don't give me what's in your pocket I'll have you arrested for this (pointing at the bowl). So I figure, I'll fork over the schwag in my right pocket and be done with this chump. Whoops, pulled out the boomers. He quickly grabbed those from me, and grabbed me by my arm. I resisted, but then it hit me as he said, "Come with me, you're going to be arrested."

Panic, panic, and more panic. I'm going to be arrested in NYC, not good, especially the image of my then girlfriend (now wife) with that panic look in her eyes.

Here's where it gets interesting. As I'm marching up the isle, all I can think of is how I am gonna ditch the rest of the shit on me before the cops take over. As I'm doing this, I'm walking very fast upwards and I notice some people coming down the isle. I think to myself, when I'm passing these guys I'll tell them to make a diversion. Easier thought than done. 

So as I walk past the first guy I give him the panic look and say in one breath, "I'm being arrested, please ask this guy where your seats are," and I kept walking, faster. Sure enough, I glance back and UsherJoe had his flashlight on, looking at the groups tickets. Just my luck, they were in the wrong section, so a little confusion ensued. I walked even faster, by this time I was in a tunnel going out to the walk-around area. I thought of running, but there was security at the end of the tunnel. So I walked faster, and as I glanced back a second time I saw Usher Joe get on his horse and start running, yelling "Stop that guy in a blue 87 shirt!" Only he was muffled from the ensuing jam out of AC/DC BAG (love that song!). 

Just as I was passing the security guard in the tunnel, he caught on that something was up. Now I was in the hallways of MSG and the security guard who I just walked by fled into MSG to see what UsherJoe was yelling about. Sure enough, I take one more look back and here the two of them come! Lady Luck is a prudent woman, shining on you when you least expect it. I was about fifty feet from UsherJoe and his buddy when I see simultaneously a group of NYCPD socializing near an exit, and twenty feet in front of me is a women's room. I'm thinking, I'll duck into the women's room, but I quickly talk myself out of that one. 

Twenty more feet and there was a men's room, so I opted for my sex. At this point, I must tell you that I am wearing a blue NE Patriots game shirt with "Coates" on it and the #87 on both sides. Now all you can hear is UsherJoe and his buddy yelling at the top of their lungs "#87, blue athletic shirt, stop he has drugs!" They yell this repeatedly, and on the third or fourth time I duck into the men's room. I can't tell you how much sweat has gathered on me, but now I am cornered. I can feel the NYCPD has gotten wind of the scenario, mostly 'cause UsherJoe is still yellin' at the top of his lungs. 

Here's what happens next: I barge in on one of the stalls and throw the 87 Ben Coates shirt in the trash, under some paper towels. The guy in the stall thought I was fucked up, but he soon caught on. I had a yellow t-shirt on underneath, so I'm still alive. At this point I can hear UsherJoe talking to NYPD right outside the men's room door. "Here's what I found on him, he's wearing a #87 blue athletic shirt!"

At this point, I decide to walk out of the men's room, calmly. So as I walked out, there were five NYCPD going in. There are two entrances to the bathroom, so I came out the other one, put my head down and started dancing. Seemed like the thing to do. Quickly I walk in the opposite direction that I arrived from, and thought "Wow, was that close." And then it hit me, my girlfriend is gonna get with the NYCPD and find out where I had been taken to to be arrested. So I had to go back, and let her know that I was fine, a little jacked up on adrenaline, but fine. 

As I was walking back I made eye contact with her in the hallway, and all I could think of was that cops are following her to find me. So I ducked into a tunnel and started dancing. She saw me go in, and came up beside me, and I asked her if she was alone, like I'm in a 007 film or something. She had her coat in hand and was ready to leave the show to go bail me out. Luckily, we hugged and tried to calm down. 

Only one thing would make this story come full circle, the retrieval of the 87 Patriots shirt. Sure enough, I went back to the men's room, and rummaged through the trash bin. There she was, #87, staring up at me, laughing her ass off. Or at least the boomers were. Tucked it in my pants, and found some different seats (Page side) an caught the Harpua story that set up the udder balls the next night.

I love Ben Coates to this day, not because he is a good tight end, but for obvious reasons.

A truly Happy New Year.

The next night was an absolute bender, those Phish guys are pretty good, if you like that sort of thing, you know, Complete Rock and Roll, with a twist of insanity. Udder balls, hmmm

- James, Semaj spelled backwards

Editor's Note: It seems like a lot of crazy shit goes down on NYE in NYC.