Country Roads: Part 2 - He's a Highway Child/Gimme Gimme Shelter

After an exciting, and grueling first day I decided to take advantage of the noon check-out time for my hotel in Vegas.

I woke up around 20 after 10 in order to catch the end of breakfast in the hotel restaurant - it wasn't free but $3.50 a short stack of pancakes isn't bad. Of course when you throw on the apple juice and the side of bacon it turned into an $8 breakfast, but whatever, I need to eat.

After breakfast I went back to my room, showered, and packed up my things. My route was already planned out, I'm going to the Grand Canyon. But first, a stop for lunch at a place featured on Diner's, Drive-Ins, and Dives, "The 4 Kegs".

Guy Fieri was actually a regular customer there when he went to UNLV. I threw the coordinates into the GPS and despite the 95 degree heat, made it. I grabbed a booth next to a sort of wall of fame, where Guy had signed some pictures. I also had a good view of 2 TVs - one showing the Italy World Cup match, and the other college baseball, but with the ESPN bottom line. After weighing my options (something I really have to do when eating out), I decided to throw caution into the wind and order one of the 4 Kegs strombolis. I got the meatball one. I hoped I wouldn't regret subjecting my stomach to it.

It came and looked great. I bit into it and it was gr... friggin hot! I was eventually able to get some in my mouth and was very happy I ordered it. The crust was light and crisp and the meatballs were good. As I was eating Italy tied their match at 1 and earned a draw. After powering through half of the stromboli I was ready to depart.

Back in the car and on to the Grand Canyon! Except that I was stuck in traffic before the Hoover Dam for an hour, maybe longer as there's only 1 lane to go through the security check. To kill some time I called my mom to check in and tell her everything was good - minus the traffic and the heat.

After a long time I finally got past security and got to drive on the Hoover Dam into Arizona. From there it was pretty smooth sailing until I was stopped again on my way into Grand Canyon National Park. Not as much of an inconvenience, just wondered why the line I was on moving about 6 times slower than the other one. Then I saw the $25 access charge and cursed TJ in my head again. Regardless, I got into the park as the sun was getting ready to set. I parked by the visitor's center, grabbed my camera and headed over to the South Rim.

I took a bunch of pictures and tried to get the sunset-ting effect but the SLR kept making things brighter. So I played a little with the aperture and shutter speed, although I'm not sure I made anything better. I silently wished Manolo was around so I could ask him how to take the picture I wanted. Oh well. I suppose I should get a book of digital photography basics, or ask Julie to explain and help me learn, when I see her in London. Her photos are great and I'm not a complete moron, so she should be able to teach me.

Anyway, I got back in the car as the sun had nearly gone down, and started driving out the other side of the park. It was getting darker and darker and I began to plan where to spend the night. I also wanted to make sure that I got enough mileage in, so that I didn't set myself back on the time I predicted for the trip.

I kept driving and looking at the signs for upcoming towns. I eventually settled on Kayenta, Arizona and had the GPS navigate me to a Hampton Inn. I got out of the car and went to the front door.

Locked.
That's strange.

Oh well, there's a Holiday Inn on the otherside of the street and a little ways up. I went in and asked for a room - they were booked. The woman told me that she was pretty sure that the Hampton Inn (that I had come from) and the Best Western down the street were also fully booked. Now if I was smart I would have asked what the hell was going on that all the hotels were booked, but it was late, I was tired and now needed to drive further.

With the GPS as my guide I kept searching for a place to spend the night. By now we're approaching 1 in the morning.

Funny thing, Arizona isn't really dense with hotels so you have to drive a fairly long ways. I went to 3 or 4 more hotels, many closed for the night where I'd have to call to get someone to come back to the hotel. Plus it seemed like $99 for the night was the best deal.

So after visiting hotel number 5 or 6 since finding out that I had no place to stay, I decided to (smartly) rough it. I pulled around back of a nice looking hotel, found an empty parking space, turned the car off, set my cell phone alarm and put my hat over my eyes to get some sleep because it was now after 2am.

It wasn't the most comfortable rest and I only got a few hours (maybe 3), but now I have this story.

Country Roads: Part 1B - Yosemite Sam's a one arm bandit

Car is loaded up and all I need to do is pay to get out of the garage. It's $27 for 24 hours, I had the car parked there 30 or so, and it's $27 for a lost ticket. I've got a brilliant idea - I'll just tell the guy I lost my ticket.

Apparently, I'm not the only genius to have this idea. He tells me to pull the car up to the gate because he has to check the license. Great, I'm gonna get busted before the trip starts and all I wanted to do was save a few bucks for a slurpee on the road. Hey I don't know, maybe he couldn't find it or karma bailed me out but he let me go with a $27 payment and didn't say anything to indicate I had done something "naughty". Now that's a good sign for the trip.

Of course because I'm cliche I turned on "Highway to Hell" as I began the trip. Drove over the Bay Bridge for the first time, was surprised that they don't charge for it, figured that was another good sign and headed out towards Yosemite National Park.

I inputted "Yosemite National Park" into my GPS (a Garmin Nuvi - just so you know) and got the directions. They differed a bit from what I had copied down on Google Maps, but then again Yosemite is pretty big and just figured this was taking me to a different part of the park. Besides, it's easier to look at the little screen on the dash than it is to fumble through a notepad and read stuff.

So yeah. The GPS took me to a park on Yosemite Ave, in a residential section of Merced, CA. I tried several combinations, menus, etc. to find the big fucking NATIONAL PARK listing, but it doesn't appear to exist in the Garmin world. Fucking GPS.

It's a good thing I've hated it just about since I bought it, don't trust it, and had the written instructions, which I followed. Amazing that GPS systems cost money, Google Maps is free and only 1 of them knows how to get to one of the largest national parks in the United States.

When the GPS tapped out and read "Low Battery" after 3 hours or so, I gladly turned it off.

Got to Yosemite and was shocked that you have to pay to get in. Not only that, but it's $20. Silently cursed T.J. in my head. Got into the park and didn't really know what to look for/do - other than I'd be exiting the other side. Sort of got lost, but more like didn't really take the most efficient route, but saw some cool waterfalls and took some (hopefully) good pictures*. Also encountered one of the nastiest and smelliest restrooms/outhouses in the world. Unfortunately when you've got to pee, you've got to pee. That's why there's pocket sized hand sanitizer.

So after I had my fill of beautiful natural scenery (and forgiven T.J. in my head) I started to make my way to the other end of the park. Here's the problem. The speed limit is like 30mph (which makes sense), except that when you chart your course on Google Maps it estimates time/distance combos at around 60mph. So yeah... it was a lot later than I planned on when I got out of Yosemite.

Not a problem though, I just won't drive all the way to Vegas. I'll stop somewhere after I get my 577 miles in. (That's the number per day that I calculated to do my original route in 7 days). Besides, it's almost 10:30pm and I started driving at 10:30am.

Now here's the fun part.

After I passed by a small village with places to sleep at 540 miles or so, I was all set to spend the night in the next area listed on the road signs. Except, it was just a few gas stations.

Okay, I'll stay at the next one.

No lodging.

The next one? Gas station.

So now I'm looking at the upcoming areas signs posted on the road, it's nearly midnight, and there's just one option left.

You guessed it, Vegas.

In a way, I was sort of happy. I'd be doing an all day drive to get to Vegas, at night, and come barreling down onto the strip in all it's glory. Plus, since my original plan was to make it to Vegas on Day 1 (not a complicated feat other than getting slowed down in Yosemite by the low speed limit) - I knew of a cheap place to crash. Even had the address.

I hit the Vegas city limits and I'm looking at exit signs for Las Vegas Blvd. Can't find any. Okay, now we're having problems. Get off at one of the exits and try to find it. Not working. I momentarily thought about calling Mr. Scott back home (since he knows Vegas like I know the script to the movie "Clue") but 3am may be early even for him. So I made a desperate move. I tried to turn on my GPS.

To my surprise it worked and after some fiddling had the address entered. Of course it gave me 2 options, North Las Vegas Blvd, or South. I chose North. I followed it and didn't see the Howard Johnson. Problem. However, I did pass by a Best Western, so I back tracked it over there, crossed my fingers it wasn't more than $60 a night and went in.

$49.95 for the night. It's about 12:30-1 in the morning when I get to my room. I set everything to charge, crank the AC, plan a little of Day 2's route and get to sleep.

*A note about pictures from this trip - I'll add them at the end. I shot/shoot everything in RAW format on my SLR so will do some editing/correcting in Photoshop. (Read as: Manolo told me to do this, so I do it even though I have no idea what I'm doing).

Country Roads: Part 1a - Oh you're leaving? Not so fast.

So here we go, I'm finally going to do it. Woke up bright and early, walked up to Fisherman's Warf for the last time and went the McDonald's there, for the first time, to get my favorite breakfast, (2 sausage biscuits and a med. O.J.) Then went back to my apartment to pack the last of my bags into the car, put out a "Box O' Free" full of stuff I couldn't fit in the car and still had enough value that it'd be a shame to throw it out, and made a horrifying discovery...

The guy set to sublet my room backed out!

Yeah, so that was a shocker, although I honestly can't really blame him for panicking after I had to say, "no, please don't send the check and finalize the agreement we made because one of my roommates suddenly realized that he knows a friend of a friend of a friend of someone's dead aunt that may need a room, and it'd be much more preferable to live with someone they sorta knew but not really. So the kid bailed thinking he wouldn't get the room, and I'm fucked for a few thousand dollars. Roommate not really taking responsibility for financially fucking me over because "next time don't tell him it's a friend, just say it's another respondent so they don't panic."

Great advice. Here's some for you. 3 days before I'm set to drive cross country and just found someone to replace the last guy who bailed on taking my room, take your preferences and shove them unless you plan on financially covering me in case this shit happens.

Fortunately (sort of), the roommate I knew the least is a stand up guy and has put the room back on Craigslist and is trying to help me get it sublet so I can recoup/salvage some of the money I lost because of the blown deal.

Hey, now if that's not the way to start a week long, 4 thousand mile trip, what is?

Country Roads: Part 0

You could probably call this a prequel to my cross country adventure. I was planning on leaving today. I even scheduled 3 hours for packing on my Google Calendar.

However, it apparently takes something more like 6 hours and when you've got an 80 degree plus heat beating down on your pasty white ass, it takes even longer. So after much back and forth, constant rests and drinking a ton of water, I decided that it just wasn't worth it to kill myself and will leave tomorrow (Sunday, June 13th).

What's more though is that with all of the crap I crammed into the car, there's still so much I have to leave behind. Tomorrow I"m putting out a "Box o' Free Stuff" outside the apartment before I go. Things in it include: Guitar Hero controller (Gamespot wouldn't buy it), my 1969 Mets framed celebration print, my NY Giants rug - those last 2 I really wanted to take but I can't feasibly fit them anywhere, my Mike Piazza bobblehead, various Google schwag and my ultra comfortable bathrobe (I may be able to salvage that one).

But yeah, anyway it sucks to give up all of these things that I remember what occasion I got them for, from who and what they meant/mean to me. That's because I'm crazy and develop an instance emotional attachment to inanimate objects.

So anyway that's my story for today - not even going to get into the clusterfuck of subletting my room - going to bed now so I can wake up early and get breakfast (hopefully I'll be feeling better and able to eat) then throw some food and drink in the cooler and pack my laptop, maps and be on my way. I'm hoping to be on the road before 10:30am

First stop: Yosemite National Park

That reminds me, I should get directions.

Just your typical NYC Night

Last night I headed down to the Lower East Side to take in a show - a burlesque show - at the Slipper Room for my friend Lauren's birthday.

Accompanying me on the trip, a.k.a. giving me a ride to the train station and back home, was my friend Jenn and her boyfriend Dave. After arriving at Grand Central, which still instills me with awe every time I pass through it, we headed out to the streets towards Bryant Park where we would pick up the F downtown. At the corner of 42nd and Avenue of the Americas I sent Jenn and Dave on their way as I stepped up for my favorite of NY delicacies - the dirty water dog. A $9 "Makes Bob Happy" Meal later (for those not from around here, that's 2 dogs and a pretzel) I headed across the street, met them at the entrance to the subway, polished off the 2 dogs so I could have a hand to hold my pretzel and we were on our way. Now I had offered to share a meal with my accomplices, but Jenn mentioned that Dave doesn't eat hot dogs and if he weren't the size of a small mountain I probably would have given him shit for it. But he is, so I didn't.

We took the subway down, Jenn briefly called my sister to give her directions to the Slipper Room and we made our way to the venue. We still had time to kill before meeting everyone else and the show starting, and with Jenn and Dave both hungry, we made our way to a local pub so they could eat and I could catch up on my rapidly imploding NCAA bracket. We visited the 6th Ward. I finished off the 20oz Mountain Dew I had picked up earlier while gleefully learning that Kansas had been upset by Northern Iowa. I was also shockingly surprised to hear the Buzzcocks "Ever Fall in Love (with someone you shouldn't)" played in the bar. Fantastic saw and such a great bit of pop-culture. It's the song playing during the montage of J.D. and Elliot's first time in a relationship together on Scrubs. Season 1, episode 15, "My Bed Banter and Beyond". What can I say, I love that episode and Sarah Chalke/Dr. Elliot Reid was a major crush. She's married now, well Sarah Chalke is, but I guess Dr. Reid can still be a crush. (Note: I'll have to explain my personal rules on crushing sometime so that this makes a bit more sense).

Anyway, to the Slipper Room!

$5 cover to get in, we knew this in advance, and it's fairly nice sized space. It get's a little cramped up by the stage but there are some comfortable booths lining the outside and then there's the bar on the opposite wall. Not a huge place, but still bigger than your average bar in San Francisco. Saw some people I hadn't in a long time and caught up with them, saw some of the gang I hadn't seen since coming into town, and well you know, the usual stuff you do and conversations you have when you're with friends. Of course wished the birthday girl a happy birthday and gave her the great news that a team decked out in purple had been the ones to take down the might Kansas Jayhawks. Night continued, drank, posed for pictures, told jokes, stories and the what not.

Time to leave, back on the subway and to Grand Central. Slight mix up (in my head) with what time the train leaves - it leaves at 1:50 I thought 1:53 - so while standing on line at the hot dog cart at 1:49 I casually said to myself "I've got this" as I ordered another "Makes Bob Happy" Meal, this time with a Mountain Dew since there was no other place I could get one. Grabbed my bag and sprinted to catch the train. Made it to track 33 to see no train there. Immediately called Jenn and asked "where's the train?" she said, "it's moving." I began to protest that at 1:52 (the then current time) a 1:53 train should have already left. She set me straight on the train times and I quickly ran back to the main hall and then down another corridor to the 1:53 Harlem line train where if I could catch it and get off at the Croton Falls stop, Jenn would come get me. Fortunately, I made that train after finding a seat amongst the typical Saturday night last train back to the 'burbs drunken masses, settled in to enjoy my meal. It was good, however, not even the delicious ambrosia that is Mountain Dew could wash out the taste of guilt I had for mixing up the train times and requiring special attention like a drunk girl. Luckily Jenn is a great friend and well, I've had to take care of her on a plethora of drunken nights so I while, I'm sure an annoying way to end the evening, there were no hostilities or anything. Although I did feel like an idiot for screwing up when not even drunk.

Ah well. You've always got to come away from the night with a story.

McRib Road Trip

It's been an exhausting day, let me tell you.

My alarm woke me up at 8am because I was silly ambitious enough to believe that I could take my medication, a shower, eat breakfast, pack, catch the bus and then catch the 9:15 train. At 8:20 I packed it in realizing that wasn't going to happen. Reset the alarm for quarter to 9 and tried again.

This time I was up, showered, packed and had my pop-tart as I was on my way to the bus. The bus dropped me off at the Caltrain station with about 15 minutes to spare so I figured that was enough time to grab a donut and hot chocolate for the almost 80 ride to Sunnyvale (on weekends all trains run local and with Oregon in town to play Stanford they added an extra stop. Oh joy). Anyway I got to Happy Donut and ordered. Unfortunately, there were a few other people and only 1 woman running the counter so it took a bit longer than expected - i.e. I bought my ticket for the 10:15 train about about 10:14 and jumped on seconds before it started to pull away from the station. Great beginning to the trip.

I managed to catch a minimal amount of zzzs on the train, maybe 20 minutes, after I had finished my donut and hot chocolate. They were good, not Dunkin Donuts good, but not something to complain about. When the train finally reached Sunnyvale I jumped off and began the mile walk to my old apartment. Okay fine, it's .9miles according to Google Maps but I have to change sides of the street so I round up. I was relieved when I made it to my car, one because she was still there in one piece and two because it meant that this trip was really ready to begin. I piled my gear in, selected the first CD and promptly headed to 7-11 to get some on the road nurishment. I was really looking forward to a bear claw but they didn't have any, so I grabbed a frosted apple danish and a Revive Vitamin Water. As I explain in the video, it was a bit too early for the Mountain Dew Big Gulp. I wound up barely drinking any of the Vitamin Water as the hot chocolate just sort of kept me full.

Anyway, after packing up the snacks I programed the GPS and hit the road. I reached California's famed Highway 101 at 12:27pm. The GPS told me that I would be riding it for about 247 miles and at the time I thought nothing of it. Unbeknownst to me, that at about 55 miles out, just past Gilroy, 101 is no longer a freeway and just a two lane road. Almost like the Taconic but without the familiarity I was baffled as to how fast I could go, so I just found some cars and kept up with them.

Then the farmland came. The cows, the crops, the John Deere tractors, all of it. Some of the hills and mountains in the distance were really nice, but oh my god was it boring as hell to drive though. This of course, went on for hours. At around 2:30pm I convinced myself to pull over and stretch/get some gas (I was running at half a tank). About 10 minutes and $31 later I was back on the road. Here's where it started to get fun. When I originally set out my GPS said my arrival time would be 4:40pm. Just before I took a break I had gotten it down to 4:32pm. When I jumped back in the car it was suddenly at 4:42pm and I wasn't happy. Still a two lane road, now with some trucks and stuff so speed is anything but constant. I'm probably about 70 miles from the exit I'm supposed to take off of 101 when my GPS informs me that it's low on battery. Just fucking great. I didn't need it to tell me to keep driving 200 miles and countdown for me, but now when I'm going to need actual directions you're going to crap out on me. Brilliant. I really think I bought into the hype of those things too much. I hate it. I think all of your problems can be solved with a paper map, a navigator or an internet capable phone that can display Google Maps.

I'm getting close to the turn-off and the scenery is incredible. I'm in Pismo Beach, I discover after checking a sign or two. Unfortunately it doesn't last for ever and we're back to farm country. Finally get to make the turn-off. Signs are telling me that Santa Barbara is only another 70 miles away - I can't wait. Then I notice that the next turn I need to make is to get onto 101 South (in about 20 miles). That's the exact road I just got off of. Again, California's highway system is retarded. Also, many fewer rest stops, and small road side conveniences than you'd notice. Jersey - 1, California - 0. So I'm heading towards 101 (again) when guess what? You know it. The GPS goes black. So I know the next direction is to get on 101 S and after that I guess aim the car at the water and try not to go through any walls? I manage to get a few quick glimpses as to the next direction before the battery totally dies. This of course requires me to re-turn on the GPS, wait for it to load, accept the warning not to type or input things while driving, and then hit the map button - while driving; 3 times. I manage to wind up on a road and see a sign for a visitors information booth. Bingo I can find information there.

Except that they're charging $3 for parking and I don't know where the hell I am. So I pass it up and start driving down, what I now know, is Castillo St, right near the harbor. It's really pretty and the sun is starting to set. Well I need to find State St to get my McRib or find a place to stay for the night. (Lesson learned, plan this part in advance for all future trips). I pass by a few streets, and see a bunch of small little motels, all with bright red "No Vacancy" signs. Okay, that's a problem I'll tackle later. I finally find State St and start counting the numbers, I"m looking for 1213. I'm at 26. Great. State St. is the main drag, like you see in all of those movies - typical California. The sides are littered with shops, and restaurants, there are pedestrian crossings every half block and stupid traffic lights. Traffic goes at a snails pace. Oh, and there's no streetside parking either. Despite all of that, I finally make it to the 1200 block and spot MckieDs on my left. At the corner I make a right and follow the signs for a parking garage. I park and grab my video camera, I'm gushing with excitement and the need to pee. I exit the parking lot, cross the street and enter. There are signs, signs saying "The McRib is back!" I'm so happy, it's not in vain. As is expected the guy in front of me takes way too long to order. I wrote a pretty funny short piece about that in high school but can't seem to find a backup copy anywhere. When I'm home I'll have to look for the original paper and re-type it, because it was good. Anyway, there's some funny commentary of me on the video whispering behind him how I will kill him if he doesn't hurry up.

When it's finally my turn I excitedly tell the girl "I want the McRib meal!" She asks if I want the large and for no reason I say "yes". I pay for the food and wait for my order number to be called. I get it and sit down, anxiously awaiting to see the treatment of the McRib. It's got it's own special box! It's big, not the little McRib Jr. they tried to pass off during one of the "McRib farewell tours" years back. This thing is big. I open the buns to check - onions, pickles and sauce. We're good. I close the sandwich back up and take a bite.

Delicious. Look, I know it's probably unreasonable to say that a single food item could be worth traveling 300 miles (when I travel 3,000 back to NY it's for several food items), but it sure seemed close. I loved every bite and the possibly two minutes it took to devour. I think I wiped my mouth twice or it would have been less. After enjoying both the meal and the afterglow I returned to the counter and asked what time they closed that night. 10pm was the answer. Great. I'm in good shape. I exited and looked to tackle my next obstacle. Uhm, I have nowhere to sleep. I started walking up State St. to see if I could find some more hotels, motels, Holiday Inns. With the GPS out of commission I was sorta left to hoofing it. I walked up past the 1800 block and found one place with vacancy. It wasn't much of anything and I had set a reservation price at around $50 when I left. When I saw how Santa Barbara was laid out I figured I'd have to raise it, especially being Saturday night, but still didn't want to over pay. The guy said it was $99 for the night. For that crappy place, I couldn't do it. So now I was a bit worried as I walked back to the lighted sections of the town.

Oh yeah, aside, since I was planning on taking pictures of Santa Barbara at sunset. By 6pm it was completely black, like midnight anywhere else. And the streets are pretty poorly lit so there's no pictures of anything. What a bummer.

So as I'm heading back realizing that all the signs I've previously seen said "No Vacancy", don't have a GPS or Internet connection to help me find new places, I'm sorta fucked. Then I decide to do the unthinkable. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I went back to the car and got my laptop and GPS and charger and headed to Starbucks. I waited 10 minutes or so for a table near an outlet to open up and began charging my GPS. Oh yeah, I ordered a small "Signature Hot Chocolate" for $2.95. They called it a "tall" when they gave it to me but the think was anything but. It also wasn't that good. The medium, actual medium, hot chocolate I got at Happy Donuts for $1.64 earlier that morning was far better. Fucking pretentious Starbucks assholes. Then there's the best part. Since when did Starbucks stop giving away free Internet? I'm sure it was a while ago and I didn't get the memo because I never got there, but now I really have no reason to ever again. So my laptop is useless and I'm waiting for my GPS to charge but that only helps if you pick a specific location it can get you there. I needed Google Maps.

I won't say Verizon to the rescue because I was able to use my phone inspite of them, but it was a saving grace. Note to self, upgrade to Android phone as soon as possible so that I can use the internet when I'm in a bind. Anyway, I wrote down the names of some hotels and played some Elite Beat Agents while waiting for the GPS to charge. Still couldn't beat the last level. GPS is charged, the crappy hot chocolate is done and I'm done laughing at everyone at Starbucks so I'm out.

Into the car I program the hotel. Holiday Inn Express sounds good. If I'm going to have to pay more than I wanted, I better get a name I trust. Of course the GPS tells me to go the wrong way on a way one street and then I somehow pass it, which then renders the GPS useless because if you pass the destination it thinks you, I have no idea what the fuck it thinks, but it doesn't show you how to get back there if you miss it. Helpful.

So driving around Santa Barbara is like driving around those little towns on the Jersey Shore. No lights, small signs and one ways going the way you don't want them to go. I wind up lost I think a town or two over. Great. Pick a new hotel so that the GPS is no longer useless. Days Inn. Should be affordable. After some fighting I convince the GPS that I can't drive through a gate onto a private road and we find away around. I reach the Days Inn to find no vacancy. But at least now I know how to get to Castillo, that main strip. I find a place with vacancy and park the car. But rather than go in, I head a few blocks up to show around. Pass another with vacancy to find a third. So I figure I'll work my way backwards. That third place has a 2 queen available for $149. And now I'm realizing I'm screwed again. Head back to place #2 which now suddenly has "No Vacancy". Great. Head back to where I left the car, still don't go in because I decide I'm going to play with fire. I head to State St. A few blocks up I come across a small hotel whose name I recognized from Google Maps. The guy tells me it's $69 a night plus tax. I walk out and head half way up the street to see if I see anything else. At this point it's around quarter after 9 and McDonalds closes at 10. I quickly dart back in and take the room. Then I run back to the car and drive to McDonalds. Stash it on a side street and make my order - 2 McRibs and a medium Sprite.

Side note - this McDonalds was really weird. Aside from having the McRib, all size drinks are $1 and Big Macs are $1.50.

Anyway, I collect my order and run back to the car. Hop in, pull a U-ie and head back to the hotel. Grab all my backs run up to the room and scarf two 2 more McRibs, both delicious. Now I'm exhausted, I've written this to be posted when I get back home and have an Internet connection and I'm going to call it a day/night.

Although I'm not really looking forward to the ride back. Oh well. All in all, I think this will be a great story.

My apology to the Gay Community

I don't like strip clubs. I'm not a fan of strippers. I have my reasons, but I'll just say that it's the lack of commitment to one value set or another - either you are or you aren't - that bothers me about the profession. Anyway, not important.

Many of my friends do not share my view, which is fine, and as most bachelor parties do, my friend's involved a trip to a strip club. Side Note: Even in Vegas, don't go to a strip club on a Sunday night. The B squad is in.

I'm not one to pull a Mike and flake out on my friends, so I planned to just suck it up for the night and go hang out with my friends. We got to the strip club, I don't know, around midnight maybe midnight-30 and it wasn't very full. We sit down not too far from the "stage" and are descended upon by 4 or 5 girls. Fortunately one was taking drink orders and I decided to keep the vodka flowing for the rest of the night. Additionally, I had something else going in my favor - my look. I wasn't the happy to be there guy, Scott had that taken care of - boom, girl goes to him. I wasn't the shy, nervous looking guy, poor Tim never had a minute alone - boom boom boom let me her ya say way oh, girl goes to him. I wasn't the "he's cute and if I wasn't a stripper and he wasn't paying to see me take my clothes off, I think I'd ask for his number" guy, Brandon's your man for that - boom girl goes to him, possibly questioning her career choice as she does.

That gave me a few minutes to hang out and talk to Scott's brother Graig and enjoy my drink. However, I knew that it was only a matter of time before I was no longer safe. Either a new shift would start, or one of the other parties would stop tipping well or I'd accidentally look like I was interested. I needed a long term plan.

Eventually the time came. She asked me to scoot over and I did, because my mommy raised me to be a gentleman, even to strippers and told me that she'd take good care of me tonight. I had this idea in the back of my head and decided to just go with it.

"Thanks, I really appreciate the attention...but I'm gay."

She pulled a 3 point turn and tried to pass it off like she was talking about Scott but after I told her he was doing alright for now she was gone.

And not a single stripper came and talked to me for the rest of the night. It was wonderful. I got to keep my eyes wandering when a decent looking girl passed by, and I got to enjoy drinking and talking with my friends.

My cover worked a little too well, in that I had to keep the lie up so during a conversation with some guys nearby I had to decline accepting an offer to get up close and friendly with a girl, due to my faux homosexuality, which resulted in the guy we were talking to commenting that if I "liked white guys" I should email him when I got back to San Francisco because he had some friends.

Needless to say, will not be emailing him.

But my idea worked out better than I had hoped and I actually had an enjoyable night. In typical fashion of course, my friend's presented me with an 'It's Okay to be Gay' card the following night at the Hard Rock Cafe after requesting The Village People's classic "YMCA". Gotta love friend's like that.

Sorry got a little sidetracked. Anyway, to the heart of the matter. I, honestly and do sincerely apologize to the gay and lesbian community for pretending to be such just to avoid prolonged contact with strippers. I mean no harm nor disrespect and it is my hope that you will accept my heartfelt apology... and also allow me to continue to pretend to be gay in these situations. As a token of thanks, I will continue to support musical theater, the right to gay marriage and will not judge the homosexual experimentation of college frat boys.

Thank you.

Quick thoughts about my family

I survived just about a full month at home with my family. It wasn't always easy. Okay, so maybe if my mom wasn't heavily sedated and unconscious for a week and a half I wouldn't have made it, but that point is we all came out of it for the better. My mom is doing better and hopefully realizes that she needs to make some changes to how she's taking care of herself; my sister possibly learned to loosen up a little bit and be a little bit nicer to people when she's in charge and me well I developed a love for the show NCIS, thanks to my mom and sister.

Between the three of us we watch a lot of crime/murder/police - drama/mystery/comedy shows. We've got our bases covered with all branches and specialties from street level detectives (Law&Order, Homicide, Monk), forensics and anthropology (CSI and Bones), interrogation and people reading (the Closer, Lie to Me), psychics and photographic memory (the Mentalist and Psych) and just about everything in between. While I was looking after my mom one afternoon she fell asleep (thanks to the meds) and left me sitting on the bed watching the story of the Zodiac.

We're sort of a weird family like that, but I think that each of us is siliently hoping that we are within the close proximity to a crime so that we can spring into action and solve it - like a bad NBC TV show. So you've been forwarned; if you're going to commit a crime of any kind you best do it far away from me and my family. Or else we'll investigate, tie you to the evidence, establish a solid motive and even write the prosecutions opening arguements before they put you away.

Oh, and don't try any of that "mommy never loved me" or twinkie defense bullshit. We've seen it all before.

Infomercials in Heaven

Despite my mom's warning for my own safety, I have gone ahead and posted some of the gems I came up with immediately after hearing about the death of Billy Mays. My only hope, that God doesn't owe Billy a favor or else I'll be smite-ed.

Joke the first: Billy Mays died today. According to Al-Jazeera the Sham-Wow guy is claiming responsibility.

#2: Are your angel wings grey and dusty? Now you can get them as white as the light at the end of the tunnel with Oxi-clean!

#3: Everyone is going nuts over those delicious mini burgers. From Elvis to Ghandi, everyone agrees that they are heavenly. Now you can prepare them quickly and easily with the Big City Slider maker. They're so tasty you'll think you were on cloud 9 with Farrah Fawcett.

#4: Death of a Salesman, starring Billy Mays

#5: (less of a joke and more of a skit) Billy Mays doing "high end" infomercials in heaven. All I have so far is Ed McMahon voice over "Heeeeeere's Billy!" and Billy Mays asking the rhetorical question, "I think this may be the best product ever", while Ed replies "Hii-oooh! You are correct, sir."

Operation Vegas

In order to get into the Vegas Bachelor party spirit, some friends planned to go and see the movie, "The Hangover" tonight. Since I've been in town to take care of my mom, I was able to join them.

The movie was hilarious, but I'm not going to write a review about it. Chances are if you're interested in seeing it, you will or you won't independent of my words. But if you're a guy you should see it.

Anyway, early in the movie we started assigning character roles. It's a common practice for our group. We did it with the show How I Met Your Mother after Scott and I previewed it and gave CBS the go ahead to put it on the air - coincidentally, when we were in Vegas.

Now I'm not ashamed to admit it, I'm not the best looking of the guys, so I wouldn't be Phil (Bradley Cooper's character), I'm not the one getting married, so I'm not Doug, and I'm not dating/engaged to a horrible shrew of a women so I'm not Stu (Ed Helm's character). Which means, although I'm not fat, and since I am the only one who can grow a red beard, I've been designated as Alan (Zach Galifianakis character).

So we're three weeks out from our massive Vegas party, so no more shaving if I want to pull of this look. It's going to be a great time. At last count I believe we had around 15 people going. So I've only got 1 question for you...

Are you ready to let the dogs out?

The space that's in between insane and insecure

I just touched down in Phoenix, I have a three hour lay-over before my flight leaves for JFK. I'll get in at 5:11am tomorrow, June 7th, Mike's birthday. The irony isn't lost on me and it's got me worried. It's safe to say that I'm not in a good emotional state. I'm bouncing back and forth from sadness, to rage and everywhere in between. I'm in that state where I honestly believe that if I got into a fight with anyone, anyone, I'd kill them and think nothing of it.

My iPod is doing a fair job of keeping me in check, but when I heard "Let it be" I was on the verge of losing it in tears. I put my sunglasses on and hid my head from the other passengers on the plane. Then I'd get a song like "Badwitadaba" and just wanted to stand toe to toe with some sort of physical manifestation of what's put my mom in this condition and obliterate it. I started thinking about the new game Dante's Inferno that EA is releasing and showed off at E3. The main character is fighting his way through the 8 circles of hell using a scythe, the one he took from the Grim Reaper. I remember hearing that from the developers and it instantly gave the character badass credit. What happened?, he died, the Reaper came for him, he punched him in the face, took his scythe and then decided he was going to fuck up hell? That's basically what I've been feeling on and off.

I had to skip "Stairway to Heaven" when it came on. Not a good sign right now.

I'm just writing this to stop myself from going insane. Sorry you've had to come along for the ride.

Cigarettes are cool

My mom's been smoking since she was about 12 and she's never gotten any cool merchandise like a leather jacket or even a lighter. She's never gotten lung cancer like her best friend. All my mom's ever gotten from cigarettes are a few minutes of "relaxation" per day, asthma, chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder, chronic bronchitis and an inability to breathe when the air gets cold, or she gets a cold or she gets the flu or if there's too many allergens in the air.

My sister called me from NY today to tell me that my mom's in the ICU - she couldn't breathe again. They ran some tests and she has some Type-A level flu, they had to send out the samples to find out exactly which strain but swine flu isn't out of the question at this point. She's a city school teacher after all and while not attempting to be racist, (so if you're going to call me one f off), low income, uneducated people aren't the best at hygiene. I'm not looking to point fingers in that direction, I'm just saying, there's not much we can do to insulate her from that. The fact that her immune system is already shot to hell is where my anger starts.

The last time I spoke with my sister, about 15 minutes ago (3:30am east coast time) my mom was still "laboring to breathe on her own". A five dollar phrase that just means at this point her body can't perform the simple and basic function of taking in oxygen on its own, so they've had to intubate her.

I want someone to blame, I need someone to yell at that this is happening...again. I want to yell at her, blame her for not quitting any of the times my sister and I have pleaded with her to. For not sticking with it after kicking the habit for a few weeks or a month. I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake the shit out of her and cry and scream and ask her why the hell she has to be the most stubborn person I've ever met. But she doesn't respond to that.

Of all the things I've learned in my life and possibly ever will learn, how to get through to my mom isn't one of them. We're 165 degree opposites. We can't be 180 because that would be too simple, just do the exact opposite. We're off in two separate worlds that have few intersections and their mostly trivial and superficial.

I don't know how to get her to stop and I lazily keep thinking and hoping that each successive hospital visit will do the trick. She comes back and says all the right things, like she were A-Rod, but it doesn't last. I need to get through to her because you can't go to the hospital 4-5 times a year, every year, unable to breathe. It's a numbers game, eventually it'll catch up to you, like it did for my grandmother and she took much better care of herself. She was the toughest woman we've ever known and one stupid time things didn't go right. That's all it takes.

This is one of my favorite shirts (that's not me wearing it though - I have a Coach bag). I bought it almost for the sole purpose of pissing my mom off. I told her I bought it because of her. I think I need to send her one of her own.

Safeco Field

One thing I forgot to mention about how Friday started off was that I went online and found a ticket for Saturday's Giants vs. Mariners game so that I could go to the game with Mike and Matt. There, now that that potential plot hole has been filled we can move on.

The three of us spent most of Saturday afternoon at a cookout at one of Matt's friends, drinking beer, eating delicious ribs and mingling. It was a really relaxing afternoon, and fortunately I was able to bum some sunscreen, off of our gracious hosts, so that my burning was kept to a minimum. After a quick stop back at Matt's apartment to change (I've learned my lesson from night games at AT&T Park) we set out on foot to Safeco Field.

The walk wasn't too long and was really interesting to see the local area. As we came up on the stadium Matt mentioned that there were plenty of vendors outside of the stadium selling discount snacks (sort of like the $1 Hot Dog guy who used to be outside of the old Yankee stadium). After we got inside the stadium we started walking towards our seats but stopped above the the bullpens to watch the starters warm up.

We wound up staying in that spot for the first couple of innings and I made friends with the guy next to me, who came down from Tacoma (I think) with a large group to celebrate someone's sister's birthday. Okay, so I don't remember the guy's life story - sue me. He was an okay guy. Obviously a "west coast fan" like my roommate because he had a new question just about every two seconds, but he was cordial about it so it didn't take up all of my patience. He was on my right. To the left of our group was a group of Giants fans who made the trip from SF, one guy in particular it seemed for the sole purpose of heckling the Giants left fielder, Fred Lewis. This guy was riding Lewis the whole time, calling him "Fresno Fred" (a referrence to the Giants Triple-A team) and even yelling to the bullpen coach who would throw with Fred in between innings that he should be playing left instead of Lewis. Here's former Met great Endy Chavez. Around the fifth inning or so we headed to our seats in the centerfield bleachers. The game had been action anemic to that point, with the Mariners holding a 1-0 lead, despite Giants pitcher Matt Cain pitching well and being in command. Mike and I went to get burgers that Matt recommended and the Giants loaded the bases. However, with some great defensive plays by third baseman Adrian Beltre (if only the guy could hit consistantly), the M's got out if it. Mike and returned with our burgers and the three of us lamented the sports interest of the Seattle faithful as demonstrated by their over exuberance at doing the wave during key moments of the 7th inning. By the way, according to legend or what-not, the wave was actually created in Seattle on the University of Washington campus during a football game against Princeton in the early 1900s. And West Coast "fans" have been more interested in it than actual sports ever since.

In the 8th the Giants started a rallying and putting runs on the board. As soon as the Mariners gave up the lead you could hear the "Let's Go Giants!" chant throughout the stadium. Totally embarassing considering that Giants fans aren't exactly the most supportive. Case in point - a week prior I almost single handedly drowned them out with my rally towel as the Mets rallied to beat them in San Francisco. Yet, here were road Giants fans drowning out Mariner fans in their home. Just pathetic. That sort of shit doesn't happen on the East Coast. The Giants broke it open with a 3 RBI double by Emmanuel Burris (I think) to take a 5-1 lead. Then, just to put the icing on the cake - you guessed it, a 2 run Home Run by (Fresno) Fred Lewis. In our ironic excitement we jumped up and down celebrating and looked over towards our friends in left field. It looked like they had forgiven Fred.

The Giants won the game and we headed back to Matt's apartment to take it easy for the night, since most of the day had been spent drinking. One interesting note though - on the way back we did get to see a guy arrested by Seattle's finest. He was obviously drunk off his rocker and swore that he wasn't armed, that it was only the officer who had a weapon on him, but seemed relatively harmless. Not to start trouble or anything, but let's just say that he wasn't of the complexion you'd see at the Yacht Club or on many private golf courses. I mention this, one because it's still a bit sad to see and two because it's really funny when you look at it in non-pc terms and are amazed when 2 different squad cars and 1 un-marked come out of nowhere within 2 minutes to take down someone who isn't a big deal.

Oh well, it was a good day.

'Scuse me, while I kiss this guy

I flew to Seattle tonight (writing this as if it isn't 2am Friday morning) and was seated next to, possibly, the worst passenger I've ever been seated next to. Midway through the flight, as we're flying over nothing spectacular this guy leans almost completely over me to take a picture of said nothing spectacularness. His elbow was literally more than midway across my tray table as I was trying to play Elite Beat Agents on my Nintendo DS.

Of course it got more frustrating when we actually got near Seattle. He then had to lean across to look out the window. This forced me into an uncomfortable position of having to turn my neck as far to the left as possible and hold it there during our decent because even looking straight in front of me would have resulted in my first man kiss - he wasn't my type. After enduring both a painful and awkward 20 minutes or so (because at no point did the thought, "hey, maybe I'm invading this guys personal space like" seem to cross his mind) we finally landed and I was free.

Going off exploring tomorrow and with any luck will remain man kiss free.

Okay, this is a problem

Part of losing your job is losing your health insurance, obvious. Not a big deal, my benefits lasted until the end of April and after getting accepted to school I got information on affordable student plans since COBRA is so expensive it's laughable. Anyway, the brochure that came with my acceptance packet outlined a bunch of cheap plans and while I was looking over which ones may work best for me I stumbled across a footnote/requirement which basically said "no plan for you" because of my Crohns. Eh, okay not a big deal because these were cheap plans geared towards students, from some company I've never heard of, that really doesn't cover more than skinned knees and cold pills.

So after that I went to the website the school suggested (if you weren't satisfied with the plans in the packet) and looked into some plans from bigger companies. I eventually decided on a PPO plan from Anthem Blue Cross, which was about 1/3 of the price of the COBRA per month, and applied. I got some updates on my application status and it just kept saying that an underwriter was looking it over. I figured the guy was on vacation or something since it was taking so long and all he had to do was hit "Yes".

I mean, it's really that simple. I was diagnosed with Crohn's just about 10 years ago. Since then, counting the time of my original diagnosis I've had 2 flare-ups. I typically see a doctor every 3 - 9 months, mostly for prescription refills and updated blood tests. No surgeries, no crazy procedures, and I haven't even needed Remicade or any other sort of IV treatment for something like 4 years. I think it'd be fair to say that most of the time, I've got this under control.

My application was declined, rejected even.

My mom is going to freak. I'm not going to say she's overprotective or overbearing, I know she's just a concerned parent and cares about me. But she's a little much to deal with when it comes to my condition. Factor in that I'm 3,000 miles away and you can see why I'm not looking forward to telling her.

Me: "Hi Mom. Good news, I'm feeling great." (or Great news, I'm feeling good)
My mom: "That's good, I'm so glad to hear that. So did you find out about health insurance for school?"
Me: "Sure did mom! My application got declined. And the bad news is, 'Crohn's disease' means the same as 'Bubonic Plague' to insurance companies and no one will give me coverage. The good news is, I suddenly have an opinion on health care reform!"
My mom: Any one of the following reactions, or a combination of all 3
1) faint/hyperventilate
2) panic and start wondering out loud frantically "what are we going to do?, what are we going to do?"
3) yell at me for losing my job

Honestly, I'd prefer #3 because then at least she's yelling at me instead of worry about me. But even if she did yell at me or start a fight I know that right afterwards she'd go into mom-mode and start worrying and that's the worst feeling. And this close to Mother's day, oye, what a great gift. Here you go mom, aggita.

Fortunately Crohn's people are a pretty eager to help bunch and I've got some leads on cheap prescription methods and stuff. Lots of people said that their doctor was good about hooking them up, which makes me wish I was in NY because my doc there was a great guy who I'm sure would be able to figure something out.

Unfortunately, I've seen just as many posts from people who said they don't/didn't have insurance for long periods of time (because no one will give us any) and were just fortunate not to get "sick". There's zero chance of my mom going for that and even though I'm 26 and can make my own decisions, I'm not putting my mom in a state of perpetual panic over my health (when I'm already healthy).

Besides, let's be serious, me be okay off of medication for the 2 years in between jobs while I attend school? It ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son.

So I need to do something. I wonder if David Garrard knows what to do. Although I bet he's covered by the NFL's insurance plan. Man, I've got a lot of stuff to read over.

Grand Theft Auto: Port Chester

(Originally written June 2006)

Warning - This post is rated A for Adult. No persons under 21 authorized to read it without parental approval.

The night started off the same as pretty much all others - Everybody's Favorite DD rolls up to one of the hottest spots in town with a pair of beautiful girls in toe - except there was something off this time, a slight change in the usual pattern (and I'm not talking about the fact that I finally looked as good as the girls I walked in with) We arrived at the same time as a member of the Port Chester Police Department and I walked in with a cop at my back. There were no problems, no issues requiring police assistance at the time, his presence, simply foreshadowing. Had we known we would have asked him to stick around.

And so the night progressed without any thoughts of the Po-Po, or discussions on how municipal tax revenue should be spent to ensure a stronger police presence. After all, it was a birthday celebration and celebrate we must, and we did. I even indulged in my first beer since January, remarking after tasting the first bit of malted hops, "Once it hits your lips.... it's soo good". Clearly I had made the right decision in ordering a Samuel Adams (Samuel Jackson was not available) The beer was drank with all of the enthusiasm of a 17 year old, and it filled me with sadness when the bottle run empty. So I had another round... because no one should be sad at a birthday party.

As the night progressed the party thinned out, as would be expected. Eventually I was left solely in the company of quite possibly the two singularly most attractive women in a 20 mile radius. 1 with light brown hair, 1 darker brown, 1 with short hair, 1 with long; well you get the point, if you are a guy you wish you were me at this point. (But you're not so nah )

So we made our exit amidst the light rain which had begun to fall during our festivities. When we reached our intended destination, a covered parking garage where the black chariot awaited to transport us home we came upon a grocery store shopping cart. Now it being late/early depending on your preferred way of looking at the clock an abandoned shopping cart is like a veritable gold mine to a drunk person, much the same that an oversized cardboard box can provide endless hours of amusement to a small child.

We stopped and played around, taking silly pictures, pushing the shopping cart, harmless activities that would amuse those who are slightly intoxicated. It should be mentioned that the writer of this story was at no point during the night inebriated or above the legal limit for alcohol consumption by a midget and therefore can verify that all of events hence forth are indeed true regardless of their almost outlandish-ness.

It was after a good deal of innocent goofing off (about 20 minutes or so worth) that we encountered the two yutes.

Uh, Mr. Gambini - did you say "yutes" (My Cousin Vinny)

Sorry, the two YOUTHS who were no more than 15 years in age, entered the parking garage. Now parking garages are no place for 15 year olds to be hanging out, let alone after 2 in the morning but then again it's no place of mine to approach them and ask just what in the hell they're doing up so late. Anyway, the two seperate parties (us and them) remained happily segregated with no interaction save for the ability to overhear each other's conversations. Obviously they got the better end of the deal getting to listen in a 3-way discussion with 2 drunk girls while I had to settle for some pre-pubescent angst about how some guy was going to shoot them. Yeah, whatever kids get lost, can't you see I've got 2 hotties here with me on the curb? Shoo, shoo!

Unfortunately they seemed very comfortable in their surroundings and showed no signs of leaving and by now it was getting late (er) and so we decided that perhaps we should complete our 20 foot odyssey to the car. We opened the doors and got in, strapped in and began to turn the key when we heard something - something like a pop or a bang. The natural reaction, look in the direction of the sound.

Ok, located it. On the far side of the parking garage (about 250 feet in front on about a 45 degree angle from my driver's seat) I saw a man walking in to the parking garage. Well that doesn't make sense, I heard a sound like a pop and there's this man just standing there, walking, and carrying something.

Pop

A small star shaped burst of light from where the man's outstretched arm was.

Me thinking: Wait a second... is that what I ....(this thought was never actually finished because my brain quickly replaced it with the following) GET THE F' OUT OF THERE!!

"Put the keys to ignition

Step on the gas and be shiftin

Get the f*ck out of there,

or your ass will be wishin

Peeling out towards Route 1,

I'm so glad I'm not drunk

it's the freakin weekend baby

this ain't what I would call fun"

The first red light presented a conundrum - do I run it and risk having a cop pull me over, where I can explain to him what just happened, or do I abide by the rules and risk the situation that the guy with the gun (or any of the no less than 3 others we saw in the area at the time of the shooting) followed the only "witnesses". So i stopped at the red light and checked the rear view for the first time since we left the parking garage. 1 car coming up behind us, moving over to the left side Light changes green, no guns pulled, floor it - I'm not taking any chances

Make it to the Taconic parkway, ok i suppose that means we're safe. Unfortunately the whole ordeal definitely affected my driving, I had a temporary case of what I believe psychologist call a "Tupac Complex" where a driver fears other cars pulling up along side of them. At present the condition seems to have disappeared.

While driving the three of us made sure to cover all of the bases: 1) We reported "shots fired" to the local authorities, 2) we called or text messaged everyone in our phone books (sometimes twice) to let them know what happened and that we were alright 3) re-told the story to ourselves as if we hadn't just been there, at least half a dozen times 4) acknowledged that we all now have legitimate street cred as a result of this situation 5) created a series of 3-4 events that could be used against us in a game of "Never Have I Ever" including, but not limited to: "Never Have I Ever Been Shot at"6) added the additional title of "Everyone's Favorite Getaway Driver" to my list of titles/accomplishments and finally 7) decided that this type of traumatic event called for the dinner.

Once at the dinner we began to calm down and regain our composure, joking about the incident in a way that superficially covered the sheer uncomfortableness of the fact that we three now have a "hey, remember the time we were shot at?" story to tell. From there began the painstaking process of trying to explain to our waiter that yes, although it was around 4 in the morning at the diner our stories were much more legitimate than those drunken tales he had heard before.

"No really, I'm not kidding you. We were shot at!"

"You want the eggs scrambled?"

"Yes"

And from there the rest of the night played out the way you would expect. Everyone's Favorite DD/Getaway Driver successfully returned the hotties to their homes, sans gun shot wounds, and returned to his home,

Well, we all have our stories. (Swingers)

Current Music: "Crossfire" Stevie Ray Vaughn - not really