Tony's Pig Roast 2006

Over the weekend I went to my friend Tony’s and he held his annual pig roast.

It was early afternoon on Saturday and I hadn’t woken up yet.

The night before I had a strange vision—my friend Tony came out to greet Jeremy and myself as we finally found his house. Needless to say we got completely lost and through absolute dumb luck found the place at 2AM, but still—we were here.

But Tony? Tony was not here. At least, not as much of him as I had seen recently. The man has lost a ton of weight. How much I don’t know, but it is significant.

“Jesus man,” I say as I am greeted with a hug.

“Yeah,” he says. You speak in short sentences in the late hours.

Finally we congratulate him on his weight loss, congratulate ourselves on our incredible pathfinding abilities, and go inside.

And it’s the next day. And I don’t want to get up.

I wonder what will happen. I’m curious if there will be anyone I know, if I can stay somewhat lucid for the entire event, and if the pig is as glorious as it was touted to be.

Let’s get that last one out of the way: The pig was awesome. But first, the beer.

Tony and his roomie “A” (he doesn’t name the guy on his blog, so I won’t here) brew a lot of beer. They had a kegerator made from a fridgerator, with three spouts on the door from which to get your ale on. I slurped on Poor Richard’s Ale for the entire day, and it was mighty tasty.

Anyway, so after a beer was attained it was time to see the pit. The fire pit was created using cinder blocks stacked four blocks high and in a rectangular shape. Coals were added to the pit and then set on fire. The pig itself was butchered down to 145lbs and then cut in half so it could be put in between two metal-and-wire pieces, maneuvered via iron rebar.

As for those there I may have known, I’ll admit I didn’t know a soul other than Jeremy and Tony, but everyone (including Tony’s sister Amy who came up for the trip) was friendly and fun.

The funnest part, however, came as an afterthought—who carves up the pig?

The pig was unveiled, cheering commenced, and the thing was laid to bare in front of us. Surgical gloves were produced from…somewhere, and soon a knife and fork were provided.

But after awhile, in the sweat and the heat and the laughing, you just start using your hands to rip the meat apart. We would find the best parts of the pig—tenderloin, pork chops, rump roast, etc—and then make sure that all of us got a piece of it. Of course there were hamburger buns and whatnot, but this is what we had really come for. The exhilerating and exhausting work of getting meat off the bones.

We made quick work of it. Within 20 minutes I’d say the thing was primarily ripped of the most ‘obvious’ meaty places. Another twenty minutes saw the thing reduced to fleshy bones, a total of four aluminum bins overflowing with pork.

At that point it was a blur of cigarettes, food, and beer. For the next hour people were buzzing and moving and taking and exusing themselves and working their way to bathrooms and living rooms and places to sit. The sort of ‘controlled chaos’ that is present in all party situations, particularly those that wait for something to finish (such as a roasted pig).

Later I stumble down to the basement for another beer and see Guitar Hero being played. Everyone is laughing and having a good time. Sounds like fun to me…

…and two hours later I’m a Rock God. I can play guitar, but can I play a plastic one with five buttons? You betcha! We crank up the difficulty and absolutely rock out with two guitars working on all sorts of songs. From the easiest stuff (“I Love Rock & Roll”) to the hard stuff (“Crossroads” by Cream), I can’t believe how fantastic this game is.

Let it be known: Those who like to have fun will love Guitar Hero. Yes, even those that can’t play instruments. Yes, even those that don’t play “music games” such as myself. I had never played so much as Parappa the Rappa and I was kicking all kinds of butt—and so were others.

It’s weird how I feel like an ambassador to this game when I get no vested interest other than satisfaction if you, dear reader, actually go out and purchase it.

Anyway, Guitar Hero was an addiction that couldn’t be kicked, and as the night wore on everyone was in the den, rocking the night away.

The next day, as we’re finishing our meal at Chipotle, I realize that while Ohio may be crappy in many ways, it is still a gorgeous piece of country. And I can’t blame Tony for staying there with a great house to live in or a good job to go to.

But still, I miss my friend sometimes.

Until next year, when I rock Pig Roast ‘07 like a hurricane.

Gideon, what have you told us at all?
Make a sound, come down off the wall.