Besides, a friend of mine was playing, and I couldn't allow his knowledge of the game to eclipse mine. It was a small matter of pride. I want to be on top of things. This was an opportunity to look beyond my favorite team and appreciate these athletes for what they do in every position.
I signed up for an account on ESPN and joined a random public 10-team league. I did a ton of research before the draft, looking up drafting strategies, poring over rankings and expert analysis, and when the clock finally chimed, I think I did decent, all things considered. Here's a look at my team:
My strategy was to get the best running backs off the board, attack the best wide receivers available, and fill in the depth chart. I did this at the cost of an elite quarterback but that was my game plan and I was sticking to it no matter what. On paper, I have the best team in the league, but football is one of the more unpredictable sports. The studs of yesteryear may be the duds of today, and they might encounter serious injuries, and you'll never know who'll have a breakout season. That's just part of the excitement of fantasy sports. I can't wait for Sunday.
For a friend's belated birthday celebration, we ventured out to this packed place appropriately named the Packing House. It's this plantation-looking building with various restaurants and markets inside, the most intriguing of which, was a bar called the Blind Rabbit. Just outside the place was an indie band doing covers in addition to their own stuff, I assume--only because I haven't heard it before. The Blind Rabbit resembled a prohibition-era speakeasy, complete with a shelf of sake barrels as a disguised entrance.
We went inside and it was cramped. Our corner was quickly crowded with another party of four next to us. Despite our close proximity, there wasn't much crossover in conversation aside from a few recommendations to a place called The Playground and Father's Office, the latter of which, apparently has the best burger ever.
It was clear the main allure of this place was its sense of exclusivity and the ambiance, although the illusion was somewhat spoiled by the AC unit directly above us and the computer screen across the way. You can't be 100% authentic without losing some conveniences.
Service was slow, but when I eventually got my pear blossom, it wasn't bad. One of my friends bought an $18 burger that I knew wasn't worth $18, while another friend got duck and mac and cheese. I had some of it. It got cold pretty quick, courtesy of the AC. I didn't talk much until the alcohol was flowing. I was tired from my workout earlier and I hadn't eaten so the effect was quick. I couldn't shut up.
In apology for their slow service, one of the bartenders bought us a round of complimentary whiskey shots. It was a nice gesture. Then I finished off the birthday boy's beer because he wasn't a fan of its earthly taste. Considering the amount of alcohol I imbibed at the cost of one drink, I felt good about that night. The only thing I regret was not eating dinner. My brother once said that alcohol makes you heavy, and since I lost four pounds seemingly overnight (did I piss it all away?), I'm inclined to agree.
I didn't complete my goals for the day, which was to apply to jobs and add another entry to my personal resume site. Since I was too drunk to do otherwise (I drank a protein shake and I couldn't close the cap--until I realized I was twisting it the wrong way), I went to bed early.
It didn't work. My tinnitus kicked into overdrive and I stayed up until 6 in the morning with a low pitch in my ear the entire night. This thing's a real vibe killer.
/eventlog
