Living the Euro Life

This may end up being the first part of a multi-part piece, but it just as well may not, so we’ll see what happens.

August. August in America is a sticky wicket in both literal and figurative words. It’s balls hot regardless of where you are, but with the humidity and short tempers comes football and, for some, vacations. In Europe, on the other hand, they just take the whole month off. They may be happier, but they sure are lazier. Jerks.With these facts ingrained in my brain, I set out to live the life of a European for the month of August; mercenary work for shady foreign governments has its perks. And that’s how Smokey’s Wandering Minstrel Show came to pass.

Phase I: Outer Banks, NC
Sixteen hours and four airports later, I arrived at the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The majority of my battery rejuicing after a solid 18 months of nose to the grindstone work on two films back to back occurred during the week. This was also the week training camps began around the NFL and the Mets began the annual implosion. The Panthers lost their starting DT in the first half of the first practice, an auspicious start to my month off. I kept my guard up, but still found time to learn how to play Ladderball. I highly recommend learning how to play Ladderball, especially whilst sustaining heavy fire from your cousins who live four houses away, but somehow have the range to launch water balloons in a three-man slingshot and hit you.

Phase II: Chicago
After only a week of having my feet ravaged my malarial flies on the beach, I headed back to LA for a brief sojourn. Three days later, I was back out on the road, headed to Chicago and my first Air Show. Sistren has a rooftop patio and we witnessed aeronautical feats of bravado, the likes of which mine eyes had ne’er seen.

In keeping with my Sportacular Road Trip theme, we attempted to attend the Cubs/Phillies game at Wrigley Field on Sunday. Alas the rains fell and the game was called, which was fine with us, as we were just bar hopping in Wrigleyville and watching more jet flyovers. There’s little I can do to express the sheer awesomeness of jet flyovers, but I’m completely screwed once you add a day’s worth of booze, cheeseballs and sun to the mix. Irregardless, after a lazy Sunday night, I awoke and hit the road back to LA.

Phase III: Route 66
I made the run from LA to Chicago in two days, and decided to take a more leisurely three days to get home. Turns out the best route was a rather famous one: the Mother Road. Through Illinois and Missouri I went. In Oklahoma, my sworn enemy, I spent a night, watching the Panthers preseason debut from an Outback in Tulsa. Neither the team, nor the service impressed me.

I decided to make the trip a sort of homage to my favorite tv show, Man vs. Food and stop in as many locations that he had along the way. I dined on sultry pulled pork in St. Louis, a hearty steak n tater lunch at the Big Texan in Amarillo, and rounded it out with some griddle french toast at Hash House A Go Go in Vegas. I would highly recommend all three.

After hopping back on I-40, I tucked in for a familiar and peaceful run to the coast. I’d driven this portion of the country many times, and felt swaddled by its welcoming vistas, it’s honest people, and the food. The Arizona Cardinals had started training camp in Flagstaff the day I rolled in, and I can pleasantly report that the entire state has had a summer’s worth of time to reinforce the bandwagon. When I stayed at the same Howard Johnson’s as I had last year the night the OIympics started, no one cared a wit about the Cards. After a short jaunt to the Grand Canyon to perfect my “elevated tee” game, I drove on back into LA…for about 36 hours.

Phase IV: Catalina Island
The girlfriend’s parents were in town to celebrate her mom’s birthday and treated us and her brother, and her brother’s gal, to a weekend on Catalina Island. It’s a delightfully touristy place with great seafood and plenty to do in one weekend. We searched high and low for the Panthers/Dolphins game with no luck. In full disclosure, we ended our wandering one block from the one sports bar with the one NFL Ticket that would’ve let us watch our games. Le sigh.

Catalina was relatively short in comparison to my other trips, but my time there still left it’s imprint on me and I hope to return one day, if for no other reason than I wanna sing Por Ti Volare (yes, I did whistle that tune all weekend.)

That’s Phases I through IV. This Thursday I fly out to Florida to witness my first Lakeland Dreadnaughts game in person. I’m sooper stoked and will have a report subsequently. The week after I’m headed to Buffalo for a wedding (naturally) and will give an in-depth report on the sort of post-apocalyptic world of fandom from the Great White North. Until then: be safe out there, you never know when a guy’s been up for days, listening to books on CD and eating Flava Puffs Cheese Balls by the handful.

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