So this is what all the hype is about

“Wildwood,” in ultimate vernacular refers to a beach ultimate tournament held every July on the South Jersey shore. The rules are slightly changed, in that there are only four players on at once, an endzone-to-endzone huck is considered two points and the stall count only goes to six. Also, the fields are significantly smaller, though probably still more than half of a regulation field.

Either way, Wildwood in Jersey vernacular refers to the whole place itself - a greasy armpit of the East Coast where culture goes to die. The one thing it has going for it is the beach, which is fairly nice (though by no means the best beach I have been to). Either way, I attended this year, and I must say that this tournament did not live up to all the hype.

Fun was to be had, though. On the drive down, we needed some batteries and other assorted miscellany, so we stopped at a Target in Arundel Mills. I always chuckle to myself at that town name - I think it’s because Arundel reminds me of the word “grundle.” While in the Target, Gigabyte and I decided to try and look for the Oozinator, a product previously referenced on this site. Not only did they have this fine product, but they had it half-off, with refill cartridges. This Super-Soaker-looking deal does not shoot only water, but also has a second nozzle that hurls globs of “ooze” onto unsuspecting targets.

And hurl ooze we did. The best part about this product (aside from the commercial where it looks like kids are getting facials) is that everyone had basically the same reaction:

1) Realization that liquid assault via watergun was imminent
2) Acceptance that they were about to get wet and maybe somewhat irritated
3) The act itself
4) Relief that that said act is over
5) Surprise at consistency of “water”
6) Realization that the substance is more similar to cum than to water
7) Anger and disgust at what seems like a run-by jizzing
8) Asking angrily “What the fuck is that, [insert synonym for “semen” here]?”

Just classic really. Tweak exclaimed “Awww, man it’s in my ear!” Bert’s reaction was pretty spectacular too, but I don’t remember any specific quotes. There are pictures, though. Here they are:

The best was when Tim’s little brother, Wylie, grabbed Gigabyte’s gun and shot Ed with it, which prompted a swift tackling.

Sadly, that was the most fun of the weekend. Our team went 0-6 in the non-competitive division. Beach ultimate is not worthy of the association with real ultimate. I didn’t have a ton of fun playing, though I liked the people on my team. I especially had no fun when we were losing like 20-3 to some team of young-guns from Philly. There’s a kid on their team who will be playing for Pitt next year. He’s really good, and a nice guy. But his brother was a complete douche, and at one point (when they were already up by at least a dozen), threw a disc through my legs and ended up punching me in the nuts in the process. Instead of apologizing or helping me at all while I was clutching my business, he said “You can call foul if you want to.” The younger kid, Eddie, approached me after I left the field, asked how I was, agreed that what happened was totally inappropriate, and we had a good talk. Very mature for an incoming freshman - I was definitely impressed with this kid in many ways. I wish him the best of luck.

What a fucking derf his brother was, though… I don’t know many players (especially male players) who wouldn’t feel really bad about nailing someone else in the what-have-yous. Later on, a disc from our field rolled onto theirs while they were playing someone else, and literally landed within a yard of Douchie McGee’s feet. He looked down, looked back up and just stood there. I made some disgusted gesture and chuckled while I looked at where the disc had landed. The younger brother made eye contact with me, looked horribly embarrassed, hurried to pick up the disc and flipped it to one of the players on our sideline. Further proof that attitude isn’t genetic.

I suppose the third thing worth talking about in reference to my Wildwood experience was the trash. No, I don’t mean candy wrappers and soda cups… I mean the people who were there. Granted, there were quite a few EXTREMELY attractive people to be seen on the Boardwalk, but damn… this place was on par with any of the places I went in the Midwest. I even overheard one conversation, as we were passing a shoddy internet café, between two high-schoolers that made me wretch and laugh uncontrollably at the same time. One kid said to the other “Yo, we should go up there and check MySpace.” Astounding.

That and on a tipsy-walk down the Boardwalk on Friday night, there were these guys who were just sitting on the benches and spouting off pick-up lines to girls who were passing. Just things like “Hey ladies, where ya goin’?” and “Hey beautiful,” and other such ridiculous things. Those stupid fucks, you’ve gotta try harder than that - I told them so too (my tongue having been loosened by starka). We also found out that the dunk-tank that used to be there a few years ago had been removed. Basically, there was a guy who would sit in the dunk tank and say horrendously insulting things to people as they walked by, and then they would pay to try and dunk his ass. Either way, a cop told us that it had to be removed because it started too many fights. With the type of people I saw, I am not surprised that physical violence was prevalent enough to warrant the closure of the dunk-tank.

On the beach there were just so many people who clearly don’t own mirrors and clearly don’t bathe often enough to realize that their bodies inspire seizures in passers-by without proper covering. I never want to see another set of fuckin’ old people meatflaps ever again. That woman in the tiger-stripe bathing suit was quite enough, thank you. Not only that but everyone had ridiculous tattoos. And there were people pushing around baby carriages who I hoped against hope were taking care of their little brothers and/or sisters… Then there were packs of Goths too, which really made me wish I had a two-by-four.

It was a worthwhile experience, but I just didn’t have as much fun as everyone told me I would have. The Pitt guys, for the most part, weren’t there, and that’s probably was for the better - resisting the temptation to get drunk and unleash Ooze barrages would have been nearly uncontrollable. I also hate sand much more now. I never want to have to deal with that much sand all up in my stuff ever again. It’s true what they say, once you get it into something, you can’t get it out. Good thing my sister’s getting my car the next time I go home…