Why my family is FROM Kansas

Hello loyal readers - boredom has driven me to action. Sorry for the delay. Where to begin? Ah yes, Colorado. Flew into Denver and drove down to Colorado Springs. Thanks largely to an hour at the rental car counter that ended with "Give me anything with at least 3 wheels!" I had to make what I'm told is a very pretty drive in the dark. Irritated. Woke in Colorado Springs to two revelations. 1) There aren't many trees in Colorado Springs (wtf?) 2) Yahoo Weather is run either by washed up Grateful Dead roadies with a ouija board or someone with a sick sense of humor. So as I stood on my balcony wearing shorts and all 5 T shirts I brought willing myself not to shiver in 40 degree weather I admired the view. First of all, I really do like Colorado but to be honest I like the view in Arizona better. Anyhoo....after I got work done I realized "Wait a moment - this is a rental car!" So it was off to Pike's Peak. I'm sure there is a reason that Chevy Blazers aren't competitive in world rally racing but it's not from any lack of effort by me. I'm sure the view from the top of Pike's Peak is spectacular - couldn't tell you. All I could see were clouds. And at 14000 feet the hike from the car to the gift shop was a feat. As I walked in I enviously eyed the 90 yr old woman wheeling around her oxygen tank. Don't feel bad for her, she put up a hell of a fight. I don't even think she needed the tank. Half way down the mountain I went for a walk in the woods. Real woods, not the tree farm garbage we get in the "forests" in Arizona. Then I realized that after my knee injury of last year I really couldn't run from anything that wanted to eat me and my only weapon was an oxygen tank. Time to go.

On the way home I stopped at Cave of the Winds. Mainly because the last time I was there I was 4 and it's a kick to relive memories that old. Unfortunately the cave has shrunk drastically since I was 4. Dangerously so. As Captain Caveguide narrated our approach to the narrowest point in the tour, "Tall man's headache, Fat man's misery" his eyes settled on me as he got to the last syllable in "Misery". Fuck you spelunker boy! You better hope I get stuck cuz that's your head start! I made it - with centimeters to spare - and my anger had abated by the surface. Who knew that this would be the highlight of my week.

The next day I hit the road for Kansas. Where exactly you ask? Who cares - it's Kansas. Somewhere between "East Bum-Fuck Nowhere, Kansas" and "Slightly Less East Bum-Fuck Nowhere Kansas" I was pulled over by one of Kansas' finest. You can't help being nervous when you get pulled over. Thoughts race through your head like "Ok Ryan, get your shit together and relax and he'll have no reason to look for the kilo of coke in the trunk. If he does hit him with the oxygen tank, disable the camera and throw the body next to the coke and we make for Ole'Mexico!" Then you realize, "Wait a minute, I don't have any coke." According to Barney Fife he pulled me over because a trucker radioed him to say I looked "sleepy". Ummmmm......what? 8 hours sleep and 64 ounces of diet coke officer. Not sleepy. So he has me retrace my steps from the airplane to that spot about 3 times before he goes to run my information. 20 minutes I sit there freaking out. When he gets back I get to recount my trip another 3 times for him. "Didn't you say you flew into Colorado Springs?" "No, Denver - then I drove to Colorado Springs. Almost had me there Columbo." I should explain that it was 9/11. Can you blame him for thinking that I was an operative of the local sleeper cell of Scottish Muslims looking to strike terror in the heartland by driving a combine into the Dairy Queen? So eventually Ranger Rick let me go and it was off deeper into the Heart of Darkness.

One shining point in the whole Kansas experience that I have to point out. $125 in rural Kansas gets you a jacuzzi suite! I don't mean a tub with jets, I mean Stone-cold chillin, must find gorgeous twins with little to no comprehension of the US legal system to share this jacuzzi with me jacuzzi tub! 3 baths in 14 hours. I was pruny in places I didn't know I had skin. And then the next day it was back on the highway to scout locations for the combine Jihad. Allah Ackbar!!!

I won't drone on about the misery and boredom that flirted with desperation that made up the next few days. I'll just say this: If you somehow arrive hours early for an appointment in Kansas (like me) - GO BACK TO SLEEP! There is no alternative. Want to catch a movie - sorry wait till 4. Wanna have a beer - uh uh, try again. Drug yourself if necessary but just go back to sleep!

Honorable mention: It could be that I was in a good mood because I was about to fly away from Kansas but the last place I ate was a diner in Wichita and those ladies were a kick. I've never seen people have that much fun at work. Funny, relaxed, cool chicks. Don't get the wrong idea, they were ugly as sin so I wasn't influenced by impure thoughts. Just cool old broads. Thank you ladies for sending me on my way on an up-note.

Life Affirming Moments

As my last post mentioned I had a trip to Austin. Work-wise it was a stressful pain in the ass but this blog isn't about work and after 5'Oclock I'm off the clock. I usually do some work later anyway but the night is my own. Thursday was my last night in town and I told myself I was going out no matter what. 5th Street here I come! If you only have one night in Austin (or you pissed away the other 4) you have to go to Antone's. Stomping grounds for Stevie Ray Vaughn, Joplin, Muddy Waters - the joint has history dripping from the rafters. There was a show that night but didn't start until 8 (ish) so I had to kill time. Down 5th Street I wandered looking for a cool bar with music to chill. I had to walk 7 feet. Into the Lucky Lounge. Sort of a hip New York loft feel but no uptight pretense. The word "vibe" is often used and used badly but it really the best word to explain the difference between Austin and everywhere else - It has such a cool vibe. At the table next to me was a couple in their 50's or so having a great time. Standing to the right of me was a 20-something kid covered in tattoos having a great time. Behind me (thankfully) was a black man that looked like he could start on any NFL defensive line having a great time. All mixed, blended and squeezed into into a brick warehouse with lights and a stage. The only way to look out of place in Austin is to look miserable and/or rude. So it's past 8 and I trek back 7 feet to Antone's. Antone's is a stage and a bathroom. Speckled in between is a bar, a T-Shirt counter and a concrete floor. I tried to visualize Stevie Ray ripping it up RIGHT THERE on stage and couldn't fathom it.

"You mean he would just come in and play RIGHT THERE?"

"Ummm.....yes sir, that's what we use stages for here in Austin"

They had a point, I guess I just expected some kind of shrine but what better shrine to SRV can you have than a stage?

Act one: Big Frank Gonzales. The guy absolutely shredded! My jaw hit the floor. I have maybe a tenth the musical appreciation for guitarists that my brother does so I mercilessly texted him "YOU MUST BE HERE" and absorbed the well deserved "Pucker up Buttercup" texts that came back. People don't want to hear how much fun they could be having I've learned. Oh well, he got a T-Shirt. Everyone in there was there to have a good time. No one was there to be seen. Spontaneously couples between the ages of 25 and 65 would dance - and I did say couples, not the 55 year old former Eagles groupies trying to spot anyone in the bar who will still stare at their ass or 25 year old hippies that seem to just spin in circles trying to get the most out of their last tab of acid. Couples. And it was while watching one of these couples casually dancing the night away listening to great music surrounded by a hundred well-wishers that I had one of these moments you should try not to take for granted: "This is how the human condition should be." Drinking - not drunk, dancing - not dry humping on the floor, listening to music - not noises with lights. Any religious, political or any other thought process that disagrees with this is wrong. Note that I didn't say that they are different - I said they are wrong. Humans aren't meant to be miserable. They are made to sing and dance and laugh and then go back to work the next day. If you think your God disagrees then you think your God is an asshole. Your choice, but I don't want to be nearby when you tell him.

Deep thoughts from Texas - Yes That's Irony Folks...

This week my loyal readers (love ya mom!) get a special treat, a mid trip post. I'm all about the fans people. I am in Austin....as in Texas. It is interesting to me that the neighborhoods directly surrounding the Texas capital building are the least "Texas-like" in the state. Cool town. Pseudo hippies, laid back atmosphere, cultural variety (relatively speaking), music everywhere - fun town. Like everywhere else local knowledge is king. With a head full of local recommendations I headed to a hole in the wall Mexican joint I was told was the best Mexican food in the known universe - sorry, "Tex-Mex". So I roll in, partly literally with my rolling travel bag, and I'm immediately struck by the atmosphere. It was a converted feed store complete with wooden plank floors older than my entire state. Killer soundtrack - everything from John Lee Hooker to Soundgarden. Ryan is home. Service was insane (good). They moved a table over next to an outlet so I could plug in the laptop - I didn't even ask. Asked the waiter to bring me his favorite - a good habit. So as I caught up on work I watched the street traffic. Rednecks, 9 flavors of hippies, college students, Mexicans, Blacks, Purples, Greens, off-whites....I sorta lost track. Not your typical Texas fare. Great service, great music, great atmosphere - and then a thought occurred to me - "This taco tastes like Paris Hilton's ass after a 4 day coke binge". Oh, riiiiight, like I'm the only one who knows.

San Francisco - Expensive for a Reason

Hello kids

This weeks adventure lands our fearless globetrotter in beautiful San Francisco. What a town. Let's start with a little theme of mine: It's not 110 degrees in SF! Why do I live in an oven? Anywhoo... I reached an epiphany in SF while sitting in an incredible Italian restaurant being spoiled rotten by the owner watching seedy strip clubs across the street try to attract customers. This would never happen in Arizona - or almost anywhere. Do San Franciscans not care about their city? Quite the opposite. You won't find more protective citizens. So why do you see such extremes mixed together? Because they practice what so many others preach- "You do your thing and I'll do mine", "Live and let Live" - call it what you will. You have millions of people who are truly sold on the idea that the more flavor the better. You can't get more American than that. Here's a message for all of you midwest, tight-ass, closed borders, lilly-white, Christian or nuthin' mindless dolts: "KISS MY RED WHITE AND BLUE ASS!!!" California liberals are more American that you are - and so am I. Yeah, I said it.

Added to the spice of San Francisco culture I had a little company on my little escapade. Never underestimate the mood lightening power of the company of the fairer sex. Especially when she's much much fairer than you are. I'm working with personality here folks. I felt like Michael Jordan's 10 year old son trying to take the old man one on one at the family picnic. I could hear the women courtside saying, "Oh look, isn't that adorable, he's trying so hard." But like that 10 yr old I told myself "That old man doesn't stand a chance" and pulled out all the stops. Drove down the PCH to Monterey/Carmel. Holy sh*t beautiful! If you take a woman to 17 mile drive to watch otters play and nothing happens she was hoping to run into Rosie O'donnell in Carmel.

And how's this for timing - they ran the Concourse Rally right up the main drag in Carmel while we were there. So let us clarify: I was in 70 degree weather in August with a beautiful woman draped over me drinking free vodka tonics (beautiful women attract free drinks) watching near priceless cars raced by me as I overlooked perhaps the most beautiful bay in the world. How did you spend your Friday? The list of things I won't do to become disgustingly wealthy is getting frighteningly short. I'll be down to a post-it soon.

When in Rome....Cowboy up....errrr something

And so Ryan lands in Oklahoma City. Jealous? I know. In fairness, not a bad town. Airport was functional - with words and everything - unlike San Antonio. Nice people. Felt my drawl coming out inch by inch until I was about to throw in a "Yee-diggity" and caught myself. Earned hero status at a bar where (I kid you not) a patron was throwing change at every opportunity into the bartenders cleavage. I asked her, "Is this guy an owner?" She said, "He's been in here every day for 3 years." To which I said (loud enough that everyone could hear it) "So how does that make him less of an asshole?" This apparently was the magic statement that made him leave and gave me free drinks and back scratches (helloooooo Heaven) for the rest of the evening. I can't wait to try it somewhere else. If it works for you I expect royalties. The downtown area is a nice micro-version of San Antonio. Plenty to keep you busy. I even found a techno Euro-trash club that had the fortune of being nearby when I really had to find a bathroom. My sense of obligation meant that I had to endure the "Music" through a vodka tonic. I left it half full.

Honorable mention: In Oklahoma "Cafe" can mean strip club. And "Dance" can mean "treat me like a 9 year old Macaulay Culkin dipped in honey butter with a twisted ankle and dropped into the Vatican." Laws are sort of guidelines in Oklahoma gentleman's clubs. I didn't know whether to tip extra or press charges. I decided to go to Amarillo.

Off to Amarillo! Wind. Did I mention wind? And then there was wind. If the wind ever stopped in Amarillo every man, woman and child would simultaneously fall over and be rendered immobile having now idea how to walk without a lean. The first day I looked like a Nick Nolte mug shot. The next day I prepared with the hair gel helmet that snared low-flying birds now and then but was a reasonable trade off. And who can forget 10 Cadillacs buried face first in the dirt. To me this is a metaphor of the Texas political mindset. No matter how stylish you may be, if your head is buried in the dirt you never really know who is responsible for the limp you have in the morning. Quote for the Amarillo trip (at a movie theater waiting 30 minutes in line):

Me: "Do you think there any other ticket machines inside?"
Kindly patron: (dumbfounded look) "You aint from Amarillo are ya?"

And that sums it up.

And it was off to Santa Fe. I have no specific recollection of the drive. Nothing to recollect - except stopping in the dinosaur museum in Tucumcary to get pictures for my dinosaur fanatic nephew. I'm such a cool uncle. Anyhoo - Santa Fe is camouflaged. Like most camouflage it doesn't actually prevent you from seeing the object, it just irritates you because you cannot differentiate between objects. Like restaurants. Everything is tan and squared off!!!! Ok, I get it, there were Indians here and they had pueblos before you raped and murdered them and tossed in some smallpox for spice. I don't think a proper monument to the glory of the indigenous peoples is to make the Applebee's look like a truck stop where I can buy an "authentic" rug and a Slurpee. Here's another news flash: Coyotes are not and have never been aqua blue. They are scrawny looking dogs that chase prairie dogs - not wear bandannas and hold my door open. I know - I checked. And so the good news - it's 75 degrees in July and I'm from Phoenix. All is forgiven. I'll buy your ornately turquoise encrusted shoe horn if it means that I can stand here and not fear spontaneous combustion. Ahhhhhh cool wind. And the smell. Assuming there is no patchouli from hippies are walking by it actually smells of sweet mesquite. Not nearly enough is said of the smell of a place. To me it's important. New York smells like a floor mat in a 30 year old cab and I can never live there. The repression of one's gag reflex is for getting promotions - not for choking down a bagel in the morning.

Pain, thy Name is Suns Fan

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/070722

A fellow genius of the modern era, Bill Simmons can explain better than I. You'll never guess....I was right! Again!!! It's scary sometimes how often I'm right. NBA referees control the game. As in the outcome of the game. It is undeniable. Stern and his apologists will spend millions trying to downplay impact of officiating but any NBA fan knows the truth. The question that I have been screaming for 25 years is WHY? WHY? WHY?WHY?WHY?WHY? I apologize for the tantrum - it's been building a long time. I cannot fathom why is it allowed. Shaq does things that will get a man solitary confinement and loss of yard privileges in prison but it is not a foul. That is unless he misses the shot - then it's a foul on the other guy. Every NBA fan knows some things as certain as they know Oprah will put on 20 lbs after a diet

• A defensive foul is twice as likely to be called if the shooter misses
• An all star need only lunge in the direction of the basket and it's a foul (especially on home court)
• Home court means 10-15 points - and it's not the crowd
• There hasn't been a jump ball called by the rules in 40 years
• Lane violations are called every third eclipse or if the ref finds out their favorite hooker is a tranny (kind of funny when you know there was no eclipse)
• If a bad call is made a ref will never correct another ref but he will give you a call back within the next two minutes (unless the mob is involved apparently)

I could go on - but I need the hair I have left. WHYYYYYYY?????????? Deep breaths Ryan. I am just hoping that from this debacle a silver lining shall shine - NBA officiating will be put under a magnifying glass and they will be held to the same performance accountability standards as the players.......or the hot dog vendors for that matter. If you suck, you're out. The games (and hot dogs) will be better for it. And I will live longer.

Everything is (a) Bigger (pain in the ass) in Texas

In my business travels I found myself in "H-Town" as the locals call it. Humid-Town, Hell-Town, How-The-Hell-did-I-land-here-Town; who knows. The map says Houston. In case I've been too subtle I did not enjoy it. As I was taking a nap waiting for a red light to change I contemplated why. Waiting minutes on end (there is no rhyme or reason as to red/green in Houston much less timing) has one advantage - you are not moving roughly over an ENTIRE CITY made of grated concrete roads. Bush's "Plan" for Iraq made more sense after seeing Houston - there is no organization whatsoever. Driving takes you through various shades of ghetto pock-marked by oil buildings. God forbid you want to get out of your car - you can drive by 11 closed parking garages at 8'oclock at night before you find a dirt lot 200 yards from the restaurant you're hoping has anything edible, as you've been driving for 2 hours and are 5 miles from your hotel, just to be greeted by the friendly neighborhood Armenian extortionist. $8 (negotiated) for parking later you have to run the vagrant gauntlet where 17 perfect healthy adults tell you to give them a dollar. It is best that you don't because you are about to pay $14 for a vodka tonic. This won't bother you too much because there is a suprisingly good jazz trio. You assume they have family held at gunpoint nearby to get them to live here but the guilt fades quickly. Back through the gauntlet and back onto a freeway with a 45 mph speed limit, which is all the suspension of your car can handle on warped concrete anyway, through a few neighborhoods resembling Beirut with pawn shops and you find yourself back at the hotel......where you are paying $6 to park. The upside of the $6 parking is that since you are one of 8 guests in the hotel you can have almost any space you want. I comforted myself with this knowledge as I woke from my nap, groggily looked up to see the light still red and went back to sleep.