Tampa and Miami

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.

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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