Being that it is 1:15 AM and I’m on a caffeine high at the moment I decided that maybe I will go on about my idea about an online blog on my experience at the Mid-American Conference Tournament here in good ol’ Cleveland, Ohio.
First things first… leaving Anderson Arena for Cleveland at the same time the Jerome Library parking lot is filling up for high school basketball region final games is never a good idea. Although, it was quite humorous to see another coach bus get stuck between a parked pick-up truck and the mounds of snow plowed on the side of the road. If you need a bus driver, that guy may be looking for a new job sometime soon.
Getting to Cleveland was not a problem. Just another typical bus ride with the team watching Tommy Boy and 40 Year Old Virgin on the way there. Checked in. Immediately went to go watch the first game of the tournament (Central Michigan vs. OU). Now you have to realize that if there was any one team that could pull off a first-round upset, it was going to be CMU. They gave OU a tough run, and in all honesty OU had no business winning that game. But in typical Bobcat form Sylvia Crawley rallied the troops at the right moment and squeaked out a win by single digits.
Time for me to be a food critic for the city of Cleveland. Red Robin gets the first plate-appearance. To be fair, this was the first time I’d been to a Red Robin, I didn’t order a famous burger, and I ordered the soup and sandwich platter with Clam Chowder and a BBQ Chicken Wrap. Clam Chower, excellent. The wrap, not so excellent, but I’m a college student and have eaten far worse so I ate half of it and saved the rest for a late night snack (which was demolished later that night).
Next is a place in The Flats called Rock Bottom. I give this place a whopping 6 out of 5 stars. First off, awesome setup with pool tables, shuffle board, and apparently the place sports an all-out arcade down in its basement. Secondly, the food was ridiculous, and when I say ridiculous, I mean fantastic. By far they served me the best steak I’ve ever eaten. I made sure there wasn’t a scrap wasted and the appetizer platter was amazing including homemade pizza, onion rings, veggies, wings, and some chicken fried wrap that can only be explained by eating it.
May I also share with you my story about how this guy forgot the second-most important thing a broadcaster needs for his trip? You said no? Too bad. It’s funny, bare with me. At Red Robin, my table was discussing our attire (based on other BGRSO members’ affinity for funny hats) and at that point I made a shocking realization that my suit and tie had been left back in Bowling Green. What a time to realize you only have your business casual dress outfit as your best attire. I am spazzing out, but as luck would have it, there is a men’s dress clothing outlet store only a block from our hotel on St. Claire Street. Fantastic, wouldn’t you say? Well, almost. I walk in and the first sign I see reads “Custom suits starting at $999”. I now know I’m in for a ride. I explain my situation to the clerk, who is a man of Arab descent with a very thick accent. He sympathizes and attempts to help me out. He asks for my measurements. Please realize I am not your average built male as I stand at a whopping 5’2 and 135 pounds. “30 waist and a size 15 neck my good sir”, I say. My salesman’s eyes got large and a look of worry draped his face. In my best translation of what was actually said I understand that there is nothing in my size, but a 32 waist pant and a 16 ½ neckline. Being in the crunch that I am in I try on what he has to offer. With a pair of gym shorts on and a belt to hold them up, I’m pretty confident in the dress slacks, a nice charcoal grey with rust colored stripes down the sides with minimal baggy-ness to them.
Now the shirt. Hah! The first and only shirt I see is a bright, solid purple shirt in a 16 ½ neckline. Obviously, this is not going to fly, especially with Assistant SID Erin Schorr always looking for a good shot to take at me and my mannerisms. I decide to stick with the lone forest green dress shirt I managed to pack in my suit case (thank goodness) and look for a tie instead.
Oh dear lord. For me to describe these ties does them no justice in its goofiness. Polka dots. Muslim scripture. Designs that only Picasso on crystal meth could concoct. Need I go on? I was even shown a cotton brown tie that may have been stylish during my grandfather’s time period, but not today. I find the least disruptive tie I can in a multi-green and white tie that I guess will work, pick up the oversized slacks and leave with $75 less in my wallet and my head shaking in disgust. *sad face*
That was the main event of the day today, but tomorrow I will have to back track and describe mine and my broadcast partner Mike Castellano’s “unofficial and uncontested tour” of The Q. Quite an adventure.
Until then, Aye Ziggy Zoomba everyone! Roll along and GO FALCONS!
