We received a phone call yesterday from a friend in dire need of a fix. You know the story: full-time job, read every story about Jon & Kate plus 8 but itching to know what has transpired in our lives since we last posted on Monday. Though flattering, it made us realize that we must fulfill our obligations more regularly…
We arrived in Clearwater, Florida in the early evening to yet another welcoming host, Vaughn Brown. Will met Vaughn in Las Vegas during New Year’s 2007, when Vaughn and Max (who joined us earlier in the trip) decided to hire Will as a glorified shuttle service from The Strip to his house. It was only fitting that Vaughn now returned the favor.
After a bit of catching up to speed, the conversation turned to our journey. We explained some of the trials, tribulations and terror that have occurred along the way. Vaughn told us about 18 straight weekends where he went to a major sporting event and showed the frame of all tickets he had kept. It was quite interesting listening to how much he remembered from the experience. With any luck, we will be able to relay our antics to many more people in the years to come.
With the sentimental nonsense out of the way, we cleaned up and headed to a friend of Vaughn’s for a few drinks. We also met up with Zach Buckley, who neither of us had seen since he moved to Florida after our sophomore year of high school. Soon after Zach arrived, all of us set out for what Vaughn characterized as “the hottest bar in Tampa:” MacDinton’s.
Ok, let’s make things perfectly clear. We had a great time, as a live band was playing and people we dancing about with the carefree spirit that is usually reserved to Will. Still, the place was uncomfortably warm. Fortunately, we were able to post up next to a fan and made sure someone always held our ground when they bellied up to the bar to buy drinks. On reflection, it was a very good business decision to make it a sweatshop in there. Your drink got warm if it was not finished quickly and you had to drink to stay cool. Suffice to say, whatever was consumed, certainly came out in perspiration soon after.
As the night wound down, the hunger bug set in and it was decided that Pita Pit was our antibiotic. While ordering, Will’s eye for opportunity was caught when he noticed that a previous pita had just been made incorrectly. He inquired as to the plan for the poorly prepared item, and, of course, ended up with a bonus pita to consume as we exited.
The next morning, we recollected the night and headed to Tropicana Field, where the Texas Rangers were taking on the Rays. Vaughn, still skeptical that he was going to be seeing two teams in playoff contention for free, instructed Will about where the highest amount of foot traffic could be found. Will headed to work; meanwhile Vaughn educated Todd and Zach about “St. Pete Trash” (he being very upset that the Rays play in St. Petersburg rather than Tampa). “SPT” is essentially a giant collection of the family members you try to avoid. You know the ones who insist that work boots, mullets and jean shorts constitute dressing up? Yeah, that is SPT.
Minutes later, Will met up with the group outside of the stadium with six tickets, four of which were leftovers from a group outing, and two came from a priest. Use your imagination on the length Will went to make the latter happen. Vaughn suggested they head to Gate 6, a designated area for reselling of tickets. Will had that wry smile on his face and contemplated taking up residency in Central Florida. Soon, with four tickets and $60, it was time to watch some baseball.
The game was not all too exciting but we have grown accustomed to seeking out entertainment among the patrons, if necessary. Fortunately, Tropicana Field made it extremely easy. Directly in front of us was our own duo of SPT. The younger guy was wearing a t-shirt about 4 sizes too big, faux diamond earrings and had very strong feelings about everything, largely because of the amount of beer he had consumed. At one point he hit a nerve with Vaughn, a die-hard Buccaneers fan, about the Raiders beating Tampa Bay this football season. The problem was that the two teams don’t play one another and Vaughn asked him to know if he was talking about video games. Thankfully, after an awkward pause, he decided to drown his embarrassment with another beer. Meanwhile, the older guy thought he was having a profound effect on the Rangers bullpen by yelling the names of various big-box retailers (e.g. Wal-Mart and Target) while they warmed up. We can’t make this up. A real classy bunch.
At the conclusion of the game, we began the trek back to the car. Along the way, we crossed paths with a drug-crazed hooker, screaming vitriolic slurs at her pimp. This was SPT at a whole new level. In the end, Will started dry heaving.
We dropped Zach off at his car and stopped in at a Cuban restaurant. As none of us spoke Spanish, we did a lot of pointing at the menu. The food was excellent though, which is all that really mattered. The evening was spent lounging and watching a baseball game on television. Getting rest is paramount, especially as we were going further south to Miami the next morning.
____________
The drive to Miami was filled with worry. We have been quite good about having places to stay several days in advance. However, when it came to the furthest point from Bozeman, we were essentially homeless. An acquaintance of Will’s from his days at UM had agreed to let us stay with him but in the days leading up to our arrival our messages went unanswered. (We still have not heard from him as of this posting.) Realizing another plan needed to be put in motion, we stopped into a La Quinta Inn and sent out a few Hail Mary inquiries using Couch Surfing. No responses there either. Admittedly, we were forced to have a painful conversation about paying for a safe place to sleep. (Will keeps up the hope of making it the whole way without spending the night in hotel/motel/hostel). In the meantime, during a conversation about our plans for arriving in New York with his former roommate, Will mentioned the predicament we found ourselves in. Shannon, the roommate, said that the person, Katie, who took over Will’s lease when he moved out, had recently located to the area and she would look into maybe putting us up there. For the next hours, with one eye on the cell phone and the other on a movie screen showing Inglorious Basterds and The Goods, we sat impatiently to find out about our fate. With each scene came a greater understanding that it wasn’t going to work. Then the phone buzzed, Will darted out of the theater and we dodged a bullet, as Katie agreed for us to stay with her as if we were not imposing at all. Seriously, we have a guardian angel looking over our shoulder these days.
As the hot Florida sun poked through the curtains the next morning, we exchanged the necessary pleasantries with Katie and her boyfriend, checked our respective emails and went to South Beach to cool off in the Atlantic Ocean. The scenery was beautiful, and not just because of its topless nature. The water, however, was not as refreshing as we would have liked. A warm bathtub is probably the most accurate description. As we were sufficiently swimmed out, we grabbed a couple of ice teas and went to the University of Humidity…err, Miami. Todd managed to talk our way into using the computers in the library without filling out the bureaucratic paperwork and we enjoyed an hour or so in an air-conditioned building. The little things, folks, the little things. While there it was decided that we ought to begin the march to New York, our next stop, after the game, rather than the next morning as we originally intended. First, we called Zach, who would be joining us for the next leg of the trip and explained the itinerary revision. Then, we called Katie, told her our change of plans, collected our bags at her apartment, and reiterated our thanks for putting us up.
En route to the Marlins game, we were blessed with a phone call from our friend from Bozmean, Anne Marie Carter, who we were going to be staying with in Charleston. We had been unable to reach her over the past few days, as she was out of town, and feared that hotel might be in our future. She assured us that her door was open and we were glad to know our plans were in order.
The game at Land Shark Stadium was noteworthy for how little fan support the Marlins receive despite being four games back in the National League Wild Card. The parking lot had far more grass than cars, the bathrooms had nobody in them and we could have easily had a row to ourselves if we desired. Sounds like a dream come true, except there is absolutely no vibe. Even with the most exciting young player in baseball (Hanley Ramirez) and the rival Mets in town (yes, we realize they are horrible), it could not even get people into the park. We would put the attendance right around 5,000 but we will never know for sure since the team was too ashamed to announce it. More to come...
Todd & Will
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
N.O. Geaux
(Note: apologies ahead for grammatical errors. Editing has been limited as this entry is being posted in the breakfast nook of a hotel we are NOT staying at… cheers.)
After a week in the Lone Star State, we took our leave after a hearty breakfast courtesy of Todd’s Aunt Patrice. It was tough to bid farewell to beds, home-cooking and good company, but the duty to provide vicarious exploits to our adoring blog readers is always at the forefront of our thoughts. We drove through the sprawl of Houston en route to New Orleans, our next destination, when suddenly we saw it: the Joel Osteen Church. Temptations immediately arose: should we end the trip and move here? Should we become born again? Should we be baptized? Ultimately we decided not to enter the peculiar Temple of Capitalism…, I mean Christianity, for fear that we would be convinced to donate our gas funds to Joel’s “rapture-preparedness fund.” Regrettable perhaps, but what’s done is done
We exited Texas after a week of baseball and perspiration and cruised through the bayou on our way to The Big Easy. The drive was amazing. We were seemingly on bridges more often then not throughout the entire state of Louisiana, which is apparently nothing more than a series of trees and bushes sticking out of the Gulf of Mexico. Honestly, we were unable to fathom why and how people could live here. That being said, the drive was beautiful: parasitic growth everywhere and amazing marshes. We drove through these foreign environs and finally arrived in New Orleans.
We briefly cruised through downtown and headed over to Will’s friend Dane’s house in the Garden District. We were warmly greeted and our host proved to be the greatest tour guide that the city had to offer. Dane, born and raised in N.O., couldn’t have been happier to show off the city he clearly loves. After repeatedly telling us how jealous he was of our travel plans (he being an avid sports fan with a particular love for SEC football), Dane set the stage for the rest of stay, telling us: “There are no rules here. No rules. This is a different country.” We were intrigued and excited needless to say…
We headed out with Dane to Parasol’s, an authentic Cajun joint, and took part in the religious experience known as a fried shrimp po-boy. My goodness. As we savored the “dressed” po-boy and gravy fries we noticed a familiar sticker on the bar’s beer fridge: an MSU Bobcats sticker. We excitedly explained to Dane the reason for our enthusiasm and the discussion about MSU inevitably led back to the Grizzlies, who Dane recognized as an FCS stalwart (yes Cat fans, we’re bigger than you in SEC football country). The college football topic continued to be explored and Dane gave a stirring speech on SEC football. Ultimately, he reasoned that it is the only “real” conference and that it’s ridiculous to think otherwise… we were forced to agree. At this point Will mentioned our intentions to go to the Ann Arbor in September to see Notre Dame take on Michigan. After Dane scoffed, Will reminded him that it would certainly be exciting to watch a rivalry game of this magnitude in a stadium as vaunted as the Big House. Dane, apologized and nodded in agreement. “You’re right, I’ve got respect for the history and the glory days,” he stated. “I mean, those teams were great a hundred years ago.” Ahh, the South.
After filling ourselves, we briefly toured the streets of the Garden District and looked on in awe at the splendid architecture that comprises it. This city is truly an island unto its own. We met up with some of Dane’s friends and headed out to the famous French Quarter to fulfill our touristic obligations (i.e. Bourbon Street). Dane illegally parked (after traveling the streets at an average of 55 mph) and assured us not to worry, as the police there are overwhelmed. We headed to a daiquiri bar that his friend managed and hunkered down for what would be the first of several libations. We were informed to request “the drink,” which we did without hesitation. What we received was a Styrofoam cup filled with one part juice, one part ice, and something like 38 parts everclear. Miraculously, it tasted decent enough and went down rather smoothly. We headed to the bar’s upper balcony and looked on in awe at the chaotic splendor that is Bourbon St. Will even managed to shoot a short film of a drunken homeless man popin’, lockin’, and dropin’ it in the middle of the street. America at its finest.
We finished our beverages and set out to Pat O’Brien’s (a Piano bar down the street). We ordered a round of Hurricanes (a N.O. specialty) and listened to dueling piano’s play requests. Will, in typical fashion, danced with a lovely young lady of about 50 much to the chagrin of her Texan husband. Dane and Todd cooled his Lone Star temper and Will yet again exited a seemingly problematic situation unscathed. After passionately singing along to Guns N’ Roses’ November Rain (as requested by Todd), the three of us headed back to the madness outside. We opted for a quick refill at the daiquiri joint and chatted with Dane and his friends. We joined in some bar trivia (Dane insisting that the answer to every question was President Howard Taft) and eventually were stirred to head out once more. At this point I must be honest and inform you that things get spotty. Suffice it to say that we became separated and Todd, having no cell phone, ventured back to Dane’s. Upon arrival Todd prepared for some much needed sleep, but found that Will had, in fact, not returned. Dane stated that he had turned his phone off after Will repeatedly had called, saying that he had lost his phone. Clearly, logic was no longer in the cards at this point. We called Will, found his location and went to pick him up. Why didn’t he catch a cab you ask? Because at this point Will, once again, was no longer in possession of his wallet. This time, I regret to inform, it would not be recovered. N.O.: 1, Will: 0. We picked him up, headed back and grabbed a hunk of floor at about 5 am. Good Times.
We awoke at the crack of noon the next day as Dane returned from work over his lunch break. “Will, you’re a f#@ing tourist,” were the words he greeted us with. We laughed heartily as though this was a bad thing. We cleaned up, shared some laughs, scrolled through our pictures from the night before and headed out. Will managed to use his gift of gab to obtain some money from Chase, despite having no form of identification and we went for some food. Camelia’s Grill was our destination, having been recommended by Dane as the best breakfast spot in N.O. It did not disappoint. We indulged ourselves with a couple of corned beef omelets, fries and a shake. The restaurant itself was very cool: waiters yelling and performing tricks with plates and utensils. Sleepy, one of the waiters, even regaled everyone with a song (before throwing down on a can of ensure whilst working). Will also spied the busboys smoking in the kitchen. Good times.
After breakfast we headed back to the French Quarter. The architecture in this area was absolutely stunning. We strolled around the old French Market, walked the banks of the Mississippi and saw Jackson Square, where a new Archbishop was being installed. We walked back down Bourbon Street again and took in the sounds of numerous bands that had already begun playing early in the afternoon.
As five o’clock approached we headed back to Dane’s. We decided to grab some dinner and put our faith in Dane’s experience. Along the way we took a tour of the city. Dane showed us several gorgeous houses, where famous locals lived (Brad Pitt, Drew Brees, John Goodman, etc) and swung us by his old high school. This place was ridiculous. It was an old plantation house and looked more like a social club than a high school. After seeing the lighter sides of the city, we headed down to the Ninth Ward. This, I kid you not, is the most frightening place we’ve ever seen in the country. Abject poverty and horrific living conditions typify this area. The bulk of the houses that survived the flooding still have spray paint on the outside from when they were being searched for bodies. The area near the levy was completely wiped out and has still not redeveloped. Heavy stuff. We finally arrived at the restaurant, a corner seafood joint, and were treated to a fantastic meal. We shared some fried oysters and Will had stuffed mushrooms, while Todd sprung for a seafood spread: everything was amazing.
After dinner Dane took us by “the scariest street in N.O.” and promptly told Will to get out. Needless to say this demand was not given into. Dane laughingly told us he wouldn’t get out if the car was filled with vipers. We drove around a bit more, had a cocktail at a famous ritzy bar, The Columns, in the garden district (a gin fizzy which is a N.O. specialty and boasts egg whites as a constituent) and then headed down to the French Quarter. We strolled around the area, soaked in the beautiful architecture (including the famous St. Louis Cathedral) and went to the revered Café Du Monde for some French coffee and some beignets
We headed back to Dane’s where Will promptly passed out. Todd and Dane, being sufficiently wired by the coffee, remained up. Todd was privileged to witness Dane in full SEC mode. He pulled out an enormous cd case and opened it. Inside was what is most likely the largest collection of LSU Tigers and New Orleans Saints games in the world; a true Holy Grail. Dane fired up the LSU v. Florida game from ’06 and stated: “God they scare me. I know we when this game, but they scare me.” Hilarious. Football, God, Country in these parts folks. We watched some highlights and hit the hay.
We awoke well rested, and headed out for Atlanta. The drive through Alabama was gorgeous and we pulled into Atlanta with just enough time to get dinner at The Varsity, a famous fast food joint near Georgia Tech’s campus. The service there breaks down like this: you walk up to a the counter and the cashiers yell “What’ll ya Haaaaave!!??” Good stuff. We ate some greasy food and headed to Turner Field. After parking in a lot that we both assumed would be the sight of the Prizm’s first break in, Will naturally acquired us tickets and we entered the game (he also slung an extra for a free beer… the myth continues to grow). The game was nothing to exciting until the Braves started to get the bats going late and got within striking distance of the Marlins. The gods had other plans, however, and just before the top of the 9th the heavens opened up. We were treated to a Georgia downpour and after about an hour we decided to leave. We ran to our car, got soaked and headed north of the city, where we would stay the night. Will’s girlfriend’s cousin’s in-laws (Mike and Pat) and their daughter Katie were our amazing hosts for the evening and they treated us like kings. We were welcomed in from the storm with cold beer, sandwiches, chips and a brownie alamode. It’s a tough life we lead indeed. They offered their laundry facilities to us as well, and were a treat to converse with. We, still recovering from New Orleans, hit the sack and soaked in some much needed sleep.
In the morning we were greeted by folded clothes, a delicious breakfast and some welcoming conversation with our fantastic hosts. Unfortunately, we couldn’t move in with them, so we finally set out with lunch and some extra beers in our cooler. Our destination was Tampa and we prepared ourselves for a long trek. More to come…
Todd & Will
After a week in the Lone Star State, we took our leave after a hearty breakfast courtesy of Todd’s Aunt Patrice. It was tough to bid farewell to beds, home-cooking and good company, but the duty to provide vicarious exploits to our adoring blog readers is always at the forefront of our thoughts. We drove through the sprawl of Houston en route to New Orleans, our next destination, when suddenly we saw it: the Joel Osteen Church. Temptations immediately arose: should we end the trip and move here? Should we become born again? Should we be baptized? Ultimately we decided not to enter the peculiar Temple of Capitalism…, I mean Christianity, for fear that we would be convinced to donate our gas funds to Joel’s “rapture-preparedness fund.” Regrettable perhaps, but what’s done is done
We exited Texas after a week of baseball and perspiration and cruised through the bayou on our way to The Big Easy. The drive was amazing. We were seemingly on bridges more often then not throughout the entire state of Louisiana, which is apparently nothing more than a series of trees and bushes sticking out of the Gulf of Mexico. Honestly, we were unable to fathom why and how people could live here. That being said, the drive was beautiful: parasitic growth everywhere and amazing marshes. We drove through these foreign environs and finally arrived in New Orleans.
We briefly cruised through downtown and headed over to Will’s friend Dane’s house in the Garden District. We were warmly greeted and our host proved to be the greatest tour guide that the city had to offer. Dane, born and raised in N.O., couldn’t have been happier to show off the city he clearly loves. After repeatedly telling us how jealous he was of our travel plans (he being an avid sports fan with a particular love for SEC football), Dane set the stage for the rest of stay, telling us: “There are no rules here. No rules. This is a different country.” We were intrigued and excited needless to say…
We headed out with Dane to Parasol’s, an authentic Cajun joint, and took part in the religious experience known as a fried shrimp po-boy. My goodness. As we savored the “dressed” po-boy and gravy fries we noticed a familiar sticker on the bar’s beer fridge: an MSU Bobcats sticker. We excitedly explained to Dane the reason for our enthusiasm and the discussion about MSU inevitably led back to the Grizzlies, who Dane recognized as an FCS stalwart (yes Cat fans, we’re bigger than you in SEC football country). The college football topic continued to be explored and Dane gave a stirring speech on SEC football. Ultimately, he reasoned that it is the only “real” conference and that it’s ridiculous to think otherwise… we were forced to agree. At this point Will mentioned our intentions to go to the Ann Arbor in September to see Notre Dame take on Michigan. After Dane scoffed, Will reminded him that it would certainly be exciting to watch a rivalry game of this magnitude in a stadium as vaunted as the Big House. Dane, apologized and nodded in agreement. “You’re right, I’ve got respect for the history and the glory days,” he stated. “I mean, those teams were great a hundred years ago.” Ahh, the South.
After filling ourselves, we briefly toured the streets of the Garden District and looked on in awe at the splendid architecture that comprises it. This city is truly an island unto its own. We met up with some of Dane’s friends and headed out to the famous French Quarter to fulfill our touristic obligations (i.e. Bourbon Street). Dane illegally parked (after traveling the streets at an average of 55 mph) and assured us not to worry, as the police there are overwhelmed. We headed to a daiquiri bar that his friend managed and hunkered down for what would be the first of several libations. We were informed to request “the drink,” which we did without hesitation. What we received was a Styrofoam cup filled with one part juice, one part ice, and something like 38 parts everclear. Miraculously, it tasted decent enough and went down rather smoothly. We headed to the bar’s upper balcony and looked on in awe at the chaotic splendor that is Bourbon St. Will even managed to shoot a short film of a drunken homeless man popin’, lockin’, and dropin’ it in the middle of the street. America at its finest.
We finished our beverages and set out to Pat O’Brien’s (a Piano bar down the street). We ordered a round of Hurricanes (a N.O. specialty) and listened to dueling piano’s play requests. Will, in typical fashion, danced with a lovely young lady of about 50 much to the chagrin of her Texan husband. Dane and Todd cooled his Lone Star temper and Will yet again exited a seemingly problematic situation unscathed. After passionately singing along to Guns N’ Roses’ November Rain (as requested by Todd), the three of us headed back to the madness outside. We opted for a quick refill at the daiquiri joint and chatted with Dane and his friends. We joined in some bar trivia (Dane insisting that the answer to every question was President Howard Taft) and eventually were stirred to head out once more. At this point I must be honest and inform you that things get spotty. Suffice it to say that we became separated and Todd, having no cell phone, ventured back to Dane’s. Upon arrival Todd prepared for some much needed sleep, but found that Will had, in fact, not returned. Dane stated that he had turned his phone off after Will repeatedly had called, saying that he had lost his phone. Clearly, logic was no longer in the cards at this point. We called Will, found his location and went to pick him up. Why didn’t he catch a cab you ask? Because at this point Will, once again, was no longer in possession of his wallet. This time, I regret to inform, it would not be recovered. N.O.: 1, Will: 0. We picked him up, headed back and grabbed a hunk of floor at about 5 am. Good Times.
We awoke at the crack of noon the next day as Dane returned from work over his lunch break. “Will, you’re a f#@ing tourist,” were the words he greeted us with. We laughed heartily as though this was a bad thing. We cleaned up, shared some laughs, scrolled through our pictures from the night before and headed out. Will managed to use his gift of gab to obtain some money from Chase, despite having no form of identification and we went for some food. Camelia’s Grill was our destination, having been recommended by Dane as the best breakfast spot in N.O. It did not disappoint. We indulged ourselves with a couple of corned beef omelets, fries and a shake. The restaurant itself was very cool: waiters yelling and performing tricks with plates and utensils. Sleepy, one of the waiters, even regaled everyone with a song (before throwing down on a can of ensure whilst working). Will also spied the busboys smoking in the kitchen. Good times.
After breakfast we headed back to the French Quarter. The architecture in this area was absolutely stunning. We strolled around the old French Market, walked the banks of the Mississippi and saw Jackson Square, where a new Archbishop was being installed. We walked back down Bourbon Street again and took in the sounds of numerous bands that had already begun playing early in the afternoon.
As five o’clock approached we headed back to Dane’s. We decided to grab some dinner and put our faith in Dane’s experience. Along the way we took a tour of the city. Dane showed us several gorgeous houses, where famous locals lived (Brad Pitt, Drew Brees, John Goodman, etc) and swung us by his old high school. This place was ridiculous. It was an old plantation house and looked more like a social club than a high school. After seeing the lighter sides of the city, we headed down to the Ninth Ward. This, I kid you not, is the most frightening place we’ve ever seen in the country. Abject poverty and horrific living conditions typify this area. The bulk of the houses that survived the flooding still have spray paint on the outside from when they were being searched for bodies. The area near the levy was completely wiped out and has still not redeveloped. Heavy stuff. We finally arrived at the restaurant, a corner seafood joint, and were treated to a fantastic meal. We shared some fried oysters and Will had stuffed mushrooms, while Todd sprung for a seafood spread: everything was amazing.
After dinner Dane took us by “the scariest street in N.O.” and promptly told Will to get out. Needless to say this demand was not given into. Dane laughingly told us he wouldn’t get out if the car was filled with vipers. We drove around a bit more, had a cocktail at a famous ritzy bar, The Columns, in the garden district (a gin fizzy which is a N.O. specialty and boasts egg whites as a constituent) and then headed down to the French Quarter. We strolled around the area, soaked in the beautiful architecture (including the famous St. Louis Cathedral) and went to the revered Café Du Monde for some French coffee and some beignets
We headed back to Dane’s where Will promptly passed out. Todd and Dane, being sufficiently wired by the coffee, remained up. Todd was privileged to witness Dane in full SEC mode. He pulled out an enormous cd case and opened it. Inside was what is most likely the largest collection of LSU Tigers and New Orleans Saints games in the world; a true Holy Grail. Dane fired up the LSU v. Florida game from ’06 and stated: “God they scare me. I know we when this game, but they scare me.” Hilarious. Football, God, Country in these parts folks. We watched some highlights and hit the hay.
We awoke well rested, and headed out for Atlanta. The drive through Alabama was gorgeous and we pulled into Atlanta with just enough time to get dinner at The Varsity, a famous fast food joint near Georgia Tech’s campus. The service there breaks down like this: you walk up to a the counter and the cashiers yell “What’ll ya Haaaaave!!??” Good stuff. We ate some greasy food and headed to Turner Field. After parking in a lot that we both assumed would be the sight of the Prizm’s first break in, Will naturally acquired us tickets and we entered the game (he also slung an extra for a free beer… the myth continues to grow). The game was nothing to exciting until the Braves started to get the bats going late and got within striking distance of the Marlins. The gods had other plans, however, and just before the top of the 9th the heavens opened up. We were treated to a Georgia downpour and after about an hour we decided to leave. We ran to our car, got soaked and headed north of the city, where we would stay the night. Will’s girlfriend’s cousin’s in-laws (Mike and Pat) and their daughter Katie were our amazing hosts for the evening and they treated us like kings. We were welcomed in from the storm with cold beer, sandwiches, chips and a brownie alamode. It’s a tough life we lead indeed. They offered their laundry facilities to us as well, and were a treat to converse with. We, still recovering from New Orleans, hit the sack and soaked in some much needed sleep.
In the morning we were greeted by folded clothes, a delicious breakfast and some welcoming conversation with our fantastic hosts. Unfortunately, we couldn’t move in with them, so we finally set out with lunch and some extra beers in our cooler. Our destination was Tampa and we prepared ourselves for a long trek. More to come…
Todd & Will
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Texas Style
Upon arriving in Austin, Todd’s cousin Daren greeted us warmly: a solid Texan handshake for Will and a warm embrace for his favorite cousin. Daren, whose empathy for the woes of the weary traveler was apparent, promptly offered us the use of his washer and dryer. It was as though he had read our minds, as we were low on clean attire (a very loose term at this point, with apologies to our mothers). After catching up, cleaning up and mentioning the unfathomable heat in this great state several times, Daren mentioned a party and we gladly agreed to go. It was a sight that brought us back to our days at the University of Montana-Missoula, where pretty much anything was acceptable. This included people with oddly placed tattoos (a power tower in San Francisco on a thigh is a blatant example), keg beer, thematic attire (“Rock ‘n Roll High School”), a metal band playing decibel-pounding music and the obligatory game of croquet (which Todd naturally won, as it is the game of kings). The highlight, without a doubt, was the conversation we enjoyed with a self-proclaimed, “self-hating” Jew named A.J. At one point he quipped, “the 80’s sucked. Everyone had an Afro and no one could tell who was Jewish. Why would anyone want to look like this?” He then explained that his next step in life, Law School, was extremely predictable. “We have two dentists, and a couple doctors in the family… and my dad is a lawyer. Those are the two rites of passage in a Jew’s life: your bris and Law School.” Priceless. This unique conversation was followed by some poor decision-making on Todd’s part. Ever the guinea pig for doing something at least once, Todd joined in with a young Texan lady for a swig of…wait for it.....pickle juice following a shot of whiskey; a vile and regrettable practice indeed… ahh, college.
As the party broke up, we grabbed some food (Will getting up-in-arms upon not receiving dressing for his salad) and headed back to Daren’s to sleep. Being sufficiently lubricated with Texas’ pride (Lone Star Beer), we managed a sufficient night sleep in spite of the ever-present heat. We went to an internet café in the morning where Todd enjoyed some Texan love in the form of a Breakfast Taco and then headed out to Barton Springs to beat the heat (fyi: en route we were fortunate enough to cross Robert E. Lee Road). The springs were amazing and we agreed that if we lived in Austin we’d frequent the spot regularly. After summoning the courage to brave the heat yet again, we headed out to Rudy’s BBQ and took part in the spiritual practice that is Texan cuisine. Allow me to be blunt: this place had the best bbq either of us has had in our lives. A half-pound of brisket was served on wax paper, with 6 slices of wonder bread on the side, and a serving of cream corn… my lord. Their famous bbq sauce was served out of a giant vat and was amazingly good. I cannot adequately describe the deliciousness of this food. Suffice it to say that a trip to Austin for this cuisine alone would be well worth it. After lunch, Daren made a priceless observation on the nature of Texans. Upon seeing a jar of bbq sauce’s label which read “Rudy’s BBQ Sause” (note the “s”), Daren stated: “I hate how Texans think its cool to deliberately misspell words like idiots.” From here on out, misspelling anything has been referred to as Spelling: Texas Style.
After lunch, we headed back to Daren’s in a sort of food-coma. Along the way we checked out the UT campus. The Longhorns’ stadium was absolutely stunning in its enormity and we began to understand the relationship this state has with football. We strolled around the campus and were treated to various sights including statues of Robert E Lee and Jefferson Davis… ah, the south. Daren was a veritable tour guide for the institute, explaining to us the stories of several homicides and suicides that have occurred on the campus over the years. We were undeniably impressed, took our leave and headed back to Daren’s where we cleaned up.
After some much needed showers, Will headed out to meet up with his step-sister Melissa, who also lives in Austin, and Todd and Daren picked up Daren’s girlfriend Meggie (apologies Daren if I’ve misspelled her name). The four of us rendezvoused at the Peter Pan Putt-Putt, a byob establishment. We sipped beer and took part in this uniquely Austin experience. It was an epic match, culminating in Todd blowing a late lead and Will coasting to victory… a true clash of Titans.
After sufficient gloating, Will and Melissa headed down to 6th street (the heart of Austin’s famed live music scene), while Todd and Daren took Meggie home (she being 20 and thereby unable partake in the bar scene). While there, Will enjoyed a flaming shot and a few puffs on the corncob. Our plans soon changed after Melissa received a call from a friend of hers. She was informed that drinks were being had with Ben Affleck, Jason Bateman and Mike Judge at another bar and that we should join them. Needless to say we all agreed to head down there. Upon arrival, we discovered the bar to be on fire. Needless to say, several jokes were made about saving Mike and Jason… and not Ben. In lieu of asphyxiating ourselves, we headed down the street (past the famous Continental Club where Elvis played) and had a few drinks at another bar. We left shortly thereafter and headed to bed. The sweltering heat disagreed with our plans to sleep and the two of us spent seven hours laying in misery.
The next day (after recovering Todd’s sunglasses which he left at Meggie’s) we headed out to Houston. (Unfortunately, when we heeded the advice of Brian Witt, our buddy near Ft. Worth, to blend in better by pronouncing it 'uston, where we greeted with corrections by the local folks that it was not so.) Daren joined us and Todd rode up with him. It was a quick trip and Todd’s Aunt Patrice warmly greeted us upon arrival. We enjoyed some home cooking and some much needed lounging and Todd also got to visit with his cousin, Melanie, whom he hadn’t seen in 8 years.
After dinner, Daren joined us and we headed out to Minute Maid Park to watch the Astros take on the Marlins. We arrived at the park and went straight to work. Will acquired three tickets and Todd picked up four. Daren and Todd headed into the game and got fantastic seats while Will turned the remaining tickets to the tune of $30 and two free beers. Oh yes.
The game started off exciting, as the Astros scored two in the 1st, but quickly slowed down. The Marlins shut them out for the remainder of the game and took the win. We left the park, headed back to Patrice’s and hit the hay. Up next? New Orleans… prepare yourselves.
More to come…
Todd & Will
As the party broke up, we grabbed some food (Will getting up-in-arms upon not receiving dressing for his salad) and headed back to Daren’s to sleep. Being sufficiently lubricated with Texas’ pride (Lone Star Beer), we managed a sufficient night sleep in spite of the ever-present heat. We went to an internet café in the morning where Todd enjoyed some Texan love in the form of a Breakfast Taco and then headed out to Barton Springs to beat the heat (fyi: en route we were fortunate enough to cross Robert E. Lee Road). The springs were amazing and we agreed that if we lived in Austin we’d frequent the spot regularly. After summoning the courage to brave the heat yet again, we headed out to Rudy’s BBQ and took part in the spiritual practice that is Texan cuisine. Allow me to be blunt: this place had the best bbq either of us has had in our lives. A half-pound of brisket was served on wax paper, with 6 slices of wonder bread on the side, and a serving of cream corn… my lord. Their famous bbq sauce was served out of a giant vat and was amazingly good. I cannot adequately describe the deliciousness of this food. Suffice it to say that a trip to Austin for this cuisine alone would be well worth it. After lunch, Daren made a priceless observation on the nature of Texans. Upon seeing a jar of bbq sauce’s label which read “Rudy’s BBQ Sause” (note the “s”), Daren stated: “I hate how Texans think its cool to deliberately misspell words like idiots.” From here on out, misspelling anything has been referred to as Spelling: Texas Style.
After lunch, we headed back to Daren’s in a sort of food-coma. Along the way we checked out the UT campus. The Longhorns’ stadium was absolutely stunning in its enormity and we began to understand the relationship this state has with football. We strolled around the campus and were treated to various sights including statues of Robert E Lee and Jefferson Davis… ah, the south. Daren was a veritable tour guide for the institute, explaining to us the stories of several homicides and suicides that have occurred on the campus over the years. We were undeniably impressed, took our leave and headed back to Daren’s where we cleaned up.
After some much needed showers, Will headed out to meet up with his step-sister Melissa, who also lives in Austin, and Todd and Daren picked up Daren’s girlfriend Meggie (apologies Daren if I’ve misspelled her name). The four of us rendezvoused at the Peter Pan Putt-Putt, a byob establishment. We sipped beer and took part in this uniquely Austin experience. It was an epic match, culminating in Todd blowing a late lead and Will coasting to victory… a true clash of Titans.
After sufficient gloating, Will and Melissa headed down to 6th street (the heart of Austin’s famed live music scene), while Todd and Daren took Meggie home (she being 20 and thereby unable partake in the bar scene). While there, Will enjoyed a flaming shot and a few puffs on the corncob. Our plans soon changed after Melissa received a call from a friend of hers. She was informed that drinks were being had with Ben Affleck, Jason Bateman and Mike Judge at another bar and that we should join them. Needless to say we all agreed to head down there. Upon arrival, we discovered the bar to be on fire. Needless to say, several jokes were made about saving Mike and Jason… and not Ben. In lieu of asphyxiating ourselves, we headed down the street (past the famous Continental Club where Elvis played) and had a few drinks at another bar. We left shortly thereafter and headed to bed. The sweltering heat disagreed with our plans to sleep and the two of us spent seven hours laying in misery.
The next day (after recovering Todd’s sunglasses which he left at Meggie’s) we headed out to Houston. (Unfortunately, when we heeded the advice of Brian Witt, our buddy near Ft. Worth, to blend in better by pronouncing it 'uston, where we greeted with corrections by the local folks that it was not so.) Daren joined us and Todd rode up with him. It was a quick trip and Todd’s Aunt Patrice warmly greeted us upon arrival. We enjoyed some home cooking and some much needed lounging and Todd also got to visit with his cousin, Melanie, whom he hadn’t seen in 8 years.
After dinner, Daren joined us and we headed out to Minute Maid Park to watch the Astros take on the Marlins. We arrived at the park and went straight to work. Will acquired three tickets and Todd picked up four. Daren and Todd headed into the game and got fantastic seats while Will turned the remaining tickets to the tune of $30 and two free beers. Oh yes.
The game started off exciting, as the Astros scored two in the 1st, but quickly slowed down. The Marlins shut them out for the remainder of the game and took the win. We left the park, headed back to Patrice’s and hit the hay. Up next? New Orleans… prepare yourselves.
More to come…
Todd & Will
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Gospel
After enjoying our time in Denver, we arose from slumber in Dave’s oven/apartment (note: the apt. has a/c, though poverty prevents its use), collected our accoutrements and headed on our way. We considered several potential midway destinations en route to Dallas where our next game would take place. OKC, Wichita, lake motel 6 in N. Texas and camping were all discussed, but we ultimately decided to drive straight through to the big D, where another friend of ours from Bozeman, Brian Witt, lives with his fiancé Chelsea.
The drive was long and filled with discussions regarding whether or not people willingly lived in this area or were members of the witness protection program; this is some forsaken country folks. We pushed on through to Amarillo (which is apparently a giant trailer park smattered here and there with some friendly local chop-shops) and took advantage Jiffy Lube’s policy of topping off oil in between changes for no charge. This frugality would prove unwise as Bubba and Jimbo decided to NOT put the oil cap back on. Oh yes, and naturally we didn’t check the oil the remainder of our drive to Dallas… We didn’t realized this oversight until this morning and we were treated to an engine compartment covered in dirty oil and an engine running two quarts low; splendid. Needless to say Jiffy Lube Corporate will be hearing from Business Will and legal council in due time… but back to the story.
We miraculously exited Amarillo (opting not stay in the “It’ll Do Inn,” which we believe was just another way of phrasing “Condemned Structure”) without shiv wounds and made the final push to Dallas. We arrived after 11 pm, were met by Brian and Chelsea and were promptly provided with beer, pizza and espn… paradise. Our hosts were almost unsettlingly generous and we are both very grateful to them. We were spoiled throughout our stay.
We hit the hay (Will opting for the futon as Todd made a persuasive case for the bed, involving threats and several fervent gesticulations) and were thankful to be out of the Prizm. The next morning Brian and Chelsea whipped us up a mess o southern hospitality that included: eggs, sausage, bacon, english muffins, orange juice and coffee (see: spoiled comment above). We ate liberally, cleaned up and headed out with Brian for a tour of Fort Worth. En route we were treated to Witt’s treatise on the Texas Interstate System. The tale was long and articulate, but for the sake brevity suffice it to say that there were a slue of obscenities and a number of threats made throughout the story.
We arrived downtown, walked around for a bit and were taken to one of Brian’s favorite watering hole’s: The Flying Saucer. The bar was very cool and had countless beers on tap. We drank a few and had some laughs. After quenching our thirsts we headed out and picked up some tobacco: Will opting for a corncob pipe (his choice of tobacco flavor?... “The Aristocrat”… don’t act surprised) and Todd picking up a cigar. We killed some more time walking around downtown, talking about oil money, cotton money and cattle money and then headed towards Arlington where the Rangers play ball.
We arrived at the ballpark early and decided to check out the Cowboys’ new stadium while we waited for the game to begin. This place is a temple of excess. The $1.3 billion stadium is ridiculous in every possible way. Several jokes were made at Todd’s expense regarding the team that plays there and their propensity to lose playoff games. Nonetheless, he was able to soak in some spiritual moments as he stood in front of the temple.
After being sufficiently inspired, we strolled over to The Ball Park at Arlington, listened to Brian explain how Dr. Pepper was "The Gospel" in Texas and prepared for Will to go to work. Before we even stepped foot on the Stadium’s lot a man we presumed to be a scalper asked us if we needed tickets. Will said yes, but we were just looking for extras. (fyi, Will’s making me listen to a country song right now called “Rockin’ The Beer Gut”… for once I’m speechless.) The man said “Merry Christmas” and handed us three tickets. These dear readers were not just any tickets. No, they were $40 tickets to the all-you-can-eat, air-conditioned skybox in right field. Oh yes. We stood there perplexed by our fortune, but quickly Will sprang into action and decided to scalp them, get three more free tickets and make ourselves $100 or so. We agreed, but eventually decided that this was meant to be our off-day and headed up to our luxurious seats. We rode our private elevator up to the deck, grabbed a few free soda’s and got some seats. Being Texas, it was still 95 degrees out so we headed back into the buffet suite and grabbed a table right by the window with a prefect view of the field. We ate our fill of nachos, hot dogs, peanuts and popcorn and relished in the air-conditioned climate. Life was beautiful.
The game started off as a dud. Poor pitching and poorer hitting (with the exception of a first at-bat hommer by the Rangers) made for a long and low scoring game. However, late in the game things began to heat up. The 9th inning began with the Rangers holding a comfortable 4-2 lead over the Red Sox. After quickly getting two outs, the insanity began. The Red Sox ultimately posted 6 runs in the inning and the atmosphere in the stadium was akin to a playoff game: total insanity. It was an absolute blast, though one felt badly for the hometown boys getting embarrassed. Todd’s hatred for the Red Sox only grew after seeing that about half of the fans in the park were rooting for the Sox… what Will calls the Nation Todd calls the Band Wagon. We headed home after a great game, caught some pre-season highlights and hit the sack.
We arose the next morning and headed out to breakfast with Chelsea and Brian. Afterwards we decided to head to the Big D and see the sights. We drove around Highland Park (where W lives) and gawked at the manors that are literally in the heart of the city… very beautiful. After becoming sufficiently jealous we headed downtown to the Dallas Art Museum. The collection was very impressive and included several Pollock’s, some Rodin sculptures, a Rothko and many other gems. The modern galleries were particularly impressive. The highlight of the visit however was not to be found on the walls. Rather, the 40-something Latina security guard named Yolanda who fell in love with Will took the cake. “Mr. Will,” as she called him, was the object of her affection for several awkward moments (including her telling him that she wouldn’t be taken out to Jack-in-the Box, but requested a classier venue for dinner). She also offered us tickets to a Slayer and Marilyn Manson concert. Wow. We respectfully declined and headed out. We left the museum and after Will was scolded for climbing on a sculpture we hopped in the car.
We headed back to Brian and Chelsea’s, soaked in the pool and enjoyed ourselves immensely. Brian cooked up some steak and shrimp and life was good. After dinner, the four of us headed to downtown Ft. Worth for some local flavor. We went to a few different western bars and had an absolute blast. Cotton Eyed Joe came on early in the night, and it was game-on for Will. After entertaining the entire packed bar with his gyrations he became the object of desire for a married cougar whose husband was in the bar. As they danced on stage (her wedding ring easily visible) Will spun her about numerous times and she ultimately became a bit too infatuated. Suffice it to say Will avoided a beat down, to the complete surprise of Brian, Chelsea and Todd… good times. After this magical dance (which included said cougar falling down once or twice) Will snagged up the largest woman in the bar and went back to work. This strategy of making his first partner jealous worked and she called him an a&% hole. Even better times. Having sufficiently left his mark on this bar, we decided to head over to another. We sparked up the corn cob and enjoyed a smoke with an middle-aged British woman. We danced some more, pouring sweat in the Texas heat. After last call we headed out, feeling confident in our Ft. Worth experience. We grabbed some burgers on the way home (Chelsea asking the drive-through guy for “a sack a burgers”), arrived and promptly rested.
We departed this morning for Austin to see Todd’s cousin.
More to come…
Todd & Will
The drive was long and filled with discussions regarding whether or not people willingly lived in this area or were members of the witness protection program; this is some forsaken country folks. We pushed on through to Amarillo (which is apparently a giant trailer park smattered here and there with some friendly local chop-shops) and took advantage Jiffy Lube’s policy of topping off oil in between changes for no charge. This frugality would prove unwise as Bubba and Jimbo decided to NOT put the oil cap back on. Oh yes, and naturally we didn’t check the oil the remainder of our drive to Dallas… We didn’t realized this oversight until this morning and we were treated to an engine compartment covered in dirty oil and an engine running two quarts low; splendid. Needless to say Jiffy Lube Corporate will be hearing from Business Will and legal council in due time… but back to the story.
We miraculously exited Amarillo (opting not stay in the “It’ll Do Inn,” which we believe was just another way of phrasing “Condemned Structure”) without shiv wounds and made the final push to Dallas. We arrived after 11 pm, were met by Brian and Chelsea and were promptly provided with beer, pizza and espn… paradise. Our hosts were almost unsettlingly generous and we are both very grateful to them. We were spoiled throughout our stay.
We hit the hay (Will opting for the futon as Todd made a persuasive case for the bed, involving threats and several fervent gesticulations) and were thankful to be out of the Prizm. The next morning Brian and Chelsea whipped us up a mess o southern hospitality that included: eggs, sausage, bacon, english muffins, orange juice and coffee (see: spoiled comment above). We ate liberally, cleaned up and headed out with Brian for a tour of Fort Worth. En route we were treated to Witt’s treatise on the Texas Interstate System. The tale was long and articulate, but for the sake brevity suffice it to say that there were a slue of obscenities and a number of threats made throughout the story.
We arrived downtown, walked around for a bit and were taken to one of Brian’s favorite watering hole’s: The Flying Saucer. The bar was very cool and had countless beers on tap. We drank a few and had some laughs. After quenching our thirsts we headed out and picked up some tobacco: Will opting for a corncob pipe (his choice of tobacco flavor?... “The Aristocrat”… don’t act surprised) and Todd picking up a cigar. We killed some more time walking around downtown, talking about oil money, cotton money and cattle money and then headed towards Arlington where the Rangers play ball.
We arrived at the ballpark early and decided to check out the Cowboys’ new stadium while we waited for the game to begin. This place is a temple of excess. The $1.3 billion stadium is ridiculous in every possible way. Several jokes were made at Todd’s expense regarding the team that plays there and their propensity to lose playoff games. Nonetheless, he was able to soak in some spiritual moments as he stood in front of the temple.
After being sufficiently inspired, we strolled over to The Ball Park at Arlington, listened to Brian explain how Dr. Pepper was "The Gospel" in Texas and prepared for Will to go to work. Before we even stepped foot on the Stadium’s lot a man we presumed to be a scalper asked us if we needed tickets. Will said yes, but we were just looking for extras. (fyi, Will’s making me listen to a country song right now called “Rockin’ The Beer Gut”… for once I’m speechless.) The man said “Merry Christmas” and handed us three tickets. These dear readers were not just any tickets. No, they were $40 tickets to the all-you-can-eat, air-conditioned skybox in right field. Oh yes. We stood there perplexed by our fortune, but quickly Will sprang into action and decided to scalp them, get three more free tickets and make ourselves $100 or so. We agreed, but eventually decided that this was meant to be our off-day and headed up to our luxurious seats. We rode our private elevator up to the deck, grabbed a few free soda’s and got some seats. Being Texas, it was still 95 degrees out so we headed back into the buffet suite and grabbed a table right by the window with a prefect view of the field. We ate our fill of nachos, hot dogs, peanuts and popcorn and relished in the air-conditioned climate. Life was beautiful.
The game started off as a dud. Poor pitching and poorer hitting (with the exception of a first at-bat hommer by the Rangers) made for a long and low scoring game. However, late in the game things began to heat up. The 9th inning began with the Rangers holding a comfortable 4-2 lead over the Red Sox. After quickly getting two outs, the insanity began. The Red Sox ultimately posted 6 runs in the inning and the atmosphere in the stadium was akin to a playoff game: total insanity. It was an absolute blast, though one felt badly for the hometown boys getting embarrassed. Todd’s hatred for the Red Sox only grew after seeing that about half of the fans in the park were rooting for the Sox… what Will calls the Nation Todd calls the Band Wagon. We headed home after a great game, caught some pre-season highlights and hit the sack.
We arose the next morning and headed out to breakfast with Chelsea and Brian. Afterwards we decided to head to the Big D and see the sights. We drove around Highland Park (where W lives) and gawked at the manors that are literally in the heart of the city… very beautiful. After becoming sufficiently jealous we headed downtown to the Dallas Art Museum. The collection was very impressive and included several Pollock’s, some Rodin sculptures, a Rothko and many other gems. The modern galleries were particularly impressive. The highlight of the visit however was not to be found on the walls. Rather, the 40-something Latina security guard named Yolanda who fell in love with Will took the cake. “Mr. Will,” as she called him, was the object of her affection for several awkward moments (including her telling him that she wouldn’t be taken out to Jack-in-the Box, but requested a classier venue for dinner). She also offered us tickets to a Slayer and Marilyn Manson concert. Wow. We respectfully declined and headed out. We left the museum and after Will was scolded for climbing on a sculpture we hopped in the car.
We headed back to Brian and Chelsea’s, soaked in the pool and enjoyed ourselves immensely. Brian cooked up some steak and shrimp and life was good. After dinner, the four of us headed to downtown Ft. Worth for some local flavor. We went to a few different western bars and had an absolute blast. Cotton Eyed Joe came on early in the night, and it was game-on for Will. After entertaining the entire packed bar with his gyrations he became the object of desire for a married cougar whose husband was in the bar. As they danced on stage (her wedding ring easily visible) Will spun her about numerous times and she ultimately became a bit too infatuated. Suffice it to say Will avoided a beat down, to the complete surprise of Brian, Chelsea and Todd… good times. After this magical dance (which included said cougar falling down once or twice) Will snagged up the largest woman in the bar and went back to work. This strategy of making his first partner jealous worked and she called him an a&% hole. Even better times. Having sufficiently left his mark on this bar, we decided to head over to another. We sparked up the corn cob and enjoyed a smoke with an middle-aged British woman. We danced some more, pouring sweat in the Texas heat. After last call we headed out, feeling confident in our Ft. Worth experience. We grabbed some burgers on the way home (Chelsea asking the drive-through guy for “a sack a burgers”), arrived and promptly rested.
We departed this morning for Austin to see Todd’s cousin.
More to come…
Todd & Will
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Denver: An Inconvenient Pleasure
Much like a key player coming off the disabled list, Will’s arrival to the Denver airport yesterday brings our team back to full strength. His previous four days were spent in Victoria, Canada buzzing the streets on a scooter; zip lining from treetops and eating smoked salmon. More importantly, for our purposes, his back has now loosened from the hot tub and comfortable mattress. As incredible as it seems, the permanent grin he carries on his face is even more pronounced.
We can debate about Will’s worthiness of receiving these perks, but with the “vacation from the vacation” over, the reality is the posh lifestyle was a mere memory once he jammed into the Prizm again. Oh the aroma.
The majority of the day was spent in Boulder with David Brown, yet another graduate of Bozeman High, who recently moved to the Denver area. As usual, it was great to have a tour guide show us around. The drive there was beautiful and, though we are accustomed to mountains, the amount and sheer size of the peaks here is remarkable. Boulder has a vibe similar to Missoula and seems to embrace its reputation of being laidback. We visited the much-recommended Avery Brewery and shared an enormous plate of nachos at a restaurant downtown.
The drive back to Denver was a bit hectic as we hit some traffic. Not all bad though, since it allowed Todd to incorporate hand gestures while he grooved to Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the U.S.A.”.
Arriving at Coors Field had the same organized hysteria that has become the foundation of our voyage: Will jumping out of the car mid-conversation and instructing Todd (and Dave, in this instance) to meet him at a certain street corner. (Will is going to detail what generally transpires over the next 20 minutes at a later time.)
Similar to the honor roll student who frets about showing his overbearing parents the report card with a blemish, Will arrived at the arranged rendezvous spot without his normal contribution of charity admission passes. Managing to acquire only one ticket and two Red Bull energy drinks, inquiring minds were left to wonder if the carriage was turning into a pumpkin. Had Canada and its socialist tendencies taken the capitalist spirit out of Business Will? Was it a tactical error to allow him to get distracted by seeing his girlfriend? Whatever the cause, the situation was dire. Thus, we had arrived at the most gut wrenching of decisions: buying two additional tickets at the walk-up window. The only thing more shameful is a Chinese diver getting a silver medal at the Olympics.
While Todd and Dave stood among the commoners, Will doubled down on his efforts. Just as the two others reached the front of the line, Will motioned to abort the mission. Disaster averted? Indeed. Furthermore, much like he was able to do at Miller Park in Milwaukee, he picked up additional one because, well, he could. A few minutes in exchange for $10 and a random single, our four tickets became the necessary three we needed.
Unfortunately, the entertainment for the night was over at this point. The game was positively the least exciting yet. Would it surprise you to know that the Pittsburgh Pirates were involved? The ballpark was very nice and modern, though the brick wall one sees on television behind home plate is misleading since that is the only place where it is present. However, the most discussed observation was the fact that for a place named after a beer company, they do a horrific job of pushing the product. Since no vendor had visited our section, Todd and Dave, after several innings of thirst, were forced to trek down to the concession area for their nectar.
As the game was quite the bedtime story, and the Rockies were in complete control, we headed back to Dave’s after the 8th inning for some sleep.
Today, we are starting our drive to Dallas and will likely end up camping/couch surfing somewhere in between.
Todd and Will
Monday, August 10, 2009
It’s Supposed to Burn: An Oklahoma City Tale.
We rolled into the splendor that is Oklahoma City at about noon whereupon we greeted our friend from Bozeman, Nathan Kosted (the Groom’s Best Man) at the airport. Somehow we managed to shove another 240 lbs plus luggage into the Prizm and we headed to his grandmother’s house. Will had already canceled our reservations at the HOJO and convinced Kosted to let us post up with him at Gramers’ casa; there is no shame in his soul, only fiscal responsibility. Not to suggest that I objected of course...
Gramma Kosted was amazing. She’s tough as nails, having raised four boys, and was an incredible host. We were greeted with hugs, stew made from scratch and pecan pie that was still warm. We chatted with her for a while, hearing how her late husband had invented the first shopping cart and got ready for Jake’s bachelor party.
We pregamed with endless conversation as to why in God’s name the bride and groom (who are from two beautiful parts of the country: Southern California and Bozeman, MT respectively) would choose Dante’s 3rd circle to be the sight of their nuptials. No clear consensus was reached, but the possibility of a dart and a map of the USA being used to determine the location was not ruled out.
We picked Nate up some shoes at Ross (where he also purchased some Daisy Fuentes brand sunglasses for $5.00) and headed over to Jake’s house in Moore, the hometown of America’s voice: Toby Keith. He and his now-wife Meagan greeted us and we shared with them our congratulations. We sipped a few beers, recollected the good old days and waited for the remaining members of the bachelor party to arrive. We saw his folks and brothers, which was a good time and finally headed out for the festivities.
We drove to Bricktown in downtown OKC and headed to a local brewery for dinner and some beers. This area is another product of federal pork $ and even includes a purposeless canal. All cynicism aside it is a nice area and a great spot to go out in OKC. We ate, we drank, we were merry and then hopped over to another bar for some live music. It was relatively quiet, but a good time. We met “cowboys” from NYC who bought me a drink for predicting their allegiance to the Mets and some ladies from Arkansas. Will convinced them to head to another part of town with us for some more bar hopping and we headed out. I rode with some guy we met there who was in town on business and spent the entire ride over telling me how he looked forward to cheating on his wife that evening; I’m not sure if he succeeded in that goal or not.
This is the part of the story where a dramatic shift occurs. By dramatic, I mean awful. And by awful, I mean awful for me. Legal Note: The names and places in this lurid account have not been changed, as there are no innocents to protect.
As we arrived at our destination the groom and I chatted on the way across the parking lot. After a few paces, he decided to relieve himself in said parking lot as men who’ve tipped a few are wont to do. I, never one to make another feel ill at ease, joined in the activity and our conversation continued. Good times right? The groom finished up, as did I shortly thereafter. About three steps later a black and white vehicle rode up on me driving about 96 mph from nowhere. A gentleman stepped out of the vehicle, yelling: “what the f*&% were you doing.” I inquired “what, back there?” He did not appreciate this response, which he deemed to be clear obstruction of justice. I was asked to place my arms behind my back and was promptly outfitted with a pair of rather tight bracelets. The groom calmly explained to the officer that this was a bachelor party, I was in from out of town and was surly very sorry. The officer politely responded: “Shut up or I’m gonna arrest you too.” The groom graciously reiterated his thoughts on the matter and was once again threatened with joining me for a free ride back to downtown. I told him it was a lost cause and to get out of there and was promptly seated into the backseat of my complementary ride that would take me downtown: first class all the way.
At this point Will attempted to query my chauffeur as to where he could expect to greet his fellow traveler in the morning. His question was answered in similar fashion: “Get out of here or you’re getting arrested!” Apparently my chauffeur was merely being protective of his charge and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that this was all very unnecessary. We had some light conversation in the car before departure: “why did you lie to me,” … “sir, I didn’t lie to you,” … “this would all be different if you didn’t lie,” … “did you hear my previous statement?” … etc, and eventually we were off.
As we departed, I was issued an ultimatum of sorts: jail or detox. I felt the latter had a nicer ring to it and instructed the driver take me there and to post haste. He refused a tip and we arrived at my complementary apartment downtown in a few short minutes. It was during this ride that I observed the screensaver on his in-vehicle computer. It was simple in its honesty and read: “It’s supposed to burn.” As the words spiralled around, protecting his screen, the humor was lost on me. My wrists still hurt from these "burn-providers"… but I digress.
The concierge met us at the entrance of the gated community and I was admitted after passing the breath-recognition software test that protects against break-ins. I sent my driver on his way, was provided with some freshly washed linens and entered my 30-bed condo complete with two bathrooms. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how the other half lives.
I strolled past some other members of Oklahoma City’s upper-echelon en route to my cot (I mean bed). To the left? A guy drooling with his head on the cot’s metal frame. To the right? A one-legged gentleman struggling to mount the toilet seat. Truly, I was a man amongst kings.
Note: the particularly splendid part of this ordeal was not just that no one knew where I was, or even that I had lost my list of phone numbers earlier that evening. No, no. The cake goes to the fact that my blood-alcohol content was at the time of arrival a .07, which dear readers is beneath the legal limit to drive in the state of Oklahoma. I know! I didn’t even need my driver! What a waste…
I got some much needed rest in a corner suite and was awoken numerous times to the sound of grunts, pacing and “bathroom-related” hubbub. Good times. At about 5 am I went for a drink and met a fellow man-about-town. This gentleman had been tossed in about an hour after my arrival for trying to break up a fight. Needless to say we talked extensively about our respect of Oklahoma City's finest. Our concierge, who was tidying up our bathrooms (that’s what I pay her for) joined in and we were one big happy family. Joe, my commiseratti if you will, and I talked for a while and then I decided to touch up on a little more sleep. The concierge was insistent that I was not to leave until 11 am (she clearly knew I needed my rest). I thanked her for her well-reasoned advice and then followed it.
The hours came and went and the door was opened for me when my ride arrived. Again, gratuity was refused and I bid the villa adieu. Will, who had no trouble finding me having spent the remainder of the previous evening amongst law students, provided me with a change of clothes and we headed straight to the water park… I think I can safely say I am the only person in the city’s history who went directly from detox to a water park.
We spent 6 hours at the park and had an absolute blast. It was about 100 degrees out so nothing could have been better. I even managed to get a healthy Irish-tan (aka severe sunburn) while there. We left the park, went back to Grandma Kosted’s and rendezvoused with Nathan after he returned from the rehersal dinner.
After a few hours and about 16 layers of Aloe Vera the three of us headed back down to Bricktown where Jake was staying at a friend’s condo. We enjoyed a few beers and my exploits were explained in detail. We returned back to Gramma’s and took in some rest.
The day of the wedding began with the acquisition of our gift to the couple. Many possibilities were considered, but we ultimately settled on $187 in 1's shoved into the pages of a new copy of The Grapes of Wrath. The gift was complete with newspaper wrapping and bows made of used rags and a red tourniquet. I believe our classiness was mentioned earlier, but here it was materialized.
After a few trips around town for odds and ends, we all dressed up into our finery and got ready to head out to Jake’s condo. Will even put into effect a new hairstyle that was dubbed “The Yaley.” (A full length blog on the nature of Will’s hair will be forthcoming, but suffice it to say that this was the 4th of his hairstyles to have been named). The Yaley was also later renamed “The New York Times” and “The Skull and Bones.” They’re all winners.
We arrived at the condo, hung out with Jake and the rest of the wedding party for a bit and then headed to Coles Gardens where the ceremony and reception were held. Upon realizing that the ceremony was a few hours away, Will and I went to a watering hole across the street and killed some time.
The ceremony was lovely. Meagan looked fantastic and it was a beautiful, short and to the point sort of service. Everyone agreed that it was a knockout. The reception was held in a neighboring building and was a fantastic time. Dancing, good food, wine and beer: again, what more could one hope for. The bride and groom seemed very happy and the party lasted past midnight. Nathan’s best man speech funny and heartfelt and everyone enjoyed themselves.
After it ended, we headed down to Norman for some more dancing with a few ladies and then headed back to gramma’s. En route Will and Nathan had an argument over politics/women/pointless topic de jure that culminated in Will being thrown out of the car on the interstate. Yes. Interstate. I spent the next hour or so acting as Teddy Roosevelt between Nathan’s Russia and Will’s Japan and finally achieved a treaty. Any readers on the Nobel Committee please take note. We picked Will up, returned home and got to sleep around 4am. I had the luxury of giving both a ride to the airport at 6 am. Good times.
I returned, caught some more sleep and then enjoyed breakfast with Gramma Kosted. I hit the road for Denver around noon and drove all day on highways and back roads, which was nice for a change. The same cannot be said however, for the Oklahoma countryside. I arrived in Denver around 9 pm, conversed with my hosts Hal Burns and Nancy Stanton (family friends) and gratefully went to sleep on my soft mattress. Today has been spent scribing these lyrics for you dear reader, so think fondly of me. More to come...
Todd & Will
Gramma Kosted was amazing. She’s tough as nails, having raised four boys, and was an incredible host. We were greeted with hugs, stew made from scratch and pecan pie that was still warm. We chatted with her for a while, hearing how her late husband had invented the first shopping cart and got ready for Jake’s bachelor party.
We pregamed with endless conversation as to why in God’s name the bride and groom (who are from two beautiful parts of the country: Southern California and Bozeman, MT respectively) would choose Dante’s 3rd circle to be the sight of their nuptials. No clear consensus was reached, but the possibility of a dart and a map of the USA being used to determine the location was not ruled out.
We picked Nate up some shoes at Ross (where he also purchased some Daisy Fuentes brand sunglasses for $5.00) and headed over to Jake’s house in Moore, the hometown of America’s voice: Toby Keith. He and his now-wife Meagan greeted us and we shared with them our congratulations. We sipped a few beers, recollected the good old days and waited for the remaining members of the bachelor party to arrive. We saw his folks and brothers, which was a good time and finally headed out for the festivities.
We drove to Bricktown in downtown OKC and headed to a local brewery for dinner and some beers. This area is another product of federal pork $ and even includes a purposeless canal. All cynicism aside it is a nice area and a great spot to go out in OKC. We ate, we drank, we were merry and then hopped over to another bar for some live music. It was relatively quiet, but a good time. We met “cowboys” from NYC who bought me a drink for predicting their allegiance to the Mets and some ladies from Arkansas. Will convinced them to head to another part of town with us for some more bar hopping and we headed out. I rode with some guy we met there who was in town on business and spent the entire ride over telling me how he looked forward to cheating on his wife that evening; I’m not sure if he succeeded in that goal or not.
This is the part of the story where a dramatic shift occurs. By dramatic, I mean awful. And by awful, I mean awful for me. Legal Note: The names and places in this lurid account have not been changed, as there are no innocents to protect.
As we arrived at our destination the groom and I chatted on the way across the parking lot. After a few paces, he decided to relieve himself in said parking lot as men who’ve tipped a few are wont to do. I, never one to make another feel ill at ease, joined in the activity and our conversation continued. Good times right? The groom finished up, as did I shortly thereafter. About three steps later a black and white vehicle rode up on me driving about 96 mph from nowhere. A gentleman stepped out of the vehicle, yelling: “what the f*&% were you doing.” I inquired “what, back there?” He did not appreciate this response, which he deemed to be clear obstruction of justice. I was asked to place my arms behind my back and was promptly outfitted with a pair of rather tight bracelets. The groom calmly explained to the officer that this was a bachelor party, I was in from out of town and was surly very sorry. The officer politely responded: “Shut up or I’m gonna arrest you too.” The groom graciously reiterated his thoughts on the matter and was once again threatened with joining me for a free ride back to downtown. I told him it was a lost cause and to get out of there and was promptly seated into the backseat of my complementary ride that would take me downtown: first class all the way.
At this point Will attempted to query my chauffeur as to where he could expect to greet his fellow traveler in the morning. His question was answered in similar fashion: “Get out of here or you’re getting arrested!” Apparently my chauffeur was merely being protective of his charge and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that this was all very unnecessary. We had some light conversation in the car before departure: “why did you lie to me,” … “sir, I didn’t lie to you,” … “this would all be different if you didn’t lie,” … “did you hear my previous statement?” … etc, and eventually we were off.
As we departed, I was issued an ultimatum of sorts: jail or detox. I felt the latter had a nicer ring to it and instructed the driver take me there and to post haste. He refused a tip and we arrived at my complementary apartment downtown in a few short minutes. It was during this ride that I observed the screensaver on his in-vehicle computer. It was simple in its honesty and read: “It’s supposed to burn.” As the words spiralled around, protecting his screen, the humor was lost on me. My wrists still hurt from these "burn-providers"… but I digress.
The concierge met us at the entrance of the gated community and I was admitted after passing the breath-recognition software test that protects against break-ins. I sent my driver on his way, was provided with some freshly washed linens and entered my 30-bed condo complete with two bathrooms. Ladies and gentlemen, this is how the other half lives.
I strolled past some other members of Oklahoma City’s upper-echelon en route to my cot (I mean bed). To the left? A guy drooling with his head on the cot’s metal frame. To the right? A one-legged gentleman struggling to mount the toilet seat. Truly, I was a man amongst kings.
Note: the particularly splendid part of this ordeal was not just that no one knew where I was, or even that I had lost my list of phone numbers earlier that evening. No, no. The cake goes to the fact that my blood-alcohol content was at the time of arrival a .07, which dear readers is beneath the legal limit to drive in the state of Oklahoma. I know! I didn’t even need my driver! What a waste…
I got some much needed rest in a corner suite and was awoken numerous times to the sound of grunts, pacing and “bathroom-related” hubbub. Good times. At about 5 am I went for a drink and met a fellow man-about-town. This gentleman had been tossed in about an hour after my arrival for trying to break up a fight. Needless to say we talked extensively about our respect of Oklahoma City's finest. Our concierge, who was tidying up our bathrooms (that’s what I pay her for) joined in and we were one big happy family. Joe, my commiseratti if you will, and I talked for a while and then I decided to touch up on a little more sleep. The concierge was insistent that I was not to leave until 11 am (she clearly knew I needed my rest). I thanked her for her well-reasoned advice and then followed it.
The hours came and went and the door was opened for me when my ride arrived. Again, gratuity was refused and I bid the villa adieu. Will, who had no trouble finding me having spent the remainder of the previous evening amongst law students, provided me with a change of clothes and we headed straight to the water park… I think I can safely say I am the only person in the city’s history who went directly from detox to a water park.
We spent 6 hours at the park and had an absolute blast. It was about 100 degrees out so nothing could have been better. I even managed to get a healthy Irish-tan (aka severe sunburn) while there. We left the park, went back to Grandma Kosted’s and rendezvoused with Nathan after he returned from the rehersal dinner.
After a few hours and about 16 layers of Aloe Vera the three of us headed back down to Bricktown where Jake was staying at a friend’s condo. We enjoyed a few beers and my exploits were explained in detail. We returned back to Gramma’s and took in some rest.
The day of the wedding began with the acquisition of our gift to the couple. Many possibilities were considered, but we ultimately settled on $187 in 1's shoved into the pages of a new copy of The Grapes of Wrath. The gift was complete with newspaper wrapping and bows made of used rags and a red tourniquet. I believe our classiness was mentioned earlier, but here it was materialized.
After a few trips around town for odds and ends, we all dressed up into our finery and got ready to head out to Jake’s condo. Will even put into effect a new hairstyle that was dubbed “The Yaley.” (A full length blog on the nature of Will’s hair will be forthcoming, but suffice it to say that this was the 4th of his hairstyles to have been named). The Yaley was also later renamed “The New York Times” and “The Skull and Bones.” They’re all winners.
We arrived at the condo, hung out with Jake and the rest of the wedding party for a bit and then headed to Coles Gardens where the ceremony and reception were held. Upon realizing that the ceremony was a few hours away, Will and I went to a watering hole across the street and killed some time.
The ceremony was lovely. Meagan looked fantastic and it was a beautiful, short and to the point sort of service. Everyone agreed that it was a knockout. The reception was held in a neighboring building and was a fantastic time. Dancing, good food, wine and beer: again, what more could one hope for. The bride and groom seemed very happy and the party lasted past midnight. Nathan’s best man speech funny and heartfelt and everyone enjoyed themselves.
After it ended, we headed down to Norman for some more dancing with a few ladies and then headed back to gramma’s. En route Will and Nathan had an argument over politics/women/pointless topic de jure that culminated in Will being thrown out of the car on the interstate. Yes. Interstate. I spent the next hour or so acting as Teddy Roosevelt between Nathan’s Russia and Will’s Japan and finally achieved a treaty. Any readers on the Nobel Committee please take note. We picked Will up, returned home and got to sleep around 4am. I had the luxury of giving both a ride to the airport at 6 am. Good times.
I returned, caught some more sleep and then enjoyed breakfast with Gramma Kosted. I hit the road for Denver around noon and drove all day on highways and back roads, which was nice for a change. The same cannot be said however, for the Oklahoma countryside. I arrived in Denver around 9 pm, conversed with my hosts Hal Burns and Nancy Stanton (family friends) and gratefully went to sleep on my soft mattress. Today has been spent scribing these lyrics for you dear reader, so think fondly of me. More to come...
Todd & Will
I'm going to Wichita, far from this opera for evermore…
Readers: apologies for our lack of the necessary diligence to maintain this blog on a more regular basis. In a cruel reversal of fortune, what was originally a recreational outlet is now akin to the duties of raising a redheaded child: You care enough to be constantly nagged by your obligations, but not enough to regularly do anything about it. Our redhead is no Ron Howard, but I feel we might be able to serve up a solid Carrot Top. C'est la vie. Without further adieu, our entry:
At this moment Will is in Canada with his girlfriend and her family and I am outside of Denver (Brighton, CO) staying with the Burns/Stanton family at their lovely home on 10 acres.
To pick up where we left off, Kansas City continued to entertain. Our second day there was spent sightseeing prior to the 7pm ball game. I wrestled Will away from his mistress (the internet) after a passionate two-hour affair and we hit the streets (his wife, aka his cell phone, is aware of and accepting of this affair). We explored Liberty Memorial and the National WWI Museum first and both were amazing. The scope of this museum was dumbfounding and if you find yourself in KC with time to kill, we would both highly recommend it.
We left the memorial, got some lunch and headed over to the Negro Baseball Leagues Museum and the Jazz Museum on Vine. Both were very informative, but the NBL Museum was particularly interesting. These guys would play 3 or 4 games in a day and were some of the best athletes the game has ever seen. Not to mention that their nicknames are without par. Ted “Double-Duty” Radcliffe and James “Cool Papa” Bell were some of the highlights. Additionally, I was ecstatic to note that none other than the beloved Boston Red Sox were, indeed, the last team in the Major Leagues to integrate. I would say "eat your heart out Red Sox fans," but I’m sure the bulk of them are proud of this fact. It was not until 10 years after Jackie Robinson started for the Dodgers that the barrier was broken in Bean Town. Needless to say any future discussions with Red Sox fans will inevitably lead back to this tidbit (though not in Fenway as I like my nose the way it is).
After the museums we headed to Oklahoma Joes, a bbq joint in a gas station recommended by our surfing host. It did not disappoint. Brisket, provolone and an onion ring smothered in bbq sauce and served on a Kaiser roll: perfection (artery clogging perfection, but perfection nonetheless). After dinner we headed down to the K and got tickets (yes, for free… and yes, one came from a man in a neck brace: Will Homes strikes again). We had great seats as usual and were very impressed with Kauffman Stadium; the remodel they did is amazing (unfortunately the same cannot be said for the product on the field). We met up with Kim and a few of her friends at the game and watched a few innings with them. Kim had another couch surfer with her who was from Denmark, so we finally didn’t feel as though we were the only mooches in the country. The game ended in dramatic fashion with Ichiro making a sliding catch in leftfield. We headed back to Kim’s, cleaned up and shot downtown to KC’s Power and Light District. This is a hip area that likely received some federal injections of cash. About half a city block in the heart of downtown has been converted into a giant party plaza loaded with several bars. It’s open air per se, in that there are no walls, but there is a metal roof covering the area. It is very cool, though was not too busy as we were there on a weekday. We had a beer, headed back and hit the hay.
The next day we unsuccessfully solicited Pip (our friend whose wedding we were going too) for a place to stay in OKC. After discussing this treachery for several minutes we decided to procure a surf in Wichita, KA. A Wichita State student named Beth took us in and graciously put us up in her 1 bedroom apt. The three of us and a friend of hers went out to eat, heard tell of a donut shop in town that served up “maple-bacon” donuts (oh yes) and went back to her friend’s place for movies and drinking games. This is apparently some sort of past time amongst college students and was clearly a foreign practice to us (worry not, we did our best to blend). We pulled up a hunk of floor as the festivities wound down and hit the road in the a.m. for the great state of Oklahoma.
Next entry: the epic tale of the Joad (scratch that) Pipinich wedding in OKC. Prepare yourselves, for as you will soon see, I was not.
Cheers,
Todd & Will
At this moment Will is in Canada with his girlfriend and her family and I am outside of Denver (Brighton, CO) staying with the Burns/Stanton family at their lovely home on 10 acres.
To pick up where we left off, Kansas City continued to entertain. Our second day there was spent sightseeing prior to the 7pm ball game. I wrestled Will away from his mistress (the internet) after a passionate two-hour affair and we hit the streets (his wife, aka his cell phone, is aware of and accepting of this affair). We explored Liberty Memorial and the National WWI Museum first and both were amazing. The scope of this museum was dumbfounding and if you find yourself in KC with time to kill, we would both highly recommend it.
We left the memorial, got some lunch and headed over to the Negro Baseball Leagues Museum and the Jazz Museum on Vine. Both were very informative, but the NBL Museum was particularly interesting. These guys would play 3 or 4 games in a day and were some of the best athletes the game has ever seen. Not to mention that their nicknames are without par. Ted “Double-Duty” Radcliffe and James “Cool Papa” Bell were some of the highlights. Additionally, I was ecstatic to note that none other than the beloved Boston Red Sox were, indeed, the last team in the Major Leagues to integrate. I would say "eat your heart out Red Sox fans," but I’m sure the bulk of them are proud of this fact. It was not until 10 years after Jackie Robinson started for the Dodgers that the barrier was broken in Bean Town. Needless to say any future discussions with Red Sox fans will inevitably lead back to this tidbit (though not in Fenway as I like my nose the way it is).
After the museums we headed to Oklahoma Joes, a bbq joint in a gas station recommended by our surfing host. It did not disappoint. Brisket, provolone and an onion ring smothered in bbq sauce and served on a Kaiser roll: perfection (artery clogging perfection, but perfection nonetheless). After dinner we headed down to the K and got tickets (yes, for free… and yes, one came from a man in a neck brace: Will Homes strikes again). We had great seats as usual and were very impressed with Kauffman Stadium; the remodel they did is amazing (unfortunately the same cannot be said for the product on the field). We met up with Kim and a few of her friends at the game and watched a few innings with them. Kim had another couch surfer with her who was from Denmark, so we finally didn’t feel as though we were the only mooches in the country. The game ended in dramatic fashion with Ichiro making a sliding catch in leftfield. We headed back to Kim’s, cleaned up and shot downtown to KC’s Power and Light District. This is a hip area that likely received some federal injections of cash. About half a city block in the heart of downtown has been converted into a giant party plaza loaded with several bars. It’s open air per se, in that there are no walls, but there is a metal roof covering the area. It is very cool, though was not too busy as we were there on a weekday. We had a beer, headed back and hit the hay.
The next day we unsuccessfully solicited Pip (our friend whose wedding we were going too) for a place to stay in OKC. After discussing this treachery for several minutes we decided to procure a surf in Wichita, KA. A Wichita State student named Beth took us in and graciously put us up in her 1 bedroom apt. The three of us and a friend of hers went out to eat, heard tell of a donut shop in town that served up “maple-bacon” donuts (oh yes) and went back to her friend’s place for movies and drinking games. This is apparently some sort of past time amongst college students and was clearly a foreign practice to us (worry not, we did our best to blend). We pulled up a hunk of floor as the festivities wound down and hit the road in the a.m. for the great state of Oklahoma.
Next entry: the epic tale of the Joad (scratch that) Pipinich wedding in OKC. Prepare yourselves, for as you will soon see, I was not.
Cheers,
Todd & Will
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Heat Stroke & Another Surf
Columbia proved to be far too hot and muggy for the two of us, as we agreed that heading out ASAP following our visit to the university was a priority. However, there were two must stops before we finally jumped back on I-70 toward Kansas City. First, Will had a friend from Syracuse who began her studies at MU and alerted us to Shakespeare’s Pizza. The pie didn’t disappoint, had a ton of cheese and wasn’t doughy. Second, we went to Douglass Pool to combat the initial signs of heat stroke. The price was right at $1 each, which allowed us to partake in the water slide and climbing wall, without the fear of hotel attendant at Lake Motel 6 asking for our room numbers. Will did his best impressions of the X-Games trying to do what he called a “back, back, nollie, mcshuffle, with a knick knack paddy wack” (translation: he slid into the pool sideways.) We could imagine a daily visit there, should one spend an extended period of time around these parts.
Our arrival into Kansas City had a familiar arrangement, Will sprawled out (if such a thing is possible) in the passenger seat dead to the world and Todd listening to the cockney dj’s that are BBC Radio 1 on the satellite radio. Kauffman Stadium, which is where we’ll see the Royals play tonight, is a bit more out of town than we desire, as was along our route into the city. Neighborhood stadiums provide us with more unintentional comedy and a livelier atmosphere. Nonetheless, it appears to be a unique joint to watch a ball game but we’ll have more insight after our visit.
We have hit another home run with our host, Kim, on couchsurfing.org. The arrangements are in a beautiful neighborhood and home, which provides easy access to several parts of the city should we decide to venture out on our own. After settling our bags and Todd taking a quick shower, Kim took us to meet some of her friends for an energetic night of conversation. We spent the majority of our time at a bar named Kelly’s, the longest continuingly running business in Kansas City, and enjoyed many of a pint at $4.75 a pitcher. Kim’s friends were a riot, with topics ranging to their recent trip to Northern Alabama to the suggestion that we camp in Lake of the Ozarks, MO on our way to Oklahoma City on Wednesday. Supposedly, it has the reputation of being quite the place to be in your 20’s and jumping in an actual large body of water sounds so incredibly enticing right now. (Note: Kim’s friend is in the works on setting up a date with the mother of comedian David Spade’s child. The kicker is that she was in a certain famous men’s magazine’s March 2005 issue.)
Our night ended with our top floor room finally cooled enough to sleep comfortably. Miraculously, Todd decided to show some heart and allowed Will to sleep in the bed, while he huddled up next to the vent on the floor. We both slept in to 10 am, which is a testament to how tattered our bodies are at this point. Today, a Royal’s game and an attempt by Todd to get Will to shower; both should be exciting.
Todd & Will
Our arrival into Kansas City had a familiar arrangement, Will sprawled out (if such a thing is possible) in the passenger seat dead to the world and Todd listening to the cockney dj’s that are BBC Radio 1 on the satellite radio. Kauffman Stadium, which is where we’ll see the Royals play tonight, is a bit more out of town than we desire, as was along our route into the city. Neighborhood stadiums provide us with more unintentional comedy and a livelier atmosphere. Nonetheless, it appears to be a unique joint to watch a ball game but we’ll have more insight after our visit.
We have hit another home run with our host, Kim, on couchsurfing.org. The arrangements are in a beautiful neighborhood and home, which provides easy access to several parts of the city should we decide to venture out on our own. After settling our bags and Todd taking a quick shower, Kim took us to meet some of her friends for an energetic night of conversation. We spent the majority of our time at a bar named Kelly’s, the longest continuingly running business in Kansas City, and enjoyed many of a pint at $4.75 a pitcher. Kim’s friends were a riot, with topics ranging to their recent trip to Northern Alabama to the suggestion that we camp in Lake of the Ozarks, MO on our way to Oklahoma City on Wednesday. Supposedly, it has the reputation of being quite the place to be in your 20’s and jumping in an actual large body of water sounds so incredibly enticing right now. (Note: Kim’s friend is in the works on setting up a date with the mother of comedian David Spade’s child. The kicker is that she was in a certain famous men’s magazine’s March 2005 issue.)
Our night ended with our top floor room finally cooled enough to sleep comfortably. Miraculously, Todd decided to show some heart and allowed Will to sleep in the bed, while he huddled up next to the vent on the floor. We both slept in to 10 am, which is a testament to how tattered our bodies are at this point. Today, a Royal’s game and an attempt by Todd to get Will to shower; both should be exciting.
Todd & Will
Monday, August 3, 2009
I'm so St. Louis, just ask my Tattoo-ie... & Lake Motel 6
Will's schedule, which drew inspiration from the Baton Death March, didn't disappoint and we arrived just in time for the St. Louis game at Busch Stadium. Adam had already sent us several text messages, a clear sign that he didn't get enough of us and wanted to live vicariously through our exploits. On our way we had three highlights: at 15-story cross outside of a church, surviving East St. Louis and turning up several contributions by St. Louis' own Nelly from our stereo system. Thankfully, stabbings were miraculously avoided
This park, however, was the site of a deeply troubling occurrence: the streak of free tickets has ended after 6 games. A single tear rolls down my cheek as I write these words. St. Louis, generally referred to as the Greatest Baseball City, cost us 20 dollars EACH because it was completely sold out. Will did manage to get a free hot dog and cola from the person who sold us the tickets, so it wasn't a total loss. We have revised our goal in light of this Business Will Fail. We have agreed that breaking even for tickets is now our goal and Will has assured Todd that it will not be a problem.
As for the game, it was pretty much a dud. Recent addition Matt Holliday didn't reach base and slugger Albert Pujols only got a board because of a walk. Actually, it was his strikeout with the tying run on in the 8th inning that cleared out the stadium. We all agreed that in a two-run ballgame, the "Greatest Baseball City" should have supported the home team until the very end. That being said, the supposedly "mild" weather had all three of us sweating more than an atheist in church by the end of the game. Still, the fans up to that point did prove to be very knowledgeable and the environment was a welcome sight compared to the malaise that existed in the 'Natti. In sticking around for the end, we talked to some incredibly nice people who gave us some ideas for where to camp. Max, much like his commitment to get us tickets for the White Sox game, didn't pull through on his make-believe friend that we could stay with in St. Louis. However, he did continue to serve as a buffer between Will's story telling and Todd's poor ears. We'll call it a wash.
Not surprisingly, before we took Max to the airport, at trip to the "Valhalla of Manhood" a.k.a. Anheuser Busch's headquarters was in order. Thanks to those romantic speaking Belgians, they are no longer technically American owned (something Will pointed out to our red white and blue tour guide) but the tour of the brewery was fabulous. It included a visit to the stables where the Clydesdales are kept, very beautiful architecture, ornate designs, the packaging plant and the fermentation rooms. Then again, who are we kidding, we didn't come to learn but instead for the two complimentary pints of beer that greeted us at the conclusion of our visit.
Speaking of conclusions, this was also the end of Max's time with us. As he said it best on our way to the airport: "This sucks. Now I have to return to work, a live-in girlfriend and two dogs that piss everywhere." So true, so true. We dropped him off and continued on our way.
About an hour west of St. Louis we stopped at what we coined "Lake Motel 6," where we enjoyed a free visit to the pool/Will's idea of a bath. We stayed on the east side of the "lake," out of view of the hotel lobby. We also managed to acquire a cooler full of complementary ice. Mission accomplished. After making sandwiches in a gas station parking lot, we followed the directions of a local towards a place to camp. Finger Lakes State Park however was gated shut when we arrived. This, be assured, did not stop Will from driving in via the "Authorized Vehicles Only" route and we successfully scored a free night's camp. Todd nearly suffered a panic attack from the claustrophobic nature of our sleeping situation. Our two-man tent was apparently designed by pigmies and Todd ultimately decided to pull up a hunk of ground in lieu of suffocation.
We slept wonderfully and arose to the sweet serenade of a Southern Mo. couple fighting about soup operas and engaging in animal abuse. Yes, reread that. As we began to fear for our lives, we snuck back out of the park and headed towards UM's gorgeous campus, where this post is being written. Tonight, we couch surf again in KC and look forward to our game on the morrow. More to come....
Todd & Will
Big Dog Shirts, Mullets, Northern K and Governor Lottino (featuring Max Brodin)
It has been awhile since our last post as we've been busy soaking in the cultural flavor of Northern Kentucky and Southern Illinois (this includes spying giant white crosses on the side of the road and a female mullet or two). Additionally, the Internet is foreign in these parts, as there is no mention made of it in the Good Book. But now, as our Chevy Prizm approaches St. Louis, we're making time to chronicle our adventures.
Our second day in Chicago was as enjoyable as the first. We had a lazy start to the day and enthusiastically took advantage of what has remained our only decent night of sleep. We finally got around to meeting up with our friend Max Brodin (who attended high school with us) and his girlfriend downtown after he got off of work (an idea foreign to us). We had a few pregame cocktails and took full advantage of some free mozzarella sticks while there. We hopped on the L with 40's in hand and headed down to the Southside for the Sox-Yankees game at U.S. Cellular Field. Billy, Todd's cousin, met us at the park and generously treated us to the game. This was particularly kind of him, being that his sorrows are spent following the Cubs and one of his kids was very vocal in his allegiances to the enemy. Now, that is what we call quality parenting.
(Note: Concentrating right now is becoming very difficult due to Will's constant explanations of the meanings of country songs... "you see, right now is when our two young lovers are falling for each other. Let's listen in to see what the future holds, shall we?").
As we are on a very tight timeline, our trip is literally in the hands of the man upstairs when it comes to weather. Rain drizzled just before the first pitch and it seemed that our trip could be in jeopardy. Thankfully the weather passed and the delay was only a half hour. The game was great, ending in a walk-off RBI by the White Sox utility outfielder, DeWayne Wise. Will and Max even ended up sitting directly behind Derek Jeter's parents along the 3rd baseline during the late innings. As Will talks to everyone and anyone, they shared common ground on criticizing a female who stole a game ball that was meant for a child.
After parting with Billy and the boys (Quinn and Burke) the three of us spent several unsuccessful minutes trying to hitch back uptown. Our efforts went as extreme as offering twenty dollars but, then again, showers are not our priority these days so we didn't blame people for giving us the finger. We cut our losses, hopped on the L and headed downtown. We barhopped until finally meeting up with a group of ladies from South Bend celebrating a birthday. Our tactful approach towards thrift worked wonderfully, yielding us mooched drinks from the girls throughout the night. The highlight was Max giving them all degrading nicknames like “BamBam” and “Hogan Knows Best.” After the birthday girl ate cement on the walk out of the bar and promptly headed to the bathroom to repent for her sins, we decided it was are cue to leave. With the sun beginning to rise, bed was calling our names.
The next morning Max joined us and we headed out to the majestic city of Cleveland. Our friend Adam Lottino (who we also know from Bozeman High) was our host and didn't disappoint by showing us a fantastic time filled with sidesplitting laughs. To get things started properly, he greeted us with a party platter from the finest restaurant in the city: Subway. We spent the bulk of our drive recollecting the many legendary stories of Adam, ultimately deciding to nickname him Governor Lottino. We felt this name aptly suited the man who prides himself on greeting each city he moves to by “taking it by storm”. (Note: a local was queried as to Adam's “city taking,” but provided a somewhat different view). We ate, changed, had some laughs and headed down to the game. Will kept his legend alive by scoring two great tickets, turning them over for $70, and then buying 7 $10 tickets for us, Adam and some of his friends. Our seats were fantastic. After the sixth inning, Max, Adam and the others left the game. As Adam laid passed out in his apartment, with Max inquiring constantly for text message updates, our decision to stay paid off and we were treated to a 13-inning epic of a game which ended in a Cleveland victory.
We met up with Max and the Gov after the game and headed downtown. We took in some Ukrainian dance moves at one bar and Will got some priceless pictures of a guy who had decided to rock white shoes and white jeans. We headed back to Lottino's, disappointed that we were not treated to his standard tank top removal, or a bellow of: “I make more money than all of you,” to a large crowd. After meeting his surgically altered neighbor (who ultimately was the impetus for a Lottino shirt-removal), we got some much-needed rest. The next morning Adam gave us a quick tour of the city, which despite its somewhat negative reputation, seemed to be very nice. We got some food at a chic market, said our goodbyes and hit the road. Little did we know that Max's flatulence would be the 4th passenger on this leg of the trip to Cincinatti.
We arrived in “The 'Natti” with a little time to spare, found some cheap parking and had a few brews to pass the time (two in a bar, two in an alley). Will went to work after we arrived at the stadium and Max and I took in a little people watching out front. What we observed is difficult describe. It was one part prom, as apparently the ballgame is the only thing to do on a Cincinnati evening. Half the women we saw were wearing evening gowns. The other half was comprised of what Max named to be inhabitants of “Northern K,” the K being for Kentucky. Said people were rocking Mullets, chin straps, jean shorts (aka “jorts”) and Big Dogs t-shirts. Needless to say, we had a comment or two about the situation. From this moment on, Todd rebranded the home of the Reds, “Wendy's Steakhouse Memorial Field,” the said restaurant being the site of pre-prom dinners.
Additionally, in large part due to the economy and the need for people squeeze every dollar out of their tickets, this place has been the least generous town yet. Will had difficulty acquiring tickets and had to struggle through the sea of homeless people that clog the streets of the 'Natti. Ultimately, after declining to buy tickets for $2, he was successful and our epic journey of free games continues. The game was nothing too exciting, as the Reds are a particularly bad ball club. Most of our time was spent pointing out Northern K sightings. We hit the road after the game and briefly dipped down into Northern K, which Max was insistent about. We drove until about 3 am until Max and Todd decided to get a hotel. Will, whose cheapness is at times beyond description, didn't want to throw down the $16 to stay in the hotel and instead grabbed a hunk of passenger seat in the hotel parking lot. Unbelievable, especially when he told us that he was up at 5:30 am, cursing his decision and not able to move because of extreme tightness in his back. When he finally mustered up the strength to roll out of the car, he leaned back and heard the most beautiful popping sounds. He said that money he “saved” will now be spent on a massage at some point.
We're currently about an hour away from St. Louis and are looking forward to what is said to be one of the greatest ballparks in the country. More to follow...
Todd & Will
p.s. another thank you to Billy, Max and Adam for the laughs and generosity they all provided.
Our second day in Chicago was as enjoyable as the first. We had a lazy start to the day and enthusiastically took advantage of what has remained our only decent night of sleep. We finally got around to meeting up with our friend Max Brodin (who attended high school with us) and his girlfriend downtown after he got off of work (an idea foreign to us). We had a few pregame cocktails and took full advantage of some free mozzarella sticks while there. We hopped on the L with 40's in hand and headed down to the Southside for the Sox-Yankees game at U.S. Cellular Field. Billy, Todd's cousin, met us at the park and generously treated us to the game. This was particularly kind of him, being that his sorrows are spent following the Cubs and one of his kids was very vocal in his allegiances to the enemy. Now, that is what we call quality parenting.
(Note: Concentrating right now is becoming very difficult due to Will's constant explanations of the meanings of country songs... "you see, right now is when our two young lovers are falling for each other. Let's listen in to see what the future holds, shall we?").
As we are on a very tight timeline, our trip is literally in the hands of the man upstairs when it comes to weather. Rain drizzled just before the first pitch and it seemed that our trip could be in jeopardy. Thankfully the weather passed and the delay was only a half hour. The game was great, ending in a walk-off RBI by the White Sox utility outfielder, DeWayne Wise. Will and Max even ended up sitting directly behind Derek Jeter's parents along the 3rd baseline during the late innings. As Will talks to everyone and anyone, they shared common ground on criticizing a female who stole a game ball that was meant for a child.
After parting with Billy and the boys (Quinn and Burke) the three of us spent several unsuccessful minutes trying to hitch back uptown. Our efforts went as extreme as offering twenty dollars but, then again, showers are not our priority these days so we didn't blame people for giving us the finger. We cut our losses, hopped on the L and headed downtown. We barhopped until finally meeting up with a group of ladies from South Bend celebrating a birthday. Our tactful approach towards thrift worked wonderfully, yielding us mooched drinks from the girls throughout the night. The highlight was Max giving them all degrading nicknames like “BamBam” and “Hogan Knows Best.” After the birthday girl ate cement on the walk out of the bar and promptly headed to the bathroom to repent for her sins, we decided it was are cue to leave. With the sun beginning to rise, bed was calling our names.
The next morning Max joined us and we headed out to the majestic city of Cleveland. Our friend Adam Lottino (who we also know from Bozeman High) was our host and didn't disappoint by showing us a fantastic time filled with sidesplitting laughs. To get things started properly, he greeted us with a party platter from the finest restaurant in the city: Subway. We spent the bulk of our drive recollecting the many legendary stories of Adam, ultimately deciding to nickname him Governor Lottino. We felt this name aptly suited the man who prides himself on greeting each city he moves to by “taking it by storm”. (Note: a local was queried as to Adam's “city taking,” but provided a somewhat different view). We ate, changed, had some laughs and headed down to the game. Will kept his legend alive by scoring two great tickets, turning them over for $70, and then buying 7 $10 tickets for us, Adam and some of his friends. Our seats were fantastic. After the sixth inning, Max, Adam and the others left the game. As Adam laid passed out in his apartment, with Max inquiring constantly for text message updates, our decision to stay paid off and we were treated to a 13-inning epic of a game which ended in a Cleveland victory.
We met up with Max and the Gov after the game and headed downtown. We took in some Ukrainian dance moves at one bar and Will got some priceless pictures of a guy who had decided to rock white shoes and white jeans. We headed back to Lottino's, disappointed that we were not treated to his standard tank top removal, or a bellow of: “I make more money than all of you,” to a large crowd. After meeting his surgically altered neighbor (who ultimately was the impetus for a Lottino shirt-removal), we got some much-needed rest. The next morning Adam gave us a quick tour of the city, which despite its somewhat negative reputation, seemed to be very nice. We got some food at a chic market, said our goodbyes and hit the road. Little did we know that Max's flatulence would be the 4th passenger on this leg of the trip to Cincinatti.
We arrived in “The 'Natti” with a little time to spare, found some cheap parking and had a few brews to pass the time (two in a bar, two in an alley). Will went to work after we arrived at the stadium and Max and I took in a little people watching out front. What we observed is difficult describe. It was one part prom, as apparently the ballgame is the only thing to do on a Cincinnati evening. Half the women we saw were wearing evening gowns. The other half was comprised of what Max named to be inhabitants of “Northern K,” the K being for Kentucky. Said people were rocking Mullets, chin straps, jean shorts (aka “jorts”) and Big Dogs t-shirts. Needless to say, we had a comment or two about the situation. From this moment on, Todd rebranded the home of the Reds, “Wendy's Steakhouse Memorial Field,” the said restaurant being the site of pre-prom dinners.
Additionally, in large part due to the economy and the need for people squeeze every dollar out of their tickets, this place has been the least generous town yet. Will had difficulty acquiring tickets and had to struggle through the sea of homeless people that clog the streets of the 'Natti. Ultimately, after declining to buy tickets for $2, he was successful and our epic journey of free games continues. The game was nothing too exciting, as the Reds are a particularly bad ball club. Most of our time was spent pointing out Northern K sightings. We hit the road after the game and briefly dipped down into Northern K, which Max was insistent about. We drove until about 3 am until Max and Todd decided to get a hotel. Will, whose cheapness is at times beyond description, didn't want to throw down the $16 to stay in the hotel and instead grabbed a hunk of passenger seat in the hotel parking lot. Unbelievable, especially when he told us that he was up at 5:30 am, cursing his decision and not able to move because of extreme tightness in his back. When he finally mustered up the strength to roll out of the car, he leaned back and heard the most beautiful popping sounds. He said that money he “saved” will now be spent on a massage at some point.
We're currently about an hour away from St. Louis and are looking forward to what is said to be one of the greatest ballparks in the country. More to follow...
Todd & Will
p.s. another thank you to Billy, Max and Adam for the laughs and generosity they all provided.
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