Sunday, April 13, 2008
Things That Got Away
So, things got away from me a bit down in San Antonio...I'll get through the rest of my notes as part of the "Final Four Recap."
Friday, April 4
9:30 a.m. CT - It's amazing what 12 hours of sleep does for you. Amazingly, you wake up not feeling exhausted. It helps the mind, body, spirit and - in my case, most times - the professional reputation. No mumbling, stumbling, and bumbling through the rest of the night. I had some time to kill during the morning - and no concrete plans for the day - so I meandered around.
11 a.m. CT - Rats...I forgot...I did have something concrete today. I had to get the HC to radio row at the Hyatt. Thankfully, I wasn't too far and made it happen. In fact, I got him on five radio shows - from Atlanta to Seattle. Nothing like spreading the good word.
Tonight should be a good night - with some luck, I'll actually make it to "night"
and not to "nap."
1:30 p.m. CT - I'm credentialed at the Alamodome and am sitting on press row at the Final Four. Sometimes, it's better not to ask.
And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited. It's what I do, seemingly, everyday all day during the season. But still. It's the floor of the Final Four. Twenty years ago, it was a pipe dream to even get to a Final Four. I was one of those suckers who'd write the 162 dollar check for the "application," only to have my 160 dollars refunded year after year.
It's important not to forget that...and never take this for granted.
(For the record, I didn't take many notes the rest of the night. Not for any sordid "what happens at the Final Four, stays at the Final Four" affair. Not even close. I think it was just because the night didn't dictate taking notes. Good times, good friends, good parties - except for Nike - so, we skip ahead...)
April 5
12:20 p.m. "Bottle, draft, or aquarium?"
That's the three choices you're presented with from Richard the barkeep at Sirius - "our spot," it seems, every morning in San Antonio.
You could conceivably order an always tasty Miller Lite in a 12 oz. bottle, pint-sized draft, or a 32-ounce small bowl with a handle. It looked like an aquarium. Lots of beer.
But we all stuck with the bloodies and they didn't disappoint (kind of like Manny Ramirez vs. the Yankees). And we all shared various accounts - hazy, alleged, or whatnot - about the parties the night before. The shoe parties, networks, etc.
Apparently I was befallen with the "bitter face" at the CBS fete. I wasn't bitter, though. I just played one on TV. But that morning, I did scarf down a breakfast that would have caused a true bitter face.
It's what I called the "bitter omelette." Ham, onions, and jalapenos. I love them. Every road trip we went on this year, if they had an omelette station, I had a bitter omelette.
Sometimes with egg whites, sometimes with egg beaters...but always with jalapenos.
It's bitter because you're eating and forget they're in the mix...until you bite down...and whoop there it is. Bitter.
Richard the barkeep has regaled us with stories of his girlfriends. And his girlfriends' girlfriends. And one who used to flash him. And another who flashed him...shortly after she gave birth...and...
Yeah, it was time to call for the check after Richard's "milky tit" story.
1:30 p.m. CT- We tried finding a spot to sit, eat, and continue with the liquids somewhere on the Riverwalk. But no shot, it was absolutely packed. So we went off the beaten path once again, to a spot that hasn't let us down.
Denny's. Again.
For some reason, the question "what the shampoo am I doing with my life?" was bounced around for much of the meal.
The boys ventured into different strategies with the Denny's menus - semi-breakfast, semi-lunch, and for me - the grand slam.
For those of you not hip to the Denny's thang, a grand slam is any four of several delicious choices. I went with the english muffins and three orders of hash browns. A rather unorthodox grand slam selection, but hey...you do how you do and I'll do how I do.
2:30 p.m. CT - Nap.
4:15 p.m. CT - Triple S and the walk to the Alamodome for Memphis/UCLA. This Final Four, different than Indianapolis and Atlanta the last two years, has some real college spirit to it. Kansas had a few bands along the way, a bunch of UCLA fans (read: Asian kids) kept doing the 8-clap thing, UNC fans were desperately trying to get Kansas fans to like them. Me? I was walking with Memphis. (for a beautifully written reason why, click here.)
7 p.m. CT - One ass-kicking later, it was time to mosey. I was tired and did not care to see Kansas/UNC. Nothing against Bill Self and the Jayhawks - in fact, they were my second-favorite rooting interest - but I was sleepy and I think the game was on TV. Bee-line to Fuddruckers where I committed a class D felony on a giant, sloppy, messy bleu cheese burger. Yay me. *Burp.*
April 6 and beyond...
I didn't take any notes. But suffice to say, it was much of the same. A great time to spend with some old friends, some new friends, and some friends that I just haven't met yet.
BTW - the text count: 240.
-----
Will have a pre-Belize blog update tomorrow. It will also be the debut of a new social scale, which I'm sure is going to sweep the nation.
It's called the "Bowie Scale," and it is going to be the basis for quite a bit of the Belize happenings.
Friday, April 4
9:30 a.m. CT - It's amazing what 12 hours of sleep does for you. Amazingly, you wake up not feeling exhausted. It helps the mind, body, spirit and - in my case, most times - the professional reputation. No mumbling, stumbling, and bumbling through the rest of the night. I had some time to kill during the morning - and no concrete plans for the day - so I meandered around.
11 a.m. CT - Rats...I forgot...I did have something concrete today. I had to get the HC to radio row at the Hyatt. Thankfully, I wasn't too far and made it happen. In fact, I got him on five radio shows - from Atlanta to Seattle. Nothing like spreading the good word.
Tonight should be a good night - with some luck, I'll actually make it to "night"
and not to "nap."
1:30 p.m. CT - I'm credentialed at the Alamodome and am sitting on press row at the Final Four. Sometimes, it's better not to ask.
And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited. It's what I do, seemingly, everyday all day during the season. But still. It's the floor of the Final Four. Twenty years ago, it was a pipe dream to even get to a Final Four. I was one of those suckers who'd write the 162 dollar check for the "application," only to have my 160 dollars refunded year after year.
It's important not to forget that...and never take this for granted.
(For the record, I didn't take many notes the rest of the night. Not for any sordid "what happens at the Final Four, stays at the Final Four" affair. Not even close. I think it was just because the night didn't dictate taking notes. Good times, good friends, good parties - except for Nike - so, we skip ahead...)
April 5
12:20 p.m. "Bottle, draft, or aquarium?"
That's the three choices you're presented with from Richard the barkeep at Sirius - "our spot," it seems, every morning in San Antonio.
You could conceivably order an always tasty Miller Lite in a 12 oz. bottle, pint-sized draft, or a 32-ounce small bowl with a handle. It looked like an aquarium. Lots of beer.
But we all stuck with the bloodies and they didn't disappoint (kind of like Manny Ramirez vs. the Yankees). And we all shared various accounts - hazy, alleged, or whatnot - about the parties the night before. The shoe parties, networks, etc.
Apparently I was befallen with the "bitter face" at the CBS fete. I wasn't bitter, though. I just played one on TV. But that morning, I did scarf down a breakfast that would have caused a true bitter face.
It's what I called the "bitter omelette." Ham, onions, and jalapenos. I love them. Every road trip we went on this year, if they had an omelette station, I had a bitter omelette.
Sometimes with egg whites, sometimes with egg beaters...but always with jalapenos.
It's bitter because you're eating and forget they're in the mix...until you bite down...and whoop there it is. Bitter.
Richard the barkeep has regaled us with stories of his girlfriends. And his girlfriends' girlfriends. And one who used to flash him. And another who flashed him...shortly after she gave birth...and...
Yeah, it was time to call for the check after Richard's "milky tit" story.
1:30 p.m. CT- We tried finding a spot to sit, eat, and continue with the liquids somewhere on the Riverwalk. But no shot, it was absolutely packed. So we went off the beaten path once again, to a spot that hasn't let us down.
Denny's. Again.
For some reason, the question "what the shampoo am I doing with my life?" was bounced around for much of the meal.
The boys ventured into different strategies with the Denny's menus - semi-breakfast, semi-lunch, and for me - the grand slam.
For those of you not hip to the Denny's thang, a grand slam is any four of several delicious choices. I went with the english muffins and three orders of hash browns. A rather unorthodox grand slam selection, but hey...you do how you do and I'll do how I do.
2:30 p.m. CT - Nap.
4:15 p.m. CT - Triple S and the walk to the Alamodome for Memphis/UCLA. This Final Four, different than Indianapolis and Atlanta the last two years, has some real college spirit to it. Kansas had a few bands along the way, a bunch of UCLA fans (read: Asian kids) kept doing the 8-clap thing, UNC fans were desperately trying to get Kansas fans to like them. Me? I was walking with Memphis. (for a beautifully written reason why, click here.)
7 p.m. CT - One ass-kicking later, it was time to mosey. I was tired and did not care to see Kansas/UNC. Nothing against Bill Self and the Jayhawks - in fact, they were my second-favorite rooting interest - but I was sleepy and I think the game was on TV. Bee-line to Fuddruckers where I committed a class D felony on a giant, sloppy, messy bleu cheese burger. Yay me. *Burp.*
April 6 and beyond...
I didn't take any notes. But suffice to say, it was much of the same. A great time to spend with some old friends, some new friends, and some friends that I just haven't met yet.
BTW - the text count: 240.
-----
Will have a pre-Belize blog update tomorrow. It will also be the debut of a new social scale, which I'm sure is going to sweep the nation.
It's called the "Bowie Scale," and it is going to be the basis for quite a bit of the Belize happenings.
