Lou Pickney's Online Commentary
Pabst Blue Ribbon
Sunday
June 1, 2003
"Doors will be opening for you in many areas of your life."
-Note on a fortune cookie I received at a Chinese restaurant in Tampa this past week
I'm back in Tampa as I type this, following a four-day trip to Nashville. The two Dramamine helped me sleep for nearly the entirity of the return flight, though now I have a crick in my neck as a rewardl. Not to mention some Dramamine loopiness to boot. But whatever, I made it back safely, and that's the important part. I intended to get on here and write a column or two while I was down there, but unlike Tampa, where I have limitless access to the internet, I had to share down there. Besides, I knew I'd have time back here to write at my leisure.
One thing I forgot from last Sunday was an amazing incident that happened on the way back from Bruce Almighty. Laura and Julia were telling James and I how they had seen a dead armadillo in the road, and that later it had been moved and that someone was taking pictures of it. Yes, very strange, but that's Pinellas County for you. Anyway, as they were telling the story as we made our way through the sub-division... an armadillo ran out in front of us. Like we conjured it up or something.
When you have time to kill at the airport, you notice things. Like the massage chair at Nashville International. It's a great idea. Though I do wonder what would happen if you asked for a below-board, "happy ending"? Would they call security on you? And then there are the smoking lounges, which I predict will be extinct within 10 years in the United States. It's like a smoker prison, with a cloud of nicotine hanging ominously in the room. But hey, if that means that some bitter old woman won't start puffing down the Winstons next to me in the waiting area, then I'm all for it.
I found a newspaper sitting unattended by my gate in the Southwest Airlines area at the airport today. Many of the good sections were gone, but the leftovers, like the Travel and USA Today Weekend sections, remained intact. The USA Today Weekend had an interesting piece about the top-rated woman on HotOrNot.com from 2002. It helped to pass the time, at the very least.
My brother Matt bought NBA Street, Volume 2 for the GameCube. It's a fun game, even better than the original, though the cumbersome GameCube controller makes it a less-than-ideal way of playing (particularly in comparison with the PlayStation 2's vastly superior controller). Regardless, it was fun to play as Yao Ming, not to mention all of the legends in the game (Jordan, Bird, Magic, Wilt, Russell, Pistol Pete, Dr. J, etc.) The EA Big people did a great job capturing the little nuances about many of the players. It's a very tempting possibility for me to buy it for the PS2, though I played it like crazy in Nashville, perhaps enough so to make it not a worthwhile $50 expense at this point in time. But it's highly recommended... definitely a fun game. The middle difficulty level is ridiculously tough, though (and I could only imagine how the hardest level is).
It's an all ABA finals in the NBA this year, as ABA alums New Jersey and San Antonio will square off. I say Spurs in 5. Those backdoor cuts to K-Mart and Jefferson won't work against Duncan and company (at least, I hope not). Go Spurs! It was great on Thursday over at Marathon (a nearby bar in Nashville), as Matt and I had some coldbeer and watched the Spurs make a double-digit comeback against the Mavericks to avoid having to play them in a Game 7.
My sister Mary Beth is now hooked on Diet Peach Tea Snapple, thanks to me talking Mom into buying a 12-pack of it at Food Lion (or whatever grocery store it was) on Thursday. Mary Beth was telling me all of these different prizes you could win by saving Snapple caps. I was completely oblivious to it until she pointed it out to me (and normally I'm pretty internet savvy, but she one-upped me on that).
Trying to get directions to find the Slow Bar last night for the concert (of local bands) was a chore. Carl gave me good info, but unfortunately he said Stadium and I thought Arena. Oops. But we finally found the place. It was an interesting combination of people: me, Matt, and my friends Glenn, Carl and Zach.
My drink of choice for the evening was Foster's beer (which was the only interesting choice I saw on tap). Unfortunately I'm out of my drinking prime, so trying to match Matt drink-for-drink was a bad idea. But at least I wasn't drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, which was inexplicably advertised like crazy all over the bar. Carl told me that PBR is actually somewhat trendy among the indie rock crowd in Nashville. That's downright shocking, if you ask me.
Two interesting characters were there who I must tell you about. One was a guy with a scruffy beard, a cheap hat and an outfit that looked like had been preserved from 1983. Actually it wouldn't surprise me if the Full Trucker Effect guy had been preserved on ice for 20 years and thawed out that night, thirsty for, you guessed it, PBR. The other was a mostly bald guy with a dark black mullet. But he was playing the Don Juan role, much to the amusement of Matt and I. This guy looked like a skinnier version of Ron Jeremy.
The bands themselves were good, though as I became more and more intoxicated I was able to appreciate them less and less. I can't remember any of the bands' names, even though Carl told them to me about 437 times. I did get a "Mostly Robot" button from Zach, which I nearly brought through the airport security today in my pocket (luckily I noticed it and stashed it in my bag).
Mary Beth's 8th grade graduation on Thursday night was a nice time. I know she's ready to move on and start her high school career, which is about how I felt when May of '91 hit for me (though I had been through eight years of the Dominican treatment, which is a topic that really deserves its own column someday).
Tickets for the Snoop Dogg/Red Hot Chili Peppers in Orlando for later this month have all but sold out. Some friends of mine and I had talked about going to it, but it looks now like that won't be happening...
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