Where do I begin? I can’t say I recall the first time I met Milo and, quite honestly, I can’t remember half the things that have happened since. I can tell you that since we became friends sophomore year at Santa Clara, we’ve had a pretty good amount of pretty good times.

The following are just a couple of my favorites…

Milo’s First Visit to Folsom (2003)

It was sophomore year of college and we headed home to visit the ‘rents in Folsom.  Milo and I headed to your average Duchow house party. Upon walking up to the front door Milo got his first taste of first-class Folsom, when my ex-con lover took a piss on the driveway, greeting us with a pleasantly stoned “hello.” Milo loved it.

It was difficult to recognize the familiar high school faces through the clouds of smoke but we somehow managed to find our friends, including Danny and Shay-rone. Fast forward several hours and Danny and Milo have found a common interest. No this was not MaryJane, but rather Shay-rone. More specifically mocking Shay-rone without mercy. By the end of the night we were plenty tipsy and ready to head home. Danny and Michelle dropped us off and Milo promptly passed out, clothes on and wreaking of booze. My mother kindly tucked him in. She thought he was so innocent…She was so wrong. The introduction to my hometown was a success and Milo quickly became a welcomed addition to the f-town crew.

Spring Break: Milo’s Encounter with a Mexican Stripper (2004)
One of my most memorable road trips has to be during Spring Break sophomore year. The crew included Milo, Danny, Shay-rone, Bob, Kyle, Matt, Eli, Paul and myself. The nine of us had invited ourselves to stay at my ex-SoCal lover’s apartment in La Jolla for a couple days. The entire story of this insane trip will be posted soon enough here on I Left My Dignity, but one particular portion pertains strictly to Milo I would like to share now. (Disclosure: I was not with Milo when this happened, but heard about it the next morning when we were all reunited.)

No virgin spring break in San Diego would be complete without a trip across the border, and after our trip into Tijuana, there is no need to pop that cherry every again. This portion of our adventure comes after a full day and evening of debauchery in TJ. Around o’dark hundred everyone decided to head back to La Jolla to avoid any further trouble. Well everyone that is, except for Milo, Paul and Kyle…

These three decided to stay behind to hit up the local strip club. On their way, Milo realized he needed to pick up some cash and stopped at the ATM. As he went to withdrawal $20 for a lap dance , he was prompted to take a minimum of fifty dollars out, or so he thought. He failed to realize that the minimum fifty-dollar withdrawal was actually only cincenta pesos (i.e. four American dollars). Walking into the strip club, he drunkenly announced, “I got cincuenta bitches!!” and proceeded to waive the money in the faces of local patrons. Clearly this angered management and despite arguing with them about his inappropriate behavior, they allowed him to stay.

Paul and Kyle reasoned with Milo and determined he needed the attention of a stripper immediately. Upon receiving a lap dance, words, which cannot be recalled, were then exchanged between Milo the lovely senorita. This quickly resulted in Milo getting slapped dead in the face, and yet, ironically, she finished the dance… The story goes on with Milo, Paul and Kyle walking across the border, getting stranded in southern San Diego, contacting a local friend at 4am for a ride, sleeping in a college dorm and bussing it back to La Jolla the next morning.

Fleet Week: Sunday Funday Aftermath (2009)
After a disappointing Saturday with the Blue Angels cancelling flight due to San Francisco’s chronic fog disease, we were forced to celebrate on Sunday in addition to Saturday. That morning my apartment was absolutely destroyed since we had moved the previous days’ roof party into our small kitchen and three bedrooms. The kitchen floor was so black, with every step she took little Lola’s paws were stuck to the ground.

Several people had stayed the night (aka passed out) so we decided to do a family style breakfast to ease the masses’ hangovers.  During our breakfast sando-fest we realized we had not killed the second keg and were therefore obligated to do so that day. We determined it was best to get an early start. Milo opted for the first keg stand at 8:45am.

By the end of the afternoon we were in pretty awful shape. Around 5pm the crowd began to dissipate and only a couple of us were left standing, including, of course, Milo. Over the course of the day he had taken a couple smoking breaks in the backyard, but around 5:30pm we realized his most recent had seemingly taken over 45 minutes.

When I peeked out my bedroom window to check on him, I saw Milo face down in our rose garden. The whole of us ran down the back stairs and into the yard. Milo was completely passed out, pants unbuttoned and cigarette lit on the ground beside him. (Side Note: My yard is shared with about 35 other tenants, several of which were watching the whole thing go down from their apartments.) From the evidence we assume after lighting up his ciggy, he unbuttoned his pants to take a leak, tripped in a pothole in the grass and just fell asleep. (There is video proof of this incident as well, however I have sworn to not post it on the www.)

A Weekend with Milo’s Family Clan (2010)
Milo is one of six kids, Gina, Joe, Julie, Jackie & Jay. Yes, all of their names start with a “J” sound. Ridiculous. You always wonder why people are the way they are. It’s clear after spending a weekend with his family that Milo is the perfect blend of his parents, Patsy and Jim. His ability to chat it up clearly comes from his mother, who after several ‘half’ glasses of wine stayed up until 3am talking with us. I have no idea what we discussed, but I know if Milo hadn’t said, “Mom, we’re going to bed now,” that she wouldn’t have stopped. From his dad, I think he gets his go-with-the-flow attitude. For example, on Saturday night we opted to pick up his 21-yr old sister from the bar at 2am. I drove and accidentally left the lights on and killed their car battery. The next morning his dad is talking to me about it and says, “Eh, it happens.”

This past weekend was my second time visiting Milo’s family home in Santa Maria. Always a good time, Friday and Saturday were filled with copious amounts of local wine, Santa Maria style steak and lots of linguicia! Good times Milo. Good times.

Milo is a Baller (Ongoing)
Post college suddenly Milo became a baller. I’m not sure if he makes butt-loads of money, but he sure is willing to treat his lady friends as if he does. From cocktails to Vegas tabs to O Magazines, he picks up the check. What a gentleman.

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For your enjoyment, here’s a little Milo montage to pay homage to the one and only James.

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