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Today’s #FriFotos is brought to you by my hangover from Matador Network’s party last night…

Going to Joe’s cabin in the Poconos is like a right of passage. I’ve only been friends with him, Patrick and his family for about a year, but I know that this is going to be a weekend of absolute mayhem. I go with zero expectations and prepare for one totally sloppy weekend.

It’s cold outside. Freezing. Snow and ice is everywhere. This is not like a European winter, with perfectly paved roads and tree branches frosted with pure, white snow. No, the road leading up to Joe’s cabin is a veritable death trap. Gravel and trenches and steep hills present serious opportunities for us to crash the car at any given moment, but somehow, we all make it there alive.

The cabin’s porch is covered in a thick layer of ice and snow. About twenty people will be staying at the cabin this weekend – if everyone brings one bottle of booze that means we need to find a place to store twenty bottles of booze. But of course, people don’t bring just one drink of their choice – they bring three or four, or cases of beer, or mini kegs, etc. Between the alcohol, groceries, and peoples’ luggage, we’re running out of room – fast.

“Let’s just put all the drinks outside,” Patrick suggests.

It makes sense. It’s colder than a witch’s tit but that’s the perfect temperature for beer and liquor. We pile the bottles onto a heap of snow, stuff them into the choppy, white mountain and step outside whenever we need a refresher.

The only time you can get away with something as ridiculous as that is when you’re in your twenties.

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