Unspoken Male Telepathy

Connection

[kuh-nek-shuhn]

-noun
1. anything that connects; connecting part; link; bond.
2. a circle of friends or associates or a member of such circle.
3. contextual relation; context, as of a word.
4. that of the psychic kind.

Whether you believe in #4 or not, most of us have felt a deeper connection to one thing or another at some point in our lives.  It can be in the form of finishing a loved one's sentences, a sense of nostalgia from a favorite childhood toy or photograph, or having a friend who you don't see for years at a time but can pick up with right where you left off on the few occasions when you do.  To a large extent our lives are defined by the connections we make, keep, and carry with us throughout.  The hard parts are 1) knowing which ones are nightmares in disguise that need to be severed and 2) having the strength to reach out and reconnect the bridges we shouldn't have burned.  Fortunately, our good connections are there to help us with the former, and I don't think it's ever too late to reach out in regards to the latter.

Anyway, my day to EDM on 6/26/10 was spent in Kansas City, MO with a group of guys for a bachelor party.  Of the friends I've stayed close with since high school, the groom is the last to get married.  My connections with the rest of the guys were established at varying times and have developed to varying levels, but we all came together and had a pretty sweet day.

The plan was to catch the Royals-Cardinals game in KC that day and head to the Power and Light District for some entertainment that night.  Pretty tame as your average bachelor party goes, but we're not exactly 25 anymore.

Most of the guys live in Des Moines, IA, so all but 2 of us made the drive and stayed there the night before so we could get an early start toward Kansas City in the morning.  We bunked at a few guys houses that night, got up early the next morning, piled into a couple of vehicles and were on our way.

For breakfast we just hit McDonalds on our way out of Des Moines and ate in the cars.  Nothing special, but for someone that only eats McDonalds/Hardees/Wendys/etc about 3 times a year it was a treat.  Something about it always takes me back to a simpler time when my biggest decision every week was choosing between which Saturday cartoons to watch on which channels because there was always multiple good ones on at the same time...yeah, it's pretty much just like this:



The next couple of hours were pretty standard.  It's a pretty boring drive so I pulled out my computer and worked a bit on the blog.  Slightly anti-social, I know, but the other three guys in the car didn't have any trouble carrying on a conversation without me, and they were the same guys I rode with to Des Moines the night before so I figured I could get a bit of work done without looking like too much of a jack-ass.  At least not more than normal.

We stopped at a gas station just before the Missouri border for a pit stop and got back on the road for the last hour or so of the drive.  Too boring?  Sorry, but it sets up the next leg of the story.

We stopped at another gas station just outside of KC after an hour more of driving.  One of the guys needed to hit an ATM for some cash, and another "pit stop" was in order for those of us that didn't take advantage of the last one.  While we were taking care of our bathroom business, the guy needing the ATM realized he was going to have a hard time getting cash.  Not because the ATM was broke, but because his money clip was gone.  No ATM card, no credit cards, no cash, but most importantly to the trip no ID.  Credit cards can be canceled, cash can be borrowed, but getting into any bar that night without an ID was going to be tough.

He knew he had it at the previous stop so he found the number for that gas station (gotta love the internet) and gave them a call.  The amazing thing was that someone found it, turned it in, and nothing was missing from it.  The only problem now was that we had to go back and get it, and we were already running a bit late for the game as it was.  Long story short, there is now officially a second Saint Chad (I'm just as surprised as you - there is actually already a St. Chad).  He wasn't going to the game so he volunteered to drive back to get the clip during the game and meet up with us at the hotel afterward.  A pain in the ass for him, but a trip saver for most of the rest of us.

Disaster averted, we made it to the hotel and met up with the last of our crew, got checked in, and headed off to the game.  It was my first time to Kauffman Stadium.  A bit on the smaller side as major league ballparks go (25th out of 29 when it comes to maximum capacity), but a nice place to see a game anyway.  Freeway access to the area wasn't terribly cluttered, parking was free, and the walk from the parking lot wasn't too bad either.  Our seats were a ways up the upper deck, but not bad at all as they gave us a great bird's eye view of the field.

 ...and apparently a nice view of the back of some guy's head

The food and drink were about what you would expect at a major league baseball game.  Most snacks and beverages were a bit overpriced, but I was still able to find a few deals.  For starters, 32oz of domestic beer was only $7.  Figure you're going to pay $3-$4 for a 16oz pint in a bar, so that really isn't too bad.  We got to our level of the stadium and I didn't waste any time buying a beer for myself and one for the bachelor.

Did I mention it was hot in KC that day?  Well it was friggin' hot, like over 100 degrees with the heat index hot.  So hot that the 32oz beers went down pretty quick.  I started getting a bottle of water with each beer to keep myself hydrated and that's when things started getting expensive.  32oz of beer for just $7, but just 16oz of water for $5?  Funky, whacked-out ballpark math.  Oh well, I was at a baseball game so I had to have a few beers, and it was over 100 degrees so I had to have water.  Nature of the beast, I guess.

While those 32oz mega beers were around every corner, I had to do a bit more searching for decently priced food.  I finally found what I was looking for.  It came in the form of a half pound (I'm estimating, but it was at least a half pound) foot-long brat, cooked to perfection and topped with a healthy heap of kraut and onions.  Again, just $7.  I got that right around the fourth inning and was good on food for the rest of the game.

That was about it.  What else are you going to do at a ballgame?  1) Get a beer, 2) go back to your seat, 3) drink the beer, 4) go back to step one and repeat...not that I have any problem with that.  The Cardinals won the game 5-3 which didn't make me too happy (not because I'm any kind of KC fan, I just hate the Cardinals...aaah, one of my fondest baseball memories is still sitting in the right field bleachers at Wrigley and informing then Cardinals' right fielder Chris Duncan that the had excessive sweat around his buttock region...obnoxiously - I believe the word "swamp" was in my description...and repeatedly), but it was great to spend the afternoon with a big group of guys in a ballpark.  Most importantly, the bachelor seemed to be having a pretty good start to the day.

The A/C in the car ride back to the hotel was heaven.  Had it not been working we may have had to kill the vehicles owner.  We got back to the hotel pretty quick, but had a hard time getting up to our rooms.  There was an elevator heading up to the guest rooms from the parking ramp and we waited for it for what seemed like forever. We finally realized that hitting the "up" button didn't do much of anything and you had to hit the "down" button to get on.  When it finally arrived, the two lovely young ladies who were waiting in front of us got on and proceeded to let the doors shut before any of us could get on (more on them later).

Sick of waiting I decided to take the stairs down 3 flights to main floor so I could catch the main elevator in the lobby.  I changed my mind when I got in the stairwell and proceeded to run up to our floor (because going up 14 flights didn't seem all that bad of an idea at the time...stinkin', cheep 32oz beers, always clouding my judgment).  I finally made it to the 18th floor, walked through the door and into the hallway, made it down to our rooms and collapsed on the floor.

I would have collapsed in one of our rooms, but all the locks got reset and nobody's key was working (apparently some mix-up because all the rooms were under one name, but the first guy who arrived separately checked in under another).  They guy who's name the rooms were originally reserved under finally showed up with a new set of room keys, I got a much needed shower, and all was right with the world...or at least it was until I got the update on the two elevator nazis that wouldn't let us on the elevator in the parking ramp.

The guys that stayed and waited for the elevator after I decided to give myself a heart attack running up the stairs eventually went down the stairs to catch the main elevator in the lobby.  As they approached the lobby elevators they saw the same two girls getting on another elevator.  The girls, misjudging how well sound traveled in the lobby (it was like an amphitheater in there), said something along the lines of oh, here comes those stinky guys and got on another elevator.  Really?  Huh.  So the first thing I learned that day is that guys start to stink after they've sat for 3 hours in 100 degree heat.  No shit?

As we all took our turns getting cleaned up we started collecting at the bar in the lobby.  At the time just about everyone else had arrived I stumbled on my second learning point of the day: before you're going to walk up behind a guy and jokingly jab a finger in his ribs you had better make sure he is who you think he is.  As I headed to the bar for a beer I saw what I thought was 2 guys in our group facing the bar to order a drink.  I jabbed a finger in the first guy's ribs and then the second.  I got the reaction I expected out of the first guy, but the second guy didn't hesitate to let me know he wasn't who I thought he was.  Ummmm, whoops?  He wasn't upset, but he wasn't too happy about it either.  He got his drink and made a B-line for anywhere I wasn't.

Oh well, my jack-ass moment for the day was done.  For a couple other guys in our group, however, theirs were just beginning.  Just after my incident we realized that those two guys were wearing pretty much exactly the same thing:

1. Long sleeved, button down, collard Polo shirt with thin vertical stripes alternating white and one other color (same exact shirt, just different color).  They even both had the little emblem with the little dude riding the horse.
2. Blue jeans.
3. Converse All-Star shoes (exactly the same style, just different color).

What made it even better was that the color of the shoes and shirts were bright and relatively bold; green, pink, orange, and purple.  One guy finally decided to tuck in his shirt just so they looked at least somewhat different.  I don't remember which guy was wearing which colors, but this crude artist's rendering should give you the idea:

So, the third thing I learned that day was that there really is such a thing as unspoken male telepathy.  I did a bit of research online and and found further proof, as documented in the first minute of this clip from the short lived but very cheeky British comedy, Spaced (sorry, couldn't embed it...you'll have to use this link to get over to it): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7sqSQ5Vu8vM

If you're curious, we stayed at the Crown Plaza in downtown KC.  The room key and parking lot elevator issues were a little ridiculous, but were the only real problems I had with it.  We crammed 4 or so to a room which made it a bit crowded, but they were nice enough, and we weren't in them long enough to get too claustrophobic.  Anyway, we didn't stay there for the size of the rooms, we stayed there mainly for its proximity to the Power and Light District. 

I had never been to the PLD before, but I'll make it a point to go back.  There is a bit of a dress code, but other than that it is a really nice set-up.  In the area we went to (the area on this map where it says Live Stage), you flash your ID to get in and that's it.  You're in for the night and have the option of moving between a bunch of bars and restaurants that share a common outdoor area.  Varying in style and theme, there was a bar there for just about everyone.

We started with dinner at McFaddens Sports Saloon.  I remember the tap beer selection being pretty stellar, but the 32oz Guinness for $7.25 blinded me to everything else.  Sorry, slacking on the job here, but I don't remember exactly what else they had.  Being in a group of 10, we had to wait a bit for our table, but that beautiful behemoth of a brew helped me to pass the time.

They ended up seating us next to a bachelorette party and it didn't take long for the unattached guys in our group to make their move.  Sadly enough, we were already acquainted with 2 of them.  That's right, the elevator nazis!  If I remember right, one of them was even the bride.  I swear, lady coincidence likes to follow me around.

I was in the mood for a burger so I didn't take too close a look at anything else on the menu, but if the burger I ordered offers any indication on the rest of the menu it all has to be good.  My burger of choice, which a bunch of us actually went with, was the BBQ Texan.  It's a $9 burger, but well worth that price for 1/2 pound of beef cooked to order, homemade BBQ sauce, caramelized onions, smoked bacon, and cheddar cheese.  I enjoyed every ounce of BBQ goodness and the fries that came with it were pretty tasty as well.

We had a few more drinks and finished the meal.  We saw our last of the elevator nazis and moved on into the night.  At various parts of the night, and with various members of the group, I stopped into Raglan Road Irish Pub, Angels Rock Bar, and PBR Big Sky (country-western themed), but most of the night was spent in Howl At The Moon, a piano bar that featured 6 musicians rotating through 2 pianos and other various instruments for about 6 hours.  They rotated through each instrument and took turns taking a break, which allowed them to go from song to song without stopping much through the night.  They all played the bejesus out of every instrument they picked up and put on quite the show.

We made it all the way to the 3am closing. A couple of guys veered off and continued their evenings, but the rest of us headed back to the hotel.  We quickly realized we didn't really know where we were going, but somehow didn't get too concerned and headed off in what we thought was the general direction of the hotel.  Amazingly, we proved once again that a bunch of guys aimlessly wandering around will eventually find their way home.

Again, a pretty tame night compared to your stereotypical bachelor party, but it never really felt like we were lacking in the fun department.  The bachelor seemed to have a great time and that's all that really matters.  Anyway, he's having another one before the big day, so he'll be able to get to anything he didn't get accomplished the first time around. 

Overall I rate the food for the day at about 3.5/5 (while fantastic, it was basically just burgers and brats), the drink at 5/5 and overall merriment at 5/5.  It was a day where old bonds were continued, others strengthened, and some new ones were made.  Any day you can say you accomplished all that is a good one.

Back soon with a post about a day that included good company, a personal tour around an Iowa (yes, Iowa) vineyard, and a Saturday night hunt through downtown Iowa City for a surprisingly illusive beer.

Until then, take a day to Eat, Drink, & be Merry

Prude, Nudes, and the Fall of Zane Lamprey - Part 2

(Updated 7/25/10 - We made a return trip yesterday.  A couple of updates.  1) There is more corn on the drive than I remembered.  Still, not as much as your average drive through Iowa, and the rolling landscape makes helps fight the monotony.  2)  There was a heck of a lot more to the farmers' market than just cheese.  Pretty impressive, really)

Junction

[juhngk-shuhn]

-noun
1. an intersection of streets, highways, or roads.
2. a place or point where two or more things meet or converge.
3. a place where you need to be sure to come to a complete stop and look both ways before proceeding...once you enter the mix inexplicable shit just might go down.

Think for a moment about all your previous moments.  Think about how one interplays into the next, how each has been influenced by all those before it, and how this moment is going to influence all those that come after it...

Alright, that's enough.  You're using your free time to read something I wrote so I won't waste it giving you a migraine.  It's just that when memorable moments occur, I sometimes get to thinking about all the things that had to happen to get each and every element of those moments together in that exact place at that exact time.  It can be overwhelming.  Case in point:



Some people think that everything is happening independent of everything else; that everything is random.  Others argue that everything is already predetermined; that God, or fate, or something else is driving each and every moment in a very non-random and organized way.  What's the answer?  You're asking the wrong guy.  All I know is that every once in a while some crazy inexplicable shit goes down and all you can do is sit back and ride the wave.  Inexplicable shit, as in what I witnessed in the morning hours of Saturday, June 19, 2010.

It was the day after my official first day to Eat, Drink, and be Merry in Madison, WI.  My sister, her boyfriend, my wife and I were all moving a bit slowly after the previous day's events.  We had rolled out of the hotel a bit later than planned, and took some extra time eating our breakfast at the coffee shop we stumbled upon during our short walk from our downtown hotel to the Capitol Square.  My wife wanted to get a bit of shopping in and was pleasantly surprised to find a huge farmer's market in progress stretching all the way around the square.

Her initial boost of excitement was quickly dampened by the fact that there were way too many people to weed through to get even a look at any of the vendors' merchandise.  It was mostly just cheese anyway, so we stumbled around to a corner of the square and took a moment to quietly synchronize our internal hangovers and gather ourselves for the next leg of the group stagger.  The next thing I knew my sister was shrieking something along the lines of WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!  Her hangover appeared to be gone, seemingly stayed by some divine image that drew her gaze to the intersection behind me.  I turned as our eyes all converged on the target of her's only to realize that there was nothing divine about it...unless, that is, you're talking about this Divine:

What we did see was a group of a dozen or so naked people mobilizing on bicycles in the intersection behind me.  For about 30 seconds they just stood there making various noises to get everyone's attention, as if they needed to do anything but stand their with their junk flopping around.  After what seemed like forever they finally hopped on their bikes and started pedaling around the square.

That's when the true extent of this parade of privates was revealed to us.  Our peripheral view of the group was blocked by the crowd that had gathered in the area, hiding the bicyclers' true numbers that extended to somewhere between 75 and 100.  It seemed to go on forever as they all rode by.  They were of all ages and came in all sizes.  Hardly any of it was pretty, but we all seemingly couldn't look at anything else.  To further enhance our viewing experience, they were extremely creative in how they presented their stuff, the most common accessories being body paint, various improperly worn undergarments, and duct tape (yeaouch, I know...I don't get it, but I know).  Shouting things like "less gas, more ass" and "oil is crude, we're just nude" as they rode, the point of it all was to protest our over-dependence on oil and to promote positive body images.  I give them a tight and perky A-cup for the principals of their endeavor, but a very droopy D-cup for their execution as I didn't walk away with positive body images for any of them.  I'm not all that pretty to look at either, but at least I have the decency to walk around in public with my pants on (you're welcome).

So how do we get to this point?  As I said when I started this post, so many things had to happen to put us all on that particular corner of the world at that particular moment.  For me it was all put in motion around the time I was born, but since there are about 5-10 years in there that I would rather forget about, I'm going to stick to just the 24 hours that led up to the crazy naked people on bikes (seriously though, I still don't get it...bicycle seats are uncomfortable enough with pants).

Considering how ridiculously it ended, the story of my first official day to Eat, Drink, and be Merry started out innocently enough.  It was Friday, June 18, 2010 and I was heading to Madison, WI with my sister, her boyfriend, and my wife to see Zane Lamprey's new traveling comedy show, Drinking Made Easy.  I said all there is to say about Zane in Part 1, so let's get right to the events of the day.

Breakfast was pretty much a non-event.  To break up the 3 hour drive from home we had made the drive to Dubuque, IA the night before and stayed with my parents.  That morning we just raided my parents kitchen for some simple rations, put some coffee into to-go cups, and hit the road.

For starters, what a great drive.  I don't think I had been in Madison since I was 10, and haven't been up Highway 151 into Wisconsin for any distance in at least 10 years.  It's all four lane road now (direct but pleasantly winding) all the way to Madison, and only takes an hour and a half driving the speed limit from Dubuque.  There's plenty of terrain to keep it interesting and little if any corn to have to stare at, which is huge for an Iowa boy used to miles of endless corn on the side of the road.  It tastes good and feeds some tasty beef, but it's not pretty, it's not interesting, and it's certainly not something you want to stare at for a drive of any length (ever see Children of the Corn?).

                                                                          Malikaiiiiiii!!!!!!

Our first stop wasn't planned (which, if you know my wife, is pretty amazing).  It was getting close to 11:30 and we were getting ready for lunch.  We planned on waiting until we got into Madison, but a billboard on the side of the road about 20 miles out looked intriguing enough to change our minds.  It was for The Grumpy Troll, a brewpub and eatery in Mt. Horeb, WI.  We found our exit and took the 10 minute detour into town.

Why trolls?  Good question, but it wasn't just the restaurant.  The entire town has some kind of weird obsession with them.  They're on people's lawns, in the name of most local businesses, and in multiple landmarks seemingly staring you down from just about every corner of the main drag into town.  While I'm not a particularly huge fan of trolls, The Grumpy Troll was pretty sweet.

From a food standpoint the menu looks pretty standard for what you would expect from a typical American brewpub/restaurant for both selection and price.  Taste-wise, however, it was pretty outstanding.  I had the Chicken Bacon Melt, my wife had the Grilled Salmon Summer Salad, my sister had the Towering Turkey Club, her boyfriend had the Cajun Bleu Burger, and none of us had a single complaint. I would rate the bang-for-your-buck factor at about 9/10.

From a drink standpoint?  Hey, it's a brewpub, and not just your average brewpub offering only five or six home brews.  The Grumpy Troll offers 12, and it offers them in a sampler where you get to try four ounces of each for $15.  If you break that down it comes to about 3 pints for $5 apiece.  Some (most actually) are a bit heavier on the alcohol content and it was still early so it worked out pretty good for the four of us to split it to start out the drinking aspect of the day.

Most of the microbreweries I've been to tend to over-hop just about all their varietals making them all kind of taste the same.  This was not the case at The Grumpy Troll.  I could appreciate something in just about all of them.  My only complaints were that the IPA was more than too much at 9% alcohol, I'm never a huge fan of porters, and the stout (while not bad) was not Guinness.  As one would expect, the girls favored mostly the lighter brews while the boys favored the more hearty, but we all found something we could order a pint of if we ever make it back.  The group favorites 3/4 of us could agree on were the Downtown Brown, Trailside Wheat, Ensign Fred, and (surprisingly since it was over 15% alcohol and quite fruity) Grumpy Cherry (although there was some confusion as to whether what we got was cherry or actually raspberry).  All-in all, a great start to the day.

From there we headed off to our next destination, the Bier Garten at Capital Brewery in Middleton, WI.  We had a bit of a rocky start as we hit some construction on the back roads leading from The Grumpy Troll.  After what seemed like hours (but more like 20 minutes) our moods started to dampen, but the wave of orange barrels and paving equipment finally subsided.  We pulled into the brewery parking lot at about 12:58 and to our pleasant surprise, they didn't open until 1:00.  So, either 20 minutes enjoying the countryside in A/C driving 15 mph, or 20 minutes standing at the gate waiting for them to open up...I think we did alright.

It was a really neat setup and I would love to go back on a Friday or Saturday night when something was actually going on.  Unfortunately, they were just setting up for the day so there wasn't really all that much to get excited about while we were there.  But there is an outdoor bar and a bunch of picnic tables under a 30ft high translucent blue cover that's there to offer protection from the elements.  On the opposite end of the tables from the bar is a stage where I assume they have live music and offer other forms of entertainment.  They don't serve food, but have a ton of menus on hand from local restaurants that make deliveries.  How fun would that be on a cool summer night to order or bring some food from one of your favorite restaurants and enjoy whatever entertainment the brewery had going on while sitting under the stars.  It's a destination I definitely plan on getting back to sooner rather than later.  We were still pacing ourselves a bit so we didn't try all the beers they had to offer, but from what we did try I could certainly find something worth drinking for a night.

We finished our drinks and the girls decided they wanted to do some shopping.  There was another bar in Middleton we wanted to check out, an Irish pub called Claddagh, so we headed in that direction (apparently it's a chain.  who knew?  a link for the chain's main page is here).  It worked out pretty good because there was a shopping area right across the way from the pub.  Not feeling the shopping vibe at that moment (or any moment in my case), the boys headed into the bar while the girls headed off to do their thing.

Still full from lunch, we didn't even look at the menu, but the beer selection was top notch.  Either on tap or in a can/bottle, they probably had just about anything the average beer drinker in the midwest has heard of, along with quite a few selections unique to the Wisconsin area.  They had Boddingtons on tap so I stuck with that and Guinness.  It's unlike me to not try something new when given the chance, but after trying so many new beers already that day it was time for some old favorites.  The girls finished their shopping and stopped in for a drink, but we headed to the hotel shortly after that.

We stayed at Hyatt Place Madison/Downtown.  It's only about a block away from Capitol Square and was near the theater we needed to get to for the show.  The four of us split a room with two double beds.  The single shower/bathroom was a bit of an inconvenience, but there was a nice sitting area toward the front of the room where we could all spread out and relax.  To give you an idea of the space, three or four more people probably could have comfortably fit in the room.  We got some rest, and then got ready to head out for the night.

It was time for supper so we headed to the square to figure out or options for food.  We decided on another Irish pub.  This time around it was Brocach, which is right on the square.  From the decor, to the live old school Irish music, to the food, to the Guinness infused bloody marys (yes, i had one, and it was friggin' fantastic) this was my kind of place (and I'm not even Irish...I don't think...maybe 1/16 or something).  I've never been to Ireland, but it must have been authentic because my wife ended her 8 year abstinence from drinking Irish car bombs (I won't recap the story of why she stopped in the first place...disgusting).

What a lovely looking table.  Let's count the car bombs...1...2...3... ...ah, there it is, 4!  There was, let's see, 4?  Yeah, 4 of us.  If everybody had one...  ...that means...

          HOLY CRAP, B HAD A CAR BOMB!












Enough about the drinks, lets get to the food...oh dear god, the fooooood.  My sister and her boyfriend split the Shepherd's Pie.  They had never tried it before, but liked it well enough to want to find a recipe when they got home.  My wife got the Greek Salad with steak, which sounds boring enough, but was actually pretty fantastic.  For me, it had to be the Bangers and Mash.  I've only had bangers and mash from one other place; the relatively new British pub in Cedar Rapids called The Londoner (I won't link to it here because it will inevitably be a destination on a future day to EDM, but you could always do an internet search in the meantime).  While I've fallen in love with the Londoner's British style that takes sausages and mashed potatoes and smothers them in gravy and green peas, I had one hell of an affair with Brocach's Irish version that replaced the peas and gravy with an apple shallot sauce (that includes slices of cooked apples).  I seriously had to fight off the urge for a cigarette as we left the pub.

By now it was time to head toward the theater.  A major storm hit Madison while we were in the pub, and its clearing made for quite the scenic backdrop during our walk.  We got there and grabbed our tickets at will-call just as they started letting people in.  Badda-bing badda-boom the show started, we endured, and it ended.

We hit a couple more bars, but the night was getting late and the let down from the show coupled with the ragingly awful shot of tequila a waitress picked out for us (I wish I knew what brand because I would never get it again) had us ready to walk home...but the entertainment for the night was far from over.

As we prepared to turn left at an intersection to head around the Capitol Square , we noticed another couple walking toward us from the right (to give you an idea of the logistics, once we took our left turn we were going to be walking in the same direction on the same street right next to them).  They were probably in their lower to mid 20's and were obviously just finishing a night of drinking of their own.  He was carrying some kind of party hat in his left hand and was holding her up with his right arm as she clung to him for dear life.  From the looks of things she wouldn't have been able to crawl home under her own power.  Having been in that position a few times back in the day, I couldn't help feeling a bit empathetic.  That was about to change.

As we turned left at the corner my sister's boyfriend got a little too close.  His right hand brushed the party hat out of the other guy's hand.  The guy was pretty cool about it.  As my sister's boyfriend bent over to pick it up for him, the guy, speaking in an obviously joking tone, said some thing along the lines of that's it, I'm going to have to knock you out.  My sister's boyfriend, being the kind of guy that could go up to just about anyone and have a friendly conversation, quickly quipped back in an equally benign tone something along the lines of oh, we're going to have to fight? OK, lets fight.  As he said this he put his hand on the guy's back and gave it a bit of a gentle rub to make extra sure that the guy knew he was just playing back with him.  For a moment, all was fine.

Now I don't know if it was an ill-perceived threat of violence, or if she was some kind of Hitler-esque homophobe and thought my sister's boyfriend was coming on to this guy, but the girl who couldn't even stand on her own the previous second took off running the next.  And she wasn't just running, she was flying.  She looked like a world class sprinter as she shrunk into the night darkened horizon.  We all just kind of stood there with dumb-ass looks painted on our faces (including the guy), not really sure what had just happened.  Nobody said anything for a few seconds and we just watched her go.  Then the guy, still not sure of what was going on, said something along the line of oh well, see you later and took off after her.

Back to our original numbers, the four of us exchanged glances and then looked back up, expecting to see her lying dead on the ground with the guy having finally caught up to her to drag her the rest of the way home (after all, only 10 seconds prior she still looked like she couldn't remember her name).  To our surprise she was still going, and while the guy was running after her, he wasn't gaining any ground .  It  was like she wasn't running from us anymore, but rather from him.  She didn't want anything to do with anybody, anyway, anyhow.  And that was the last we saw of them.  They either turned a corner or finally ran out of view into the darkness, but for all I know he is still chasing her down. Let's just hope he didn't end up like this (actually, watching this clip makes me wonder if it is more in line with her (and his) true motives than anything else, in which case I hope she got away):



From that point on my sister's boyfriend and I couldn't stop laughing.  My sister, originally pissed at him for "instigating" the whole thing, quickly realized how completely ridiculous it all was and that the girl was probably going to freak out at some point that night whether we had crossed paths or not.  She started laughing which fed our laughing and the three of us had an absolute laughing fit the rest of the way to the hotel (it would have been all four of us, but that tequila shot had completely done my wife in).  I'm sure that there's an element of you had to be there to all this, but we'll probably be retelling the story at various family gatherings until the end of time.  Which is fine with me, because I'm sick of hearing the one about me running around with a red hand print on my butt after getting spanked when I was 2 for playing fireman on the bathroom mirror...

For the trip overall I would have to rate the food factor at 5/5, the drink factor at 4.5/5, and the merry factor also at 4.5/5.  Being the day that inspired this blog you knew the ratings for it had to be high.  My only knock on the food was that I didn't get enough, but that's no one's fault but my own.  My only knock on the drink was the steep drop off in quality during and after the show, which is odd since the name of the show was Drinking Made Easy.  And my only knock on the merriment was that the show that instigated the whole trip was a bust.  I can't start with a day that rates 5/5 across the board anyway.  What adventures would I have to look forward too?

I'll be back soon with a much shorter recap of my 6/26/10 day to EDM in Kansas City, MO.

Until then, take a day to Eat, Drink, and be Merry

Prude, Nudes, and the Fall of Zane Lamprey - Part 1

Depreciation

[dih-pree-shee-ey-shuhn]

-noun
1. decrease in value due to wear and tear, decay, decline in price, etc.
2. a lowering in estimation.
3. an inevitable side effect of having a bunch of loud and obnoxious fanboys.

"Every night, in every city around the world, it happens; people pour into local watering holes to...well...drink!  It's my mission to traverse the globe getting to know these different people and their drinking customs, bellying up to the bar, and with any luck making some new friends."  

So goes the prologue to every episode of Three Sheets.  Don't worry, you'll get to hear all about the Prude and the Nudes along with the rest of my first official day to Eat Drink and be Merry in Part 2, but Part 1 is going to focus on Three Sheets and its host Zane Lamprey.  They're both huge reasons why I wanted to do this blog and work well as topics for this transitional post between my last two introductory posts and where I want to take EDM going forward. 

By the title of this post you can probably tell that Zane has become a bit of a hero of mine.  Unfortunately, you can also probably tell that he's done a bit of something to screw it up. Before I get to his fall, let's establish how he ever got in a position to drop.  I first stumbled upon Zane and the show Three Sheets sometime between January and March of 2009 during the worst tax season of my 10 year career.  The flood of 2008 ravaged too many small businesses and business owners in the Cedar Rapids area to count.  When tax returns for those years were due in spring of 2009, the accounting and tax return challenges those businesses faced probably created about 30% more work than a normal, already overworked filing season presents.  I loved having the chance to help those people out, but a man can only work so many hours before he gets giddy.

So when an ice/snow storm made it impossible for me to get into work one Saturday I took the opportunity to catch up on some well deserved and greatly needed veg time in front of the TV.  I stopped for a moment on the seldom watched and now defunct channel called MOJO...and didn't change the channel or get up from my spot (except to grab a beer after the first 30 minute episode) for about 2 hours.  They were running an all weekend marathon of a show I had never heard of before.  That show was Three Sheets.  This one minute promo for the show on its second (and coincidentally also now defunct) network, The Fine Living Network (FLN), serves as a nice introduction to the concept of the show.



For the rest of that tax season the show became a 30 minute vacation I could go on at the end of any day I needed to.  My wife got hooked somewhere along the way and we've been fans ever since.

Two key elements make the show work as well as it does.  1) Like makers of a great wine, the production team has the ability to balance and blend the relatively mundane informational aspects of the show with the comparatively mindless entertainment that inherently comes with a show about drinking, into something more than the sum of its parts.  2) While that is just fine and dandy, they wouldn't have any footage to put together without Zane.  His methods are almost hypnotic.  He's able to sit down with and befriend just about anyone, and in a short period of time connect with them to the point that their conversation sounds like that of two people who grew up robbing candy stores together.  The greatest in-show example of Zane at his best could only come from this one minute clip from the Las Vegas episode of Season 3 (be sure to have the volume up a bit, as the sound this makes in real time about 32 seconds into the clip is just ridiculous):



Put in this situation, I'm guessing the average A through D list celebrity wouldn't have been able to pull that off.  They would have been too busy dumping some over-proof liquor on the guy and setting him on fire (imagine a cell phone chucking Naomi Campbell, policeman slapping Zsa Zsa Gabore, or tirade throwing Christian Bale).  The Three Sheets sound guy creates a lot of great effects for the show...he didn't need to do an ounce of work for that one.

The legend grew last July in Chicago when I went to a party he was throwing for a few hundred fans of the show with my sister, her boyfriend, and my wife.  One of the day's events was everyone getting a chance to have a picture taken with him.  We were last in line and afterward I let him know how much my wife and I enjoyed being able to take a bit of a vacation with him and the show whenever a long day at the office warranted one.  His head jerked back a bit as if the comment took him off guard (which might be explained a bit with his comment about chugging beer two paragraphs down), thanked me in the humble down to earth manner with which you see him treat everyone he meets on the show, shook my hand, and took off to get started on the next part of the party.  It was the ultimate EDM moment before I even knew what one was.

Fast-forward to March 2010.  The four of us found out that Zane's new traveling show Drinking Made Easy (an odd mix of stand-up comedy, Three Sheets, and a musical number or two) was making some stops in the Midwest in June.  We didn't really know what to expect, but in the spirit of Three Sheets (and now EDM) the four of us used it as an excuse to get out of the house, head up to Madison, WI, and have some fun.  Unfortunately, the show was probably the low-light of the trip.  It was less about expanding a person's horizons and inspiring them to get out to see the world in a merry manner, and more about just getting drunk.  I understand this was a different type of venue, but the balance that made Three Sheets work so well was really nowhere to be found.

I knew we were in for trouble early in the show.  Zane walked out to say a few words of thanks to everyone for coming out to support him and the next thing I knew he said something along the lines of and now for what it seems to be the one thing you guys want to see me do anymore and proceeded to chug a beer.  Disheartening at the time, but reflecting back on the moment, I guess it gives me a bit of hope because it seems he may not be completely oblivious to the problem: playing down the integrity of the show to the loudest and most obnoxious fans only because they are the easiest to hear.

Time will tell, but I really hope this is just a way for him to earn a living and continue to promote Three Sheets until he gets the green light to start another season, rather than the beginning of an inevitable end.  Whether it's fair to them or not, we always see our heroes as something more than we are, so whatever his motives, it's disappointing to know he let it go to where it has.

Most would say it was inevitable, but there you have the rise and fall of Zane Lamprey.  I still feel somewhat loyal to him and will forever be a fan of the existing episodes of Three Sheets.  My goal is to keep the spirit of the show alive in this blog as long as I continue to do it.  The writing will hopefully get better (I don't know that it can get worse).  And who knows, if I try to keep up this ridiculous notion of relating each post to a word ending with "-ion", I've already got the word for a potential future post in the bag...everyone loves a good redempt-ion story.

So, what is the current state of Three Sheets?  It's been over 18 months since the last episode was shot.  But there is hope as re-runs of the first four seasons of the show have been picked up by The Travel Channel on Wednesday nights at 10:00 and 10:30 central time. Plus, the network has promised to produce a new season 5 if the ratings warrant one.  If interested, all 50 episodes of Seasons 1-4 can be viewed anytime for free at www.hulu.com/three-sheets.  Like anything else I'd recommend starting at the beginning.  If you ultimately fall in love with the show like we did, DVDs of seasons 1, 2, 3, and 4 are all for sale on amazon.com.

I'll be back soon with Part II.

Until then, take a day to Eat, Drink, and be Merry.