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A few hours later and it's St. Patty's Day...

Rise and shine, Sunshine...

10:30am. (picture above)  Ready to roll... Everyone had their GREEN on for St. Patty's Day, but Max opted for his Girl Scouts shirt for the strip club we were about to go to. Think Max had another agenda?!?!

The next morning was St. Patrick's Day. We greeted the new day with more Jager while working up a quick outline for the day. Supremo arrived with our friend Ashley from San Diego, who got drunk, sobered up, flew all night and came in early that morning on no sleep to make sure she had front row seats for the wheels coming off the Team armada Jager Train.

The five of us decided it was high time to complete another mission… the stripper pole. Some quick detective work revealed that The Lodge was one of the top clubs in Dallas, so we naturally made a beeline straight for it.

Off to the STRIP BAR...

Max has skill...and he needed the money.
(Insert song: "I'm in love with a stripper...")

The Lodge was not just a top-shelf venue, it was also stocked with top-shelf women. A quick $100 round at the bar, a few words to the manager from Douchebag (who, dead drunk, could probably talk 'W' out of the nuclear launch codes), and we were being led to the upstairs VIP room for pictures on a pole with a stripper. This pole worked, but it was in a private room and lacked the grandeur and class of the full-fledged versions on the floor. The manager suggested a downstairs pole on the main dance floor that was plainly visible to the other patrons. Bingo!

As we cut through the crowd, we overheard a girl asking who we were and why the hell we were wearing sunglasses inside. The answer? We're the kind of assholes that don't care what you think, woman! Soon, we were on the pole and another mission was down. Team armada made to leave, but suddenly Max had a mostly naked blonde glued to his lap, administering a free and extremely thorough dance near the bar. You have got to respect that man's game. Respect it.

While we were leaving, a local radio station (105.3 FM, KLLI) gave us a shout out, wished us luck in the MAXIM Magazine Road Trip competition and announced our whereabouts for later that evening. Excellent. We love it when a plan comes together.

A quick stop by the Galleria yielded a shirt for Douchebag and a new pair of shoes for So Fain, while security followed our every move in Nordstrom. We didn't steal anything, but we made sure everyone was aware of our presence.

Within 15 minutes and with our wallets a little lighter, we headed back to the MAXIM Mobile for the trip back to Plano to meet the limos. Douchebag, considerate host that he is, had left his front door unlocked so that when we arrived at the house, we were greeted by a small army of drinkers. We slammed as many Jager Bombs as we could before two black stretch limos arrived. Slapping the road trip logos on the doors, we piled in.

 


HOW TO TELL IF YOU'RE DRUNK:
In a group photograph, you are the one talking to his beer.

We drove around what seemed like half of Dallas picking up more people, an unfathomable amount of liquor, another set of door magnets and another mission accomplished. We had an obliging Dallas Sheriff handcuff Nick for a picture in front of the limo in the liquor store parking lot. He was just sober enough not to do anything that would land him in the slammer for real.

As we drove around town, everyone would stop and stare
at the limo with the decals on the side.

We had to make a nutritious stop for Nick's growing body at Micky D's!

Jager FOUL...somebody is gonna' have to buy the next bottle!

Didn't take long, but Nick was in cuff's in no time!

MAXIM Style.
 

By the time we arrived at The Dubliner Irish Pub, our crew of twenty strong was already what some experts like to call “intoxicated”. The revelry quickly started to intensify as we pounded pints and collected additional women. The limo drivers were a little irritated when we packed both limos well over capacity to hit our next stop… crashing a party at Reflection Fine Art.

Jen Cook (Maxim Hometown Hotties contestant), Max & Kris

Okay, okay. Even we have to admit that an art gallery may not have been the ideal place for 30 drunken idiots, but it was definitely worth the stop. The women were amazing. The manager, Brandy, and the two hostesses, Jen and Kris, were all amazingly beautiful. Commenting on one of their asses, Nick put it best when he proved Shakespeare was an amateur by stating, "I can't believe poop comes out of there!"

"Max, Nick and So Fain worked the girls pretty hard with over the top flirting."

Max, Nick and So Fain worked the girls pretty hard with over the top flirting, although they may not have been quite as smooth as they had planned. While the gallery manager was introducing So Fain to the artist, he backed into one of his sculptures. Luckily, the rest of Team armada caught it before So Fain was forced to buy the sculpture’s mangled, shattered remains.

We quickly changed subject to another piece, which the artist explained started as one nude figure. He kept adding more naked bodies until the end result was a large, semi-pornographic ball of tangled people. So Fain stopped, looked the artist in the eye and said, "Wow. I have to tell you, man, this is great. You are extraordinarily perverted."  So Fain thought this highly amusing. The artist did not.

Our welcome in the high tone art world thoroughly worn out, we quickly told the hot girls to meet us later and split. Time to hit our official welcome to Dallas party… The Douchebag and El Supremo show at Reno's Chop Shop.

We spilled out of the limos in front of Reno's. The owners, Alan and Johnny, had cleared the usual block of Choppers from in front of the bar so that we could unload as well as pull up a fire truck. Douchebag had a friend at the fire department and they wanted to stop by to let us take a pic on their truck. As a small army of drunks giddily swarmed the fire truck, one of the fire fighters shook his head ruefully and commented that it was just like dealing with a bunch of first graders… on alcohol. We then made our way to the back of Reno's for more drinks just as the band got on stage.

The lead singer announced our presence as we downed shots and started playing. After a few rounds, near the end of their set, the band called us on stage for their final song of the set. Spotting So Fain’s "I'll Mess With Texas" shirt, the band quickly improvised a song called "DON'T Mess With Texas" while the crowd shouted their agreement with him. Luckily at the end of the song, the team would avenge So Fain.

The band announced a short break and staggered off stage with the lead singer falling down the stairs and pulling Ashley down with him. The bruise on her ass was exquisite the next day, though Ashley has no recollection of having been tackled and wounded.

Max whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "I think the mic is still on" and moved to center stage. He tapped the mic twice and the crowd all turned as one to look at the three of us Georgians left on stage alone. Max grabbed the microphone, leaned in and shouted "IT AIN'T GONNA SUCK ITSELF!!" The crowd erupted into applause and laughter as flashbulbs started going off.

Max knows how to get attention.

On Stage

Our view from stage...TOTAL CHAOS!!!

Look at this lil' fella'...he's having a good time...

At this point, we met a Dallas DJ named Paisley and he took a beautiful blonde and So Fain on a side adventure while the rest of the team drank at Reno’s. They quickly moved through a side door, across the street, in one side of a bar and out the other, across another street and into a hip-hop club for a quick stage appearance where the host MCs blessed our road trip and almost torched So Fain’s throat with some rather aggressive shots. They broke out back to Reno's where they gathered the Atlanta boys and a couple girls and headed out the front. Rain then chased us into our friend Elizabeth’s SUV. Elizabeth goes by the affectionate moniker The Antichrist. We took a quick trip to yet another bar named Republic.

By this time, we were critically sauced. Triple girl kisses were going off everywhere (mission accomplished over and over) and the people (especially Amber) at Republic set us up the perfect VIP table in the middle of the crowd. They then lined up Jager Bombs like a buffet.  We love you and hate you for this, Amber!

"As attention whores (and binge drinkers), we quickly jumped at the chance to show our asses to a larger television market."

As we are tackling the shots, Nick noticed a TV crew. A quick investigation found that it was a Bud Select taping interviews for a possible TV commercial appearance… and they are giving out free beer. As attention whores (and drunks), we quickly jumped at the chance to show our asses to a larger television market. It took Nick four takes to answer one question without hitting on the girl who was conducting the interview. It should be noted that this was right in front of the interviewer’s boyfriend. Nick was informed of this, but by the time he was half way through his answer, he would pause, leer at her and start flirting on camera again. So Fain couldn't make too much fun of him though; it took him several takes to remember you can’t say “fuck” on network television. Hey, when you remove it from his vocabulary, he's only left with a handful of verbs. Max was much smoother.

I can't believe poop comes out of there. – Nick

Blue Steel.

By the time the bar closed, our limo hadn't come to pick us up. It was cold, rainy and we were so drunk that the hot blonde So Fain was with fell backwards off the wall she was sitting on. Score!

"By the time we got to Plano, the damage was done and So Fain’s sex life suddenly look much like his liver. Decimated."

When the limo arrived, we were almost too drunk to even pile in. Douchebag and Supremo had succumbed to alcohol related injuries and been shuttled home by the limo. It was just the three Georgia boys and two girls left. Max and Ashley passed out immediately in the back while the blonde and So Fain started heading the same direction in the front. Unfortunately, Nick was in quite the mood and started insulting her… brutally.

By the time we got to Plano, the damage was done and So Fain’s sex life suddenly look much like his liver. Decimated. Everyone broke into bedrooms and collapsed at around 5am.