Hit By A Hicks Hurricane…
Well shit, with nothing but an on-the-day email, Hicks arrives in New York.
For those of you who are not lucky enough to know Mr Andrew Hicks personally, well, this is what you’re missing.
But even I was not prepared for the night to come.
Saturday, May 14th.
8:00pm. First phone call, Hicks informs me he has landed, and he is on his way to meet me at the poker game.
8:15pm. Phantom call. His phone dialed me without Hicks knowing, and it sounded like he was in a crowded room.
8:40pm. “Dustin, I don’t know where I am, where am I goin—who are these people talking to me, like I care! Ill call you back…”
At this point, I realized the situation: Andrew Hicks was lost somewhere in Brooklyn, completely wasted. I just prayed for him to call again.
8:53pm. Hicks calls me again, and asks me if I can talk to his cab driver, which shows you just what a genius he is, even in his state, he somehow got it together enough to make this happen.
Begin Pakistani accent now: “Hello? Hello? Are you going to pick him up? Where am I going? Where am I going?
“28 and fifth.”
“28 and 5th? Are you going to come down? I cannot keep doing this? He was walking down the HIGHway, the HIGHway!”
“28th and fifth, man, just get him over here”
I kid you not, that is a verbatim quote. We all must wonder here, what did Andrew really do? Did he really step out of the car on some stop, galvanting around while some neurotic wreck of a cabbie chased him? I do believe his second call occurred at this point, but who can say?
9:17pm “Dude, im here. Come down and get me.” I try to keep him on the line as I take the elevator, but he hangs up. Down on the corner, nobody over six feet jumps out on me. I wonder if the cabbie understood sixth, and when he doesn’t pick up his phone, I hoof it over to not find him there either. Then the scarier thought hits me, there exists a 28th and 5th in Brooklyn!
I go back upstairs and wonder if he will ever call back. Which he does:
9:24pm “where are you? Are you in manhattan’
“Yo, we’re in manhattan, right? Yeah, manhattan. Im at the Ace Deli man!”
I go downstairs again, and sure enough, down the block stands the man himself, with backpack and suitcase, fuly delivered to my poker party.
Oh what a reunion.
About 10pm. “Andrew, there’s one rule. Andrew! You heard me? No breaking things”
He’s off, talking on the phone. And I realize I must enter a caveat to my only rule already. “Andrew! That means you can’t break anything on yourself either!”
He responds with dutiful attention.
Then next hour or so, I try to not let him drink anymore, make him down a full bottle of water, all the time he’s nagging me not to nag him.
Did I tell you I was kicking some ass at poker?
Hicks would go off into the office for some time stretches. He was fighting with his girl, he would bang the shit out of my guitar.
He would pass out.
Then wake up (this happened twice): “Dude where’s Kate?”
“Kate’s not here man, you’re dreaming”
“What are you talking about? She’s my girlfriend!”
Off he goes, looking for her, staring at me like I’m crazy.
Its not me, it’s you.
12ish. Hicks, even though I didn’t want to let him, has know lost 40 at poker. 
(he did get really lucky and took out a few people first, driving them into such a rage. Katzenbach?)
3am. He’s sobering up, and trying to piece together the last 48 hours. He keeps thinking he’s still in LA.
I help fill in the puzzle. We guess it goes something like this: He goes into LA to chill with Tucker before his flight the next day. They go to some concert, the party starts raging, next thing you know they’re all fucked up and its six in the morning.
The genius move came here, afraid that he would just sleep through his plane at 12pm, Hicks decides to just go to the airport, where he preceded to VIP drink it until his flight, passes out, groggily gets into a cab where some interaction occurs that the cabbie will take to the grave.
5:58am. Hicks realizes he has lost his hat. He will keep griping about it for the rest of the time. I point out that knowing the circumstances, the simple loss of a hat, instead of, oh i don't know, all his luggage should be counted as a some type of great karma or small miracle.
6am. We’re still playing poker. I am up from the cash game, but losing all the tournaments.
7am. The dramatic last tourney ends, with Katz as winner. He offered me the tie, and I refused, stupidly.
Good job, you bastard.
7:15am. After some clean up, we spend the last moments of the night (morning) on the roof.
7:35am We hit the Strand Diner. Hicks demolishes the lumberjack breakfast and claims he is still starving.
My waffles drip deliciousness.
7:53am. God damn, its bed time.
1:00p Buddy, let’s go, let’s go. You got to get to the train station to go down to Delware to see your 96 year old Grandma.
Thanks for the adventure buddy.
Guys, I wish I could truly blog the Hicks invasion accurately, but I guess this will have to do. For those of you who do not know him, I do pity you.
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