LOS ANGELES, Calif.-College football kicked off last weekend, and with it came the annual opening-game pilgrimage. All said and done, we traveled more than 1,600 miles, consumed more than $170 (each) worth of fast food and watched three Utah games (football and volleyball).
The Chronicle hooked us up phat with a run-down ’89 Ford Aerostar van. That’s right: We roll in style.
The crew we had accumulated for the trip would have made Johnny Knoxville and Bam Margera look smart?if that’s possible?never mind, it isn’t. The posse included The Bossman (Sports Editor Chris Bellamy), The Token Drunken Polish Guy (photographer Kamil Krzaczynski), Steve (token guy who is just there to have a good time) and yours truly.
All of the events in this diary were recorded exactly when they happened, including my thoughts. Enjoy?
Friday
7:45 p.m.-We start the trip off in typical-road-trip fashion: a couple of hours late with way too many stops.
7:48 p.m.-First Ric Flair “Woooo!” of the trip.
10:30 p.m.-Nearly three hours into the trip, and we are only in Provo Valley. My boss is magical. We had to make a pit stop at Wal-Mart to buy an electric razor because he has “sensitive” skin. Other stops included Fuddruckers (very tempted to misspell) and 7-Eleven. Since we’re not in a hurry, I think I might stop by Home Depot, maybe Bed, Bath & Beyond. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time. Dammit, this is going to be a long night.
10:45 p.m.-Chris and Steve make the first “Seinfeld” reference. I’m extremely disappointed it took this long.
10:50 p.m.-There are a few things that go along with taking an old van on a tri-state trip. An old, stale funk, no compact disc player and, of course, headlights that spontaneously turn off for no reason whatsoever. (All said and done, the headlights will have cut out approximately 65 times this weekend.)
11:30 p.m.-We’ve officially entered the Fillmore-Beaver area. Just thought I would let everyone know.
Saturday
1:30 a.m.-17 headlight cutouts at this point. The first few times it was scary- now it has entertainment value.
1:53 a.m.-Note to self: Passing in winding gorge with no lights is a bad idea.
3:15 a.m.-Miraculously, we make it to the elegant Motel 6 in Las Vegas. Thank God they remembered to leave the light on for us. I’m sorry, that was weak. It’s late and I’m tired.
10:00 a.m.-I wake up and proceed to the MGM Grand, where I place an inordinate amount of money on the Utes (I see it as the surest bet Vegas can offer). There’s a good chance I have a problem. The odds-makers are giving two-to-one odds on it?seriously.
1:30 p.m.-Stop in Baker, Calif. 108 freaking degrees. No, that’s not a typo. This should be illegal in September.
1:33 p.m.-Driving south down I-15, we pull up alongside a Utah fan. The car shrewdly posted “show your boobs” on the back window. Needless to say, Steve obliged, which brought us to gay moment No. 37 on the trip. Do you know the questionably homosexual hug/hump scene between Michael J. Fox and Chubbs at the end of “Teen Wolf”? Yeah, it was that bad.
3:13 p.m.-Ghost Town, Calif.-worst?smelling?bathroom?ever…and no, I didn’t have anything to do with it.
4:30 p.m.-We didn’t plan for Los Angeles traffic. There is a good chance we’re going to be late for the first volleyball match. Also, there are more moronic drivers in L.A. than struggling actors.
5:10 p.m.-The match started 10 minutes ago and we are lost.
5:25 p.m.-Found it. We show up just in time to see the Utes beat the living sin out of the Tar Heels.
7:00 p.m.-We leave the arena.
7:45 p.m.-Somehow, the collective masterminds in the front have led us astray, going from Watts to Compton, then back to Watts. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to be white on a Friday night in either area, so I am going to stop writing and cry for help.
7:58 p.m.-Hotel was supposed to be 20 minutes away. It’s been an hour.
8:33 p.m.-After one hour and 33 minutes, a dozen U-turns and about 200 expletives, we make it to our hotel.
10:17 p.m.-Santa Monica is not as good as advertised.
11:48 p.m.-Still not as good.
12:42 a.m.-We head back to the hotel, disappointed from an uneventful night but excited for what lies ahead.
12:17 a.m.-Andre Agassi tops Terrell Owens for most media coverage in the history of mankind. At least Agassi is deserving. With T.O., there is never anything to report, so the media just blows small issues out of proportion. “Breaking News in Dallas: T.O. goes to the bathroom, Parcells upset.”
4:01 p.m.-Kickoff for Ute football.
5:13 p.m.-Is it just me, or does it seem like we have absolutely no offensive gameplan? Liti is tearing it up, yet Ludwig will not give him the ball.
5:31 p.m.-Utah scores for the first time in the game, bringing the score to 7-7.
5:42 p.m.-It’s easy for me to sit back and observe while the coaches are in the hot seat. Still, I can’t help but wonder why they would pull Ratliff out after his first scoring drive. We seem like we have the momentum on our side. Why mess with that?
5:43 p.m.-My counterparts and I breathe a collective sigh of relief as Grady completes his first pass across the middle. Maybe we’ll be okay after all.
5:44 p.m.-I retract my previous statement. Grady throws his second pass for a pick. Regardless of whether the receiver ran the wrong route, he was still triple-covered and should not have been thrown to. Bad decision by all parties.
6:03 p.m.-Halftime score: 14-10. We might still be okay.
6:27 p.m.-We’re screwed.
6:49 p.m.-UCLA’s Medlock kicks a field goal. I keep waiting for the Utes’ offense to break out like in the days of old.
7:14 p.m.-Game. UCLA scores another touchdown, putting the Bruins up 31-10. Ben Olson’s name has officially been changed to Prophet of Pasadena. He could throw for 1,000 yards.
8:03 p.m.-After two-mile hike to car, we leave Pasadena with hopes of another perfect season shot. I need a beer.
8:07 p.m.-Found beer.
10:45 p.m.-After getting lost four more times (one time ending up at LAX), we finally make our way to Santa Monica to drown our sorrow/-selves.
Sunday
1:15 a.m.-After a few too many drinks and way too many UCLA fans rubbing it in, we head home to wallow in our own misery.
2:05 p.m.-I start writing my volleyball story five minutes after the final match starts. There is no question in my mind that the Utes will lose.
7:45 p.m.-Music choice has been as bad as Donald Trump’s hairpiece to this point. Then Steve comes through with DMX, Sublime and Tupac on consecutive tracks.
8:45 p.m.-Seriously contemplating whether we should eat at Dan Marino’s casually elegant cuisine, if for no other reason than because it begs this question: What the hell do you wear to a casually elegant restaurant? I was thinking about wearing a Speedo with a sports jacket. Something about that combo screams casual elegance. Also, what is casual or elegant about Dan Marino?
10:58 p.m.-After our third $20 meal and a yard-long margarita, we head down the Las Vegas strip, big pimpin’ in our ’89 Aerostar. Of course, by “big pimpin'” I mean driving down the strip listening to MJ (“Thriller,” “Billie Jean,” etc.). It just doesn’t get any more street than this, folks.
Monday
7:23 a.m.-Our arrival in SLC is nothing short of amazing, considering all of the factors working against us. I know the valley would’ve been a lot better off if we had not returned, but we did, so you have to keep dealing with my incoherent ramblings. Sorry, I need sleep.