Thread by @ThreeTwoEephus, TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE:- dunked on a ten-foot goal one (1) [...]

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE:
- dunked on a ten-foot goal one (1) time
- outran a low-level Turkish crime man at 4am in Instanbul
- made it to 2A state track meet in 3200m https://twitter.com/espn/status/1248995148903710722">https://twitter.com/espn/stat...

https://twitter.com/espn/status/1248995148903710722

Didn’t plan it this way but this is honestly the best way to trick a bunch of you into thinking I made it to state in the two-mile.

Alright so I just tried to look up the thread from my other account, but apparently this happened before threads existed, so I& #39;ll try to re-tell it here:

STORY TIME: how I made a series of dumb decisions that led to me running for my life in Istanbul. (1/??)

This was Feb. 2015. It was my last tour as a musician — a few countries in Europe and a few days in Israel, which involved a ~17-hour overnight layover in Istanbul. I got to the hostel around 9-10, and probably should have gone to bed, but it was my *one night* in Istanbul.

I find a cool little bar near the hostel & find myself hanging out with a guy from S. Korea. He& #39;s great! We still follow each other on Instagram. About 11:30 or so, another guy, probably mid-40s(?) joins the table. He& #39;s from Serbia & tells us his name is Jimmy.

My Korean friend heads home around 12:30, and here is where I made my first very bad decision. I should also have gone home! But one of my favorite things about touring (especially overseas) is talking to strangers and sharing stories. So I hang with Jimmy for a bit longer.

It& #39;s getting *late* and I tell my Serbian friend I need to get home. "But wait," he says. "If you only have one night in town, you have to come see the best bar in this city. It& #39;s my favorite place."

"Is it even still open?" I ask.

"Oh yeah, it& #39;s open all night," he says.

TIME FOR A SECOND BAD DECISION: I shrug and decide to check it out. When will I ever get another chance to see the best bar in Istanbul? I assume it& #39;s walking distance.

Friends, it is not walking distance. We get in a cab and drive 15 minutes east.

We get to the place, and it& #39;s… *not* the best bar in Istanbul. It& #39;s mostly empty, there& #39;s crappy euro-dance music playing, and the tables have red pleather seats. It& #39;s loud.

But I don& #39;t want to insult my new friend& #39;s taste, so I offer to buy the first round.

He waves me off.

The bartender comes and brings:
- 2 beers
- champage
- two of the other denizens of the bar to sit with us.

Now here& #39;s where you& #39;re probably thinking "Levi, there& #39;s only one reason a bartender would bring two girls to sit at your table at a 24-hour bar"

YEAH, I KNOW NOW

The conversation is somewhat stilted, but just as I& #39;m about to make my exit, Jimmy orders another round. "Okay," I say, but with my body language, I try to make it obvious that I mean this next part: "But I need to get back, I have a lot of stuff I want to see tomorrow."

So I get through it and tell everyone I& #39;ve had a lovely night, but I need to be getting home. The bartender brings the bill and hands it to me.

I do some quick math and realize that I am expected to pay roughly $1,200.

I am immediately sober, realizing what has happened.

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