Giannis awoke to a pounding headache. Realizing that he was lying on some kind of hard surface, he kept his eyes closed, knowing that wherever he was, it wasn’t good.
He cast his mind back in time, attempting to remember the last thing his waking body had done. The details were fuzzy: Caron cajoling him to join “the crew” in some fun; Caron taking him outside the Bradley Center and telling him to strip to his undies; Caron taking out a twelve-pack of Miller.
Giannis groaned as he remembered. He had been forced to take part in what was termed “Milwaukee Miller Madness”. Drink some beers, build a snowman, withstand the bitter Wisconsin cold for thirty minutes, and win the prize. Unfortunately for Giannis, he possessed no experience with either alcohol or cold; he must have passed out after the sixth can, his body protesting temperatures that were lower than anything he had experienced in Greece.
Groggily opening his eyes and lifting his head, he saw fellow rookie Nate Wolters engaged in the contest himself. Nate had apparently downed all the beers and was stumbling around while trying to fashion a giant snowball. The rest of his teammates were chanting down the seconds; Nate was not going to make it under the thirty-minute limit. Looking to his other side, he saw Khris Middleton sprawled out on the sidewalk, similarly to Giannis himself. Khris was enjoying a bath in a puddle of his own vomit.
Giannis put his head back down and closed his eyes, smiling. His teammates were the best.