NFL City Trips

I was sitting on a flight home from a Thanksgiving trip to San Diego and I started thinking about how many major cities I've been to in the past year. It's been quite a few, but I also started thinking about all the cities I haven't been to in a number of years. So I decided to see how long it's been since I've visited each city with an NFL team. I consider visiting the city as at least spending enough time in the city to enjoy a meal. An airport layover or driving by on the interstate doesn't count. I drive by Baltimore almost annually, but rarely actually visit Baltimore.

The results are presented here for your viewing pleasure:

It's pretty good that I've been to 11 of the 32 NFL cities within the past year, but it is disheartening that past that I haven't really been to many other NFL cities in the past few years. I'm a little embarrassed about San Francisco and Boston. I feel like I've been to each of these cities within the past 5 years, but I cannot recall when. They are high on my list of places to go again soon.

As a side note, it would also be an interesting list to do NBA teams, as I have been to Oklahoma City, Portland and LA recently, but have never visited Memphis, Toronto or San Antonio. 

Dallas - Vegas

Last weekend I headed to Dallas, Texas to watch my beloved Michigan Wolverines face off against the Crimson Tide of Alabama.The game wasn't that great, but the trip was still a good time. We bought tickets when they first went on sale in February, and managed to get 14 seats together.

I left work on the Friday before labor day around noon, and drove to the airport. I had a direct flight to Dallas and there were a few other guys on the flight wearing Michigan gear but surprisingly no Alabama fans. I guess that the aerospace and software companies don't recruit much out of Tuscaloosa. I got into DFW around 7:30 and took a 30 minute cab ride into Dallas. We had secured lodging arrangements through Mark's wife's who had friends in Dallas who were going to be out of town that weekend. The amount of trust it must of taken for them to let 9 people stay in their 1 bedroom apartment for the weekend is unfathomable. I was the last to arrive and started sucking down a brewski and watching the MSU-Boise State game. We then left to eat some dinner at Qdoba where we all got Burritos and Beer. We then headed to a bar next door that looked very shady from the outside, but was supposed to make wicked strong cocktails.

After a few admittedly strong cocktails, we made our way down to the heart of Uptown Dallas. I had expected Dallas to be really spread out and suburban, but I was kinda surprised with how walk-able this neighborhood was. We headed to this bar called the Black Friar which had three floors and seemed like a congregation of Michigan fans who graduated around the same time as I did. I ended up meeting up with some old friends and kids who I grew up with. Twice I went up to the very crowded (and hot) bar and ordered 4 Bud Lights just for myself. We ended the night doing warm shots of nasty tequila. We then headed back home where I shared an air mattress with another dude. But we slept with out heads on different sides, so it was okay.

The next morning was gameday and that meant waking up at 7am. Sure, it was a night game, but the rule is 7am on gameday, so that's what we did. We picked up some Kolaches (sausages in a roll) and fought through some rough hangovers. We then loaded into some cars and went over to Albertsons (or as Alex called it "Albatross's") to pick up beer and supplies for our tailgate. We got to our tailgate lot around noon, but it was about 1pm before I felt well enough to start drinking. After a tough first beer, I got a little more loose and conversational.

One of the people we were most excited about being there was Mordor Troy. Troy went to Colorado, but is a Michigan fan and came up to Ann Arbor for the Notre Dame game last year. He had taught us this game called Mordor (this his nickname), which is like speed quarters with solo cups and ping-pong balls and is pure insanity. We played a few rounds of that, and then taught it to the Bama fans tailgaiting next to us. Later we would win $40 from them betting of games of Flip-Cup.

I came away very impressed with Cowboy Stadium. It was pure class through and through. It was a shame that the game results forced me to buy a few more $9 beers than  I wanted. But enough about that.

On Sunday we got up and went out to breakfast as a big group. After that I took off for the airport to start the second half of my weekend.

Since it was labor day weekend, and I didn't have anything to do in Dallas for another day, I figured why not go over to Vegas before heading home. So I jetted over there for the night. I decided to skip getting a hotel room and I would just stay up drinking and gambling all night and catch my flight the next morning. This would have been a better plan if I hadn't spent the last two nights getting hammered and barely sleeping on an air mattress. But with free red-bull and coffee at the casinos I wasn't too worried.

I started out at Caesars where I dropped my bag off at the bell desk. I then went right to the sportbook to watch some of the Sunday games and to see what bets were on the board. I ended up betting on the Baylor-SMU game and the Tigers game. I then went across the street to the Flamingo and then made my way south stopping at Wild Bills, Paris and finally Planet Hollywood where I found my ideal blackjack table that had views of both games. I gambled there and watched the games, which I won both my bets. I then headed back to Caesars to claim my tickets. I talked to the sportsbook manager to see if anyone had a line available on the Michigan-Air Force game. He looked it up and told me that only the Wynn had the line out. So I started making my way up to the Wynn. After that I decided why not head all the way north to the dystopia that is the Riveria and Circus Circus. It was a pleasant reminder as to why I never go past Encore.

The entire time my goal was to get down to The Tropacana to see the renovations. I was now at the far north end of the strip and was looking at an hour walk down to The Trop. So I hopped in a cab and $14 later was there. I ended up spending the next 4 hours playing blackjack at the Trop. I was surprised to find $5 blackjack on the strip that paid 3:2. I was also at a really fun table where we were all entertained by this Russian guy in his twenty who was obviously high on coke. He was betting black chips, losing, and pulling out more Benjamins from his huge wad of bills. He kept disappearing and coming back. He also would turn around and tell the girl in the dress behind us to bet on number 2 in roulette so he could look up her dress as she placed her bet. He was a good time.

At about 3:30am I was back to even, so I decided to start heading back to Ceasars. I took a beer for the road and walked up the strip. I got back to caesars and killed some time drinking and playing video poker. After that I got my bag back from the bell desk and hopped in a cab to the airport. I was drunk and exhausted. The plane could have crashed and I wouldn't have woken up. I slept just long enough to be able to drive myself home, crawl into bed and sleep for the next 9 hours. It was a good trip.

Franksgiving

When we inherited the BOX house we also chose to continue many of our favorite traditions. Things like tailgates, Christmas parties and Whimmy Sesh's continued along with one of my favorite traditions - Thanksgiving. It was one last chance for college friendship before we all went home to real Thanksgiving and came back to start studying for finals.

Thanksgiving was the one time of year that the Box house actually put on its Sunday's best and hosted something relatively nice. At least it would start out nice until everyone realized it was an excuse to get drunk on bagged wine.

Amazingly the Facebook invite still exists from the 2009 Thanksgiving. I present it to you.

Justin said he would bring Thanksgiving Tacos.

That year we had 2 Turkeys, a ham and a duck. We turned on the fireplace DVD and acted as civil as we possible could. It was one of the nights that you really appreciated the true friendships that you had in school.

Below are some of my favorite pictures from that evening.

One of the Final weeks we lived with Matt

Chris pressing the flesh

People were very full after dinner

Me with Zola and the fancy wine

Stumble

It was a bright summer day in 2008 and instead of enjoying it my roommates and I were all sitting around the house watching trash TV. It was one of those days where it was too hot to really pay attention to the episode of Intervention or Tyra. Most of us were on our laptops fucking around on the internet. A constant stream of giggles were coming for the couch where Peter sat. Every few minutes he would turn the monitor around and show us something ridiculously funny. Soon after we were all huddled around his computer watching him press the "random button" on the internet.

That button was StumbleUpon. An internet engine that with a click of a button would take you to a site that you would probably like based on your preferences. It's how I first discovered XKCD. I spent probably an hour a day for the next 2 years stumbling. Staying awake for "one last stumble before bed". Eventually I had to quit, it was just too much. I destroyed my laptop bought a new computer and refused to download StumbleUpon. Sure enough Stumble wondered where one of it's most faithful servants had gone and sent me a message.



I had no choice but to respond and break it off.

I was just going through some old emails and came across my response and got a good chuckle. I never heard back from Stumble but re-reading it made me think fondly about all the things I could have accomplished if it wasn't for StumbleUpon.

Brazil Part 3: Rio

Some cities are really beautiful to fly into. Seattle's landing pattern gives passengers a great view of the downtown and a vista of the water and mountains. It didn't even register when compared with flying into Rio. The city is built where the mountains meet the sea and the buildings spring up in the strips of level land.

We landed and got a cab with Ping who it turns out was staying at a hostel near ours. We got her number and talked about hanging out later but Rob already had a pretty full itinerary for our stay. Rob had been up in Rio a few months ago and had made some female friends. He also knew some people from Couchsurfing and whatnot.

ABBA Art is the true mark of a Swedish hostel

Our hostel was located in Ipanema and was 3 blocks from the beach. It was a pretty cool little hostel on a small colorful alley that was filled with hostels. At the end of the alley there was a newspaper stand where for $2 you could buy cans of beer that the merchant kept hidden in a cooler. We checked in at the hostel and dropped our stuff off. Rob was making sure the toilets still flushed the other direction in Rio and I hung out in the lounge and met one of the guys also staying in the Hostel. He was one of my favorite characters that I met in Brazil. His name was Charles and he was from Sweden. He had graduated high school and embarked on a career as a hot dog salesmen in an airport in Denmark. Apparently the Danes like hot dogs so much that Charles was able to save enough money to get to Brazil. He had decided to move here but didn't really ever get around to planning on where he was going to live, or what he was going to do for money. His biggest focus was getting his workout on and it showed. The first time I saw him I almost asked if he was a US Marine.

The beach at Ipanema

Rob and I decided to check out Ipanema and invited Charles to walk around with us. Charles kept talking about how he had to get on a bus to go to this boxing gym. Since he didn't bother to learn any Portuguese before he came to Brazil Rob had to ask a local how to get there for him. It turns out the Boxing gym was located right near the Favela. You know, the Brazilian slums where lawlessness reigns. We put him in this vanpool thing and figured it would be the last we would ever see of Charles.

We grabbed some delicious food of grilled onions, chicken and melted cheese over potatoes. During the meal Rob was busy on the cell phone setting up plans. We went back to the hostel changed and then left for Copacabana. There was a big Couchsurfing get-together on the beach which would prove to be great mingling. I met ex-pats from a bunch of different countries as well as Brazilians. I ended up getting pretty sloshed on Caipirinhas (Brazil's national drink, rum, sugar and lime).

I stepped away from the party for a minute to find a bathroom and was walking down the boulevard when a guy came up to me and asked if I was looking for Charley and Steve. I had no idea what he was talking about so I asked him what he meant a couple of times. Eventually he just said "You know, Charley and Steve, Cocaine and Weed" I did not know, but then I did. I politely declined.

After the party we got some Bob's, which is a burger place almost exactly like Burger King, but a Whopper is called a Big Bob, which I enjoyed ordering. It was about 11 and we weren't done partying yet. So we got in a cab and headed to Lapa. Rob tried to describe Lapa and I didn't quite know what to Imagine. We spent some time there that night walking around, but I wouldn't really get a feel for what Lapa was truly like until we would go there the next night.

Hanging out in the alley outside the hostel

We woke up the next morning late. The two Norwedgian girl who were sharing the bunk beds in our room had gotten up hours before probably to do dumb touristy things. We got up and went straight to the beach. To our surprise, Charles had survived the Favela and was back at the hostel. He came with us to the beach. After a "good value lunch" as Charles called it I got some work in on my underarm tan. For those who don't know, getting a solid underarm tan is one of the hardest tans to get, and it takes hard work to get one. I wasn't going to go all the way to Brazil and not come home with a decent looking underarm.

After the beach we went back to the hostel for our patented 20-minute hour long power nap. We got dressed and were heading out to dinner when we ran into Charles and Dutch Paul who were also going out to dinner. Dutch Paul had spent some time traveling to Africa, but similar to Charles didn't really have much going on in the way of life plans. After dinner they took off for the Favela again, and we went to find some more normal people to hang out with.

Getting into Lapa

We went back to the hostel and found some of the other people from the hostel hanging out in the alley drinking and chilling. There was Marcus and Fanny from Norway, Alara from NYC and Mike who was coincidentally from Seattle. We hung out with them drinking and talking about traveling the world. Mike had been to Thailand before, and Marcus and Fanny were just starting a trip around South America. Rob had a friend who came and met up with us and brought a few of her friends along too. We all decided to go out to Lapa together and at the last minute convinced the Norwegian girls to come. We were rolling a solid 9-person crew.

We pulled up to Lapa and got out of the cabs. The first thing we came across was some sort of street demonstration that is now ingrained in my mind forever. It was some sort of sexual freedom thing where about 7 people wore all white and drank cow blood and walked around like zombies and sat on each others faces and masturbated in the street and had sex with each other and dropped trow and pissed on the street. It was pretty weird.

The weird ritualistic sex show has begun

Step 1: pour cow blood on each other

Step 2: big gay pile

Step 3: feverishly masturbate under viaduct

Step 4: piss in street

After about 10 minutes of watching the sex show with a bemused expression on my face and drinking a caipirinha while everyone else used the bathroom we moved on. Lapa was a lot like the French Quarter of New Orleans. People were everywhere in the streets and the bars open right into the streets. We went to this place with 4 stories, and the top floor was a nightclub. Everyone had a great time dancing and partying. I got a little bit of liquid courage and jumped in the middle of a Brazilian dance circle. I've never danced so inspired and they loved me for it. We stayed there until about 2am and then most of us came back to Ipanema. I ate a street hot dog and then we drank beers on the street. Marcus and I headed back to the hostel around 4am while everyone else stayed at the bar. It took us awhile to find the hostel because neither of us really knew where we were.

Last night with the Norwegian girls

On Saturday I woke up super hungry. I had only one thing I really wanted to do while in Brazil and that was to eat at an authentic Brazilian Steakhouse. Yeppers, a real live all-you-can-meat buffet. Rob and I made an event of it. I think we were there about 3 hours, just living like kings. They had some of the best chicken hearts I ever tasted.

All that meat and I only took a picture of the cheese

After our meal we headed to Sugarloaf mountain which has some of the best views of Rio. On the way up we ended up seeing the Norwegian girls, but we were actively avoiding them at this point. Sugarloaf was absolutely gorgeous. I didn't go to Christ the Redeemer because I wanted to save something for my next trip to Rio.

Rio at dusk

We went back to the hostel for our usual 20-minute hour long power nap. I woke up and went down the alley for some beers to drink in the shower. We polished off a few more beers before heading out to meet with some more girls Rob knew. We went to this area of the city where the locals live and not filled with tourist like Ipanema. We met up with these girls one of whom was the sister of the DJ. They got us VIP wristbands which was pretty awesome. It didn't even matter that the girls were only 19. We made them all do Tequila shots since it was Cinco de Mayo even though the Brazilians were very confused why we were doing shots to celebrate Mexico's independence. It was awesome going to a real Brazilian club and verifying that the hottest ones don't just hang out where the gringo's are.

19 year olds.

The next day it was back to the beach. I did some more work on the underarms and did a lot of work with my eyes (if you know what i mean). After the beach it was back to the hostel for beers with the rest of the guests. There were a few English chaps who were terribly boring and these two guys from Honduras. After enough beers we went out to this bar that Seattle Mike knew about. We were hanging out there when this very drunk Brazilian girl came over and propositioned all three of us for sex. It wouldn't have been so bad if she wasn't super disgusting. We drank a lot of liqour drinks to forget her and then the night opened up. The bar was full of people from everywhere. A few blokes from Australia, a girl from Ireland, more English guys, the Norwegian girls (we were not avoiding them anymore). We went outside the bar for some hot dogs and cheap street beers and hung out with more Europeans including Charles, who amazingly was not dead. It was a pretty awesome night in Rio, and a great last night.

Seattle Mike with Russell Brand & the other Aussie

Finally my trip had to come to an end. The next morning we headed to the Airport to begin heading home. When we got to the airport we had the pleasant surprise of being told that the airline had canceled our reservations and we had no tickets home. Luckily for us, we could rebuy our tickets from the shitty Brazilian airline for 3x the original price. It was total bullshit but since I had a connection international flight I pretty much had to pay it. Rob on the other hand had no reason to get swindled going back, so he decided to stay in Rio for a few more nights. When I got home I immediately called Visa and disputed the charge. The weirdest part of the whole thing was that the flight was nearly empty. They charged me $421 to take a flight that had 22 people on an 180 person plane. Given their pricing and customer service no wonder the plane was empty.

I eventually made it back home and slept for 18 hours before going into work. Everyone asked me about my trip, but who really wants to hear a 5,000 word story about a trip that they didn't go on. You apparently.

Brazil Part 2: Partying

One of the things that sold me on visiting Rob in Brazil was the allure of all night parties. He send me a few YouTube videos to convince me. I acted like these sounded awesome, but deep down I was slightly concerned that I didn't have the all night party in me anymore. As Blake Anderson once said "I can't drink like that anymore, I'm not 16".

But when you're in Brazil you gotta man-up and just do it. So on my second night there we got dressed up and left for this nightclub called Green Valley. I had never heard of it, but when Rob would tell people that we were going there they got this look in their eyes. One of the reasons Rob wanted me down there that weekend was that Green Valley was having a party to celebrate being voted the second best nightclub on the planet. We took a cab downtown where Rob's friend Aga picked us up. Aga was his nickname and that's all I ever knew him by. We left around 10 pm and drove about 100 km north of Florianopolis to the club.

Drinking Budweisers at Green Valley before the start of the show

The Green Valley nightclub is a crazy place. It is a giant tent with a lagoon and a big lounge. This video does it more justice, and pretty well describes my trip in general. It was insanity and I've never been to a club like it in the states. I'd guess there were about 5,000 people there and half of them were wearing sunglasses which I later figured out meant that they were probably on ectasy. The other amazing thing about the club was that all the girls were dressed up with full makeup and heels. I don't think I'll ever again be surrounded by as many beautiful women as I was that night. The show started around midnight went straight through until the sun came up. At around 2am two American DJ's came onstage - Dimitri Vegas and Like Mike. They played a great show, and when they were done at 4 I had to switch from Budweisers to Vodka Red Bulls to stay awake. The next DJ had a violinist with him that was insanely good. He did a mix to the Orcana of Time and later Katamari Damacy and I just let the inner nerd out. Especially because I used to listen to the Katamari Damacy soundtrack when I would study in college.

Green Valley is epic

Around 7am the sun started rising and although there were still a few thousand people there I was getting tired from partying for 7 hours. Rob had disappeared so Aga and I drove home. Cars in Brazil are much

more expensive then they are in the US and Aga was quite proud of his Renault. As I sped down the highway along the coast of Brazil at 7:45 in the morning with a fatigued 40 year old man I had just met, I wondered if this would be the sketchiest thing I would do on this trip.

...and we raged so hard

Aga dropped me off at the Bus Station and as a sign of how much I had learned  in 2 days I was able to get a cab back to Rob's place by myself. I got back and within 10 minutes I was passed out on the couch.

Rob didn't make it back until 2pm and he still hadn't slept. He took a 2 hour power nap and then rallied. At 4pm we got in a taxi to go to this club called P12. It was less than 10 hours since we left the last club. This place was on the North End of the island, which is a really affluent part of Florianapolis. There were big houses with luxury cars. We got up there and before going in we ran into the British blokes from the first night. They were with some Spanish girls and a few Argentinians. We drank vodka with them and hung out for awhile before going in the club. The cover for the club was $35, but the place was quite swanky with a pool and cabanas. I was beginning to get more confidant in talking with people and the few phrases of Portuguese I knew helped me figure out if people spoke enough English to talk to them. Since most of the people at this club were children of the upper class, many of them had studied English or spent time in the US.

The view from the beach at P12

The DJ ended at 10pm and we went out and got some hotdogs that were sold out of a 1980's Datsun pickup (New sketchiest thing). We couldn't get a Taxi so we ended up Hitchhiking back to Florianapolis (New-new sketchiest thing). We got back to Rob's place and his roommate cooked us a traditional Brazilian dinner and we passed out.

The next morning I woke up feeling refreshed and a little uneasy about my feet being on the strange part of the couch that was cracked and stained.

Rob went to the gym so I decided to go for a quick run. I've realized that I can run much father when I have a great view. I learned that when I was going for runs on the National Mall in DC and running along the coast of the Puget Sound back home. The views here were just as impressive and running by homes and stray dogs took my mind off of everything else and I had a terrific run.

After Rob got back we packed up and took off for the beach. We bought food to make sandwiches on the beach. When we left it was sunny and calm but by the time we got to the beach it was starting to get windy and the clouds started to roll in. Since it is the equivalent to late October in the US the beach wasn't very full. But we rocked some paddleball and took a walk down the beach. At the end of the beach were an outcropping of rocks and then we hiked a short ways past them to another more secluded beach. We walked to the end of that beach and onto some more rocks until we could go no further. We turned back and walked back down the two beaches. At the end we took a small trail through the bush to get back to where we started. It was literally littered with condom wrappers and used condoms. Apparently it was where the man-on-man backwoods sex occurred. I wore my sandals, Rob didn't.

The beach was nice and empty while we were there

We got back to the apartment and quickly had to get ready for the party. One of the guys from couch surfing had organized and party/BBQ. We rode over with a guy who was here from Sao Paulo and another guy who had just been bit by a stray dog that died after biting him. So basically I was partying with a guy who most likely had rabies (arguably less sketchy than the hotdog).

The party was at a very nice house on the mainland. Most of the couch surfing community in Florianopolis speaks English and Portuguese so I had no problem making friends. There were about 40 people at the party and it was starting to get really good (evidenced by them playing Call Me Maybe) when Rob and I had to leave. We were on the list at one of the nicest clubs in Florianapolis and as I understand it; Brazil.

The club was called Le Confraria. It was super swanky with half of it a Vegas style nightclub and the other half a lounge area. Again, the females really gave 110% on their looks. We met up with an Argentinian names Adres and a Spaniard named Borha (I think). Also our friend Aga showed up. So naturally decided to do some bottle service, and in what proved to be an excellent decision we went with Jose Cuervo Silver. After a few shots of Tequila the night really opened up. After the 4th shot of tequila and what must have been the thousandth Stella my memory of the night goes away. The next thing I remember is being out on the street at 5 am eating food we bought from a gas station. We came home and I crashed hard on the couch with my feet squarely in the dirty section. The next morning Rob would fill me in on my exploits from the night before.

I'm not sure when we got up the next day, but it wasn't very early. Eventually we got moving and headed downtown. We took a nice stroll along the waterfront and drank Gatorade. It was one of those hangovers. We stopped to get some food at this place called Habib's which is Middle eastern fare, with a Brazilian twist. I don't know why I thought that it would be a good place to order a pizza from, but I'm an idiot. We eventually went back to Rob's place and did what any 2 cool dudes would do on an international vacay... we caught up on some How I Met Your Mother. It was on of those relaxing days that you could really use after ingesting your entire body weight in alcohol over the past 4 days.

Walking along the water in Floripa

The next morning was Wednesday. It was a little nicer outside so we decided to go back to the beach. We had lunch at this restaurant on the beach and ate some fresh caught fish. It was super tasty, and the view was pretty awesome to boot. While we were eating we saw one of the guys from the couch surfing party named Enrique. He came over and we drank a few beers with him. He was a Spaniard in his thirties who had spent the last 8 months travelling around South America. He plan was to keep traveling until he runs out of money and then return to Spain. Seemed like a pretty sweet deal, until I realized that it probably meant that he wasn't going to be taking an early retirement anytime soon. Maybe this was his mid-career retirement.

Lunch on the Beach

After lunch Rob and I tossed the football and played some paddle ball, and just hung out on the beach. We were in no hurry to get home so we went and got some food in La Goa and hung out around there for awhile. La Goa is like a little beach town that it seemed like was rather touristy.

That night we decided to go to the bar and his roommate gave us some suggestions on a good area. It was a Wednesday night and most of the bars were empty. We picked one and started drinking. We started reminiscing about college stories and lady-conquests. Each story would one-up the previous one. Tales of high-school desperation and college debauchery. It was a fun night just hanging out remembering the good times.

The next morning we packed up and got a ride from our cabbie Joel to the airport. We were on our way to Rio De Janerio. As we were standing in line to board the plane this Asian girl comes up and starts talking to us like we were old friends. I played it cool but I had no idea who she was, I got the feeling Rob wasn't too sure either. 10 minutes after she got on the plane Rob figured out who she was and filled me in on everything he knew about her. Her name was Ping, she went to Stanford, and we had met her at La Confraria while I was blackout. It was a fitting end to my time in Florianapolis.

Up next: Part 3 Rio

Brazil Part 1: Arrival

About 2 weeks ago I got back from an absolutely amazing trip to Brazil. It was a fantastic adventure, and at many times quite blog-able. I went down to visit my friend Rob who I have know ever since we lived on the same floor of Markley hall our freshmen year. After 4 years of friendship through college Rob moved to Peru for a year. He then came back to Michigan to get a masters degree and graduated last December. He accepted a job to work for a consulting firm and requested a 6 month delay to his start date. He then packed up his things and without trepidation moved to Brazil.

After I got back from DC in March, I realized that I would have a large amount of travel pay coming my way.  Since I didn't do anything special to earn this extra money, I had no inhibitions to spending some of it frivolously. So I told Rob that I would come down and visit. He then looked up which weekends would have the most outrageous parties and that's how I decided when to come down.

My first few steps off the plane in Brazil

The hardest part of the trip was getting a Visa. Since the US makes Brazilians get a visa and pay about $150, the Brazilians make the Yanks do the same thing. It turns out my nearest consulate is in San Francisco, but luckily you aren't required to apply in person. The only other pre-trip errand was an ingenious plan to smuggle drugs into Brazil. It turns out that muscle milk is 2-3 times as expensive in Brazil as it is in the US due to some crazy taxes. So as a house-warming gift of sorts, I ended up taking 6 pounds of suspicious vanilla scented powder with me.

It took over 24 hours to get from Seattle to Florianopolis. My overnight leg between Dallas and Rio I was lucky enough to have an empty seat next to me. Once I landed in Rio I had to clear customs and change planes. I had neglected to learn any Portuguese before coming down and I instantly realized how hopeless I was by myself. The two words I had bothered to learn we're 'cerveja' (beer) and 'partido' (party) until I later learned that 'partido' is not actually the word for party (it's fiesta).

I finally made it to Florianapolis and landed at the airport. Rob picked me up and we took a cab back to his place. Florianopolis is a city on an island right off the Brazilian coast. It's a very modern and clean city (for South America). At least that's what I hear because I've only ever been to two cities in South America.

The first half of my trip was in Floripa, as the locals call it

After we dropped my stuff off at his place we decided to go out around the town. We walked around the city stopping in for coffee and visiting with some of his friends. After his old roommate got off work we went out for Cervejas with her. Although it turns out that draft beer is called 'chopp'. The beers we were drinking were served in 350 ml glasses so I felt like I could drink hundreds of them.

Colonial Florianapolis

After the beers it was already 8pm. So we grabbed some of the most delicious street meat I've ever had and went back to Rob's place. Rob's place was something of an interesting apartment. He lives with 2 guys who go to the local university. I took some pictures of the place for you. Note the table on cinder blocks and TV from 1985 and the Zebra striped fridge and my favorite: the non-functioning stage lighting. It was like everything was at least partially broken. The one armrest on the couch was held in place by an unused toilet, I'm not even joking and I wished I had a picture of it.

It's furnished like the BOX house of Brazil.

Every kitchen should have a Zebra striped fridge

The barely effective hot water heater is part of the shower head.

I was fighting some sleep issues and jet lag so I took a quick power nap. I work up at 9:30PM and ready to fiesta. We got picked up by this girl rob knows through the couch surfing community. She had two couch surfers with her; a guy from Sao Paulo and a Frenchmen from -surprise- France. We went out in La Goa which is a little neighborhood between two lakes on the island (It's on the map above). We went to a Mexican bar where the DJ was spinning the latest Katy Perry hits and Rob and I challenged some Brits to a dance off. After a tough contest we won the right to the floor. We danced and drank while the frenchmen sulked in the corner. He wasn't very interested in the bar and didn't really drink anything or talk to anyone. We didn't make it home until 4AM when we were well drunk.

Tequila and Mango Juice before heading out on night 1

Saturday we woke up and hung around the house with Rob's roommates. Both of his roommates spoke English and seemed like pretty good guys but I could never get a good read on them. In the afternoon we decided to - as Rob calls it -  "troll for mall ass". We went to the local mall and grabbed a quick bite to eat before setting out on our quest. Everyone was so nice down and friendly that Rob had no trouble getting some numbers from the hot female clerks while I either watched or browsed the store looking like a sexy American.  The mall wasn't much different than most malls in America which somewhat surprised me. We caught an afternoon showing of American Pie Reunion which was shown in English just for me. Actually they show most movies from the US in English and sub-title them. It was a very interesting movie to see with people who didn't grow up in the US. I'm not sure they got some of the jokes and references.

The view from the mall food court

After the movie we had to come home to get ready for the big party. After all it was a Saturday night in Brazil. Up next: Part, 2 in which I do something that I am explicitly warned not to do.

*As a side note I lost my backup iPhone on the flight home and had to wait for the random dude who found it to mail it to me. It had all my pictures on it, and thus the delay in getting these blogs posted. I think there will end up being 3-4 of them total coming out in a few day intervals.

The average weekend

Dear Diary,

Earlier this week I was at my weekly meeting for the large scale project that I'm in charge of at work. Our contractor on the project said that the capstan (essentially a large winch that hauls a vessel into dock) they are installing as part of their project would be complete this week and we were invited to to attend the initial start up on Friday morning. There was some potential in this.

The first step was obvious. I got back to the office and immediately organized a happy hour for that afternoon. At the aforementioned happy hour I mentioned the start-up testing to my supervisor and how it would be a good experience to attend and to see where the capstan was made and to also witness the start-up. With my smooth talking and a few beers I got the okay to attend along with my backup on the project.

So on Thursday night I hopped on a ferry to Seattle. I took my Seattle girlfriend out to a dinner on the waterfront. It's restaurant week and that means I get to go to restaurants I normally can't afford. On Friday I slept in and then went down to the start-up test. The company that built the Capstan was in South Seattle in an industrial area. It was my Camaro and a whole bunch of trucks.

As Frank Sobotka once said "We used to build shit in this country, now we just put our hands in the next guys pocket." We'll this was one of the few times that I actually got to see something actually get built in this country. The company that built the capstan has been around over 115 years, and served America so well that the city of Seattle actually threw them a parade after WWI. We took a tour of their plant and got to see how the piece of equipment was built. One of the great things about the Government is that we demand that every material that we get is produced in this country. It felt really good to see government money getting spent on a much needed piece of equipment that is made by a local company with local materials and local workforce.

What also felt really good was having it take enough time that going back to the office was out of the question. We got done a little before noon and instead of going back to the office I decided to take a few hours of leave and hang out in Seattle. I drove over to Alki Beach for lunch. People don't tend to associate Seattle with beaches, but there are a number of good beaches in the area, and many more places that feel like a beach town.

It was a little chilly at the beach, but it was nice and relaxing. That is my signature picture face, which I entirely resent. I had plans to hang out in Seattle and go to the Mariner's home opener that night. After lunch, I got a call from the bossman asking if I could come in on Saturday for a little overtime. I love me some OT, so I said of course. It was easy work, just watch some guys work. So I cancelled the Mariners plans and drove home.

After I got home, I got a message that I no longer needed to come in on Saturday. So this meant I could get crazy Friday night. I got home right about the time that everyone else was getting off of work. We decided to go down to our local bar right on the waters of Liberty Bay. We drank there and got some dinner. Then we moseyed on down to the next bar and played some pool. I left a little early to go home and watch Full Metal Jacket.

On Saturday, I woke up and decided to tidy up around the house and thought about what flowers to plant this year. In the afternoon I called some buds and had a cookout. I went and bought some pre-marinated meats and hosted a pretty good meat grill. Afterwards we went out to see 21 Jump Street.

Sunday I had planned a Picnic with my girlfriend. We packed a cooler and we went to Fort Ward State Park in Bainbridge Island. The state park used to be an Army Coastal Defense fort and then a Top Secret Radio Listening Post in WW2. The day started a little cloudy, but quickly cleared up to become a terrific day. We played Frisbee and ate sammiches.

It was a freebie 3 day weekend and I didn't do anything crazy, but I still made the most of it. It was the type of weekend that as a mid-20 year old I should come to expect.

Picture Memories - Edward 7 Cans

April 25th 2009 was a Saturday. It was 1084 days ago. And it was 8 days before I graduated college.

The only log of my existence that day is this picture:

The picture shows Mark, Myself, and Craig standing on the front porch of my college house preparing to play a game of Edward 7 Cans. Which is much like Edward 40 Hands for those who are too lazy to go to Campus Corner and buy actual 40's. It's genesis can be traced here.

The best I can tell from this picture, we were probably sitting around the house watching day 1 of the 2009 NFL draft. Thus I am wearing my Lions jersey. The Lions picked a southerner named Matthew Stafford with the first overall pick.

There are really only two known strategies to Edward 7 Cans. Both are on display in this picture. Craig has chosen the "line" strategy whereby he aligns all 7 cans in a row along both forearms. This strategy is nice because you can drink down the line, and avoid spilling beer all over your face, which is a problem with Mark and My strategy which is known as the "cluster". The nice thing about the cluster is that your arms don't get as cold, but you have a tendancy to spill beer from previously drunk cans all over your face.

I have no clue whose idea is was to play E7C or what happened after that game but I definitely think I enjoyed myself. The previous post showed Mark and I drinking at the beginning of our college careers, this one shows us still drinking at the end of our college careers. We clearly matured in 4 years and evolved to physically attaching booze to ourselves for optimal drinking results.

Picture Memories - Dorm Drinking

A little over 2 years ago I wrote a blog post about how I was going to start posting pictures from college and telling stories about them. My intent was to take my favorite pictures and write a little something on my memories of the event and what the meant to me. But, after the initial post I never bothered to write another one. Well here's to round two.

That picture is me and my best friend Mark drinking in the dorms freshmen year. The picture is us on a tiny futon in Natalie and Rachel's dorm room freshmen year. If I had to guess it is from second semester. I still have the shirt I'm wearing, but have no idea about that jacket. From the looks of it, we are about to drink some vodka shots and chase with Dole Fruit Punch. Knowing those two it is probably Burnetts vodka, and this could be the night that Natalie tricked me into taking a Midol.

It's a great picture because it doesn't preface a specific story, but rather it is a reminder of life in the dorms. Sitting around and drinking with new friends. It's amazing how long ago it feels, but how much optimism there is in the picture. It's like a sense of knowing that we had a great base of friends going into the next four years.

Six years later everyone in the room that night has moved out of the state. Next weekend I'll be attending Mark's bachelor party and hopefully the same shit-eating grin will show up on both of our faces like it has so many times in the past. Here's one to the memories.

I ain't no Randy Wagstaff

I have a interesting relationship with the police. I've called the police a few times when I saw a crime that needed stopping. But other times, I find myself siding with the criminals. Take tonight for example.

Right near where I am staying there is a little plaza. I walk through it every afternoon on my way home from work, and there are always the same 6-8 kids skateboarding in plaza. Just hanging out and skateboarding reminding me of the sweet nose manuals I used to pull off in Tony Hawk.

Tonight I left to go up the street to grab some takeout Indian Food (because I'm bored at work and look forward to spending time in the bathroom playing games on my phone). On the way I passed a bunch of kids throwing their skateboards in the bushes in between the two buildings near the plaza. When I got to the plaza I figured out why. A cop had caught one of them and was patting him down as I walked past.

A few minutes later as I was walking back down the street towards the plaza 3 or 4 police cars came out of nowhere with their sirens blaring and a bunch of people were pointing and telling the cops that the kid had just took off on foot.

I walked back to the hideout where the rest of the skateboarders where hanging out and asked him what their friend did. They said they were just busted for skateboarding. I think busting kids for skateboarding is bullshit. And if other people are going to help the cops arrest someone for riding a skateboard, I'm going to help the skateboarders achieve freedom. Just like William Wallace.

So I tipped them off there there were a whole bunch of cops in the plaza and that there friend ran off. In return they called me "one cool-ass dude". Which is the best compliment I've received since a black lady complimented me on my fashion.

My Birthday / Work Training

I dedicate a large amount of blog content to something I really don’t care about: Facebook Birthday Wall Posts. I never write on anyone’s wall for their birthday. Like not even members of my family. But every year I find it interesting the people that take the time to wish me a happy birthday.

My favorite is this guy named Ray. I used to do class work in the Ross Academic Center (the one for athletes). It was one of a few locations on central campus that had CAEN computers to hook up to the engineering network. The CAEN centers in the UGLI and Fishbowl were always packed, but the Academic Center had 3 CAEN machines in a private room that were never used because very few athletes are engineers. One time I went in there and this guy named Ray was in there as well. We talked for like twenty minutes while we were doing work. That was the entire extent of our interaction. The next day he friended me on Facebook. I accepted because I thought I might see him down there again, and I’m a friendly guy. But I didn’t ever see him again. Yet, every year without fail he wishes me a happy birthday.

I sometimes wonder how long he will keep it up. Like when I’m in my 40’s and my kids (assuming they’re not illiterate) ask me who is that “Ray” guy is who always wishes me happy birthday on the facebook machine. And I have to tell them the whole story of the 20 minutes we spent exchanging pleasantries in the basement of the academic center back in 2008.

--

We have this online training class that we are required to take annually at work. It’s a training on anti-terrorism that tries to use real life scenarios. So imagine this: I am assigned to go to a conference in LA. On my flight there my plane gets hijacked by terrorists. After that happens I get followed by a strange van to the hotel. After I check in I go to a restaurant and where I am solicited by someone of the opposite gender for information. The next morning I go out to my rental car and find a grenade booby trapped under my car. At this point I still don’t consider saying “F it” and going home. Then that night someone claiming to be room service breaks into my hotel room and holds me at gun point. They then call me an imperialist. Then they hold me hostage overnight before the police come in and rescue me in the morning. It is only at this point do I decided that maybe the trip isn’t worth the hassle and go home. Talk about realistic training, because this happens to me like every time I travel.

Also, if you really want to have a bummer of a birthday try taking the annual training on human trafficking awareness. Because nothing ruins a perfectly good day like spending a few hours learning about people being kidnapped, abused, beaten, sold, prostituted and forced into being suicide bombers. 

The American Barbershop

It was just like this.

Back in Washington (the state) I usually get my hair cut at a place officially called The Hair Club for Men. A guy from work and I are on the same haircut schedule so we usually go after work to get haircuts and then grab a drink at the Japanese Steakhouse next door. We refer to the barber shop as the "geisha lounge" because it is staffed by all Asian women (except for one token white lady) and caters to giving High-and-Tight haircuts that the sailors and marines. We call the entire strip mall Silverdale's Asian Village because in addition to the Geisha Lounge and Japanese Steakhouse there is a Teriyaki place and a Asian Nail Salon. There goes any hope this post had for being racially sensitive.

I went to the barbershop today in DC for a haircut. I didn't know of one in DC so I looked one up on my iPhone and went to it. It turned out to be a black barbershop, but I went in anyways because they had an open chair and I needed a haircut. The haircut was fine but while I was in there though it really got me thinking.

It seems to me that barbershops are one of the last businesses in America that truly segregated. I think this may be due to two reasons. 

First, I think it has a lot to do with the differences between the hair. It probably takes a different skill set to cut hair for white vs black people. As I was getting my hair cut, I couldn't think of a single time that a black person had come in for a haircut while I was at the barber (except for today). I'm not even sure the lady that cuts my hair would know what to do with someone without fine hair. And since she doesn't speak much English, I'm not sure anyone could explain it to her.

Second, I think the there is a cultural aspect to the black barbershop that doesn't exist in white barbershops. Granted, I'm making this statement after only one visit to a black barbershop and several repeated viewings of Barbershop 2: Back in Business. The black barbershop seems like a social event rather then an errand. When I was there today, there were a couple of guys just hanging out and not even getting their hair cut. I would never hang out at my barbershop (even though they do have a pool table). 

I think it is interesting that in a society that is becoming more and more inclusive, the strong holdout is none other than the lowly corner barbershop for practical reasons as well as cultural. Although, I'd reckon that churches may be high on the list too. But today, I broke down the final barrier. Or at least I hope they didn't make fun of me after I left.

DC Observations Part 2

I've finally found the part of Chinatown with the Chinese people in it!

The District of Columbia has the only licences plates to include a gripe on them. While most states use their motto or say something positive about the place, DC licenses plates just complain about "Taxation Without Representation". At least they get to vote for president (Thanks 23rd amendment).

I've been trying to figure out which of these three retail establishments have more locations in DC: CVS, Potbellys or Cosi. I passed by three of each on a short 10 minute walk tonight.

It's hard getting back on the East Coast TV schedule. It's nice being able to watch the Daily Show at 7 PM.

I've been maintaining my sandwich consumption ratio.

DC Observations

I've been in DC for a little more than 48 hours. So far I've made a few observations. I've been to DC many times before, but this is my first in a somewhat residential setting.

I've been to "Chinatown" twice and so far I have yet to see a single Chinese person. And it's not like it's just an antiquated term, all the signs are also in Chinese. The Bed Bath and Beyond I was at last night proudly displayed it's name in Chinese. I'm guessing what happened was something like this. The DC government probably decided that other cool cities have a Chinatown and they wanted one too. So they made an area Chinatown and forgot to, you know, actually get Chinese people to live there. I'm sure that's wrong, but it's the way I'm going to rationalize it.

The Top 25 Played list on the iTunes of my mostly unused laptop consists entirely of songs by Hall and Oates and Peter Frampton.

I've only consumed 2 Yeunglings.

People in DC really respect the "fast lane". Whether it be escalators to the Metro, or just the sidewalk. If you ain't movin' fast you best be on the right side.

Without a car, I've gotten used to walking everywhere again. Last time I was living carless was the summer of 2008 when I lived in Chicago. It makes running all my errands no longer a one day event. I can basically only go to one store a day, because I can only buy what I can carry home. Each day, I have to choose the most pressing need and fulfill that. So the winner has been hangers yesterday and then today it was food. Tomorrow is looking like HDMI cable might win.

My Sandwhich to Non-Sandwhich meal ratio is 3:1.

Rotatin'

I said in my birthday post that I wouldn't blog about my job. Which for the most part I don't. But my job has offered me an opportunity to spend the next 7 weeks on a rotational assignment in Washington DC. As this is bloggerific news, I thought I was fit to share.

When I began working I heard of past employees who had done rotations at our headquarters office in DC. By the time I started the rotations had pretty much stopped, but I still thought that they would be a good thing for me to experience. So over the past year I've worked - despite the objections of my management - to secure a rotation. This Sunday I'll be leaving for my big trip to DC.

I've been preparing for the trip. I'm already planning on taking a weekend trip up to NYC and another to a bachelor party in Nashville. I have been contacting all my old friends who live in our nations capitol and letting them get ready for my triumphant arrival. I've arraigned for suitable lodging at the Newseum on Pennsylvania Avenue.

When word got around the office that I was doing this rotation the most common question I was asked was if I would come back. I guess it is rather common for our headquarters to offer jobs to people from the field once they complete their rotations. So who knows, perhaps they'll ask me to move to DC.