Ryan Dempster on the mound, it's a new day, and I do think that even Lou is smiling (however slight) that the Game is back and he's got a chance to maybe have a better post game interview.
Despite the revolting opener the other day, I too am so happy I could... well, tell you this long-winded story from the last leg of our trip, which was to Rio. It's a story of missing something real bad like I have baseball, only this is about lost luggage in another country.
To get to Rio, we had to go through Sau Paulo, which is where everybody's suitcases showed up but mine.
Rather than get in the mile long line for lost luggage, I speak to American Airlines on the phone. They explain that since the final destination was Rio De Janiero, the responsibility would be with the airline that takes us on the final leg from Sao Paulo to Rio, GOL Airlines.
Makes perfect sense, right?
So then I cut in line just in case they can actually do something here.
I had to walk up to a complete stranger who’s language I didn’t speak and sort of act out “do you mind if I take cuts because my connecting flight is about to leave please.”
She let me cut, the agent said my luggage never left Chicago, she opened a “file locator” number so I could follow the progress of the lost bag online.
We hauled to the next gate and made it to Rio and went straight to work.
We had a guide who’s name translated to “Bruno” but we never quite figured out how to pronounce it - “Breeeon”, “Branna”, something like that.
Anyway after we were done, he took me to get clothes for the next day: shorts, a shirt, and some underwear.
All was cool until the underwear part, when he took me to a rack that had black silky bikini briefs and white polka dotted thongs.
He said, “You like it?”
They have different tastes in clothes there.
The next morning we had 2 free hours so we went up to see the “Christ the Redeemer” statue.
The next day I felt unusual.
This next photo is called “Pepto.Zil”, because it was about this time that some kind of food-bug got me, and I spent a day in my room with chattering teeth and full-on body aches and (sorry but I gotta get personal here) unmentionable stomach ailments.
I was positive I had swine flu, or a parasite.
And it was this day I found out my bag had gone to Paris, but American promised it was on it’s way.
The production company sent over coconut water, Pepto "Zil", aspirin, lots of water, 2 pair of giant tidy whiteys, 2 polo shirts and a t-shirt the same khaki color as my shorts, and a ton of tiny bananas which mostly became my diet for the rest of the trip.
Next day I'm still unwell and kinda jet-lagged and it's super hot out so I put on the t-shirt and shorts, and go down to the lobby where I'm greeted with much laughter from the production team. "Man, you look just like General Norman Schwartzkopf! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
That would be my new matching khaki shorts and t-shirt.
What can you do when you don't have your bag?
I'd enlisted the help of the office in Chicago and found out my bag was to arrive this night before midnight.
It never showed.
(This next part has a little more bathroom humor, I apologize in advance.)
Now it's the last day of the trip, and we're gonna film today.
I hadn’t planned my escape from Rio, and forgot to wash any of my meager wardrobe.
I had one brand new polo, and everything else is just dirty.
I put on the new shirt.
Upstairs at the hotel, they have a free breakfast where I'd gotten coffee to go before my stomach turned.
But today I'm feeling better, so I go up for a cup.
The host says some elaborate Portuguese greeting, and I say “Good morning, can I have a coffee to go”?
And he gets out a little white styrofoam cup just like you’d get at your own grocery store, and pours me a really thick black half cup and then some hot milk.
I've got alot of work to do in my room and the cup is small, so I ask for another.
I get on the elevator and remember I have to put my key card in the elevator to make it stop on my floor.
It’s for security - there's bad crime here.
So I clamp the one cup between my chest and forearm and reach for my key card in my back pocket and spill freaking coffee with milk all down my front.
Lets wear another dirty shirt for a day!
I’d suffered so many indignities on this trip I cannot even remember them all.
The bug that had me bedridden for a day?
Thought I was over it.
In my dirty shirt a half hour later, I meet the team upstairs for an actual breakfast, and I’m so hungry from not eating I eat an omelete, orange juice, all kinds of fruit...
Then we get to this urban location in our van, and like magic from hell my stomach goes nutso.
Even though it’s an urban area, ain’t no way I’m going in any bathroom around here. This is totally a prima donna move, but I don't care.
I discreetly tell one of the Brazilian producers that I have to take the van back to the hotel to use the bathroom.
Now, during this long trip, I noticed that in other countries they don't use the word "bathroom".
They say, "toilet" and there's absolutely no embarrassment attached to the word at all.
So the guy says back to me (and everyone within earshot), “YOU HAVE TO USE THE TOILET?”
I go, “yeah.”
Then he tells another assistant (he points at me): “HE HAS TO USE THE TOILET!”
"HE HAS TO GO BACK TO THE HOTEL TO USE THE TOILET?" says the assistant.
The assistant says to another assistant, "GET THE VAN BECAUSE HE HAS TO GO BACK TO THE HOTEL TO USE THE TOILET."
"BUT THE VAN IS BEING USED FOR THE CAMERA! HE CAN'T USE THE VAN TO GO BACK TO THE HOTEL TO USE THE TOILET."
"I'LL TAKE A CAB!" I yell.
"WE'LL GET YOUR GUIDE TO TAKE YOU SO YOU CAN GO TO THE TOILET."
So we go back to the hotel so I can... nevermind. But on the way back we stop at a nicer store and I get some real shirts and a pair of pants because later we’re going to the jungle where we’ll be sprayed with DEET and I want something clean to wear on the plane the next day.
So the shoot goes great.
I got back to my room about 11 that last night in Rio.
And there was my suitcase on wheels, sitting against the wall.
I pulled up that pull handle at the top, and did a little dance with it alone in my room.
I was so happy I coulda cried.