You must be thinking “Lizard are you a terrorist? Have you threatened to light your shoes on fire? Have you brought a box cutter on a plane?” NO, I have not done any of those things and I am most certainly not a terrorist (except maybe to women). I love America, in fact I don’t even think I am allowed to leave America do to some incidents in Canada and Mexico. I know that actually makes me seem even more like a terrorist, but let me clarify. I am not a terrorist, I am an alcoholic (which is what makes me so fun in my eyes). That being said, there are two things I hate in life with a passion: the dentist and flying! In order to fly, I need to have a massive amount of pills and an even greater amount of alcohol. If I am not blackout drunk before boarding the plane, there is no way I’m boarding it.

I know what you’re thinking: “Lizard you ride Lambos and Ferraris why not fly on a private jet?” Not a chance, private Jets are scarier smaller than regular planes and I have tried and failed miserably. In fact, my good friend is the president of a very large Fractional Jet ownership company and has invited me on two trips with him in some beautiful jets. The first trip ended with him saying “Don’t do that ever again, you’ll get me fired!” the second and last trip ended with “I can’t believe you did that again, you cant fly with us anymore!”

There was even a time where a client told me he would send a plane for me so we could go to the Bahamas all expenses paid and he sent a twin-engine propeller 310. I refused to go as soon as the plane touched down knowing that one of two things would happen: I would have to get so drunk that I would believe in my heart I could fly the plane and I would bring us down in a blaze of drunken glory OR I would get so drunk that mid-air I would wake up from my passed out state and freak out punching the pilot in the face, going down wondering how I could have been so stupid as to knock the pilot out. Either way the flight would have ended with me dieing and although I have walked out of some near death experiences unscathed, I don’t think the lizard would survive a plane crash.

Needless to say I tried my hardest to get to the perfect level of drunk to board the plane but it didn’t work. I got to a belligerent level and argued with the pilot, tossed my luggage down the runway and told him to fetch. I then called my client and yelled at him for trying to kill me and told him that I never wanted to speak to him again. Three days later my client came to Miami where I was at and bought a 47-foot Fountain Lighting Race boat from me and we blasted off to the Bahamas!

Now that I went off on a total tangent, let me get back to why I was banned from JetBlue. It was 2005 and I wasn’t even 21 yet. I was traveling to LA with two of my friends who were very large, tattooed, muscle bound, young, and wealthy clients of mine. The flight was spur of the moment, and the only flight we could get on was coach three in a row JetBlue. I was smashed between these guys who towered over me. One of the guys I was with who we will call Scott,  is a very wealthy young client of mine whose family started a very prominent business and also owns over 30 clubs and restaurants around the US. Scott loves Jack Daniels so we sat in the airport parking lot downing Jack and stuffing Xanax into our mouths. I did it to calm myself down for the flight at hand, Scott and Mike did it because they were fucking crazy.

Anyway I was finally drunk enough to try and board the flight and got a wonderful Idea, (as you know by now all my wonderful ideas when drunk end in disaster). Scott and Mike were both 6’4″, 300LBs of muscle with tattoos head to toe. I am 5’8″ and Skinny. I decided from the time we boarded the plane to start complaining that I had to sit in between these “giant assholes” and demand to be moved to first class. I yelled, I screamed, I may have even let out a few fake tears.

In my drunken state I felt that no one was listening to me, so in order to be heard I started throwing food. I then poured the mini liquor bottles all over myself, Scott, and Mike and yelled out “look these big mother fuckers are making me spill my drink!” I demanded more mini bottles and the flight attendant said that I was not allowed to have any more liquor. Telling the lizard he cant have alcohol is like poking the incredible hulk with a stick, you just shouldn’t do it.  It sent me into a drunk range during which I started a full-on food fight. Peanuts, Chips, and Pretzels were flying everywhere. It got to the point where Scott and Mike were not having fun anymore and they tried to tie me up with my seat belt. I decided that there wasn’t enough of a mess all around us, so I took all of the leftover food, tossed it at my feet, and started jumping up and down stomping it into bits and pieces

So my buddy who happens to be one of my biggest clients as well as one of the largest rednecks I have ever met calls me last night wondering what I am doing. Now to understand this guy, he calls me ten times a day / night I call him the President of NASCAR, I have sold him countless cars I have even brokered a hooker to drive from Tampa to North Carolina for an over under bet. I scored 1,000 because I got her to do the deed for only 4,000! That being said my client told me to let him talk to all my girls last night five of them to be exact. Well the phone cut off on me and the girls were upset they did not get to talk to the president of NASCAR.

I hopped on the phone and texted my buddy Peter and asked him if he wanted to play a great joke on some women. Peter was up for the challenge, but we could not figure out who he could say he was. I thought Leo DiCaprio but Peter said Josh Hartnett. I figure he has a crush on Josh and that’s why he picked him but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, I changed his name in my phone from Peter to Josh Hartnett and set me phone in-between the pack of women and I went outside. A minute later, the girls are yelling to me that my phone is ringing. I said who is it and one of the girls says “OMG Josh Hartnett, like THE josh Hartnett?” I yelled “Pick it up Pick it up!”

Peter was on his A Game! I guess he had googled Josh Hartnett and knew everything abut the dude because out of all the girls that talked to him, one of them was asking question upon question and Peter had all the right answers. Even so the girl was still 90% that who she was talking to was Josh and 10% that it was total bullshit. Even so, she cornered me in the bathroom and begged me for “Josh’s” number. Just so you know when I say cornered, I mean pinned me against the wall half choking me with my tie and ramming her tongue down my throat while some how mumbling the words “give me Josh’s number.”

When we went downstairs and the girl saw the Baby Blue AKA Smurf Blue AKA Silverlake Blue Bentley GTC, it was pretty much game over. I decided I needed to take the lie to the next level. We get to the club and I see a really good friend of mine we will call Scott. He is 40 and has already had two heart attacks, that’s how much the dude parties. He is covered from head to toe with tattoos, about 6’5″ and made of muscle. Literally MADE OF MONEY, spends it like it’s grown on trees! His father started a major corporation; they own a ton of nightclubs and bars on top of that. That being said, he decided to buy the bar ten bottles of Cristal, 4 magnum sized bottles of Goose and of course a bottle of Jack just for himself to chug around the club. It was GAME OVER. Scott loves me because I make sure to pack his tables with women and act just as out of control as him!

We had the tables packed and I forgot about my girl for the time being. She 100% did not forget about Josh or me. She had made her way through the crowd to talk to me. I had told Scott the Josh story and he played along asking her what she thought of Josh and telling her that we had all been friends for a while. She ate it all up! Now I have a great agreement with the bathroom attendant at this particular club. I have been tipping him well for years so he lets me bring in chicks on a regular basis and locks the door for me regardless of how many people are waiting in line. Tonight was no exception and I made her prove to me just how much she wanted “Josh’s” Number. BOY DID SHE PROVE IT! That being said, I went back to the VIP tables only to pull a straight lizard on Scott’s best friend’s brother’s bodyguard’s girlfriend. The dude almost killed me, so I decided to hightail it out of there and left my whole crew in the process.

I Bentley pimped it to one of the best strip clubs known to man solo but the Josh girl was blowing up my phone wondering where I was. She jumped up to the strip club for some more fun. Anyway the story is getting a little long so we will leave it at this: it’s 9:09AM now and I left the strip club at 7:30 am after being there for a total of four hours. The strip club was EPIC as usual but that’s a whole new post if I get around to it. Josh’s girl was a total freak at the club, even crazier at the strip club and I owe it all to my boy Peter! As of this day it is the biggest lie I have ever had a success with. I don’t know how much further I can go with my outlandish stories to women after this one!

THANKS PETER, I OWE YOU!