Stillwater, OK — Just left the Wresting Hall Of Fame. Was fun to see so many old faces and names. Really took me back to when I didn’t get winded bending over to tie my shoes. And yes, coach Dennis Hassart is in there (as is former Princeton team Captain Donald Rumsfeld). George Washington and Abraham Lincoln also made the cut. Kurt Angle was in there, but no mention of his European or Intercontinental titles, or his win at King Of The Ring.
I was amazed at my personal navigation skills. I obtained directions to Stillwater, but forgot to actually get directions to my hotel or the Wrestling Hall Of Fame. It helped a little that both were on Hall oF Fame Dr, but still I had to find that street. A bit of advice for everyone who I’ve never told. When you are lost, don’t stop at a convenience store to ask directions, this is usually a fruitless endevor. Instead, stop at a Domino’s, they know where everything is, and have a large map. Also, as I was driving through Mississippi, there was a sign advertising the resturants at the next exit, and it featured Domino’s. Maybe the chain has branched out, but I usually don’t think of it as a sit down or drive-thru dining option. Am I supposed to call ahead and have the driver meet me at the exit? And if so, shouldn’t the advertisements have been at least 30-35 miles away?
Yesterday I toured the William Jefferson Clinton Presidential Library. It was about as exciting as any other Presidential Library I’ve ever been visited. My favorite item was Hillary’s Grammy. If I had a more public forum, I would always introduce here as a Grammy winner. “And we are now joined by Grammy winning Senator Hillary Clinton.” “Senator Clinton, as a Grammy winner, how do you intend to vote on the foreign aid bill?” You may say, “hey big deal, even Men At Work won a Grammy.” And I say “Hey, big deal, Ted Stevens has been a Senator for six terms.” But nothing could capture the sheer tackiness of the Clinton Museum Store. WOW! Clinton CDs, Clinton bobbleheads, Clinton books, Clinton posters, and yes, even Clinton action figures. After a while, I was fully expecting to see car stickers with President Clinton pissing on an elephant.
Like most cities with a river running thorugh it, Little Rock has established a bar, resturant and shoping district down by the water. It was fairly nice with some neat litle establishments and good eating. I was rather enjoying myself at one bar, the had a phenominal beer selection and an easy-going, background blending, acoustic cover duo. The fellow next to me struck up conversation, and I soon realized he was sizing me up for something. He shook my hand a few too many times, kept saying my name and even complimented my shoes. I ruled out that he was hitting on me. Then I thought, mayber he wants me to join his cult. I am so not doing that again, my hair just grew back. Finally he gets around to it. He works for this company, and he sell these products independently, there’s a great comission, etc. As continues his pitch, I start asking questions about the company’s set up. Sure enough, if he brings in additional salesmen, he gets a cut of their sales. This guy was trying to hook me on his pyramid scam (if you’re not sure what these are, do a little research on Aflac, it will answer all of your questions).
I bailed on that scene and found another place that looked interesting. There was a $5 cover. I have a rule, you must have one drink for every dollar of cover you pay. My thinking is, the lowere the cover, the shittier the band, so I won’t need to be there as long. As it is, I don’t even expect the band to be good anymore, I just don’t want them to be too loud. A saddle up in an ideal bar position. In front of the register and next to the Jager machine. It was a typical Saturday at a bar I’m guessing is pretty cool during less peak hours. The tolerable cover band of middle-aged guys belting out all the classics while a couple of desperate housewives who were about four appletinis into their evening were shaking their hips on the 1s and 3s to “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” Later on in the evening I was privy to one of my favorite kinds of drunk girls, the one that gets way to into the “whoo-hoo” part of Kool & The Gang’s “Celebration.” That chick always cracks me up.
The early last call in Little Rock was a bit disapointing, but led to an unexpected treat. I was back in my hotel room in time for a marathon of Madden Nation. And I passed out happily ever after.
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