"Check His I.D.?" By Sean Somers

Our good friend Sean Somers submitted this true story about our recent trip to Scotland to visit the Mythic Icon that we all know as Rob Morgan...

I was in the middle of my vacation to Scotland with my friends Joey and Pete. The man, the myth, the legend: Rob Morgan had said we were to go to a comedy show at a place called The Stand in downtown Edinburgh. The day had started off typical, waking up having a hangover and a sore back from sleeping on basically a giant wooden pallet with a shitty futon mattress on top of it. Coffee, shave, shower. Out the door of the flat I went with Pete, Joey, and Rob to get a taxi. Our destination was a posh restaurant downtown. It was the kind of restaurant that has a pianist in the corner, and a very expensive wine menu. Eat, drink, pay the big bill, off to the comedy club we went.

Getting to the show early, the place was half empty with four seats and two tables right in front of the stage just calling for us to be heckled by the comedians. The show begins with the host seeing us just a few feet in front of him as fresh meat. Four Americans, trashed in the front row is a free lunch for these fuckers. The show went on with a few jokes tossed at us, and the drinking continued.

Then it was intermission. The club had some contest where you could win two free tickets to another show. All it required was to fill out a piece of paper that was already on the table. Everyone fills them out and passes them in to the host. I saw that Pete and Joey had a good buzz going along with myself, but I looked down at the table where I was sitting with Rob and there were six or seven empty shot glasses that I had nothing to do with. I look over to my left to see how Rob’s doing. He’s not there. So I look over my right shoulder and Rob is walking back towards us with more shots and a giant grin on his face.

“Let’s do some shots”, he said.

Those four words explained it all. Intermission ends with the host coming back on the stage to announce the winner of the contest. Drawing and announcing the name Garrett so and so. Someone yells “That’s me!”. As Garrett proceeds towards the stage, Rob yells “that’s not him”. The host not paying any attention to the comment, hands him the prize. The crowd eases down the applause for the winner, then silence.

Rob yells out “That’s not his name”. The host then looks at Rob and says “who the fuck would want to be named Garrett anyways”. Rob then yells “check his I.D.”. At this point I’m thinking Rob is fucking hammered and it’s only ten o’clock. The next act is introduced and all eyes are on us. This next comedian had a field day with us. He even used Pete to beat box for him so he could rap on stage(if you know Pete, this is fucking amazing). The show ended around eleven. We leave feeling good and Rob feeling even better than all of us.

Walking to the next drinking destination, Rob had started to wrestle with Pete. Pete easily threw him to the ground. He was out of control. So we continued walking to a place called The Cuckoos Nest, where we were to meet some of Rob’s other friends. As we walk through the door, Rob hands me ten pounds to order him the nastiest fucking shot the bar had. I approach the bartender and ask him, “what’s the nastiest tasting shot you have here?”. The bartender replies, “Absinth”.

The bartender and I exchange the drink with money and I walk over to the table. I hand the drink to Rob. He drinks it immediately without any hesitation. Rob screams to me, “get me another one”. The bartender overhears Rob’s voice and personally brings the next drink over to our table. He places the drink down. Rob says “who has a lighter”. As the bartender reaches for a lighter in his pocket, I said to myself “this is a bad idea”. Rob then lights the drink. With everyone watching, he picks the glass up and goes to drink it. As the flames consumed his face, panic sobered Rob quickly. Joey pours his beer out on the burning table after blowing on it fails miserably. Meanwhile, Rob was trying to put the flames out that were on his face with his hands, pretty much just flailing around behind a crowded table. Someone else assisted Rob in putting the fire out on his face. The whole place smelled like burnt hair, and the screams suddenly turned into laughter. The bartender hands me a towel with ice inside out of it to hand to Rob. When I saw that Rob was ok with only a few red marks and a red line that looked like half of the jokers smile in the last Batman installment, I thought to myself that was the funniest fuckin’ thing I have ever seen.

******

The only thing I want to add is that Rob's burns were pretty fucking bad, it looked like he had a brutal case of herpes all over his face for at least a week afterward. He had to wear a dishtowel over his face for the next few days. -JO