Makes a ripple effect.
Every action in this world?
Will bear a consequence.
If you wait around forever?
You will surely drown.
I see what's going down ...
I see the way you go,
And say you're right again --
Say you're right again?!?!?!
Heed my lecture!!!!!
Do you feel like a man?
When you push her around?
Do you feel better now?
As she falls to the ground?
Well I tell you, my friend?
One day? This world's gonna end!
As your lies crumble down?
A new life? She has found!
Face down in the dirt?
(You) said it doesn't hurt?
(We) said -- we've finally hurt enough!
Face down in the dirt?
(You) said it doesn't hurt?
'Cause (we) said?
(We've) FINALLY hurt enough!!!! ..."
-- "Face Down" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.
--------------------
He laughed.
That is what I will always -- and I mean always -- remember about arguably the most satisfying Chiefs road trip of my life.
"Fat" Andy laughed.
No, really. One more time, for emphasis.
"Fat" Andy turned around ... and laughed.
As did this insanely hot as hell 41 year old dude, sitting in Section 117, Row 37, Seat 7, upon realizing what he was doing ... and why he was doing it.
Because I knew -- as did every person inside the absolute bat sh*t crazy nuthouse that fake mile high was Monday night -- I knew? Just as "Fat" Andy no doubt figured out?
The Chiefs? Our beloved Red and Gold?
Well, you'll have to keep reading.
--------------------
The roadie started about 6am Sunday morning, when I got picked up by the other three driving out for this roadie: "The Kids" of our tailgating group.
The trip out was relatively uneventful. Jaimmie and Anthony took turns driving. I took a nap, then started in on Jeff Pearlman's fantastic new book "Football For a Buck", a fond look back at the wackiness that was the USFL (and the utter bullsh*t lie Donald J. Trump "House of Wings"
It spit rain for about half the trip, from somewhere west of Salina until just before we hit the eastern suburbs of denver. Which honestly, was fine. Because somehow, it improved my cell phone reception, and allowed us to have the Red Zone channel pulled up on my phone, while flipping between the games the CBS and NBC National feeds were providing over DirecTV Now.
I gotta admit, taking a road trip today? Is a helluva lot better than it was, ten years ago.
--------------------
We got into denver a solid hour, seventy minutes before we could check in ... and apparently this was by design. Because as we got off I-70 in one of the sketchiest, shakiest parts of a city I've ever stepped foot in * , there it was, in all its' beautiful glory.
The Green Solution.
Sadly, they did not allow pictures to be taken inside, but I did snap one of the outside:
(image credit: me, via my iPhone 8 something.)
This place ... sh*t, 41 year old me was literally drooling. I can only imagine what 31 year old me would have done, at realizing obtaining an herbal product I enjoy is as easy to obtain as (a) show ID, (b) tell your herbalist what you want, and (c) fork over the cash.
Which, I suppose, the only difference between a legal transaction and the way I've bought product the last twenty some odd years is (a) ... and the cops. But still.
There were at least three things on this trip I never imagined I'd live to see in my lifetime. A legalized marijuana dispensary is one of them.
The second one happened, about an hour later.
The third?
Closes this post down.
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(*: this presumes there is a section of denver that is not sketchy, sleazy, and/or overrun with crime, vermin, and homeless drug addicts who just sh*t and whiz in the streets, San Francisco style. I have yet to encounter, that section of denver. Also, I irrationally hate everything about that place, most especially its' football team, so I'm probably never going to run that place's Chamber of Commerce.)
--------------------
Next step was to check into the hotel, try to catch the late game, and grab some food. (We hadn't really had anything all day, save for coffee and water.) I also had another mission: it was pushing 4pm Kansas City time on a Sunday, and I had yet to have a drop of alcohol. I swear, my left hand was shaking from withdrawal ** .
So, after dumping my bag in my room, I headed down to the lobby to hit up the bar ... only it wasn't open yet. (It didn't open until 4pm denver time). So I made (dave matthews voice) the best of what's around, and headed into the little convenience store there in the lobby of the lovely Clarion Denver Central *** . And lo and behold, they had beer!
Sadly, they only had one kind:
(image credit: me, via my iPhone 8 something.)
To answer the Captain Oats in the room ... of course I drank them.
I also puked less than five minutes later. And I mean puked. There was stuff coming up that I ate on Tuesday, those two beers with the logo of those people so thoroughly disgusted my body upon entering it.
Once again, I am the one person in this life, who does not believe in coincidence.
--------------------
(**: usually I'm pushing a .12 by lunch on a typical Sunday.)
(***: this was one neat hotel. In a "holy hell, places like this exist?!?!?!" neat kind of way.)
--------------------
A little after four, we met up in the bar to enjoy some libations and the 49ers / Chargers game. Our bartender was ... well, he was interesting. For starters, he was hitting on me from the moment I walked in, right up to the always classy "can I get you another cock ... (long pause) ... tail?" line every time he hit up our table.
Honestly, I could care less when someone hits on me, irregardless of who they are. I take it as a compliment, to be frank. But this guy just would not stop. I finally reached my breaking point, tabbed out, and headed upstairs for the night to watch the rest of the Steelers game, and try to get some sleep.
After all, Monday was the whole reason for the trip in the first place.
--------------------
Monday I was wide awake by 6:30am. I headed down to get breakfast, and read through the columns I normally do on a Monday morning.
The rest of our group stumbled into the breakfast area over the next hour, and around 9am we set out to get stuff for the tailgate.
(And make another trip to The Green Solution. Priorities.)
After getting back to the hotel about 10:30, we decided to just relax for a couple hours before setting out for fake mile high. I took a 90 minute nap; I can't report on what anyone else did. My nap probably would have gone on for another hour were it not for my phone going off with a text from my boss, asking if I could pick up some Bud Light for her and her group that were going to be meeting up with us to tailgate.
So, after hitting up the gas station for some of that god-awful alcoholic beverage, it was off for fake mile high, at about 1pm.
So let me give you Chiefs fans who b*tch about parking at Arrowhead **** a little hint.
If you think Arrowhead is unbearable to park in?
Try fake mile high.
For starters, you only get (at most) three hours to tailgate. The gates allegedly open at 1:45 for a prime time game. They didn't open in Lot M until 2ish. Also, come about three hours later, the lovely parking nazis come around and force you to begin shutting down your tailgate. Not the Chiefs new policy of "suggesting" you get out by halftime ... you'd better be packed and gone an hour before kickoff. Thirdly, if you think Chiefs parking prices are high? I paid $67 for our vehicle to park ... and underpaid, based on face value of the pass. (Which was $100.)
We pay $35 for 4-5 hours for noon games, 5-6 hours for prime time games, and have no hassles whatsoever if we arrive within an hour of the gates opening. (Which my group always does.)
We paid $67 for 3 hours on Monday night ... and I don't even want to think of what a nightmare it would have been, had the Rockies hosted the NL West Championship Game, instead of LA.
Anyway, we finally got in and started unloading ... and wouldn't you know it? Who appears next to us in my dream car ***** ? Some folks who sit in front of "The Kids" ... and routinely tailgate across the aisle from us in Lot G. #itsasmallworldafterall
After pleasantries all around, and noting they had the bigger grill, the sensible one amongst us (and note: that ain't me), decided we should just merge tailgates and enjoy the day. Which is exactly what we did.
--------------------
(****: I have one more meeting as a member of the Chiefs Fan Focus group, in December. Lay your b*tches upon me, and I will deliver them to the height of the mountain.)
(*****: I think, if I hold out two months and bank that paycheck on the 15th a couple more times, I can justify the expense via writing the largest check of my life as the down payment to get the monthly payment below my rent check ... but yeah, there she is.)
--------------------
About 3pm my boss, her husband, and a few of their friends arrived. I thank God somebody gave me advance warning ... because let's just say, there may or may not have been a pre-rolled being consumed by me at that point. Thankfully, she either (a) enjoys what I do or (b) like me, doesn't give a rip what you do, it was all good, but still.
After consuming a couple really good burgers off Warren's grill, polishing off two bottles of Cook's, and pouring some Windsor into my plastic flask (in addition to the pint of Fireball I packed), I figured it was off for fake mile high.
But first, my boss demanded the four of us "Kids" take a pic, to have a memory of the day.
Who am I to say no?
(image credit: my boss, via my iPhone 8 something.)
--------------------
Of course, on the walk in, you have to swing through those people's ring of fame. And honestly, they do theirs better than we do ours, in that (a) a non-ticket holder can access it, and (b) actual statues! (Note: the Chiefs have statues too ... just not as well done as those people's are.)
So of course, I had to attempt to defile my two most hated those people, by raising a Chiefs hat over them.
First up? From (Louisville), tom jackson:
(wow, I look so, so sober. And not medicinally high. Image credit: (I think) Anthony, via my iPhone 8 something.)
And of course, from (Stanford), beelzebub / apollyon / the antichrist himself:
(there are no words to describe my hatred of this demon. Image credit: (I think) Anthony, via my iPhone 8 something.)
--------------------
Once picture time was up, it was head for the gates. And, well ... this happened.
(stevo) (being wanded after passing through a metal detector that he set off)
(security) sir? What is in there? (points to my right bottom pocket.)
(stevo) (sighing in disgust).
(stevo) (hands over fireball pint).
(security) is that all?
(stevo) yes.
(security) (wands me again)
(security) sir? What is in there? (points to my left bottom pocket.)
(stevo) (really sighing in disgust)
(stevo) (hands over windsor pint).
(security) is that all?
(stevo) (sighing in disgust) yes.
(security) then enjoy the game.
(stevo) well I'd enjoy it better if you employed the p*ss poor gate security Arrowhead does!
It's one thing to lose one of your "flasks". It's another thing to lose both.
It's really something ... when you've never, in 41 years, 8 months, and 29 days of existence on this planet, NEVER been busted smuggling booze into anyplace, before.
F*ck you, fake mile high.
--------------------
Although, to be fair, I was the moron who left change in both of those pockets, which is what set off the metal detector wand thingy. (Note to self: charge everything on every future road trip. No cash again ever.)
Once through security, I headed for my seat, and found myself in a really cool little bar area those people had set up in Section 120. It had every artisan brew you could want.
Me? I just wanted the one beer I figured there would be zero, zip, nada issue in purchasing at fake mile high. I mean, for Christ's sake, they brew it an hour down the freeway!
That foamy sloppy domestic hot mess known as ... Coors Light.
They had nothing.
No Coors Light to be found.
Semi-disgusted, I settled for a Blue Moon, and headed for my seat.
-------------------
And here is the view, from said seat, when I arrived:
(image credit: me, via my iPhone 8 something.)
I sat in 117, 37, 7 ... which is pretty comparable to my seat at Arrowhead (132, 26, 14). I bought my ticket off a those people season ticket member named Elliot (sp?), who will be meeting up and tailgating with us in three weeks ... so please, since I will be late to that game ****** , please?
Be as nice to him and his guest, as he and his brother Eric were to me.
Because I've rarely if ever sat by nicer fans on the road, than these two.
(Sadly, I did not snap a pic of them.)
--------------------
(******: my flight from San Antonio to KC (via Dallas) leaves at 5:07am on that Sunday morning. I swear to Christ, if we get flexed back to 3:25, I'm gonna be livid. Because there were direct flights leaving San Antonio at 9am, that land at KCI at 10:40ish. I chose the one that landed first at KCI on that Sunday, at 8:37am. (It'll be closer to 8:15, wind allowing -- it never takes 97 f*cking minutes to fly from KC to Dallas. Sh*t, even when I made that flight routinely in college twenty years ago, it rarely clocked in at over 65 minutes.)
--------------------
I'll leave the game recaps to people far, far more qualified than me, to, uuh, recap them.
But there is one moment I want to recap.
And it's the moment that opened this post.
--------------------
By now, we all know the play.
The one time in the last twenty some odd painful months (as a Democrat) ... that lefties ruled the land.
I'm talking about 3rd and 6, barely 3 to play, Chiefs down three, near midfield.
The moment that, as Rany so perfectly put it, The Messiah arrived:
--------------------
Go ahead, watch it again. Watch it ten times. Watch it a hundred. God knows I have.
Because it's what you don't get to see on the television view -- what you had to be there, and specifically focused in on the Chiefs sideline (where that play unfolded) to witness?
That made this entire road trip for me.
--------------------
To repeat the top of the post:
He laughed.
That is what I will always -- and I mean always -- remember about arguably the most satisfying Chiefs road trip of my life.
"Fat" Andy laughed.
No, really. One more time, for emphasis.
"Fat" Andy turned around ... and laughed.
As did this insanely hot as hell 41 year old dude, sitting in Section 117, Row 37, Seat 7, upon realizing what he was doing ... and why he was doing it.
--------------------
"Fat" Andy turned around after that left handed toss for a first down, and was literally doubled over laughing.
I know why he did it. Hell, it's why I did it.
It's the moment he -- and hopefully every one of you reading this that is a Chiefs fan -- realized the theme to the post.
"We've FINALLY had enough!"
From that moment on -- and I am fully aware that involved converting a 2nd and 30 into a touchdown 4 plays later -- there was no doubt who was going to win.
There was no doubt anymore where the balance of power in the AFC West has shifted, for at least a decade to come.
Because if that play works?
What, pray tell, can those people possibly come up with, to stop the Chiefs?
If the Chiefs at their "holy f*cking sh*t, what's happening here?!?!?!" most confused, befuddled, no clue what to do worst, is STILL better than your absolute best? (And I would argue von miller blowing up the pocket in literally one step, then ankle tackling your quarterback eight steps later as he tries to left arm the ball and save the drive, is about as good as it gets for those people)?
If your absolute best cannot top our absolute worst?
Then you're in worse shape than the Army of Northern Virginia on the morning of Monday, April 3, 1865.
And there ain't no President Lincoln about to step in, and give you a generous bailout, for your crimes against humanity, "those people".
--------------------
After the game, we headed back to the car, did some more tailgating, and then headed back to our hotel.
The bar was completely filled up with Chiefs fans.
The bar was supposed to close at midnight (those people time).
It was still going strong when I went to bed a little after 2am (those people time).
Somehow?
I have yet to be charged for a single thing I drank that night.
It's like the Daily Double West.
You gotta love it.
--------------------
The ride back Tuesday was pretty uneventful. Anthony and I watched the replay of the game on my phone in the back seat for about a third of the trip. I finished the USFL book, as well as Clay Travis' book (which, in the interest of full disclosure, other than "being successful", he and I are exactly alike, save for our position on abortion. What we most agree on, is get politics out of sports ASAFP.) I even got caught up on "The Resident" (Jesus, Dr. Bell is so awesomely sleazy, Dr. Michael Mancini is jealous) and "Young Sheldon" (other than "You're The Worst", the funniest show on TV right now).
The highlight was probably on the way out of denver -- in search of a Starbucks, we wound up on some street in yet another seedy, sleazy, slimy, creepy part of town.
And there, on the right, there it was.
The Blue Moon Brewery.
We literally stayed within two miles of Blue Moon's headquarters, and didn't know it.
Who says weed doesn't kill brain cells?
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We got back to my place a little before 8pm on Tuesday. I called my folks to let them know I made it home safe. Called the Second Parents as well, since they apparently got me something from the Kingdom Show on Tuesday at the HyVee on Noland Road. (Note: given it was Mitch Holtgus' 400th game as Chiefs broadcaster, I'm guessing it's something signed by him. I'll find out Saturday.)
And the only other thing I did before crashing in bed -- save for pouring a solid Weller and Diet ... ok, fine, two of them -- was fire up the broadcast of the game, to see if "Fat" Andy Reid doubled over, laughing at those people's defensive effort against the left handed pass, was something you had to be there to witness ... or something given away for free.
You had to be there, to witness it.
That's why I love this sport, and I love this team, and I love this coach, and I'm about ready to fall down prostrate and worship this quarterback.
Because every week, they're giving us something we ain't never had before, as Chiefs fans.
And that is something?
I am perfectly cool with.
--------------------
I choose to close with this.
Elliot and Eric, the those people stm's I bought my ticket off of, Elliot turned to me after the final replay confirmed an incomplete pass, leading to the final kneel down, and simply said this:
"Godd*mmit, we're your b*tch for the next fifteen years."
Considering we've been yours for the last thirty?
"Well I tell you my friend?
Someday, your world's gonna end.
And as your lies crumble down?
A new life? We have found!"
Because this? Anyone reading this?
This is a site, I never imagined I'd ever witness in person:
(image credit: me, via my iPhone 8 something.)
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Until next time -- (stg. esterhaus voice) Hey!
Let's be careful out there ...
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