Superbowl Madness
Managed to get down to the Landing (is that the same thing as the Riverwalk? I'm so confused) earlier today to check out the face that Jacksonville is presenting to the world. I wanted to go last night after work, but I ordered some pizza instead. Also Rommel didn't answer his cell when I called him, but he called back this morning and said they were heading down there in the afternoon and would I like to come?
He and Liz picked me up at 3:30ish and we drove down to some place I'd never been before --- the intersection of Emerson and Philips (I think). Silly me, I thought we'd be driving all the way down to the river. We parked in some bank's lot and crossed Philips to another parking lot, where more buses than I'd ever seen in one place were located. Seriously, if buses were whales, this would be one of the largest pods ever recorded (incidentally this sentence works much better if I substitute "crows" for "whales" and "murders" for "pods," but buses look more like whales than birds). I was pretty impressed, and it was organized well. Walk up to the kiosk, buy the $5 day-pass that no one will bother checking anyway, get in line, get filed into one of the many waiting buses, get on your way. There were so many buses that lines weren't an issue.
There was a small one at the kiosk, though. When we were waiting to get our day-passes, there were some girls trying to hock three tickets to The NFL Experience for $20 total. Rommel said, "Hey Monju, you want to go to The NFL Experience?"
"What's The NFL Experience?"
"Well it's like training camp--"
"Uh, no thank you."
The bus we were one was a nice, fancy-shmancy Greyhound, onboard restroom and all! I finally got to see downtown JAX up-close and personal like. I had the biggest grin on my face as we threaded our way through flashing traffic lights, cops, pedestrians, traffic barrels, and in between old stately buildings and new high-rises. I saw this little church with which I absolutely fell in love. Driving through that area, on a big bus, simultaneously reminded me of Portland and of field trips from school. We finally arrived at the shipyards and once we knew which mass of humanity to surge with, we were on our way towards the Landing.
I was kind of disappointed (and I'm just realizing this now) that there were so many food tents. I mean, yeah, there are a lot of people down there, and they gotta eat, but I was really expecting more arts-and-crafts kind of booths. I do have to say, though, that they must have had a Port-o-let cloning facility nearby; there were veritable fields of the plastic blue or green shells, arranged in rows or rough square shapes, and they stretched nigh unto infinity. Anyway, I know this is a big gay commercial affair, not a true cultural street festival, but would it have killed someone to sell something aside from overpriced Superbowl kitsch? Thank God for the Peruvian panpipe player --- just like the ones during Festival International in Lafayette! I was so happy! --- for he brought some authenticity to the whole gaudy affair.
They were piping some music over these speakers that were unobtrusively situated on top of these decorated columns, located about every block or so. They played much Michael Jackson, and I was happy. Yes, I danced. Yes, Rommel and Liz publicly disavowed knowledge of my person or well-being. Seriously, how can you not like "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough?" The freakin song's set as my default ringtone, if you didn't know, so you could say my love of early-80's MJ runs strong and deep. We walked down to the Landing; on the way we saw some guys playing drums in the middle of an intersection, the bus with the Eagles cheerleaders in it (I waved at them! They waved back!), and lots of street preachers. They were awesome, what with the PA systems and bullhorns and banners and pamphlets and life-size crucifixes and whatnot. One guy was finishing his "You are all sinners and you are going to hell!" spiel as we were walking by, so I busted out my Southern Baptist preacher voice: "And the LORD JESUS co-MAN-ded me, go unto the SU-PERbowl, and TESTIFY to the UN-WASHed MASS-es!" A couple of people chuckled and I really wished I had been wittier. Oh also on the way I picked up an $8 Crown and Coke, and it was worth every penny. I also called Becky to see if she was down there, but she didn't answer her cell.
The Landing was PACKED. The mall part of it was pretty full, but going out back...lord. Gridlock. We couldn't move for a number of minutes, and whatever that number was, it was long enough for me to feel an anxiety attack coming on. My legs and arms started feeling tingly and I was getting light-headed, but all of that might have just been a combination of the Crown and the ocean of humans of which I found myself a part. Thankfully things started moving again and we got out of there post-haste. All I remember is people; I don't even know why they were there. There was music from somewhere, and some small stage; I don't think anyone was playing, but I could be wrong. Definitely my least favorite experience of the day.
Then we left. Walked back down and once we figured out that the Black, Red, and Green buses all (apparently) stop at the Black Lot (i.e., Emerson and Philips) first, we hopped on a bus and headed back. This time there were lines, and there was an incredibly intoxicated, bleach-blonde, middle-aged woman sitting in front of us, who had managed to win a Motorola Razor cellphone (you know, the $500 one). She kept talking and talking and there was some other drunk woman further back in the bus who, every so often, would issue a heartfelt, "Would you...SHUT...the FUCK...up?" in her direction, but ultimately no one paid either of them very much mind.
Liz took a couple of pictures, so hopefully I'll get those soon. Part of me wishes I'd worn my derby, because I saw lots of hats out there (a few fedoras and more than a few porkpies), but I didn't. Oh well. I guess I can wear it to the Superbowl party I'm going to tomorrow.
If you've read this far you'll notice that my writing sucks tonight. Sorry; I'm tired and I just had two cups of Sleepytime tea. Oh and Becky just called me back! She was down on a boat and got to watch the fireworks display from the river, the scurvy dog.
He and Liz picked me up at 3:30ish and we drove down to some place I'd never been before --- the intersection of Emerson and Philips (I think). Silly me, I thought we'd be driving all the way down to the river. We parked in some bank's lot and crossed Philips to another parking lot, where more buses than I'd ever seen in one place were located. Seriously, if buses were whales, this would be one of the largest pods ever recorded (incidentally this sentence works much better if I substitute "crows" for "whales" and "murders" for "pods," but buses look more like whales than birds). I was pretty impressed, and it was organized well. Walk up to the kiosk, buy the $5 day-pass that no one will bother checking anyway, get in line, get filed into one of the many waiting buses, get on your way. There were so many buses that lines weren't an issue.
There was a small one at the kiosk, though. When we were waiting to get our day-passes, there were some girls trying to hock three tickets to The NFL Experience for $20 total. Rommel said, "Hey Monju, you want to go to The NFL Experience?"
"What's The NFL Experience?"
"Well it's like training camp--"
"Uh, no thank you."
The bus we were one was a nice, fancy-shmancy Greyhound, onboard restroom and all! I finally got to see downtown JAX up-close and personal like. I had the biggest grin on my face as we threaded our way through flashing traffic lights, cops, pedestrians, traffic barrels, and in between old stately buildings and new high-rises. I saw this little church with which I absolutely fell in love. Driving through that area, on a big bus, simultaneously reminded me of Portland and of field trips from school. We finally arrived at the shipyards and once we knew which mass of humanity to surge with, we were on our way towards the Landing.
I was kind of disappointed (and I'm just realizing this now) that there were so many food tents. I mean, yeah, there are a lot of people down there, and they gotta eat, but I was really expecting more arts-and-crafts kind of booths. I do have to say, though, that they must have had a Port-o-let cloning facility nearby; there were veritable fields of the plastic blue or green shells, arranged in rows or rough square shapes, and they stretched nigh unto infinity. Anyway, I know this is a big gay commercial affair, not a true cultural street festival, but would it have killed someone to sell something aside from overpriced Superbowl kitsch? Thank God for the Peruvian panpipe player --- just like the ones during Festival International in Lafayette! I was so happy! --- for he brought some authenticity to the whole gaudy affair.
They were piping some music over these speakers that were unobtrusively situated on top of these decorated columns, located about every block or so. They played much Michael Jackson, and I was happy. Yes, I danced. Yes, Rommel and Liz publicly disavowed knowledge of my person or well-being. Seriously, how can you not like "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough?" The freakin song's set as my default ringtone, if you didn't know, so you could say my love of early-80's MJ runs strong and deep. We walked down to the Landing; on the way we saw some guys playing drums in the middle of an intersection, the bus with the Eagles cheerleaders in it (I waved at them! They waved back!), and lots of street preachers. They were awesome, what with the PA systems and bullhorns and banners and pamphlets and life-size crucifixes and whatnot. One guy was finishing his "You are all sinners and you are going to hell!" spiel as we were walking by, so I busted out my Southern Baptist preacher voice: "And the LORD JESUS co-MAN-ded me, go unto the SU-PERbowl, and TESTIFY to the UN-WASHed MASS-es!" A couple of people chuckled and I really wished I had been wittier. Oh also on the way I picked up an $8 Crown and Coke, and it was worth every penny. I also called Becky to see if she was down there, but she didn't answer her cell.
The Landing was PACKED. The mall part of it was pretty full, but going out back...lord. Gridlock. We couldn't move for a number of minutes, and whatever that number was, it was long enough for me to feel an anxiety attack coming on. My legs and arms started feeling tingly and I was getting light-headed, but all of that might have just been a combination of the Crown and the ocean of humans of which I found myself a part. Thankfully things started moving again and we got out of there post-haste. All I remember is people; I don't even know why they were there. There was music from somewhere, and some small stage; I don't think anyone was playing, but I could be wrong. Definitely my least favorite experience of the day.
Then we left. Walked back down and once we figured out that the Black, Red, and Green buses all (apparently) stop at the Black Lot (i.e., Emerson and Philips) first, we hopped on a bus and headed back. This time there were lines, and there was an incredibly intoxicated, bleach-blonde, middle-aged woman sitting in front of us, who had managed to win a Motorola Razor cellphone (you know, the $500 one). She kept talking and talking and there was some other drunk woman further back in the bus who, every so often, would issue a heartfelt, "Would you...SHUT...the FUCK...up?" in her direction, but ultimately no one paid either of them very much mind.
Liz took a couple of pictures, so hopefully I'll get those soon. Part of me wishes I'd worn my derby, because I saw lots of hats out there (a few fedoras and more than a few porkpies), but I didn't. Oh well. I guess I can wear it to the Superbowl party I'm going to tomorrow.
If you've read this far you'll notice that my writing sucks tonight. Sorry; I'm tired and I just had two cups of Sleepytime tea. Oh and Becky just called me back! She was down on a boat and got to watch the fireworks display from the river, the scurvy dog.