TDL’s Sports, Wrestling, & Otherwise

Why don’t Randy and Simon just get down on their knees and blow Archuleta? If anyone else had sung two awful, schmaltzy ballads in the final four they would have been blasted us unmemorable and boring. This kid gets “you blew away the competition tonight.”

Die.

When we last left our intrepid group of adventurers in Seattle we had just discovered that the federal government had determined how, exactly, the 4400 were given powers. The people from the future altered their bodies such that they produced a new neurotransmitter (promicin) which gave them super powers. The government then created a program to start injecting them with a chemical that blocked their bodies production of the chemical.

The third season opens with congressional hearings to put NTAC on trial for injecting United States citizens with a potentially lethal drug and with us discovering that the uber-baby born in season 2 has rapidly aged to about 20 by sucking the youth out of her mother… who dies by the end of the two part season premiere. The girl becomes a major plot point throughout the season. We discover that she is the anti-4400… somehow sent back in the womb of a 4400 with instructions to kill them all.

In a show or movie involving time travel, there always comes a point in which the story completely falls apart under normal suspension of disbelief. For The 4400, it happens in Season 3. Let’s start with a list:

1) During this season, we discover that it isn’t really that hard for the people from the future to take people out of the time line. One plot-line has them taking Maia away from the current time line and placing her and the other 4400 children further back in the time line. Afterwards, the episode makes references to new inventions and diseases that were cured that currently aren’t… the thought being that taking these kids and putting them further back made the world a better place (to really drive home the whole “ripple effect” thing for people who didn’t get it earlier). In another instance, Tom tries to commit suicide in an effort to communicate with the future. As he dives off a bridge with a noose around his neck, the future people pull him out. If this is the case, why all the shenanigans about taking people and sending them back where they don’t belong. Why not just send future people back and do it all in secret instead of creating a global panic about 4400 people with super powers?

2) We discover that there’s some other faction working against the 4400… this faction somehow impregnated Lily with a baby who would suck the life out of her mom and then go on to kill all the 4400. At some point, she is approached by an agent of this other team who tells her what her destiny is. Again… how, exactly, was this other crew able to create this baby and impregnate Lily under the noses of the other group? Are we supposed to believe that this group from the future can time travel but can’t figure out if a woman is pregnant?

3) We discover that the people from the future who took the 4400 originally can mind-wipe people. As mentioned above, they take Maia away and she’s only remembered passingly in dreams and visions. She’s wiped out of any photograph and no one remembers her. Again, if the people from the future have the ability to do this, doesn’t it stand to reason that they could just erase anyone they didn’t want from the time line? Or, if they wanted to send someone back who could unlock musical or artistic ability in people to just take them in the middle of the night, do it, and put them back so it’s less weird when a kid suddenly develops the ability to play violin? Or, at the very least, that the teacher isn’t arrested for abuse when she does it?

4) We discover that the people who made the 4400 know about Isabelle and what she’s been sent back to do. But, again, we established earlier that they could come back and remove Maia from the time line and make it so no one remembered her. Yet, somehow they can’t do it to this girl. Even if you wanted to explain it as something along the lines of “she’s some weird anti-4400 messiah and they can’t affect her”, they could still have removed her mother before she was born and preventing her from ever being born. Instead of doing this, they give Tom Riley a syringe full of some mysterious green goo with the instructions to inject her. Now, we’ve established that they can send people back… pretty much any time anywhere. But instead of doing something silly like, I don’t know, sending an agent back who could do it without question, they give it to Tom who doesn’t want to kill a girl who’s done nothing wrong yet. Or even better, sending an agent back to appear right behind her and doing it before she has a chance to react. Why are future plans designed by Rube Goldberg?

5) Biggest and foremost: if the time travelers can just do stuff to the time line, why are they relying on people who have no idea what’s going on to do it? Why wouldn’t they, you know, just go back and do shit? Why do they need all these extra people to show up in a flash and deal with panic and government intervention? Wouldn’t it be a million times more efficient to just do it Terminator style and send specific people back for specific missions? I mean, hell, in this world the time travelers can even go back once their work is done. They’re not even stuck in the past to pollute the time line further than it already is.

There isn’t much left to say about the show at this point because this season is more of the same. The characters are mostly annoying while the government and news response continues to be perfect. You have a congressional hearing where a member of NTAC tells the people that they injected these people with inhibiting drugs for the good of National Security. The people eat it up while completely ignoring the abject wrongness of it. In fact, if you told me this entire show was written to be a statement on the Patriot Act, I’d totally believe it.

The Holy Crap! moment of the season comes when we find out that Jordan Collier, who was shot and killed by Tom Riley’s son is, in fact, alive. His body vanished after his death and we discover that he’s been walking the Earth. While this is going on, both the government and The 4400 are in a race to “invent” synthetic promicin. The government program is national defense, of course, while The 4400 continue to do it to unlock the Inner 4400 in us all. As it turns out, synthetic promicin is only 50% effective. In half the people, it gives them a super power. In the other half of the people, it kills them. Once we discover that Collier is alive, we find he’s been walking “for decades” to spread the message of The 4400. If you’d like to change which religion you think they are “symbolizing” in this season, just choose the one that had a messiah killed who later came back to life. The only difference is that Collier spreads his gospel after he’s resurrected… not before.

The season closes with Collier giving the promicin injections to his army of the downtrodden with instructions to disperse them across the country to anyone who wants them, making sure they know the risks and rules of injecting themselves with the drug. The season closes with the viewer at home being offered a syringe of promicin.

The last season comes out in May. I guess I’ll give it a watch just to get the closure. At this point, recommendation to avoid.

Every time I’m in Albany on a Tuesday I go go to Bomber’s Burrito Bar for their Tuesday night trivia. I ended up in Albany for two weeks because it’s tax season and I had nothing else to do. I wouldn’t have been there for a 2nd straight Tuesday but a cosmic conspiracy… err… conspired to keep me upstate for an extra few days. By cosmic conspiracy I of course mean super-early Easter, followed by my RPI geek crew getting a hold of a couple advanced modules for 4th edition Dungeons & Dragons, followed by Bombers featuring Lost trivia.

Two quick asides: First, traveling from New York City to Troy to play a pre-release version of Dungeons and Dragons ranks as the 2nd geekiest thing I’ve ever done. The first, and really it’ll be unmatched until the day I die, was going to Connecticon. Wizards of the Coast has apparently decided to create yet another new edition of Dungeons & Dragons… because that’s what they do. In case you’re keeping track: 2nd Edition D&D existed for like 20 years. In the last 8 years since WotC bought them, they’ve released 3rd Edition (which was, admittedly, sorely needed), 3.5 (which took care of some of the more broken aspects of 3rd edition… but of course was entirely new and required a whole new $100 investment), and now 4th Edition (which basically completely trashes 3rd edition, creates a whole new combat system, and really makes D&D more like a MMORPG… more on this some day….. maybe).

Second, my niche in TV Trivia is television, wrestling, comics, and sports. I can kind of run back-up on music and movies, but not really. Every time I end up there, they ask nothing in my wheel house. I had to stay for Lost Trivia.

Regardless, the story goes as this. One of my buddies is on the last walk toward 30. Since he was in on the setup I took the opportunity to start busting on him. It was fun.

As I was sitting there, a girl somewhere in her early twenties came over to the table with a champagne glass. Bombers is a “hip, ironic” bar and one of their specials is a bottle of Colt .45 served with champagne glasses in a bucket of ice. Since it’s ironic and hip, they can charge $20 for a bottle of Colt .45. Regardless, this cute girl comes over with a champagne glass and asks me if I would care to do a toast (excitement)….. With her mom (horror).

Oh please, tell me your mom had you when she was like 8.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case as the bait brought me back to a table populated by a few women ranging in age from 45 to 130. Stuttering over my words and re-evaluating my pathetic, old existence, I asked if there was an occasion or if we were just toasting my death. Or, actually, if we were just toasting my transition to “hot to old chicks.”

I proceeded to do the toast and make the long, looooooooong walk back to the table where the aforementioned gently reminded me that Karma is, in fact, a whore.

I’ve been writing a ton lately… mostly over on wrestling and Tailgate Crashers.

I wrote a Wrestlemania Wrap on the Wrestling Blog. I kind of miss posting on TWB and am kind of actively trying to get the audience back. I’ve been doing a mostly every week posting on Raw also.

Over on Tailgate Crashers, Cam and I teamed up with some of the Tailgate Crashers self and my maybe future awful podcast partner Mike Hulse to do a MLB Preview for 2008.

After about two years of insisting that I really didn’t want a party for the celebration of my 30th birthday… and especially not a surprise party… Ms. L went ahead and did it anyway. I was set up about as perfectly as someone can be set up. If you ever wonder if 30 or 40 people can keep a secret, the answer is yes.

After convincing me she didn’t want to “travel to Albany” by herself for the weekend, she convinced me to take the trip, too. Her sister’s birthday was conveniently placed six days before mine so she had a perfect excuse. A couple of days after I discovered the trip, I happened to mention it to a friend of mine who happened to “mention” that there was a beer pong tournament at the place that was my local bar before I moved to Manhattan. I managed to contribute to their planning by scheduling a lunch with a friend of mine who I haven’t seen in a couple of years lowering the risk I would drive past the bar.

After lunch I came to my townhouse for a solid nap before a night of beer pong. My buddy showed up and we did a few pre-game shots, just like any other tourney. He then drove me to the bar, where I proceeded to not put together that there were a ton of cars outside the bar, yet no one actually IN the bar. He said the tournament was in the back room.

There was not a tournament in the back room. In fact, when the door opened the exact thought process was: Why is Pam’s sister here… why is my friend’s mom here… why is my dad at a Beirut Tourn…… ahfack.

Apparently when I’m surprised, face actually turns purple and I start sweating like a fat man eating a pile of atomic wings. It wasn’t pretty. I then proceeded to offer my slick, slippery hand to practically ever friend I’ve made in the last ten years. It was actually kind of filthy and I apologize profusely to those dripped on.

The turnout was great. The people were great. The gifts were great. Anyone who was there who reads this, thank you. I had a great time and that was even before we discovered that the bar was hosting kareoke from 9-1. There’s nothing quite like a group of lathered-up, tone-deaf* white people to really make the night go in a new direction.

Again, thanks everyone. It was fantastic.

———————–

* Ms. L, Junior Ms. L, and The Big Show are, in fact, not tone-deaf. That is more than I can say for the other 40 or so people who tried their luck behind the microphone.

I finally started writing again. This time with an actual fully planned out synopsis and everything. I’ve started this story a couple times… even got 100ish pages deep once… and then realized once I hit a certain point that the story wasn’t over but I didn’t have a direction to take it. I gave up. This time, I actually fleshed out a whole 14 page synopsis. There’s a beginning, a middle, and something approaching an end that I’m still kind of tweaking. There are four main characters who I understand pretty well.

I’m about 13 days away from turning 30, so I decided that it’s really pointless to keep thinking about writing it instead of actually writing it. A couple things came together that decided it. Three of the most random people possible.

Some dude who’s name I don’t remember: About a month ago I was over a co-worker’s apartment enjoying his fabulous roof deck. One of his friends happens to be a script writer. I can’t remember what he told me he was in the process of writing but I told him how much I respected that kind of thing and wished I could do it. Knowing how lame that sounds, I actually prefaced it with “I’m sorry to do this to you because I know everyone you meet says this and you must hate it.” He said the best way to just write was to write. As simple and stupid as that sounds, it stuck.

Dr. Phil: He said possibly the most profoundly simple thing I’ve ever heard him say. “There’s no such thing as willpower. You either want to do something or you don’t. If you do, you’ll do it. If you don’t, you’ll fail.” My dad was a smoker for a long time. He “tried” to quit a couple times in his twenties and failed. He eventually decided that he was going to stop “trying” to quit. When he was ready to quit, he’d know. He wasn’t going to keep trying to do something and failing. Same thing. I kept saying that I wanted to write it, but I didn’t have the time, energy, or patience to do it. I didn’t realize how lame that was until person 3.

My buddy Paul: Who said “I keep being afraid to do it because deep down I’m afraid it kinda sucks.” As long as that novel or script stays in your head, you can still dream about being a writer. Once you put it down on paper… it’s real. You can send it to someone. If they tell you it sucks, being a writer isn’t a dream anymore. You’re just another dummy who thought he could write and sucked at it. I think it’s time for me to know one way or another if I suck or if I can come up with something people will like.

At the end of the day, it might suck… but at least I’ll know. And that’s worth something, right?

Well, the server this site is on got hacked so if anyone visited here before I was took it down and got attacked by a trogan downloaded, I apologize.

I upgraded to 2.3.1 and we changed the password on the server to something a little more difficult… hopefully that’ll help.

At the last minute on Friday I decided to skip bringing my laptop on vacation. If I did, I figured I’d be too tempted to do non vacationy things wiith it.

I did however bring the blackberry. I just got back from my first destination wedding/reception. The bride and groom got married on an alter right next to the water in the shade of a cabana bar. It was the first wedding I’ve been to where Sol and Dos Equis was not only served at the reception, but encouraged for the ceremony.

Now, I’m sitting here on my balcony finishing off the trademarked “last beer” that I nicked from the after-party and listening to the waves come in on an absolutely gorgeous night. Last time I came to Mexico it was the end if August and way toohot and humid. Tonight, on the other hand, is perfect.

I’m really posting this for no other reason than because I was stoked that I had blackberry service in Cozumel and so I’d remember the anniversary of Ryan and Sussanah someday… Two people who will certainly never read this post… But bless them for giving me an excuse to go on vacation.

As much as I always say I hate hot and humid, goddam but could I get used to 75 and nice in the middle if November instead of cold, wet, and gray.

Ms. L was pinned by the late-filing deadline of October 15th… so the only way she could go to the wedding was to take the train to Boston on Saturday morning and take the train back to New York on Sunday morning. This meant I “volunteered” to go pick her up at the train station.

7:00 am: Good lord.

9:00 am: Ugh.

10:00 am: Food.

10:05 am: One awesome thing about New England, there’s always a Dunkin’ Donuts pretty close. I meander across the street to a random plaza that, of course, has one. Dunkin Donuts, by the by, is the fourth option on the Hangover Remedy Depth Chart… trailing Random NYC Breakfast Cart (bacon/egg/cheese on a grilled hard roll, coffee, OJ), McDonald’s AM (2 McGriddles, Large coffee, Large OJ), Burger King PM (2 Whoppers, Large Powerade). Dunkin Donuts sports the Supreme Omelette on a Croissant and a large coffee.

11:45 pm: On the road to South Station. I kind of remember how to do this. I remember that the exit to the Bus Terminal’s parking lot is right off the exit. I can’t possibly screw that up, right? *foreboding music*

12:10 pm: I see the exit, but there’s an HOV restriction on the exit. You need to have 2+ people to go into the parking lot? What? My brain freezes and I end up not getting off the exit but end up on Atlantic Avenue. The exit drops me off almost in front of the station.

I don’t know how many of you have driven in Boston, but it’s awful. People complain about driving in New York but really, that’s pretty easy. New York is an island with a highway down each side that meet at the bottom…. after that everything’s a grid. It’s easy. Boston, on the other hand, is ridiculously confusing with no parking. Frequently, directions off MapQuest have U-Turns written into the directions. I’m now trapped here.

12:20 pm: After driving around South Station (and taking 2 U-Turns) I finally just give up and pull into cab parking. I am not a cab and, therefore, am getting angry looks from cabbies. My plate is from New York, we can just do these things.

12:45 pm: I’ve now been in 10 minute parking for 25 minutes.

1:10 pm: Ms. L’s train gets in on-time. She walks outside looking as wiped out as someone who’s worked 14 consecutive 19 hours day can look. She’s also got her laptop with her.

1:30 pm: 2nd Dunkin Donuts trip of the day. The Starbucks is being flushed out of my system.

1:50 pm: The “guys ready room” is directly across the hall from me. I continue trying to fight through my hangover with a Sam Adams Boston Ale. It’s not helping.

2:00 pm: Back to my room with a shower. I like the wedding party but I don’t need to shower with them.

2:30 pm: Ms. L, the most dedicated employee in the history of the game, is on her laptop fixing a return. For those keeping score, I’ve now paid $20 for Internet access.

2:45 pm: Back across the hall to watch Boston College vs. Notre Dame. In other news: BC is good this season. Who knew so many people liked watching Triple-A football. There is a sandwich platter and chips. I pick up the the sandwich and a mustard packet. I actually hear the foreboding in my mind and set the mustard packet back down. Surprisingly, it doesn’t explode all over my suit while I’m setting it down.

3:15 pm: Back across the hall to my room to tell Ms. L I’ll be leaving soon. Her words: “Have fun… I’m about to dominate this bathroom.” She begins laying out make-up tools like a surgeon laying out scalpels.

3:30 pm: On the bus to the DeCordova Museum and Sculpture Park. Totally different than any other place I’ve attended a wedding. Really cool though.

4:00 pm: Pictures begin out in the sculpture garden. The photographer was a bit……… eccentric, but she seemed like she was supremely awesome at what she does. I can’t wait to see the pictures. Outdoor wedding pictures in a sculpture garden? Can’t beat it.

5:00 pm: Inside the museum for the last phase. The groom has asked for neither the pack of cigarettes nor the flask of bourbon I have stored in my suit. Good for him.

5:45 pm: People start showing up. As this is the least conventional wedding in the history of the game, I don’t have to seat anyone. I’m loving this. This is the easiest groomsman job ever.

6:00 pm: And we’re off.

6:20 pm: And we’re done. Goddam I love Justice of the Peace ceremonies.

6:30 pm: The reception is actually going to be in the same room as the ceremony. While they’re switching the room over, the collection of folks go out into the waiting room. Mr. and Mrs. Show, God bless them, have open beer and wine… however, beer snob that he is, it’s not a keg of Coors Light. He’s got bottles of Blue Point Toasted Lager, Allagash White, A stout I can’t recall, Lindemen’s Peche Lambic (also the substitute for those who didn’t want champagne), and one other beer that slips my mind now. Not to mention some random hors d’oeuvers… especially some little steak things and sushi things that I could have eaten for hours.

8:00 pm: Cocktail hour extends into an hour and a half.

I’m going to skip the rest of this because it was sort of a blur. Lots of good food and lots of good friends. I had a great time and I think I actually knew more people at that wedding than any other wedding I’ve been to. That made it fun. I even pried Ms. L away from her job for 12 hours so she could have a good time, too.

All in all, a big congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Show and I expect home-made ice cream out of your new ice-cream maker… mixed with Double Chocolate Stout.

Oft-commenter here The Big Show got married this past weekend. It was a weekend that featured my rediscovery of the Manhattan, marathon driving sessions, one of the most valiantly fought-off hangovers in the history of hangovers, and me re-discovering my hatred of Ms. L’s job.

Friday

7:00 am: Blackberry alarm goes off telling me something I already knew… it’s fuggin early.

7:15 am: Ms. L doesn’t stir as I start rummaging around and getting some final packing done. I am sure I didn’t forget anything. As I will later discover, I forgot toothpaste. Go me.

7:30 am: Downstairs to Rector Place. The doorman asks me if I need a cab. It takes a moment to process what he asks me. I grunt a yes and point at the one in front of the building across the way. The doorman pulls off that cab calling whistle that I still can’t do… at 7:30 in the morning it wasn’t something I needed next to my head.

7:32 am: I’m on the road. There’s nothing quite like taking a cab up the West Side Highway at 7:30 on a weekday morning… especially starting downtown. Between the construction on the highway and the construction on the Big Hole In The Ground, they collapse 3 lanes to 1 or 2. Plus, cabbies drive like they have death wishes. I’m half catatonic and my train’s at 8:15.

7:55 am: Penn Station at 8 am. Speaking of debacles. I’m not sure which is worse, Penn Station at 8 am when all the people from Long Island and New Jersey are getting into work or Penn Station at 3 am, when all their drunken kids are trying to go home. Oddly enough, in the morning all the hair product and fake tans are on the women. At night, they’re on the guys. This, of course, leads me to conclude that guidos grow up to be 40-year-old women who look 60.

8:00 am: Quick-Trak is deciding it wants my reservation number for the first time in history. Now… I have my overnight bag, my laptop, a garment bag, and I need to manage to get my Blackberry out to try and get to G-Mail to get my reservation number. All the while, there’s people behind me in line. Something tells me their train is coming at 8:15, too. Before Blackberry, I don’t know how this would have all worked out.

8:05 am: Tickets purchased. I consider Dunkin Donuts… line. Nope.

8:10 am: Boarding. I remain amused by all the people who stand in line at the gate of the Amtrak train. I’ve seen people start lining up at the gate up to a half hour before departure time. Congratulations, you got a choice seat on a train that isn’t sold out.

8:15 am: I’m sitting and there’s a lovely note on my seat informing me that, due to CSX trackwork, trains between New York Penn and Albany-Rensselaer are running from 15 to 90 minutes late. This does not bode well for my goal of making it to Boston by 3:30 pm to hit rehearsal. Luckily, I’ve been to two wedding rehearsals and they’re all exactly the same.

11:45 am: Arrive Albany exactly an hour after I was supposed to. Amtrak: F*ck Else You Gonna Use?

11:50 am: Mama Yard is waiting for me at the train station with a Dunkin Donuts coffee and toasted bagel with cream cheese. I’m reminded how much I love my mommy.

11:50:05 am: That bagel didn’t stand a chance.

12:05 pm: I have my mom take me to Kohl’s so I can buy a brown belt and navy socks. Mom is prepped with a $10 coupon in her glove box. Mind you I didn’t tell her that I needed to go to Kohl’s to buy a belt and socks before-hand, she was just prepped with a $10 coupon. Reasoning: “It came in the mail and I didn’t know when I’d need it.” More points for mom.

12:45 pm: Mom’s house. “You want a sandwich before you go? I have turkey, ham, roast beef, bologna, swiss, cheddar, and American.” Only my mom and dad live at home. She’s got lunch for 15. Bless her soul.

1:00 pm: On the road, exactly an hour after I’d prepared to be. Amtrak: We’re Union… Go F*ck Yourself.

1:05 pm: Ron and Fez on XM… now I recall why I keep my car’s subscription active even though I drive my car like 25 days a year.

2:30 pm: Fun fact: You can pick up WFAN out of Queens on the Massachusetts Turnpike.

4:10 pm: Right on schedule, hell traffic picks up right at the I-90/I-95 interchange. Even though I don’t drive much in New York, I must be picking up the driving habits by osmosis, as I certainly cut off an SUV to get over into the EZ-Pass lane. More points for mom: having an EZ-Pass since mine was in Brockport.

4:25 pm: I arrive at the Westin in Waltham exactly an hour after I intended. Amtrak: The Plane Would Have Taken Longer And Cost More, Sally. The bus for the rehearsal left an hour ago. Fortunately, they’re coming back before the dinner. Plenty of time to shower and get ready.

5:15 pm: I flip my computer on since I forgot to do my picks… the hotel charges for Internet. This, as usual, fills me with rage.

5:30 pm: I walk downstairs to discover that 5:30 really meant 5:25 and everyone’s waiting on me… I hate being that guy. They transport us to the rehearsal dinner on a coach bus, which was an excellent idea.

6:00 pm: I begin fulfilling my role as “dude no one knows” at the rehearsal dinner. There’s about 30 people there and I know the bride and groom, the groom’s parents, and the groom’s brother. That’s it. I say the words “Mike’s room-mate from college” about 100 times. The Manhattans make it easier.

6:05 pm: The groom, not the most comfortable guy with being the center of attention, asks me how to start schmoozing. I tell him that all he really has to do tonight is say “hey” and the schmoozing will be done for him.

6:30 pm: There’s a special menu with 4 entrees. I order the duck because I’ve never had duck before.

7:30 pm: My gift is a beer stein. I knew the Big Show would either give us watches or beer steins. Since I rarely wear watches, the beer stein is far more useful in my life. Thanks Big Show!

8:30 pm: Back at the hotel bar, the older folks go to bed and the younger folks begin their evening.

9:00 pm: Drinking

10:00 pm: More Drinking.

11:00 pm: Pretty hazy, but more drinking.

12:45 am: Last call? What? Massachusetts sucks. I order a Manhattan and a Bud Light and turn into “creepy guy sitting at the hotel bar a little too late by himself” as the rest of my party heads off to bed. I try to counter-act this by talking a group of guys who are even drunker than me. One of them reveals himself to be from Scotia… a town about 10 miles from where I grew up…. which is about 300 miles from where we are. Nonsense.

1:00 am: I find my way back to my room and engage in my newest random drunken activity: showering. For whatever reason: drunken Tom (or Tomas as he’s affectionately known) needs to take showers. I don’t know why.

1:15 am: Tomas finds that the Westin has robes. Tom later discovers how gloriously happy he is that he smartly decided to NOT ask for the keys to the minibar.

1:20 am: Tomas needs ice. He’s thirsty. He walks out to see guy from Scotia with his buddy’s arm slung over his shoulder in that “holy crap this guy’s drunk” stance.

2:00 am: Tomas wants to see the end of the Rockies game but some dim part of him realizes that he’s been up for almost 20 hours at this point.

To Be Continued…… Driving in Boston is always an adventure