Well go figure, he's drunk. How do I know this? He tells me. He's drunk, they're lost, they need help finding their way back to their hotel. In Phoenix. Okay, it's my baseball team. They're in Phoenix for a tournament. Which they'd just been eliminated from yesterday afternoon, which is why a bunch of them started drinking heavily. College kids with nowhere to be 'till late Sunday, there you are. They're lost, and they just spun out the truck? There's circular skid marks on the pavement and everything? Great. Matt's leaning over the tailgate hurling. Better. I'm now officially worried--someone was driving drunk. I'm no longer giving directions (not that I've found my map of Phoenix yet, I'm still not that coherent.) No, they can't call a cab, they've got 7 bucks between the lot of them. Even better, some black guy tried to rob them! At gunpoint! And when they turned out to have no money, he left, saying they were "just as ghetto" as he was. And "Jason" (Stevens?) totaled his car. I don't know if any of this is true, or the product of a drunken imagination. The conversation didn't last much longer... while I was trying to think of how to get these guys back safely (and still trying to get a position fix out of them) the cops showed up. I even heard a siren before Tommy hung up.
I haven't heard anything since. For all I know, some of my teammates are in jail, and some may be in the hospital. I called Nate, who fortunately wasn't with them, crashing at Simis's for the night, but his phone battery was dying (again! Will he PLEASE buy a fucking travel charger?) so I expect not to hear anything 'till people get back here late today.