Well, I’ve returned from the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. It was the first time that I’d been to Las Vegas for a period longer than 36 hours. The last Facebook note I wrote generate a whole pile of feedback, so let’s see if I can do it again now.
-I was on board the 7 AM sodbuster out of Minneapolis Wednesday morning, and even after killing as much time as I could in the Vegas airport, I still got to the Excalibur before 10 AM. I dropped my bags at the bell desk and went hunting for some money. Fortunately, a crap table and sports book at Mandalay Bay gladly complied with my request.
-You could certainly tell that Las Vegas likes having the cowboy crowd in town for the rodeo. Country music in the background, tons of hats boots and western wear on the Strip, and even the dealers at the Mandalay were wearing western garb.
-On that note, I briefly thought about bringing out my western blazer (more accurately: the $5 Goodwill pickup that I don’t’ mind getting dirty), and if I would have worn it with the rest of my clothing, I would have fit right in Thursday at South Point. EVERYONE was wearing their western finery. Committee members all had embroidered shirts with the rodeo they were from. The statue of Benny Binion on horseback had lots of garland on it. South Point really bends over backwards to accommodate the NFR crowd.
-This is a sign of the type of crowd the NFR draws. I was in the South Point showroom where they show the rodeo on the closed-circuit feed. During “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the crowd in the showroom stood up and took off their hats. For watching it on the closed-circuit feed!
-Friday was another good day. Mom and Coke had to run out to South Point right away to get something for Allison’s girls, and then we went into the Cowboy Christmas expo at the Mandalay Bay. The three big Cowboy Christmas shows are all huge, full of Western gear to buy, and have a profound lack of menswear and straw hats. However, if bling is what you were looking for, it was there by the Dumpsterful!
-I left the hall before the ladies did, made a quick few bucks at the Luxor, and withdrew to the Excalibur room for a quick nap and shower. The reason for this was that we were actually going to the rodeo! We took the free shuttle over to the Thomas and Mack Center. The ladies went into the building almost as soon as we got there, while I went over and met the South Central crew in the Coors tent. That Coors tent is quite an adventure. Girls dancing on the bar, a full bar, and a mechanical bull with an operator who was quite the character.
-After proper preparation, we all headed inside. The Thomas and Mack Center is normally home to UNLV Runnin’ Rebel basketball, but for this time on the calendar, it’s home to the NFR. This arena is SMALL and is starting to show its age. All 16,975 in the building get jammed into the narrow concourse, which makes the pre-and-post-rodeo traffic jam borderline unbearable. I can see this being a point of emphasis when the next contract between LVE and the PRCA comes up.
-Once you do get to your seats, though, the building’s small size is an advantage. Everyone is right on top of the action. Even where I sat two years ago (three rows from the top in the deep corner), everyone was right there. The only trouble is that if you’re more than halfway up the upper deck, you can’t hear Bob Tallman and Randy Corley do their thing. Both of those guys do a fine job, and I made it a point to walk down there and shake hands with Randy after it was over. Us announcers have to stick together.
-We had a good time at the Sahara on Friday night. $1 High Lifes, $1 Kamikaze shots, and the WSCA crowd can make for a pretty lethal combination.
-Saturday’s trip to the Hoover Dam with the Vargos was really something. Not only being a gawker, this trip went straight to why I spent five years of my life pursuing something. It is America’s big projects (transcontinental railroads, the Interstate Highway System, Hoover Dam, and the Hoover Dam Bypass Bridge) that inspired me to go into civil engineering. The tour was every bit as cool as advertised.
-On that note, after wandering through the Mandalay Bay on Wednesday waiting for Mom and Coke to pick me up, I asked myself one simple question: Who thinks of this (stuff)? The theming, the size of the casino, the size of the hotel? The scale of most of the Strip casinos is simply mind-boggling.
-Back to Saturday. I wandered around town the rest of the day, including the all-you-can-eat-prime-rib special at the Circus Circus. I came in about 5:15, but I didn’t get my order taken for the better part of 15-20 minutes. Apparently the kitchen always gets backed up right after the prime rib special backs up. With that said, I didn’t feel the least bit jobbed by the dinner. I highly recommend it.
-Saturday night the WSCA crowd went over to Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar at Harrah’s. At first, I didn’t know what casino the place was located in. Someone in the group said that it was in the MGM Grand, but I was a bit skeptical of that. I asked a pit boss if he’d heard of the place, and he told me that it was up at Harrah’s. Talk about a confusing casino layout! I had NO idea where the place was in the casino, and it took me quite a while to find it once I got there. Once I got there, drinks in a mason jar were interesting.
-For long desert drives, like Interstate 15 between Las Vegas and the LA Basin, I would almost prefer to do it in daylight. At least in daylight there’s something to look at. Coming back after nightfall was a serious drag. I had a very hard time staying awake.
-I did manage to make it back to Vegas with my car and myself in one piece, and I met up with the gang at the Exaclibur lounge. The energy level in there was almost as lackluster as I felt, but somehow the Spences, Vargos, and a couple friends of Cheryl broke out of there and went to go ride the rides atop the Stratosphere. We had a fun trip in the monorail to the Sahara, and then we walked up the Strip to the Stratosphere. And then, in the immortal words of Ricky Skaggs, “…and here’s where things went wrong.”
-Upon arriving at the Stratosphere ticketing desk, we were coldly informed that due to weather conditions, the rides on top of the tower were closed. I knew that this was a pile of horse dung. Yes, immediately after cresting Cajon Pass it was extremely windy, but once I got near the Nevada state line, it was not breezy at all. I know exactly what happened: Things were awfully quiet, and they just decided to close for weather instead. It was a raw deal, and the Spences got some of their money back, but still…
-The Spences went back to their hotel, but the Vargos and I went to the Sahara and started gambling. By the time it was all over, it was well on the far side of 4 AM and neither of us were very tired. What better way to cap the evening (I’ve been awake for 24 hours straight at this point) than cheap steak-and-eggs at Bill’s Gambling Hall? First, Brian felt obliged to drag Cheryl out of bed and join us. She was extremely appreciative, as anyone rousted from a sound sleep at 4 AM would be.
-Somehow I made it back to the Excalibur, and I napped for a couple of hours before I went with Coke and Mom out to Sam’s Town. Shepler’s sets up a big tent outside the casino to push some of their goods. We also found out that the NFR logo merchandise they bought? Well, it must not have been moving to their liking, because all logo gear was 30% off.
-Just as we were leaving town, the weather took a hard turn to the worse. It started to rain on the way to the airport, and the Strip was only visible for a minute or so on climbout due to the low ceiling and heavy rain. I was also really tired, as we hadn’t been in the clouds for 10 minutes before I was out cold, and didn’t wake up until the top of descent into MSP.
-I was 5-1 on the trip at the sports book. My picks were: Wisconsin-Duke over 132.5, Arizona -2 at home to UNLV (loss), Oregon-Oregon State over 62.5 and Beavers +10, Washington +7, and Bama-Florida over 42.
-The NFR is a great time for anyone in the horse business to go. Not only are the prices fair, the whole city embraces the cowboy visitors to the hilt. Sure all the pools except the Nugget are closed, but otherwise if rodeo is your thing, then the NFr is a great time to Viva Las Vegas!
(Jeez, I sound like a damn Chamber of Commerce)
PM
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Trip Recap: Minnesota @ Iowa 11/21/09 OR...
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 2009
KINNICK STADIUM AT THE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA
IOWA CITY, IOWA
If the third time wasn’t the charm, then perhaps the fourth one is? I’ve been to Iowa three times before for Gopher football games, and have yet to see a Gopher win of any sort. Throw in a basketball trip, and that makes me 0-4 in the depths of Mordor.
Any drive across northern Iowa is going to be very, very flat and boring. Jake and I left the Twin Cities around 4, after a half-hour setback in which he forgot his ticket. After nightfall, the Avenue of the Saints between the Minnesota-Iowa border and about Charles City often looked like an alien invasion, because of the single red lights atop the hundreds and hundreds of wind turbines.
We made it through the alien invasion and into Iowa City. Friday was a fairly quiet evening. A stop at Hy-Vee for some drinking material, and we headed to where we were staying. (where can’t you go in Iowa or southern MN and not find a Hy-Vee?) I was staying with a friend who is a doctoral student at UI. No one had any cell phone reception back there (for that matter, no one else in IC had reliable service), so we had to run back to the bar to call anyone.
The rest of the group was staying at a Motel 6 in Coralville that was, to be very complimentary, sketchy. Word is that a prostitution ring was busted in the very room the organizer was sleeping in. High class establishment. We ran over to the bar that was across the street for a quick drink and to discuss strategy for the following morning.
0620 came all too early. Jake took a quick shower while I went out and fetched the case of beer. My friend had tipped us off that there was a city bus that would take us into campus and the stadium, and it left the stop immediately outside the building at 6:49. This seems like a reasonable way to get into the stadium and tailgate area, but as always there’s a hook. Seems all the buses on Saturday avoid the area of campus west of the Iowa River, next to Kinnick Stadium and the UI hospitals. The bus dumps us off across Melrose Avenue from the Finkbine Golf Course. We hoof it from there all the way over to the parking lot that used to be the Grassy Knoll, on Myrtle Avenue just up the hill from the Kum ‘n Go. (Another high-quality Iowa institution)
The Hawkeyes next to us have a nice bean-bag set, and they thought they were pretty good at it. Unfortunately, they challenged my buddies. They proceeded to get destroyed by all comers wearing maroon and gold, and there are quite a few of them. After doses of humility were dished out, breakfast fajitas were handed out, and you can take a guess where most of the makings came from. The tailgating proceeded at breakneck pace until about 10:15, when everyone staggered across the footbridge towards Kinnick.
Curiosity got the better of me while on the way over to the game. For all of these visits, as well as watching many, many football games from Kinnick, I had never partaken in one of the aforementioned “Big Ass Turkey Legs.” For $8, I decided to try one of the things, slathered in barbecue sauce. It wasn’t too bad. Sure there were a lot of uncooked tendons and ligaments, and the sauce was very messy, but it was good nonetheless.
The game has been discussed ad nauseam on these boards.
After the game was over, both Jake and I were nursing wicked hangovers. We went back to the tailgate and milled around for a while, but a cab was sitting there and after a while, we just went back to my friend’s condo. After a siesta, shower, and change of clothes, we headed downtown for some chow. We worked on a pizza at the Airliner, and it was FANTASTIC pizza. I highly recommend it to anyone going to IC.
Having heard nothing from the rest of my friends, we went back to the condo, watched Stanford-Cal, and was just about to retire before finally getting the call from the guys at Brothers. Jake was the sobercab, and he would have just dropped me off at Brothers and gone back if it weren’t for the fact that the bar had bought the UFC pay-per-view, and it was on every TV in the bar. It was a solid card, and it was a good enough excuse to stay and drink til about 12:00. The party then shifted back to The Edge (the bar across from the Motel 6 and no relation to the U2 guitarist). Let’s just say that Ah Leah isn’t just a song by Donnie Iris.
This is where I really poured the coals to the alcohol. Shots and 7-7s were being passed around like water. When we got going back to Minneapolis the following morning, I wasn’t feeling too terribly awful. I figured I’d be able to drive a hundred or so miles before needing to hand off and sleep. Somehow, I not only drove the whole way back to MSP, but did it in four hours.
Huge thanks to my friend who let us stay in their condo. Also to Big Jake, for putting up with my alcohol-fueled shenanigans. I always have fun on these trips, win, lose, or draw.
GR
KINNICK STADIUM AT THE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA
IOWA CITY, IOWA
If the third time wasn’t the charm, then perhaps the fourth one is? I’ve been to Iowa three times before for Gopher football games, and have yet to see a Gopher win of any sort. Throw in a basketball trip, and that makes me 0-4 in the depths of Mordor.
Any drive across northern Iowa is going to be very, very flat and boring. Jake and I left the Twin Cities around 4, after a half-hour setback in which he forgot his ticket. After nightfall, the Avenue of the Saints between the Minnesota-Iowa border and about Charles City often looked like an alien invasion, because of the single red lights atop the hundreds and hundreds of wind turbines.
We made it through the alien invasion and into Iowa City. Friday was a fairly quiet evening. A stop at Hy-Vee for some drinking material, and we headed to where we were staying. (where can’t you go in Iowa or southern MN and not find a Hy-Vee?) I was staying with a friend who is a doctoral student at UI. No one had any cell phone reception back there (for that matter, no one else in IC had reliable service), so we had to run back to the bar to call anyone.
The rest of the group was staying at a Motel 6 in Coralville that was, to be very complimentary, sketchy. Word is that a prostitution ring was busted in the very room the organizer was sleeping in. High class establishment. We ran over to the bar that was across the street for a quick drink and to discuss strategy for the following morning.
0620 came all too early. Jake took a quick shower while I went out and fetched the case of beer. My friend had tipped us off that there was a city bus that would take us into campus and the stadium, and it left the stop immediately outside the building at 6:49. This seems like a reasonable way to get into the stadium and tailgate area, but as always there’s a hook. Seems all the buses on Saturday avoid the area of campus west of the Iowa River, next to Kinnick Stadium and the UI hospitals. The bus dumps us off across Melrose Avenue from the Finkbine Golf Course. We hoof it from there all the way over to the parking lot that used to be the Grassy Knoll, on Myrtle Avenue just up the hill from the Kum ‘n Go. (Another high-quality Iowa institution)
The Hawkeyes next to us have a nice bean-bag set, and they thought they were pretty good at it. Unfortunately, they challenged my buddies. They proceeded to get destroyed by all comers wearing maroon and gold, and there are quite a few of them. After doses of humility were dished out, breakfast fajitas were handed out, and you can take a guess where most of the makings came from. The tailgating proceeded at breakneck pace until about 10:15, when everyone staggered across the footbridge towards Kinnick.
Curiosity got the better of me while on the way over to the game. For all of these visits, as well as watching many, many football games from Kinnick, I had never partaken in one of the aforementioned “Big Ass Turkey Legs.” For $8, I decided to try one of the things, slathered in barbecue sauce. It wasn’t too bad. Sure there were a lot of uncooked tendons and ligaments, and the sauce was very messy, but it was good nonetheless.
The game has been discussed ad nauseam on these boards.
After the game was over, both Jake and I were nursing wicked hangovers. We went back to the tailgate and milled around for a while, but a cab was sitting there and after a while, we just went back to my friend’s condo. After a siesta, shower, and change of clothes, we headed downtown for some chow. We worked on a pizza at the Airliner, and it was FANTASTIC pizza. I highly recommend it to anyone going to IC.
Having heard nothing from the rest of my friends, we went back to the condo, watched Stanford-Cal, and was just about to retire before finally getting the call from the guys at Brothers. Jake was the sobercab, and he would have just dropped me off at Brothers and gone back if it weren’t for the fact that the bar had bought the UFC pay-per-view, and it was on every TV in the bar. It was a solid card, and it was a good enough excuse to stay and drink til about 12:00. The party then shifted back to The Edge (the bar across from the Motel 6 and no relation to the U2 guitarist). Let’s just say that Ah Leah isn’t just a song by Donnie Iris.
This is where I really poured the coals to the alcohol. Shots and 7-7s were being passed around like water. When we got going back to Minneapolis the following morning, I wasn’t feeling too terribly awful. I figured I’d be able to drive a hundred or so miles before needing to hand off and sleep. Somehow, I not only drove the whole way back to MSP, but did it in four hours.
Huge thanks to my friend who let us stay in their condo. Also to Big Jake, for putting up with my alcohol-fueled shenanigans. I always have fun on these trips, win, lose, or draw.
GR
Thursday, October 29, 2009
2009 CFN Board Meeting: The Epic Recap
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 23, 2009
FAROUT FIELD AT THE UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI
COLUMBIA, MISSOURI
The 2009 CFN Board Meeting took place in Columbia, Missouri in the Zou. The best option for me to get there was to drive down from the Twin Cities. Since the Land Yacht (my 1990 Buick Park Avenue) is no longer fit to travel further than AAA will tow it home, I rented a car at the MSP airport. I've rented with Alamo before, and I was secretly hoping to get one of their Chargers, since all of their Chrysler vehicles come equipped with satellite radio. When driving across Iowa, you need all the help you can get. Alas, there were no Chargers there, so I settled on a fire engine red Impala.
The drive to KC was uneventful, aside from the fact that it started to rain shortly after crossing into Iowa, turned into a heavy, heavy downpour around Mason City, and didn't let off until about 60-70 miles into Missouri. I also found out that this particular Impala has a TINY gas tank. When I filled up at Osceola, Iowa, it took 11 gallons and change with the gas light on. The trip was also broken up by a couple of phone calls from Gatorama, and I humored him with ancedotes about what us Minnesotans think of Iowa.
The rain broke, I wandered around the Kansas side of Kansas City for a bit, and found my way to KSULady's house. There I interrupted a furious game of Catch Phrase between KSULady, razorchique, LilDawg, and ElTigreRex. I think "Not lobster" was something clue that came up before I got there, and it was cracking the ladies up something fierce. After a while, KSULady had to go get BurntEyes from the airport. After their return and the obligatory exchange of pleasantries, everyone who hadn't already starting drinking continued with gusto. Both TK and Burnie polished off a substantial portion of liters of whisky, TK preferring Irish to Burnie's Scotch (or do I have that turned around?).
Friday morning dawned cool, windy, and with most folks vicously hung over. KSULady made her self-proclaimed world famous biscuits and gravy, which shook us out of it, and then I left for the airport to make some pickups. First it was to Terminal 1 to pick up the one and only Traveling WolverGator, Gatorama. Then it was over to Terminal 3 and the Continental gates to pick up our newly married UTErin. It is clear that the Kansas City airport was designed as an O&D airport, as transferring planes here would be a major pain the neck, and would require a wholesale rebuild if it wanted to be a substantial hub.
Anyhow, I called back to the house, and MextheDog hadn't arrived yet from Oklahoma. So we headed back down I-635 to KSULady's house, where all the perpetrators that were going to go to Columbia were assembled. We stopped at a Kwik Trip to get gas and beer, and then we were off for Columbia. I thought that I-70 between Kansas City and Columbia is a lot like I-94 across northwestern Wisconsin. Rolling country, lots of trees, and the colors were very pretty.
Before arriving in Columbia, we stopped at a winery in Rochefort. This is one of KSULady's favorite places to go in Missouri, and it lived up to it's reputation. Burnie had a Bloody Mary that was a meal in a glass, but the rest of us had slightly more standard fare. The food was excellent, and considering they called themselves a winery bistro, their food was actually reasonably priced. The setting was also fabulous. It was on a bluff overlooking the valley of the Missouri River, the fall colors were at their peak, and the company was good. While we were there, we received several strange glances from folks wearing Mizzou gear, and it wasn't until we were on our way out that someone asked who we were, and what were we doing there.
We then drove over to the A-frame, which is a little further along on the property. Seems that this was the original point of sale for the winery when it first opened in the mid 80s. While there, we change up the distribution among people in cars, so that the right people are going to the right hotels. Gator and I are the only ones in our car the rest of the way into Columbia. Upon arrival into Columbia, we decide to take a drive down to the stadium and campus before we get set up at the hotel. We travel around Stadium Blvd. until we reach the athletic complex.
You wouldn't know that Farout Field is there if you weren't looking for it. It sits in an unassuming hollow below the main campus. The stadium itself is nothing more than Vanderbilt Stadium but with a slightly larger capacity and four light towers in the corners. I was thoroughly unimpressed by my illicit hop through the gates. Next, we drove into and through the campus, and lo and behold we find the Mizzou Bookstore. After kniving for a parking spot, we go in there and find all Mizzou gear 25% off! Yes, everything. I pick up a nice sweatshirt on sale and Gator gets some postcards. I find that the bookstore is EXTREMELY busy for a Friday afternoon, but I don't think anything of it.
After all of this, we find our way out to our Holiday Inn Express on the outskirts of town, rest, resupply from a nearby liquor store, and go to the hotel where everyone else is staying. Mr. and Mrs. 847Badgerfan have arrived, and despite Badge feeling a bit under the weather, are ready to hit the town. Since there are sufficient board members to make a quorum, the Board Meeting is called to order. We go to the bar in the restaurant adjacent to the hotel, which has the bartender completely unprepared for our arrival. Our first round of the evening complete, we go over to Harpo's. This place is the quintessential college bar, with lots of Mizzou, Chiefs, and Cardinals memorabilia on the wall. We get props from several different groups as we get some drinks and food. Beer was being sold in souvenir plastic cups, and I shove two of them into my hoodie to take home.
We saw a dueling piano bar on the way over to Harpo's, but it wasn't open when we went by the first time. When we came back, it was open, and it was a great time. The best part of the weekend occurred here. About 11:00, a section of the Marching Mizzou came into the already-packed bar. This was about a basketball-sized pep band, and they played a spread of Mizzou music, including what sounded like their main fight song, a few other traditional songs, and the Missouri Waltz. Also, a band designed to fill Mizzou Arena with noise is REALLY REALLY LOUD when jammed into a bar. I thoroughly enjoyed having my hearing destroyed. Not long after this, we headed back over to the hotel and called it a night, but not before having some chaser beers.
Saturday morning dawned clear and gorgeous, after the previous evening's cold, wet, murky weather. Lots of Mizzou gear in the breakfast bar. About 9:00 we head into town, and find a parade going on! Seems this is Mizzou's homecoming weekend, which would explain why the bookstore was so crazy crowded. They were also having a parade, which made parking downtown a near-impossible situation. I end up dropping off Gator at the hotel, then parking in a ramp half a mile from the hotel. Mizzou claims to be the origin of what is considered homecoming, although I've heard the same claim come from Baylor and Illinois. Either way, I found it strange that just about every business in town had some sort of Greek letters taped to the outside wall or painted on the windows. What was that supposed to mean? Are Greeks not from those houses persona non grata in that establishment during that week?
Anyway, we end up at the Fieldhouse, the bar next to the hotel, to catch the 11:00 games. I seem to have a knack for running into people from Minnesota, as I talked with two more from Bloomington after seeing another one from Eagan the previous evening. All of us were watching the early games, me watching the Gopher offense go nowhere, razorchique seeing her Hogs fumble the game away at Ole Miss, and to everyone's shock, the Blenderbirds knock off Nebraska.
After the conclusion of the early games, some people go back to the hotel to rest, and I go with UTErin and KSULady on a walkaround of downtown Columbia. Downtown Columbia is a lot like downtown Boulder in that it had a quirky feel to it. I managed to keep up with Erin and KSULady for about 45 minutes, until I've been in one too many shops with a strong smell of incense. I go back and doze off in Erin's room until everyone comes back and decides to go over to a tailgate near the stadium. Badge and Gator stay in the hotel, and the rest of us head to the stadium.
Mizzou has a pleasantly surprisingly nice, and large, campus. Once we get down to the south mall spreading out from what looks like the original state capitol building, the tailgating starts up hot and heavy. What they were cooking smelled AMAZING, considering that I didn't order any substantial food while at the bar. Razorchique's boss was tailgating in an RV on the far side of the stadium. On the way down there, we were followed for several blocks by a Mizzou student with a strange motive. On our way to the stadium, TigerKing is wearing his Auburn gear. This student comes up to TK and tells him something to the effect of "sorry, man, but I'm a bama fan, and roll tide." And he follows us, arguing with TK the whole time, for the better part of six blocks, before we hit the main parking lots and he stumbles off somewhere. Recall this is not the first time that TK has been accosted at one of these things. Two years ago in Austin a man who was falling-down-drunk tried to jump him at a souvenir stand, and we had the Banshee Bammer at Sam's Place in Nashville.
Once we get shaken loose from the bammer, we go under the Stadium Blvd tunnel, and around the west side of the stadium. We find Tracy's boss, then another friend of hers who was there. It was then gametime. I was supposed to sit next to Burnie in the Texas section, but he went back to the hotel right before the bammer fan accosted us. Everyone else had tickets together behind the Texas bench in the north end zone. I go into the stadium, and am seated behind the Texas road band. Again, their band is a basketball-sized section.
I am aware that this was homecoming, and you have to have the alumni band in cahoots with the regular band, but do you REALLY need them to do the whole pre-game march stuff? Also, could the announcer for their performance be any more depressing than he is? If there was any energy in the stadium, that guy proceeded to pull all of it out of the crowd, so that by the time the Tigers came out of the south tunnel, it was DEAD DEAD DEAD in there.
Granted, the team didn't give the crowd anything to cheer about. The Longhorns had a whuppin' on their minds, and they wasted no time administering one. Mizzou had one long drive, but otherwise a selection of three-and-outs and turnovers. It was 35-7 at the half, with the game not being nearly as close as the score indicated. People were streaming towards the exits. I thought it was for obvious reasons, but I also learned that Mizzou is an open-gate stadium. So long as you get stamped and have a ticket stub, you can come and go as you please. This is the only stadium that I know of where you can do this.
I go over to meet the others where they are seated. We decide to leave and go back to the hotel, and we're not the only ones who do. Upon arrival, the food that Badge brought from Palatine is ready, and we eat and watch the end of the ESPN games, and find that the Iowa Yellow Chickens escape East Lansing at the bell. Mex, razor, and Burnie are in the first car back to KC in the morning, and they'll be gone early, so they bid everyone adieu. The rest of us hang around Badge's hotel room until it's clear that Arizona State is going to get curb-stomped on the Farm. Then we bid farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Badge (they leave for Chicago early in the morning), and it's back to the hotel.
Sunday morning finds us checked out of the Holiday Inn Express and back at the downtown hotel to say farewell to TK and the ladies. Gator and I are the next car to go back to KC, as his flight is at 2:30 and I want to be back in Minneapolis before midnight. I drop Gator off at the airport, then get on 35 to make the long, boring drive across Iowa back to Minnesota.
I really love this bunch of crazy folks. We come from all walks of life, but yet join up to feed our common interest and passion for college football. Plus we have a drink or six while we're there. It's really a good time, and you should come to this if we're in your neck of the woods.
GR
The drive to KC was uneventful, aside from the fact that it started to rain shortly after crossing into Iowa, turned into a heavy, heavy downpour around Mason City, and didn't let off until about 60-70 miles into Missouri. I also found out that this particular Impala has a TINY gas tank. When I filled up at Osceola, Iowa, it took 11 gallons and change with the gas light on. The trip was also broken up by a couple of phone calls from Gatorama, and I humored him with ancedotes about what us Minnesotans think of Iowa.
The rain broke, I wandered around the Kansas side of Kansas City for a bit, and found my way to KSULady's house. There I interrupted a furious game of Catch Phrase between KSULady, razorchique, LilDawg, and ElTigreRex. I think "Not lobster" was something clue that came up before I got there, and it was cracking the ladies up something fierce. After a while, KSULady had to go get BurntEyes from the airport. After their return and the obligatory exchange of pleasantries, everyone who hadn't already starting drinking continued with gusto. Both TK and Burnie polished off a substantial portion of liters of whisky, TK preferring Irish to Burnie's Scotch (or do I have that turned around?).
Friday morning dawned cool, windy, and with most folks vicously hung over. KSULady made her self-proclaimed world famous biscuits and gravy, which shook us out of it, and then I left for the airport to make some pickups. First it was to Terminal 1 to pick up the one and only Traveling WolverGator, Gatorama. Then it was over to Terminal 3 and the Continental gates to pick up our newly married UTErin. It is clear that the Kansas City airport was designed as an O&D airport, as transferring planes here would be a major pain the neck, and would require a wholesale rebuild if it wanted to be a substantial hub.
Anyhow, I called back to the house, and MextheDog hadn't arrived yet from Oklahoma. So we headed back down I-635 to KSULady's house, where all the perpetrators that were going to go to Columbia were assembled. We stopped at a Kwik Trip to get gas and beer, and then we were off for Columbia. I thought that I-70 between Kansas City and Columbia is a lot like I-94 across northwestern Wisconsin. Rolling country, lots of trees, and the colors were very pretty.
Before arriving in Columbia, we stopped at a winery in Rochefort. This is one of KSULady's favorite places to go in Missouri, and it lived up to it's reputation. Burnie had a Bloody Mary that was a meal in a glass, but the rest of us had slightly more standard fare. The food was excellent, and considering they called themselves a winery bistro, their food was actually reasonably priced. The setting was also fabulous. It was on a bluff overlooking the valley of the Missouri River, the fall colors were at their peak, and the company was good. While we were there, we received several strange glances from folks wearing Mizzou gear, and it wasn't until we were on our way out that someone asked who we were, and what were we doing there.
We then drove over to the A-frame, which is a little further along on the property. Seems that this was the original point of sale for the winery when it first opened in the mid 80s. While there, we change up the distribution among people in cars, so that the right people are going to the right hotels. Gator and I are the only ones in our car the rest of the way into Columbia. Upon arrival into Columbia, we decide to take a drive down to the stadium and campus before we get set up at the hotel. We travel around Stadium Blvd. until we reach the athletic complex.
You wouldn't know that Farout Field is there if you weren't looking for it. It sits in an unassuming hollow below the main campus. The stadium itself is nothing more than Vanderbilt Stadium but with a slightly larger capacity and four light towers in the corners. I was thoroughly unimpressed by my illicit hop through the gates. Next, we drove into and through the campus, and lo and behold we find the Mizzou Bookstore. After kniving for a parking spot, we go in there and find all Mizzou gear 25% off! Yes, everything. I pick up a nice sweatshirt on sale and Gator gets some postcards. I find that the bookstore is EXTREMELY busy for a Friday afternoon, but I don't think anything of it.
After all of this, we find our way out to our Holiday Inn Express on the outskirts of town, rest, resupply from a nearby liquor store, and go to the hotel where everyone else is staying. Mr. and Mrs. 847Badgerfan have arrived, and despite Badge feeling a bit under the weather, are ready to hit the town. Since there are sufficient board members to make a quorum, the Board Meeting is called to order. We go to the bar in the restaurant adjacent to the hotel, which has the bartender completely unprepared for our arrival. Our first round of the evening complete, we go over to Harpo's. This place is the quintessential college bar, with lots of Mizzou, Chiefs, and Cardinals memorabilia on the wall. We get props from several different groups as we get some drinks and food. Beer was being sold in souvenir plastic cups, and I shove two of them into my hoodie to take home.
We saw a dueling piano bar on the way over to Harpo's, but it wasn't open when we went by the first time. When we came back, it was open, and it was a great time. The best part of the weekend occurred here. About 11:00, a section of the Marching Mizzou came into the already-packed bar. This was about a basketball-sized pep band, and they played a spread of Mizzou music, including what sounded like their main fight song, a few other traditional songs, and the Missouri Waltz. Also, a band designed to fill Mizzou Arena with noise is REALLY REALLY LOUD when jammed into a bar. I thoroughly enjoyed having my hearing destroyed. Not long after this, we headed back over to the hotel and called it a night, but not before having some chaser beers.
Saturday morning dawned clear and gorgeous, after the previous evening's cold, wet, murky weather. Lots of Mizzou gear in the breakfast bar. About 9:00 we head into town, and find a parade going on! Seems this is Mizzou's homecoming weekend, which would explain why the bookstore was so crazy crowded. They were also having a parade, which made parking downtown a near-impossible situation. I end up dropping off Gator at the hotel, then parking in a ramp half a mile from the hotel. Mizzou claims to be the origin of what is considered homecoming, although I've heard the same claim come from Baylor and Illinois. Either way, I found it strange that just about every business in town had some sort of Greek letters taped to the outside wall or painted on the windows. What was that supposed to mean? Are Greeks not from those houses persona non grata in that establishment during that week?
Anyway, we end up at the Fieldhouse, the bar next to the hotel, to catch the 11:00 games. I seem to have a knack for running into people from Minnesota, as I talked with two more from Bloomington after seeing another one from Eagan the previous evening. All of us were watching the early games, me watching the Gopher offense go nowhere, razorchique seeing her Hogs fumble the game away at Ole Miss, and to everyone's shock, the Blenderbirds knock off Nebraska.
After the conclusion of the early games, some people go back to the hotel to rest, and I go with UTErin and KSULady on a walkaround of downtown Columbia. Downtown Columbia is a lot like downtown Boulder in that it had a quirky feel to it. I managed to keep up with Erin and KSULady for about 45 minutes, until I've been in one too many shops with a strong smell of incense. I go back and doze off in Erin's room until everyone comes back and decides to go over to a tailgate near the stadium. Badge and Gator stay in the hotel, and the rest of us head to the stadium.
Mizzou has a pleasantly surprisingly nice, and large, campus. Once we get down to the south mall spreading out from what looks like the original state capitol building, the tailgating starts up hot and heavy. What they were cooking smelled AMAZING, considering that I didn't order any substantial food while at the bar. Razorchique's boss was tailgating in an RV on the far side of the stadium. On the way down there, we were followed for several blocks by a Mizzou student with a strange motive. On our way to the stadium, TigerKing is wearing his Auburn gear. This student comes up to TK and tells him something to the effect of "sorry, man, but I'm a bama fan, and roll tide." And he follows us, arguing with TK the whole time, for the better part of six blocks, before we hit the main parking lots and he stumbles off somewhere. Recall this is not the first time that TK has been accosted at one of these things. Two years ago in Austin a man who was falling-down-drunk tried to jump him at a souvenir stand, and we had the Banshee Bammer at Sam's Place in Nashville.
Once we get shaken loose from the bammer, we go under the Stadium Blvd tunnel, and around the west side of the stadium. We find Tracy's boss, then another friend of hers who was there. It was then gametime. I was supposed to sit next to Burnie in the Texas section, but he went back to the hotel right before the bammer fan accosted us. Everyone else had tickets together behind the Texas bench in the north end zone. I go into the stadium, and am seated behind the Texas road band. Again, their band is a basketball-sized section.
I am aware that this was homecoming, and you have to have the alumni band in cahoots with the regular band, but do you REALLY need them to do the whole pre-game march stuff? Also, could the announcer for their performance be any more depressing than he is? If there was any energy in the stadium, that guy proceeded to pull all of it out of the crowd, so that by the time the Tigers came out of the south tunnel, it was DEAD DEAD DEAD in there.
Granted, the team didn't give the crowd anything to cheer about. The Longhorns had a whuppin' on their minds, and they wasted no time administering one. Mizzou had one long drive, but otherwise a selection of three-and-outs and turnovers. It was 35-7 at the half, with the game not being nearly as close as the score indicated. People were streaming towards the exits. I thought it was for obvious reasons, but I also learned that Mizzou is an open-gate stadium. So long as you get stamped and have a ticket stub, you can come and go as you please. This is the only stadium that I know of where you can do this.
I go over to meet the others where they are seated. We decide to leave and go back to the hotel, and we're not the only ones who do. Upon arrival, the food that Badge brought from Palatine is ready, and we eat and watch the end of the ESPN games, and find that the Iowa Yellow Chickens escape East Lansing at the bell. Mex, razor, and Burnie are in the first car back to KC in the morning, and they'll be gone early, so they bid everyone adieu. The rest of us hang around Badge's hotel room until it's clear that Arizona State is going to get curb-stomped on the Farm. Then we bid farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Badge (they leave for Chicago early in the morning), and it's back to the hotel.
Sunday morning finds us checked out of the Holiday Inn Express and back at the downtown hotel to say farewell to TK and the ladies. Gator and I are the next car to go back to KC, as his flight is at 2:30 and I want to be back in Minneapolis before midnight. I drop Gator off at the airport, then get on 35 to make the long, boring drive across Iowa back to Minnesota.
I really love this bunch of crazy folks. We come from all walks of life, but yet join up to feed our common interest and passion for college football. Plus we have a drink or six while we're there. It's really a good time, and you should come to this if we're in your neck of the woods.
GR
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
TR: Prowler Opening Day 2009 at Worlds of Fun
FRIDAY, MAY 1, 2009
WORLDS OF FUN
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI
My credit counter is spinning like a busted slot machine. Two weeks ago I made the epic trek to Cincinnati to get Diamondback on Opening Day, as well as get all the credits at Kings Island. I was going to go down to KC the last weekend of April, but then it became clear that Prowler wasn’t going to open with the park. Friends had reported that Prowler was awesome, so my curiosity was sufficiently piqued to make the trip down, albeit a week later than originally anticipated.
The trip down Interstate 35 was pretty boring. I’m a born-and-raised Minnesotan (and proud of it), but I’ll fully admit that most of the state is very, very flat and pretty boring to drive across. There isn’t much to say about northern Missouri, either. And let’s not discuss Iowa. Fortunately, the Sirius satellite radio in the car kept things interesting.
The biggest morale booster of the whole trip came just south of Exit 17, which is the turn for KCI Airport for travelers going south on 35. You come out from under the overpass, and suddenly there’s Mamba, Detonator, and the rest of the park skyline right in front of you. For someone who had really been dragging the last half hour, it was an instant shot of adrenaline. We’re almost there! Yay!
I got off at Exit 54 of southbound I-435, and got confused by the layout of the exit. Since I’ve never been there before, I ended up missing the second left turn up to the WOF entrance and ended up by the Village and OOF. By the time I figured out how to get into the park and get parked, it’s about 5:45 PM. I see two people with TPR hoodies coming out, and I wander my way into the turnstiles. I show them my VF plat pass, they give me food and drink vouchers, and I head into the park.
Worlds of Fun is a surprisingly hilly park. For that matter, Kansas City is a surprisingly hilly city. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised, as the Missouri River valley is a deep one through soft ground. Still, your quads, calves, and hamstrings get a good workout at the park. It’s also not clear where to go once you get past the front gates. I follow some folks who look like they know where they’re going
It’s 15 minutes from the top of the stairs back to the head of the queue maze, then 15 minutes for each out-and-back in the queue maze. The maze was filled to the tune of three out-and-backs, which meant it was an hour wait for my first time on Prowler. The marshall at the entrance to the station was being quite strict on row placement, and I ended up in Row 6 in all three of my rides. Truth be told, I was not impressed with it on Friday night. It was certainly a fun ride, but not the kind of blockbuster that it needed to be to get within spitting distance of either a dark Renegade or a soaking wet Viper in Chicago.
Operations got better as the evening progressed. I waited 45 minutes and 30 minutes for my second and third rides, but the first train that didn’t stack Friday night would be their first.
After park close at 8 PM, I went over and checked into my hotel, then went looking for some barbecue. When it Kansas City, you eat barbecue, right? I ended up over at the Ameristar Casino (which is located about a mile from WOF), at Arthur Murray’s barbecue place giving the Plate-pourri sammich a try. I also made the mistake of ordering French fries to go along with it. When I finally got the plate, in addition to the massive sandwich, the French fries were formed into a MOUNTAIN! Talk about my eyes being bigger than my stomach. I managed to get through most of it before throwing in the towel. I really didn’t like any of the three sauces they had. After dinner, I went over to a crap table and proceeded to win $125. A great night in the City of Kansas!
The following morning had breakfast at the Waffle House, then entry into the park. This time I needed to stop at the toll plaza to show my VF platinum pass. The clerk scanned it, then scanned it again with a befuddled look, then put in a call to GR. This went on for about 5 minutes, then the pass was handed back to me and I was told to go ahead. I got parked, then went down to the entrance gate, where they were admitting season passholders. Two weeks ago at Kings Island, my picture didn’t come up when scanned. My pass was scanned, and sure enough it happened again. A call to GR led to an IPA slip being printed and scanned. The supervisor at GR mentioned that they don’t get a lot of IPAs out there. I told her that with Prowler, they were going to get a lot of them this year.
Finally into the park and back to the queue for Prowler. Shortly before 10, the park GM and a local TV meteorologist present the “first riders,” the winners of the auction for the Susan Komen Foundation of Greater Kansas City. After those riders were brought to the platform, the GM took a giant pair of scissors and cut a large cloth ribbon, and we were in business. Two rides here still didn’t do anything for me, and so I went off to check out the rest of the park.
First was the Vekoma Boomerang. This one ran better than the one at Knotts, if for no other reason than I didn’t get my head bashed in when riding it.
Then I kept going around to Mamba, Wild Thing’s brother in arms. No more than a three-train wait all day, but by the time I got up there they were done cycling one of the two trains empty. I went to get in Row 3, and the seats are soaking wet! It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a dry rag up on the deck to take care of that. Once we got squared away, we went out for a ride. If you could put together the first two drops of Wild Thing with the rest of Mamba, you’d have a Top 10 steel. I’m partial to WT’s parabolic hill, but the headchopper effect of Mamba’s spiral was AWESOME. Plus the fact that the mid-courses were hardly grabbing made for excellent air on the way back. Two rides in a row here.
Timber Wolf’s line was out into the midway, so I decided to take my chances riding Patriot. Two out-and-backs in the queue maze were filled, so I thought I was gonna be there all day. The line went surprisingly quick, only 20 minutes. Patriot is a BLAST! It’s been taken care of much better than close cousin Silver Bullet, and they have a good, brisk crew there.
At this point, I left the park to do some other things I wanted to do around Kansas City. These things included getting my state credit for Kansas, going to the NABC College Basketball Hall of Fame (unimpressive), eating at Rosedale BBQ (much better than Arthur Bryant’s), and going by 12th Street and Vine, the corner from the song Kansas City. By the time I had done all of this and returned to the park, it was about 5:30, and I listened to the Kentucky Derby on the satellite radio in the rental.
Back into the park, and time to get the credits on the top end I hadn’t done yet. Timber Wolf’s line had receded considerably, so I went there. It was only 15 minutes from when I entered to when I got into the station, but it took another half an hour to finally get on the train. Once there, it became clear that this was going to be a crappy ride when we were jackhammering on the lift hill! The main ride was no better. No airtime, jackhammer city, and ROUGH ROUGH ROUGH track. It’s not as bad as Son of Beast, but it’s within striking distance. Anytime a coaster is within striking distance of Son of Beast means it’s a pile of junk.
Another spin on Patriot, then over to Spinning Dragons to get the credit. I rode it with a mother and daughter from a middle school in St. Louis. Did I mention that there were a lot of bands and orchestras in the park today, from schools all over Kansas and Missouri? Line for this was about 20 minutes. Even with a very off-balance load, the thing wasn’t spinning. I wished them a safe trip back to St. Louis, and headed to the back of the park.
At this point, I intentionally took my time going back to Mamba, as it was getting dark and I wanted it to be as dark as I could get it for the night ride on Mamba that I’ve heard so much about. The night ride delivered. In fact, it was so much fun that I did it in the front car and back car. I still like the first two hills on Wild Thing better, but the headchopper effect with the columns is awesome after nightfall.
A funny thing happened on the way to the back of the park. Prowler woke up. Remember how I have said on multiple occasions that Prowler just wasn’t doing anything? I’m willing to bet that Prowler didn’t have many testing days where it operated fully loaded trains for 10 hours running. Cause by the time I got my first twilight ride, around 8:40, the ride had changed. Maybe it was darkness, maybe it was my own perception, or maybe it was the inevitable breaking-in a coaster goes through. Whatever it was, the ride was now AWESOME! I also think the Law of Unintended Consequences was in play with regards to the placement of the on-ride camera. The flash blinds you, then BAM! A hard lateral, and by the time you get your wits back, you’re going into the brakes.
At this point, I also found the single rider line. The guy up in the station was doing a good job of getting the train full, but the marshal at the entrance of the line was not. Frequently, she let groups into the queue. One duo asked me if they thought they could ride together. I told her no, you’re in the SINGLE RIDER queue. This was most unlike the marshals two weeks ago at Kings Island, where if you even looked like you knew the person next to you, you were sent to the main queue.
Anyhow, my final ride of the night came right after they cut the queue. I finally got put in with a group for the back row. I’d been trying to get to either the very front or very back all day, so this was going to be a great way to end the day. Sure enough it was. I was left in breathless hysteria as we rolled back to the station.
The following morning saw another Waffle House breakfast before rolling back to the Twin Cities, including a stop at a casino in BFI where I got a little bit more cash from a blackjack table.
So where does it end up on the ranking list? Prior to the evening session with an invigorated Prowler, my wood list went Rene #1, Viper (SF Chicago) in a hurricane, Prowler, Avalanche, Hades, Coaster in Vancouver, then the field. Now I’m not so sure. I’ve been deliberating for three days whether to put Rene or Prowler at the #1 spot. No, I’m still not made up my mind yet. I’ll have to get some rides on Rene once it opens up to assist in making up my mind. Yes, I know I’m missing a lot of high-profile scalps, but I intend to rectify that sometime soon.
Paul Miller
WORLDS OF FUN
KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI
My credit counter is spinning like a busted slot machine. Two weeks ago I made the epic trek to Cincinnati to get Diamondback on Opening Day, as well as get all the credits at Kings Island. I was going to go down to KC the last weekend of April, but then it became clear that Prowler wasn’t going to open with the park. Friends had reported that Prowler was awesome, so my curiosity was sufficiently piqued to make the trip down, albeit a week later than originally anticipated.
The trip down Interstate 35 was pretty boring. I’m a born-and-raised Minnesotan (and proud of it), but I’ll fully admit that most of the state is very, very flat and pretty boring to drive across. There isn’t much to say about northern Missouri, either. And let’s not discuss Iowa. Fortunately, the Sirius satellite radio in the car kept things interesting.
The biggest morale booster of the whole trip came just south of Exit 17, which is the turn for KCI Airport for travelers going south on 35. You come out from under the overpass, and suddenly there’s Mamba, Detonator, and the rest of the park skyline right in front of you. For someone who had really been dragging the last half hour, it was an instant shot of adrenaline. We’re almost there! Yay!
I got off at Exit 54 of southbound I-435, and got confused by the layout of the exit. Since I’ve never been there before, I ended up missing the second left turn up to the WOF entrance and ended up by the Village and OOF. By the time I figured out how to get into the park and get parked, it’s about 5:45 PM. I see two people with TPR hoodies coming out, and I wander my way into the turnstiles. I show them my VF plat pass, they give me food and drink vouchers, and I head into the park.
Worlds of Fun is a surprisingly hilly park. For that matter, Kansas City is a surprisingly hilly city. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised, as the Missouri River valley is a deep one through soft ground. Still, your quads, calves, and hamstrings get a good workout at the park. It’s also not clear where to go once you get past the front gates. I follow some folks who look like they know where they’re going
It’s 15 minutes from the top of the stairs back to the head of the queue maze, then 15 minutes for each out-and-back in the queue maze. The maze was filled to the tune of three out-and-backs, which meant it was an hour wait for my first time on Prowler. The marshall at the entrance to the station was being quite strict on row placement, and I ended up in Row 6 in all three of my rides. Truth be told, I was not impressed with it on Friday night. It was certainly a fun ride, but not the kind of blockbuster that it needed to be to get within spitting distance of either a dark Renegade or a soaking wet Viper in Chicago.
Operations got better as the evening progressed. I waited 45 minutes and 30 minutes for my second and third rides, but the first train that didn’t stack Friday night would be their first.
After park close at 8 PM, I went over and checked into my hotel, then went looking for some barbecue. When it Kansas City, you eat barbecue, right? I ended up over at the Ameristar Casino (which is located about a mile from WOF), at Arthur Murray’s barbecue place giving the Plate-pourri sammich a try. I also made the mistake of ordering French fries to go along with it. When I finally got the plate, in addition to the massive sandwich, the French fries were formed into a MOUNTAIN! Talk about my eyes being bigger than my stomach. I managed to get through most of it before throwing in the towel. I really didn’t like any of the three sauces they had. After dinner, I went over to a crap table and proceeded to win $125. A great night in the City of Kansas!
The following morning had breakfast at the Waffle House, then entry into the park. This time I needed to stop at the toll plaza to show my VF platinum pass. The clerk scanned it, then scanned it again with a befuddled look, then put in a call to GR. This went on for about 5 minutes, then the pass was handed back to me and I was told to go ahead. I got parked, then went down to the entrance gate, where they were admitting season passholders. Two weeks ago at Kings Island, my picture didn’t come up when scanned. My pass was scanned, and sure enough it happened again. A call to GR led to an IPA slip being printed and scanned. The supervisor at GR mentioned that they don’t get a lot of IPAs out there. I told her that with Prowler, they were going to get a lot of them this year.
Finally into the park and back to the queue for Prowler. Shortly before 10, the park GM and a local TV meteorologist present the “first riders,” the winners of the auction for the Susan Komen Foundation of Greater Kansas City. After those riders were brought to the platform, the GM took a giant pair of scissors and cut a large cloth ribbon, and we were in business. Two rides here still didn’t do anything for me, and so I went off to check out the rest of the park.
First was the Vekoma Boomerang. This one ran better than the one at Knotts, if for no other reason than I didn’t get my head bashed in when riding it.
Then I kept going around to Mamba, Wild Thing’s brother in arms. No more than a three-train wait all day, but by the time I got up there they were done cycling one of the two trains empty. I went to get in Row 3, and the seats are soaking wet! It wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a dry rag up on the deck to take care of that. Once we got squared away, we went out for a ride. If you could put together the first two drops of Wild Thing with the rest of Mamba, you’d have a Top 10 steel. I’m partial to WT’s parabolic hill, but the headchopper effect of Mamba’s spiral was AWESOME. Plus the fact that the mid-courses were hardly grabbing made for excellent air on the way back. Two rides in a row here.
Timber Wolf’s line was out into the midway, so I decided to take my chances riding Patriot. Two out-and-backs in the queue maze were filled, so I thought I was gonna be there all day. The line went surprisingly quick, only 20 minutes. Patriot is a BLAST! It’s been taken care of much better than close cousin Silver Bullet, and they have a good, brisk crew there.
At this point, I left the park to do some other things I wanted to do around Kansas City. These things included getting my state credit for Kansas, going to the NABC College Basketball Hall of Fame (unimpressive), eating at Rosedale BBQ (much better than Arthur Bryant’s), and going by 12th Street and Vine, the corner from the song Kansas City. By the time I had done all of this and returned to the park, it was about 5:30, and I listened to the Kentucky Derby on the satellite radio in the rental.
Back into the park, and time to get the credits on the top end I hadn’t done yet. Timber Wolf’s line had receded considerably, so I went there. It was only 15 minutes from when I entered to when I got into the station, but it took another half an hour to finally get on the train. Once there, it became clear that this was going to be a crappy ride when we were jackhammering on the lift hill! The main ride was no better. No airtime, jackhammer city, and ROUGH ROUGH ROUGH track. It’s not as bad as Son of Beast, but it’s within striking distance. Anytime a coaster is within striking distance of Son of Beast means it’s a pile of junk.
Another spin on Patriot, then over to Spinning Dragons to get the credit. I rode it with a mother and daughter from a middle school in St. Louis. Did I mention that there were a lot of bands and orchestras in the park today, from schools all over Kansas and Missouri? Line for this was about 20 minutes. Even with a very off-balance load, the thing wasn’t spinning. I wished them a safe trip back to St. Louis, and headed to the back of the park.
At this point, I intentionally took my time going back to Mamba, as it was getting dark and I wanted it to be as dark as I could get it for the night ride on Mamba that I’ve heard so much about. The night ride delivered. In fact, it was so much fun that I did it in the front car and back car. I still like the first two hills on Wild Thing better, but the headchopper effect with the columns is awesome after nightfall.
A funny thing happened on the way to the back of the park. Prowler woke up. Remember how I have said on multiple occasions that Prowler just wasn’t doing anything? I’m willing to bet that Prowler didn’t have many testing days where it operated fully loaded trains for 10 hours running. Cause by the time I got my first twilight ride, around 8:40, the ride had changed. Maybe it was darkness, maybe it was my own perception, or maybe it was the inevitable breaking-in a coaster goes through. Whatever it was, the ride was now AWESOME! I also think the Law of Unintended Consequences was in play with regards to the placement of the on-ride camera. The flash blinds you, then BAM! A hard lateral, and by the time you get your wits back, you’re going into the brakes.
At this point, I also found the single rider line. The guy up in the station was doing a good job of getting the train full, but the marshal at the entrance of the line was not. Frequently, she let groups into the queue. One duo asked me if they thought they could ride together. I told her no, you’re in the SINGLE RIDER queue. This was most unlike the marshals two weeks ago at Kings Island, where if you even looked like you knew the person next to you, you were sent to the main queue.
Anyhow, my final ride of the night came right after they cut the queue. I finally got put in with a group for the back row. I’d been trying to get to either the very front or very back all day, so this was going to be a great way to end the day. Sure enough it was. I was left in breathless hysteria as we rolled back to the station.
The following morning saw another Waffle House breakfast before rolling back to the Twin Cities, including a stop at a casino in BFI where I got a little bit more cash from a blackjack table.
So where does it end up on the ranking list? Prior to the evening session with an invigorated Prowler, my wood list went Rene #1, Viper (SF Chicago) in a hurricane, Prowler, Avalanche, Hades, Coaster in Vancouver, then the field. Now I’m not so sure. I’ve been deliberating for three days whether to put Rene or Prowler at the #1 spot. No, I’m still not made up my mind yet. I’ll have to get some rides on Rene once it opens up to assist in making up my mind. Yes, I know I’m missing a lot of high-profile scalps, but I intend to rectify that sometime soon.
Paul Miller
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