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Lou Pickney's Online Commentary

Final Four Weekend

Saturday
March 30, 2002

"It's too bad, it's stupid
Too late, so wrong, so long
It's too bad we had no time to rewind"
-Nickelback "Too Bad"

The Nickelback lyrics are actually fitting right now, though they've been running through my head all day. Not in a good way. These things happen.

A little advice for you fellas out there. When it's 2:30 in the morning, and you have a girl's phone number from awhile back, and she's asleep, that's a BAD time to call. I think I'm old enough now to realize I need to remember these things. But forgetfulness is a bitch like that. 2:30 AM EST is an okay time to call the west coast (for the most part). It's not so good one building down on the eastern time tip. "You do know it's two-thirty in the morning, right?" Ummm... no. I thought it was high noon. Really.

The Bar Tampa experience last night was interesting. Basically, the "party" was a trick of sorts, as the free beer and free cover and 2-for-1 drinks and free food from 9-11 PM actually is something available to everyone. But call it a "free party" and you get people from the same workplace to come out en masse. Not knocking Bar Tampa, it's a great place. But consider it another lesson learned.

Anyway, Casey and Scott from work and Scott's girlfriend Carrie all came out. It was a good time. I'm never around to see some of those dayside people to spread the word to them, and a disadvantage in that situation is many people I work with are married and/or out of town and/or not wanting to party in Ybor on a Friday night. But we made the most of it.

There were plenty of interesting conversations tonight. Like about the girl dancing on the bar who I commented to Scott could easily be in Playboy... and how she smiled and somehow she knew what we were talking about, whether or not she could hear what I was saying over the noise of the stereo system. Good times, for sure.

Flyers bring the puck up out from their own zone, no score, midway through the second period here in Nashville.

Carrie asked me at one point how I met girls at bars like Bar Tampa, where it's so loud you can barely hear someone talk. I explained that it was tough, but when you work overnights in a TV station and sleep all day, you kinda don't have a choice. Then a girl walked to the bar and asked me if I could whistle.

Philadelphia skates into the neutral zone, but there's a turnover, Predators have the puck. Pickney with the steal. It's a breakaway! Open in the Flyers' zone. Just him against the goalie. He looks, sets his shot... GOAL!

It's funny the opportunities working in the TV biz can land you. Even if you can't do the loud whistle trick. Securing a phone number is a good thing; having people there to witness it is even better. Especially after getting a question like "How do you meet girls at a place like this?" For once, the timing worked out ideally.

I had the chance to show the Frank "T.J." Mackey seminar from the DVD 2-disc pack of Magnolia tonight. Casey was most impressed with it. A second hint for you fellas, give that a long viewing. You might just learn something.

Going back to Scott, he created one of the most amazing video shorts I've ever seen for a class he's taking at USF. It's about commercialism and self-image and men and women, and he did an absolutely amazing job with it. Really, he needs to be editing in Hollywood (or writing or directing for the silver screen), not cutting VO's for my newscast at WTSP (though he does a damn fine job with that). But between the audio cuts and the video and the still images interspersed... it's incredible. I wish I had the capabilities to show it on here. Captivating and intellectual and well-produced. Off-the-charts kind of work. I think he and I could put together an incredible movie if we collaborated on a film project.

Tonight's plans remain a mystery. With my parents and little sister in town early next week, and my trip to Starkville booked for late next week, it'll be my last real chance to go party here for a little while. We'll see what transpires. It's Tampa, so you never know what'll happen.


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