New Office

Last week, my staff and I moved our offices from G. Rollie White Coliseum into Kyle Field. The area we moved to used to be the offensive meeting room for the football team. There is a reason they moved out.

I am supposed to be a leader and role model for my staff, but I am sorry -- this is the most unprofessional office space I have ever seen. The false ceiling has a tin roof above it that (I found out today) bangs loudly when it rains. The walls are paper thin to the passageway under the stands that allows me to hear every conversation that goes on, not to mention the trucks that drive through there. And the train down Wellborn road echoes very loudly as it goes chugging by.

Don't even get me started on the bathroom situation.

Come by and I will give you a tour. I don't mean to be bitter, but I was raised to expect more. Our motto is supposed to be Building Champions. Explain how this office situation fits that motto.

Odor No

I had an incredible experience last week/weekend. I went with the men's basketball team to the NCAA men's basketball tournament subregional in Jacksonville. Not to overshadow the amazing turnaround Billy Gillispie has engineered at Texas A&M or the amazing win over Syracuse in the first round or the incredibly close brush with the Sweet 16, falling 1 point short to LSU via a prayer 3-pointer with 3 seconds left; but this blog is about St. Patrick's Day in Jacksonville.

So I made St. Paddy's Day shocker t-shirts for Megan, Rob and me (and Beth, but she wasn't there). They were hilarious. If Megan gets me pics, I will post them. Megan's said: Shock Me, I'm Irish, with the shocker as the apostrophe in I'm. Rob's was Lucky from Lucky Charms shooting the shocker with the slogan "Magically Delinquent" underneath. Mine has a big shamrock on it with the shocker small in the middle reversed out. It said "Shamshock" underneath it. Yes, we're 13 and more than slightly perverse.

Donning our newly made shirts and Megan and I in ginormous green hats, the three of us head out for a fun green-beer nite at the NCAA Tournament. Little did we know that we were about to go on a live set from something out of COPS.

We get information (bad information) that the place to be in Jacksonville is a place called Bourbon Street Station. Sounds fine, right? Yeah, wrong.

The cab drops us off (none of us really want to get out, but what can you do?), and we join the fellow revelers in line outside this warehouse with four cops outside. The clientele was classy. Only like 2 other people were in green. I mean, I know we're geeks and all, but we really were looking for a St. Paddy's party.

We are now behind this bizarre double-date-plus-one thing. We realize from looking around at this point that we are by far the most attractive people in line, if not in Jacksonville. It's kind of like being in Boston, if you know what I mean. So the guy in front of me is told by his girlfriend/hooker/whatever to hold her tampons. Yes, that's right. But that's not all. The "plus-one" turns around to rob and me and says, "That's how you keep a female! You need to takes notes on that right there, fellas." Duly noted.


We finally get to go inside and find that this warehouse is actually divided up into like 6 different bars -- each one a bit worse than the last. We go down the hall to the Country Bar because Rob hears a song he likes, plus it's the place we thought most likely to have some of the other tournament games on. Yeah, what we found was people line dancing to Steve Earle. Apparently this is a no-no to begin with according to Rob, but what really struck me was how bad these people are at dancing. I am not exaggerating at all when I say this was country line dance-dance revolution. You know, where people spastically jump on the foot pad that is lit up next? Terrible.

I realize that I would like to have cash on me rather than give anyone in this place access to my credit card numbers. I'm not even sure at this point that they know what credit cards are. They do, however, have an ATM machine. Next to said machine on the wall are pictures of the winners of the Miss. Bourbon Street bikini contests. Classy. More on that later ... oh yes!

We wind up settling on drinking at the bar designated Mardi Gras. It was the only bar in the entire complex that had a TV tuned to a tournament game, so we camped under it and next to the bar. This is where we witnessed some outstanding sights. This is also where Rob ordered a green beer only to have the bartender, who coincidentally bought 98% of her body from the tips she makes, look at him as though he was speaking Dutch, although I'm not sure she fully comprehends the English language either. Yeah, welcome to the only place on Earth without green beer on St. Patrick's Day.

First up were the two overweight skanks dancing on the pole holding up the roof, as well as serving as mount to our TV. All Rob could say was, "That poor pole." The girls were seriously workin' it. They rubbed every inch of themselves -- and I mean every inch -- up against this pole. It was nasty. But not quite as nasty as the security guy that came up about 10 seconds after they quit and leaned up against the pole. I swear to God, if he had licked it, I was out.

After that, we spotted a guy in a shirt that said, "This orgy sure is off to a slow start." OK, I actually liked that one. It made me laugh.

Next, and I promised I'd get back to this, were people carrying signs like boxing ring bimbos that said, "Beer Bongs. Body Shots. Girls Girls. Entertainment. Wanna Play? Follow Me." They had our attention. A few short minutes later, the bikini contest was underway! It was really kinda sad. One girl got booed. Oh, and I forgot to mention, Bourbon Street Station has a "no cameras" policy, so we could not get art of this place, but trust me, not even pictures could do it justice.

Later in the night, a guy got barrel-carried out of the bar. We couldn't tell if he was drunk or fighting or what. It didn't seem to matter because rob noticed a pair of fine ladies walking up and turned to ask us if that was Salt N Peppa. I was so thrown by this specticle that I asked where One-Eye was. Haha, it's Left Eye, but we decided that in this place, One-Eye was far more likely.

We probably would have been able to notice more out-of-body type things had it not been for the fact that in this hip joint, they had all the big screens playing Dukes of Hazard. No, not the somewhat current movie; the original series that gets replayed on CMT or whatever. You haven't lived til you see two white guys spinning popular rap music under a giant screen featuring Boss Hogg.

But my favorite thing of the night was looking under the bar to find, amongst other normal bar things, a bottle labeled "Odor No." What the hell is Odor No??? Although I did want to ask for some to bathe in. Seriously.

Bottom line on Jacksonville: NCAA Tournament = FUN; nightlife = yeah, notsomuch.

It's Tourney Time

I just got back from Dallas, where I was attending meetings and the Big 12 Men's and Women's Basketball Championships.

Texas A&M was the 3 seed in the women's tournament and beat Nebraska in the quarterfinals before losing to Baylor by one point in the semifinals. The men were the 4 seed and destroyed Colorado by 33 in the quarterfinals before losing to Texas by four in the semifinals.

Now, that may seem pretty average for conference tournaments, but consider this: Texas A&M was 1-18 in the first nine Big 12 tournaments combined. The women won their opening-round game of the inaugural tournament in 1997. And yes, that does mean the men were 0-fer until Friday's drubbing of CU. So, Gig 'Em!

----------

Also in Dallas this week, I got to meet with our new multimedia partner, Learfield. I am still very impressed and look very forward to their coming on board. My boss and I went to dinner with our new partner and a couple of other schools last night after our win. We ate at The Palm. It was fantastic food.

----------

OK, everyone pray to the basketball gods that they let the men into the NCAA tournament. I know we had a weak OOC schedule, but c'mon, we won eight of our last nine in the Big 12. We finished fourth in a BCS conference. We should be in.

FYI, the women are safely in the Dance. We have really found great coaches to make A&M a basketball school.

My First Drag Show

Apparently I am the only person alive that has never been to a drag show. Strike that . . . who had never been to a drag show. That's right boys and girls, I went to my first drag show Friday night. Megan, KJ and I went to Halo and met Trey (KJ's roommate) and his boyfriend Ryan.

Well folks, it was an experience unto itself. The show was a blast, but I have to tell you, it was a rough night for me. When Megan, KJ and I came in, I saw a friend at the door. While I have known he was gay for a while, he had never said anything directly to me about it, probably because I work in athletics, and that field is not necessarily populated with gay-friendly people. I am an exception to that rule.

Well, so my friend (we'll call him Jimmy to protect the innocent) starts out talking to me about business stuff. We hadn't talked to each other for a while, so there was a lot to catch up on. He tried to catch up on everything all at once. Megan finally saved me by saying we were going upstairs. Jimmy decided to come with us.

Upstairs at the bar, he asks me if Megan is my girlfriend. I explained that we used to date, but now we are just very close friends. He says that was his veiled question for the evening. To which I said, "Well, if your asking if I'm gay; I am not, but I do not have a problem with your lifestyle."

I thought that was a very polite thing to say. It will become obvious over the course of the next few sentences that I should have been rude instead.

So Jimmy proceeds to tell me his story of being gay and how hard it is in our conservative city, especially working where he does. He tells me how he was outed by some mutual friends and how he gets very affectionate when he gets drunk. In retrospect, I don't think a truer statement has ever been made.

Megan, KJ, Trey, Ryan and I try to leave to go over to watch the start of the drag show, but Jimmy stops me to introduce me to his friends. One of them asks me if I find our community to be stifling. My mind was yelling, "I AM NOT GAY!" but I said, "Well, it's a conservative town, so I guess some could consider it stifling." Wow, how I've grown as a person.

Finally we break free and move over nearer the dance floor. Jimmy follows. He proceeds to give me back rubs, back scratches and head rubs. I am a nice guy. I have my limits. I am approaching fight status. Here is where props go out to my friends; they try to deflect Jimmy's advances. Unfortunately there were some breakdowns in the strategy.

So, the drag show begins, and the emcee says, "All the gay women in the house make some noise," followed by the gay men, and then the straight men. Here comes the straw that broke the camel's back. I am the camel, FYI. Brace yourself.

When the emcee says straight men make some noise, Jimmy reaches out and grabs my ass. OK, more than grabs, more like a grab/poke/tickle. Needless to say, I flip out. I tell him directly to never do that again (and wish he never had in the first place).

So after several more uncomfortable moments, including his rubbing Megan's shoulders and telling me,"I'll pump up the tires, and you can ride it home" -- seriously what the f*ck does that even mean? -- Jimmy takes off.

So there you have it: my first drag show, complete with molestation. It really was a fun night with an unfortunate subplot. Let's hope Jimmy is embarrassed today. Special thanks to Megan for letting me dance on her to make me feel better and for buying me a few Shiner Bocks, also to make me feel better.