Next Best Records Blog

Ok, I promised it, so here it is:  My Bill Simmons-esque diary of my trip to Texas last weekend to witness the Ohio State-University of Texas football game.  My friend Dave and I ventured down to the Lone Star State to see our #1 ranked Buckeyes take on the #2 ranked National Champion Longhorns.  No, we didn't run into Lance Armstrong or Matthew McConaughey, but we did have some adventures.  I'll post Part I today and Parts II and III in the next few days.  Oh yeah, and don't expect any pictures.  Every day, about ten minutes after leaving the hotel, I would say something to the effect of "Geez, I forgot my camera again."  Anyway, without further adieu, here's the diary:

Thursday, September 7th

• 9:40 a.m.: I run into my friend Tom, a UT alum.  We had originally planned on having a whole contingent ride down to the game from Columbus on an RV, but Tom was the point guy, and he had to go to Egypt for a while, so that plan kinda fell apart.  Tom's not able to make it to Texas, so he tells me to have a good trip.  "I'd give you some good places to go in Austin," Tom says, "But you'll figure it out."
• 10:31 a.m.: I meet up with Dave.  He says our friend Pete, who was supposed to give us a ride for the airport, is a no-show.  I don't really mind, but I tell Dave that Pete will get called out in the diary.
• 10:38 a.m.: Since we decided that we have to wear Buckeye gear every day we're in Texas, Dave needs to make a last-minute stop at the OSU Bookstore to grab one more shirt.  As we make our way from campus to the Bookstore, we run into a couple of friends.  We're like Wayne and Garth walking backstage at the Alice Cooper concert: Every time we see someone we know, we tell them right away that we're about to head down to Texas for the game.  Sure, we're annoying, but we don't care--we're going to Austin.
• 10:49 a.m.: Finally, we head out of the Gateway Garage and leave the campus area.  It ends up being o.k. that Pete didn't make it--we figure it'll be better to drive ourselves, and we don't mind shelling out the $5 a day to park.
• 11:21 a.m.: After parking (in Red Lot row 23 no less--I figure it's a good sign for OSU that we parked in LeBron James's row), catching the shuttle, checking in, and making our way through security (I stupidly put my boarding pass in the plastic container with my keys and change, so they have to reverse the conveyor belt just for me), we're hungry.  We stop at Damon's Gateway Express just past the security checkpoint, but all they have are hot dogs.  Dave gets two and I get one.  They're not that good.  And the woman gave me diet Coke instead of regular.  "If this is the worst thing that happens all weekend, I'll be happy," I say.
• 11:39 a.m.: We board the 737 for Houston.  I note that we're in the Official Peter Swire Row of the plane: the emergency exit row in the middle (he likes the extra leg room you get because there's a seat missing by the emergency exit).  The guy next to me (Dave's on one side of the aisle, and I'm on the other) says he paid $325 for his ticket.  He got a good deal (although Dave and I truly got a good deal--$90 a piece for student tickets).
• 11:43 a.m.: The pilot, who's obviously from Texas (I wish accents weren't slowly fading away in the U.S.), gives us the weather for Houston.  He goes on to tell us, "For those of you heading to the big game in Austin tomorrow, you're going to have beautiful weather."  The guys in front of me can't believe that the pilot doesn't realize that we're still two days away from the game, so they spend about five minutes ripping on him.
• 11:49 a.m.: A member of the ground crew appears in the front of the plane, grabs the intercom microphone, and says, "It's ironic that a plane full of Buckeye fans is being flown by a Texan.  I just have one thing to say: O-H!"  The plane, which really is full of Buckeye fans, erupts with "I-O!"  By the way, the ground crew guy has his camcorder and is videotaping the scene.
• 1:39 p.m.: We arrive in Houston.  There's about half an hour until we're supposed to board our connecting flight to San Antonio (where we're spending Thursday night), so we head to the bar.  The only one we see near our gate is Bubba's Bar & Grill (really, is it run by some guy named Bubba?).  We go in.  Dave orders a Foster's and I get a Dos Equis.  The bartender says, "That will be $7.50 a piece."  Later, we realize there was a bar called Time Out serving beer right next to our gate.  Either way, we probably would've ended up paying the same price, though.
• 2:50 p.m.: We're a few minutes into our flight to San Antonio.  I begin the inflight magazine crossword puzzle.  I tell Dave that Peter Swire is anti-inflight magazines.
• 3:04 p.m.: I give up on the crossword.  I only do crosswords if I'm getting paid.
• 3:30 p.m.: We're in the middle of our descent, moments away from San Antonio.  Dave can't finish his beer because of the turbulence.  I rip on him relentlessly.
• 3:31 p.m.: Dave sucks it up and finishes the beer.
• 3:35 p.m.: We've touched down in San Antonio.  A guy in the row behind us turns on his cell phone and plays the OSU fight song.  It's going to be a good weekend.
• 3:45 p.m.: Dave tells me he's bringing his #7 OSU jersey to the Bier Stube next week.  Don't ask.
• 5:00 p.m.: We check into the Microtel in San Antonio.  I try to get in our hotel room by pushing the key card into the slot on the door.  It's not working.  Dave takes his key card and inserts it downward into the door, and it opens.  I swear, I've only had two beers so far.
• 5:08 p.m.: We've dropped our bags off in the hotel room, and now we're off to the world-famous San Antonio Riverwalk.  I've heard mixed reviews, but we're only here for one night, so why not check it out?
• 5:15 p.m.: A Schlitz Malt Liquor truck passes us.  I thought this was important for you to know.
• 6:06 p.m.: We complete our first "lap" around the main area of the Riverwalk.  A tour boat floats by, and we get our first "O-H!" in Texas from a couple in the boat wearing OSU shirts.  Dave and I respond accordingly with "I-O!"  We decide it's time to eat.
• 6:09 p.m.: We get an outdoor table at Casa Rio and soak in the Riverwalk scene.  Really, the whole area is great.  Sure, it's touristy, but this is a good kind of touristy.  I don't know if the river's always been there, or if it's manmade, but whoever came up with the idea to fill the area around it with restaurants and bars was pretty smart.  Right in the middle of downtown San Antonio, you can take any number of sets of stairs from street level down to the river, which winds around for I would imagine about a third of a mile or so.  There's restaurants of every kind--everything from Johnny Rockets to nice steak places to Tex-Mex joints.  Casa Rio, obviously, is a Tex-Mex place.  It's good.
• 6:55 p.m.: Old people walk by dressed in OSU attire and say, "Go Bucks!"  Dave responds with "O-H!"  The old people are silent.  They probably don't have the reaction time to respond with a timely "I-O!", but their hearts are in the right place.
• 6:59 p.m.: More old people wearing OSU stuff walk by.  It seems like Riverwalk is filled with old people, with a few middle-aged people sprinkled in.  Nevertheless, Dave and I are honestly surprised at how many OSU fans are out tonight.  Sure, it's a big game for OSU in Austin this weekend, but we're in San Antonio (about 80 miles from Austin), and it's Thursday.  At least every five minutes, a group of OSU fans walks by.  It's really cool.
• 7:25 p.m.: We head in to Mad Dog's British Pub on the Riverwalk.  They charge us $12 bucks for a Harp and a Boddington's.  I feel stupid for getting suckered in by the super-short plaid skirts the girls working here are wearing.
• 8:04 p.m.: We've left Mad Dog's and have begun asking how much drinks are before we go into a bar.  Dave walks up to a waitress standing outside of one bar on break.  He asks her where the good places to go are.  She says "here" and proceeds to tell us they're having happy hour all night.  Dave asks what happy hour entails.  She says half-priced appetizers.  We keep on walking.
• 8:13 p.m.: For the second time, we walk past this goofy old dude with sunglasses and hunting gear on and a full beard.  The first time, he yelled out, "OHIO!"  We said hi, and he told us, "Come in here!  It's happy hour!  You need to be haaaaappppppyyyyyy!  After all, you won't be happy after the game!"  We kept walking before, and we keep walking by again this time, even after he yells out "OHIO!" again.
• 8:15 p.m.: We settle for Tex's Sports Bar.  Really, Tex's Sports Bar in San Antonio, Texas.  I nominate Tex's Sports Bar for most unoriginal bar name ever.  Even calling a bar "Bar" would be more original.
• 8:19 p.m.: The bartender gives each of us two beers (even though we only ordered one a piece, of course) on what she term's a "Bartender's Error."  Who are we to protest?
• 8:44 p.m.: We're enjoying the NFL Opening Night game between the Steelers and the Dolphins.  The Dolphins are driving, and I'm rooting for them to score, if only to see Daunte Culpepper do "The Roll."
• 8:45 p.m.: Ronnie Brown scores on a rush.  Daunte doesn't do the roll.
• 8:55 p.m.: Dave and I finish ten minutes of boring law school talk.
• 9:09 p.m.: A guy walks in selling illuminated roses.  So, those guys exist in Texas, too.
• 9:38 p.m.: The Dolphins score their second TD.  Daunte still doesn't do the roll.
• 10:13 p.m.: Dave compares the Riverwalk to Gateway.  They're both preplanned.  We still dig Riverwalk, though.
• 10:19 p.m.: We realize that Tex's is the bar attached to the Hilton on Riverwalk.  We begin to discuss Paris Hilton's DUI.  Dave says, "She drinks every night of the year.  There's no way one drink puts her over the legal limit."

Friday, September 8th

• 12:10 a.m.: After watching the Steelers win and drinking a few more beers, we head out of Tex's Sports Bar, not sure of where we'll stop next.  Our questions are answered when we walk by a bar a few buildings down and hear a pianist playing, "Hang on Sloopy."  We walk in and are surrounded by OSU fans.  After finishing "Hang on Sloopy," the pianist starts playing stuff like "Oh Happy Days."  I start complaining about the music.
• 12:20 a.m.: There's some cool people here, so I stop grumbling to myself about the pianist.  We talk to a couple of Texas fans and a bunch of OSU fans.  One guy, whose son is a walk-on with the OSU football team, is impressed that I went to the University of Dayton for undergrad.
• 1:10 a.m.: After about eight more crappy songs, with three or four more "Hang on Sloopy"s mixed in, the pianist closes his set with a decent "O Danny Boy" duet with some guy from the bar.
• 1:14 a.m.: As the pianist is gathering up his music, I walk over and thank him for playing "Hang on Sloopy."  He says, "I played that song 19 times tonight."  I tell him, "It's o.k.  I'm in a band, and we play it three times a night."
• 1:24 a.m.: Dave asks some woman from Texas where the good late night places to eat are.  She says, "Of course, there's Mi Tierra."  I walk away completely perplexed by what "Mi Tierra" is.
• 1:28 a.m.: Dave and I decide to walk back to Microtel.  Walking to Riverwalk, we had sworn we'd cab it back.  At this point though, we don't mind saving $10.
• 1:46 a.m.: We succumb to temptation and call Domino's for a pizza.  For a second, it looks like the money they spent to advertise on our room keycards paid off for them.  Perhaps luckily for us, Domino's is closed.

• 10:28 a.m.: I wake up, look to see when we're supposed to check out, and find out we've got to be out by 11 a.m.  Guess I'm not taking a shower.
• 10:30 a.m.: I check my phone and see that my man Robb in Columbus has texted me asking, "Lunch today?"  I text him back with: "Sure, meet me at Stubbs in Austin at noon."
• 10:32 a.m.: Dave, who decided to take a shower, alerts me to the fact that there's no shampoo in the hotel room.
• 10:33 a.m.: Robb texts back: "Forgot that."
• 10:45 a.m.: I'm on a texting roll.  I text my sister in Pennsylvania with: "Crocs Rule!"  She calls me and asks what I'm talking about.  I tell her it's my tribute to Steve Irwin.
• 11:00 a.m.: We check out of Microtel.  Other than the no shampoo, it was actually better than its name suggests.
• 11:14 a.m.: We drive by the Alamo.  I was really excited about getting to see it.  You grow up hearing all this stuff about the Alamo, and I had had that Frank Black song in my head for a while ("The Alamo, I've never seen it. / Maybe I'll go there but I don't know.")  It's really not that exciting though.  It's a relatively small building, right in the middle of downtown.  I had expected this huge Spanish-style mission in the middle of a dust field on the outskirts of town.  Oh well.

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