It has been one hell of a week.
Most of this insanity started on Monday, April 13th. I was working less than I should have been, kind of like I’m doing now, and I was looking at my phone, constantly refreshing Twitter, looking for things to occupy my brain. And there it was, in all its “RT’d” glory:
Chuck Klosterman, author of Fargo Rock City and Downtown Owl (among many others), writer for Spin, The New York Times, and, most importantly to me, as far as websites go, Grantland.com, was coming to Moorhead to talk about writing... tomorrow! I am barely exaggerating when I say I almost crapped my pants. It was close. I have been very fond of his work ever since I bought Fargo Rock City some 3 years ago on a whim. In it, he spoke about being a kid, in a tiny town, loving metal. I don’t need to sum it up any more than that to explain why I loved it. Anyway, now it’s Tuesday, the 14th, and my awesome week is hitting it's stride.
I walked into No Coast Tattoo, a shop I frequent whether I am getting tattooed or not, to see if my friends were busy and if they wanted to listen to me shout about some only-matters-to-me type grievance. That place is pretty much my collective therapist, but that’s another story. I walked in and only two people were there. Meg was one of them. I started talking to her, we talked about a tattoo she had started on me and she mentioned she was bored. I decided we should finish it up. It’s a walk-in! Generally, I’m not overly fond of the walk-in tattoo, but since it was something we’d already started, I figured we were good. We talked about the earth and the moon (my tattoos, not the celestial bodies) and what we were going to do around them. I wanted some old school stars, but I didn’t want the stars until we finished the other spot on my arm. The other spot became Direct Hit’s ‘bomb logo’ and we were off and running. I’m only explaining this to give you a sense that what started off as a quick walk in, kind of became a full on appointment. Next thing you know, I’m almost late for Klosterman’s talk. I book it out of the shop, driving way faster than I should, but I made it on time. I was greeted by a young college student asking if I was here for Chuck. I was, so he pointed me in the right direction, and I hustled to an open seat.
I couldn’t really make up my mind as to what I wanted out of this talk. I’ve been down on my “writing career” lately, so I didn’t want to just hear him talk about writing. He’s more than that to me, I guess, so I wanted to hear about him! Let’s talk about his books, his interviews, his travels! Whatever! Then I sat down, opened up my notebook and decided, ‘Shit, I think I only want to hear about his writing tips...’ So here I was, conflicted as always, with no idea what I was about to get into. He spoke, I listened, I took a few notes and next thing I know, it’s over. It was good, but it wasn’t great. I blame myself for not knowing what I ‘wanted’ out of the talk, but I was left wanting more. He was signing books, so I hopped in line, waited my turn, and then had the chance to say something to my favorite author. All I squeaked out was, “you’re my favorite author, I really enjoy your work”. Good, not great. Just like his talk. Then, he hit me with it. The dreaded, absolutely worst thing, ANYONE can say to me. As you are aware, I am a Chicago Blackhawks fan. I have an old ass Hawks hat that I wear everywhere. Chuck looked up at me, looked at my hat and said, “Oh, did you go to UND?”
He’s a sports guy! How could he do this to me? It’s a Blackhawks logo, dammit! He should know it's not a Sioux logo! I was devastated. I still am. [Sidebar: it happened to me again at the dentist office today, too, but this time it was a middle aged woman who 'doesn't watch sports', so I let her slide.]
Speaking of the Hawks, the next day, Wednesday the 15th, they won their first game in a best of 7 series against the Nashville Predators. They hadn’t been playing very well, but the Preds hadn’t been playing very well either, so I was relatively confident going in. How confident? You can read about it here, on this very site, in fact! Then, on Friday the 17th, the Hawks got shit stomped, 6-2. The Preds are without their best player, Shea Weber, but still rocked the Hawks in Nashville. I took it in stride. The Hawks are the lower seed, so they had to win a game in Nashville if they wanted to win the series anyway. I just needed one and I got it. We’re headed back to Chicago! Sunday-Funday, the 19th, the Blackhawks returned home and beat up on the Preds to the tune of 4 goals to 2. Patrick Kane has been key. I may have mentioned that in my awesome article. Their next game? Tuesday, 4/21, yesterday.
Let’s take a trip back to July of last year. It was my birthday and I decided to buy myself a ticket to see Neil Degrasse Tyson at the Orpheum Theater in Minneapolis. I bought them, then came to the horrible realization that I was 8 months from enjoying NDT in person. I stashed them away, but thought about it often. When was Tyson in Minneapolis? April, 21st! Yesterday! I love the Blackhawks more than I should. It’s important that you know that. I truly felt some real sadness about missing game 4, a non-clinching, ‘just-another-game-in-the-series' game for Neil Degrasse Tyson. Tyson is without a doubt one of my favorite people on this planet, one of the most interesting lecturers that I often listen to, but I still really wanted to watch that Hawks game! It’s a disease.
I got off work early and we headed for Minneapolis. 4 hours in the car after a 6 hour work day… to watch a 3 hour lecture… to drive back home. Maybe it wasn’t the most well thought out plan, but it’s been in the works for 8 months! We were committed. We pulled into Minneapolis and hit up my favorite eatin’ joint, Popeye’s. I love Popeye’s. I’m not sure why, maybe it’s Little Nicky’s Fault. It was a very sketchy Popeye’s. A homeless women asked me for money, I’m relatively sure there was a drug deal at the door, my wife’s order was incorrect and I was too excited to eat. It was not a successful Popeye’s trip.
I sat down in the Orpheum and I was in awe. I couldn’t really believe that I was sitting there, about to hear Neil Degrasse fucking Tyson speak! I didn’t even know what he was going to talk about. He could have read a Popeye’s menu to me and I would have loved it. The guy who introduced him walked out, a white guy, and said he wasn’t Tyson. We’re off to a quality start. Oh, you don't know why that's funny? This is Neil Degrasse Tyson:
Neil Degrasse Tyson. Not White.
I’m not going to run down the whole thing. If you know anything about Tyson, you know he’s a charismatic, personable dude. This wasn’t some boring ass lecture with an awful Powerpoint presentation. He was funny, interesting, way too smart, delicate with “offensive facts”, and just an absolute treat. I was listening to him speak when my phone started blowing up. The game had begun. I tried to silence it, but I didn’t want to have it out. I couldn’t turn it off because I took some grainy photos that I’ll never look at again. But I didn’t even care that the Hawks game was going on. I could have sat in that theater for 3 more hours. That dude can hold a room. I was able to tune out my phone and listen to Dr. Tyson speak about life on other planets, why Pluto isn't one of those planets, etc. It was phenomenal. I couldn't have been happier. It ended (after a surprise phone in from BILL NYE!!!) and I pulled out my phone. I meant to take a screenshot, but forgot. Let's just say there were some texts. I was missing a good one.
We jogged out to the car and plugged in my phone to listen to the game on the radio. The Hawks were down 2 to 1 in the 3rd period. I was so stoked that I was going to get to listen to the conclusion of this game that I didn't even care if it was looking like a Blackhawks loss. If you've ever dealt with NHL Gamecenter's app, you know it is perpetually behind. I started getting texts again, but had to warn everyone that I was delayed. It didn't matter. A person who will not be named, but he also writes for this site often, GOOD LUCK FIGURING THAT ONE OUT, soon texted me "!!!". Something good was about to happen. A mere 2 minutes later, I got to enjoy that play, too. Brandon Saad had scored for the Hawks. It's now 2-2. Overtime!
There were some good chances in the first OT. I was listening to the Hawks broadcast, so naturally they always get excited when the Hawks take a shot, so it probably seemed like it was more exciting than it really was. I'm starting to get sleepy behind the wheel as I hear the horn for the end of the first overtime (in the playoffs, the games continue to have 20 minute OT periods until the game is completed. I don't want to talk about what they do in the regular season because it is god awful.). Awesome! I'll get more hockey! That'll help me stay awake.
The second overtime started and I was jazzed. Very sleepy, but very jazzed. I was happy to have something to listen to, but with a second OT comes the realization that whoever wins this game, it's probably not going to be pretty. Garbage plays usually decide lengthy OT games, so I came to terms with the fact that the Hawks were probably losing this game on a shot that hit Colin Wilson in the tits, into Duncan Keith, over Brent Seabrook and into the net. This is playoff hockey. It's intense and even more so when you can't see any of it playing out. The other weird thing about the radio is there is no constant reminder of the time. When I watch hockey, I am constantly looking at the clock. Do you ever watch ESPN Classic and wonder how people enjoyed sports before the clock was on the screen? No? Just me? Well whatever. You only get updates every so often on the radio and next thing I know there's under a minute left in the SECOND overtime period. That minute came and went and we're on our way to the THIRD overtime!
By this time, it's like 1:15 a.m. We're almost almost home, but not almost home. Just far enough away to where you look at your co-pilot and think, 'would they be pissed if I had them finish it out?' even though you're under an hour left. I settled in, if this game was going to continue, it might as well take me all the way home. I turned up the radio and I was ready for anything. Give me 40 more minutes! That's into the FOURTH overtime period and will set a new record for the Hawks longest game ever and I'll be home! But Brent Seabrook had other ideas:
Sweet mother of god, the Hawks win! The Hawks win! I had finally settled in for the long haul, win, lose, whatever, just take up the rest of my trip and Seabrook said not today! The Blackhawks are up in the series 3-1 and I was able to finish the drive with an even bigger smile on my face.
I got home, crawled into bed absolutely exhausted. I couldn't think, I could barely keep my eyes open. I grabbed my phone. "Article idea: write about how fucking awesome this week was" - Boy, was it ever.