Sometimes, I think it'd be easier to be a soccer mom. After all, if I drove 1,600 miles to see little Seth Jr. run around on the soccer field -- and he sucked -- well, he'd still be little Seth Jr. and I'd still love him, even if he missed three penalty kick attempts and lost the game for his team. We'd shrug off the bad game by hitting Seaworld or the Alamo. And once we got home, I'd take the little penalty kick-missing fool into the back yard to work on his skills.
Right now,
little Seth Jr. is still a long way from becoming a reality. So if I'm road tripping for a team, it's for the Kansas Jayhawks men's basketball team. Having known and gone to school with these guys, they feel a little bit like an extended family. But only a little bit. If they play poorly I get real mad, especially if I've invested 13 hours on the road to see their San Antonio showcase from nosebleed seats. If they start to lose, I'm cursing the turnover-prone suckers. Oh, I try and keep the faith, but that doesn't mean I'm not kicking the seat in front of me in disgust for lousy play. It's amazing how the play of your team can dictate how good a time you'll have on a road trip.
Road warrior
location. Spring break becomes a memory, now lived vicariously through "MTV Spring Break in Cancun." This convenient alternative comes without the risk of skin cancer or Montezuma's Revenge. But you don't get to see any of those bikini-clad girls or Jerry Springer in person, either.
I think everyone should take spur-of-the-moment road trips when they get a chance. It lets you appreciate home more, and it gives you a new place to make a fool of yourself. Just ask the Illinois fans that were on the Riverwalk Saturday night. They'd simply respond, (one side of room) "I-L-L" (opposite side of the room) "I-N-I" and repeat that about 20 or so times.
You know people are sick of that cheer in Illinois. But in San Antonio, it's relatively new the first 100 times you hear it. So Illinois fans get it all out of their system and enjoy the warm weather while showing off their spelling prowess to all who will listen.
High tech travel
would be a wise one or not.
Even though the drive to San Antonio is a straight shot down I-35, stopping by www.mapquest.com offered us an exact map. We could even have special features added to the map, like a marker for every Denny's we would pass. If we would have wanted to investigate flight prices, we could have checked www.travelocity.com or www.priceline.com to place a bid on tickets. For game tickets, we went through the Alamodome's site, appropriately named www.alamodome.com. It offers a seating chart of the arena, and even has a feature that allows you to click on your section to see what the view is like from your seats.
The only hitch we ran into with using the Internet was when we visited www.bestwestern.com for our hotel reservations. While the site worked just fine and we were able to book our rooms, it gave us directions to the wrong Best Western in San Antonio. So we spent 45 extra minutes in rush-hour traffic to go from one Best Western that we didn't have reservations at to the one we did.
Low-tech travel
No matter how many Web sites you visit, you can't teach someone to drive a manual transmission overnight. But I tried anyway. Neither of my two roommates were very good at operating manuals, but I convinced them that my Camaro was still the best car to take to San Antonio. After a near-death experience in Austin traffic with a roommate behind the wheel, I decided that I should take over chauffeuring duties for most of the trip. My nerves and my clutch had taken enough.
Fortunately, San Antonio is a relatively easy place to get around. That is, unless you're in a hurry to leave the Alamodome to get to the bars. It didn't help that Alamodome parking attendants stuck me in the worst possible spot, facing the exiting traffic right next to the exit. After we witnessed the loss (Illini 80; Jayhawks 64), we were not going to be denied a quick retreat. I forced people to get out of my way, doing a giant U-turn right in the mouth of the exit. People were glaring, snickering, pointing and cursing at us. That just inspired us. Finally leaving the parking lot, we realized that the traffic cops don't even do so much as wave their light sticks. They just stand around and let the traffic lights do the work. We were disgusted.
We gave up on the main road and took a left to escape traffic, only to meet a slow-moving train holding up our progress. That was tolerable, until another train going the other direction, yet slower than the first, arrived. We were at the boiling point, and that point was blown when the pokier train decided to stop on the tracks in front of us.
After all that trouble just to leave, we arrived at a place called "Poly Esther's" that charged a $7 cover and $3.50 for a bottle of Bud Light. We were officially having the night from Hell.
It's ironic that I drove all that way just to see a basketball game, and the game itself was the least memorable part of the weekend. San Antonio is a nice place, and thankfully, there's a steady supply of margaritas on the Riverwalk to help ease any pain a bad KU performance leaves. Until I have kids of my own to cheer for, I'm thinking I'll stick with the Jayhawks, but they still might get put up for temporary adoption.
-- The Mag can be reached at 832-7178.
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