SATURDAY, Sept. 19th
5:00pm: After a great day on the links, the first time in three months for the Southerners in the group in which we weren’t dripping sweat before even hitting the range, we retreat back to the hotel to supposedly clean up and rest up before dinner and wherever else the night takes us. After what seemed like a five round bout with our rental car GPS system (aka a poor man’s Garmin) and the Minneapolis highway detours, we arrive back at the downtown Minny hotel.
5:01pm: Reed, Brandon, and myself pull into the parking lot of the hotel…Interestingly enough the parking lot of the hotel is adjacent to the lawn bowling green of Brit’s Pub, which in the summer time is possibly the greatest bar in the US, but definitely the best in Minny or any of the other ‘fly over’ states. So as we pull in we notice three things; 1) There is a surprisingly good crowd at the outside deck/lawn area of the pub; 2) The prime lawn bowling court perched over the street below and at the apex of bar traffic is wide open!; and 3) Some dude looking like Rick Flair and Sam Kinison’s love child is out there playing in a Panthers jersey and jean shorts. (More to come on him, but his jersey was one you buy on NFL.com with your own last name and a chosen number on the back…his read J. Young #42.)
5:02pm: We immediately blow-off any thought of showering or relaxing in the room and decide to go ‘run game’, lawn bowling or otherwise. And yes, in full ‘Southerner’ golf attire minus the spikes (more to come on that later).
5:20pm: We arrive at Brit’s Pub and head immediately upstairs to the Lawn-Patio area to claim our spot. The guy running the court (who we will come to know very well) gives us a little Lawn Bowling 101, that we pretend to listen to.
Note: For those not familiar with lawn bowling, it’s basically like bocce ball except your DON’T throw the balls, you roll them. The balls are weighted heavier on one side than the other so they break in. different directions depending on which side you have the weight. The object is still the same to get the balls closest to the little target ball you place out if front of you somewhere. Brit’s Pub’s runs leagues and tournaments all the time and their court is a well kept grass lawn like a putting green, or at least it was.
5:25pm: It is decided that Brandon and Reed will face off first and I’ll judge while keeping a closer eye out for ‘local talent’. The concept of starting out with a fairly close target ball for the first game never crosses our mind as Reed chucks the object ball ¾ across the lawn. Not two seconds later, Brandon, going first, rears back and lobs his heavy bocce ball a good fifteen feet into the air and twenty feet across the lawn landing with a big thud and leaving a massive size crater in the well manicured lawn.
5:26pm: In what will be the first of several candid conversations with the guy running the lawn, he comes over and warns us about throwing the balls, reminding us that it is not bocce ball!
5:45pm: After twenty minutes or so of bowling we all start getting the feeling that we’re being watched…and we were, by pretty much the entire outside population of the bar. We come to the conclusion that these “might-as-well-be-Canadians” haven’t ever really seen the likes of us and our pastel golf outfits, late summer tans, flip-flops, and visors. Not to mention the Southern accented shit-talking we are doing over a sport we just picked up, but now profess to be experts in. At one point we literally heard one person say to another, “I mean come on, they are wearing visors!” (see pic)
5:50pm: After continued debate over whether we were making an embarrassing spectacle of ourselves or if these people were more in an awe-struck state of curiosity and intrigue, we settle on the latter…Whether true or not, it goes along better with our goal of ‘running game’. Although, I will say, at the time we saw J. Young the Panthers fan we intended to go set the record straight about Panthers fans and better represent the South…But at this point though, I did start to question who was doing better representing the South and Panther nation, him or us.
5:55pm: A large table of girls, like 15 strong, sits down right beside the end of the lawn…remember, we have the prime court next to the rest of the patio.
5:56pm: Brandon claims he has made eye contact with several of them already.
6:00pm...: Our line of play begins to drift towards the far reaches of the lawn before the patio bordering on the blatantly obvious intent to ‘get a closer look’ at the table full of chicks.
6:05pm: On the next throw of the object ball, Reed literally tosses it into the gutter that divides the lawn from the rest of the pub’s patio,…thankfully the ball actually went in the gutter because at the speed he threw it, it easily could have run into and out of the gutter like a golf ball through a bunker and under the pack of girls’ table.
6:25pm: Just past our hour time limit on the court, Reed gets a little over anxious about us overstaying our welcome and suggests that we pack it up. He even at one point told us that the guy came over to alert us. Brandon and I, convinced we never saw the guy say a word and also convinced it was going to take more than that to get us off the court, catch Reed in a lie. Like it or not, we were not going anywhere anytime soon, but we agree to slip the guy a twenty spot just to be sure of it (which I still don’t think I’ve been paid back for by the way).
6:45pm: After being the continued subjects of more heckling and pointing by the outdoor bar patrons, we make eye contact with some guy at a nearby table (yes, it finally got so dark that we had to take our sunglasses off to see the court). Brandon finally looked back at the guy gesturing, “You got a problem or something to say?” So he gets up and comes over to see what we’re all about…At this time, Reed gets a little squirrely and for those reading this that know him, his rate per minute of touching and blowing on his bangs reaches an all time high. Turns out, the guy has been sitting with his wife and her single sister the entire time we’ve been on display lawn bowling and couldn’t take them admiring us anymore without coming over and trying to pimp her out. He went so far as to tell us where they were heading out that night and that she would be a ‘very hospitable’ girl to us out-of-towners.
6:48pm: Now for those that might share this with their wives (and ours)…yes, we quickly informed him that we were, in fact, all married, but just didn’t have our wedding rings due to coming straight from the golf course. (Of course this was done in a soft whisper after he signed the confidentiality agreement).
7:15pm: The rest of the cavalry, dressed and ready for the evening, arrives at the bar, not at our hotel room as was originally planned (we told them to not bother looking there) and they discover that…A) We haven’t stopped drinking since the golf course, and if anything, we’ve stepped it up a notch since you can play lawn bowling with beers in hand (it actually works better to balance out the weight), B) We really are the spectacle of amusement for the rest of the bar that we thought we were, and C) We are not showered or dressed and didn’t appear to be heading that direction anytime soon.
7:15pm – 8:15pm: Not much else transpires other than one by one the original three bowlers are forced to break away to shower up with the one pre-requisite that the court is held by the others…as if it mattered since we had dinner reservations approaching and bigger things were in store for the evening.
8:20pm: While walking to the restaurant, Manny’s Steakhouse, I spot Eugene “Handle Your Bizness” Robinson walking with the rest of the Panthers Broadcast Crew, Mick Mixon and Jim Szoke. Of course without a second thought, I let out a “Yo Eugene, Handle Your Business!” He actually seemed more amused than some in our crew.
8:25pm: We arrive a little early and check in for our reservation at Manny’s and while they put our table together we decide to grab a cocktail. The bar of the restaurant is shoulder to shoulder so we decide to hit the W Hotel bar that is right beside Manny’s and don’t even have to walk outside to get to. Porter sticks his chest out and says he’ll take one for the team and cover the first round …So ‘Joe Smooth’ himself sidles up to the bar and starts placing the drink order with some ‘stripper hot’ hotel bartender. After trying to make a little small talk with the hot bartender that goes nowhere, she comes back with the bill. Standing right beside him at this point, I witness Porter spend what seemed like an eternity trying to sign the check. Not knowing if he’s having a problem calculating the tip or what, eventually I see him give up and ask her for another pen saying that this one isn’t working. “Really?” she replies, “I just used it”. So she grabs the pad and pen, gives it one quick look, hands it back, and says, “Well it'd help if you’d click the button.” Strike One…Ahhhh, if only for the minor details, you had it all working according to plan, Po!
8:45pm: Now at our table, after not getting any of us to back him, Brandon takes it upon himself to order Pelligrino b/c the tap water on the table isn’t good enough for him.
8:55pm: After one sip, Brandon summons waiter back over to send the Pellegrino back because it’s not cold enough. Then when waiter asks if he can bring some ice, Brandon asks “Is the ice is made out of Pellegrino?” Taken back by his question, the waiter replies “Ah, well, no sir”. To which Brandon quickly replies, “Well then it’s not going in my Pellegrino, I’ll take a colder bottle.” The waiter then promptly walks off in a state of shock with the first bottle without uttering another word.
9:34pm: It’s Reed’s turn to order the second bottle of wine (why it’s his turn I can’t remember, other than the fact that he makes it his turn) and he asks to speak to the restaurant’s wine Sommelier.
9:52pm: After what seemed like a fifteen minute conversation about which Pinot Noir is more jammy, hearty, bolder, or zesty (all of which mean essentially the same thing, but are completely different to Reed at this point)…he finally orders a bottle.
9:54pm: Still beaming about his wine selection, Reed takes notice as the table beside us receives a bottle of wine along with a fresh set of nicer wine glasses than the standard issue ones that were on our table. After witnessing this, several of us wonder aloud why we weren’t given such type of glasses when we ordered our first bottle. But at this point Reed, in a backhanded dig at Porter’s choice of the first bottle, assures us that we will be getting a fresh set when they bring the bottle he just ordered…"because it’s that good”.
10:01pm: Waiter arrives at the table with our bottle of wine and only our bottle in hand,…At which point we immediately and relentlessly begin calling out Reed and his cheap taste in wine.
10:03pm: Taking this a shot to his manhood and lack of social status, Reed calls the waiter back over to inquire as to why we didn’t get a fresh set of glasses. Then, in a perfect case of ‘Don't Ask Questions you Don’t Want to Know the Answers to’, the waiter replies that our selection didn’t meet the minimum criteria for such glasses, but he would be happy bring us a fresh set if we’d like. After several of us waive him off, thus wanting him to leave the table as soon as possible and avoid any more embarrassment, Reed, of course, in a desperate attempt to save face, pipes up and takes him up on his offer. For the second time of the night, the waiter condescendingly leaves our table in shock.
10:25pm: After devouring a single but monster desert order that Brandon placed (once again without majority approval, but this time much better received than the Pellegrino) we debate the pro’s and con’s of credit card roulette. I’ll let you decide who was for and against this notion, but surprisingly the idea hardly got any traction. I think the lukewarm response is partly due to the fear of the pending bill because we still feel the sting of our last steakhouse experience at Maestro’s in Scottsdale when didn’t play roulette and each person’s amount was still north of $200 each. But somewhat in our defense here, this was due to the fact that the waiter quickly saw we were ‘running hot’ when we got there and seized the opportunity to convince us to order not one, but two seafood towers that come with lobster tails, stone crab claws, and enormous oysters as an appetizer…which we of course did without a moment’s hesitation. Well we later come to find out after the fact that these suckers are over $200 each. Anyway, that’s another story for another time (like never).
10:30pm: With dinner behind us, and it coming in at less than $110 per person, the question now was, what do we do next? With the meal being so much less than expected, it felt like we were playing with house money at the time. Now don’t think that Brit’s Pub didn’t cross our mind, but it was time for a little more ‘nightlife’ than that. Remember, the trendy W Hotel was right next door and they had a high rise bar as well, so we decide to check it out first. Not much happening there, just an abundance of dudes outnumbering the plastic ladies 4:1. After one overpriced but insanely stiff cocktail it was time to move on, there had to be other blocks in downtown Minny that had something to offer us, or vice-versa, something for us to offer them.
Random side note: I don’t mind at all when a ritzy place charges $10 for a cocktail as long as it is ‘knock you back, double take, almost gag’ stiff. Chances are, there are a good 3 shots in that one drink. But what really gets me is when a middle-of-the-road place charges you $8 for cocktail that barely has a splash of the liquor in it. I almost think you’re better off at a place like that ordering it straight and then coming back and asking for a splash of whatever mixer. Sure, you may look a little weak for not being able to take it down straight, but at least you got your money’s worth vs. the other route. Anyway…
11:00pm: When we arrive back downstairs, the W Hotel bar had really picked up now with a DJ and a much better ratio than upstairs…So on second thought, we decided to stay on that same downtown block we’d spent the last 3 hours.
11:30pm: After a couple drinks and a few virtual shouting conversations with the lady folk, it was time to mosey on. At one point I heard Reed’s intro line yelled into one girl’s ear ,“Hey, you going to the game tomorrow?” To which she replied, “What game?” And then Reed responded, “The Panthers game baby!” Her response to that, “Who are they?” He may have tried explaining himself, of he may have or he may of just walked away at this point…Not sure, but I know that’s what I did, it was time to close the tab and branch out from the same place we’d now posted up for over 3 ½ hours.
11:40pm: The cooler, calmer ones of the group, Vell and Matty, decide to call it a night along with Porter…But don’t kid yourself, Porter is neither of these traits, he is just a cheap bastard and was staying on a couch in Vell’s basement despite our suggestion for him to join us at the hotel. This recommendation was more for Vell, his wife, and his newborn’s sake than trying to satisfy Porter’s tendency for late night excitement. But in hindsight it may have been the best (and the worst) decision he ever made…
11:45pm: We finally hit the streets of Minny, and to say we were ‘running hot’ at this point would be a gross understatement. It had now been a good solid twelve hours of drinking from the golf course to this point with little breaks in between for the exception of showering, walking to dinner, and the time lapses it took either the cart girl or the various waitresses/bartenders to bring us another.
11:51pm: While waiting at an intersection to cross, a fairly hot chick behind me asks for a light to her cigarette...So while firing one up for her (somehow I had a lighter in my pocket , sorry Matty, add another to my tab), I see a window and start laying down the Southern Charm. As it turned out, she was walking with another friend and her mother! So over the next several blocks of walking, smoking, and shit-talking it is learned that tonight is Mom’s 50th Birthday and the girls drove her into downtown Minny for a little action and to get her mind off of her 2nd divorce that just got finalized. Upon hearing all this, like moths to a flame, Reed and Brandon come swooping in to ease Mom’s pain, lend her an ear, and extend her an arm like she’s a debutante as they walk the streets (don’t believe me, see picture). Fine by me, they can have the older lady (that was by no means a cougar or a m.i.l.f.) to themselves, I’ll occupy the two younger ladies, spare myself the drama, and enjoy the better scenery.
11:53pm -12:20am: We proceed to walk the streets of Minny while solving all the world’s problems…or at least Debra K’s, as she is come to be known. (Don’t believe me again? See picture, I actually took a shot of her license plate b/c I didn’t believe she really had one with her name on it.) Because of the company we were keeping, level of intoxication, and the s heer spectacle of it all, we totally overshoot our hotel or whatever bar we were going to hit next.
12:30am: We finally say our goodbyes to Debra K and daughters and realize we only sort of knew where we were in downtown Minny.
1:00am: Somehow we’re able to wander our way back to our hotel, and not two steps seconds into the lobby I get water shot in my face by a girl with a penis shaped water gun. Yep, you guessed it…BACHELORETTE PARTY!!! Well this is where the details get really fuzzy, and where I better stop putting anything else in print from that night (j/k, just ask me in person sometime).
SUNDAY, Sept. 20th
10:30am: While walking to the Metrodome for the game, I finally get the call I’d been looking for from an old work buddy that used to sell sponsorships for the Charlotte Hornets…My man now sells for the Vikings and I’d been hitting up for a while for some type of VIP treatment like pre-game hospitality., ticket upgrade, or whatever. I’d been playing phone/text tag with him all weekend but now he’s come through with pre-game field passes. Problem is, he’s only got two. So I’ll give you one guess who the other person among us is that got to come down there with me? Hint: same guy that has been free loading in Vell’s basement all weekend.
11:00am: So Porter and I set off for the access tunnel to the field…halfway there I inform Porter that the NFL has a much stricter security screening for field level access than normal turnstiles and that at the time I am carrying five mini-bottles in my pockets and needed him to carry some of them in for me. Begrudgingly he takes a couple from me, we tuck them in our waist bands and end up breezing through security.
11:15am: Down on the field we wander around behind the Panthers bench, talk a little bit of sh*t to Viking fans both on the field and in the front row of the stands. With me wearing a Steve Smith jersey and this being his first game back from suspension for breaking a teammate's face in training camp, I definitely seek him out, go stand nearby, and shout, “We’re back baby, go get ‘em Smitty!” To which I at least got a subtle nod and wink from him, but that’s it. (Not saying I was expecting him to come over and give me a chest bump or for him to take off one of his gloves and give it to me, but I would have taken either, preferably the first one.)Just before being forced off the field, I see a familiar face from the weekend…standing right in front of us, in the same clothes as the last time I saw him 15 hours ago was our boy J. Young #42 from the bocce lawn of Brit’s Pub. So I took this picture of him and his new best friends Porter #73.
TO BE CONTINUED...Many more stories and images from the epic weekend to come, but in the interest of time and fulfilling the promise of getting this blog out by thanksgiving I will stop here for now. Plus, the game wasn't worth writing about and don't really want to relive by doing so. Although, I will offer some remaining photos that only need a few words of explanation and others that will just have to build in curiousity until I get around to finishing this thing.
Matty's 3rd Quarter snack, took it down completely, I couldn't even look at it without getting heartburn:
Bummed out Panthers Fans after a dissappointing second half...
Hot Viking's fan who danced in front of us (w/ purple thong - not pictured, sorry) was the only thing that made the 2nd half tolerable:
Strange character on our flight home, not sure what else to say about this guy...I may have been hallucinating at this point.
