There are many things we have been "missing" while on our travels, including family, friends, Rue, the comforts of home, and for me, Alan, the better part of this year's college football season. Sure, during our frisbee furlough weekend in Atlanta, I watched the Mizzou/South Carolina game with all the Sansbury siblings (hard to truly revel in such a sloppy win), and I've kept up with scores/rankings/upsets/etc., but I've missed the Saturday ritual of watching College Game Day and possibly gathering with friends to watch a couple of the big games of the week. So, while I thought it might be a long shot, I arose at 5:00 am on January 2nd to make my way to the common room and TV lounge at the college dorm where we were staying to see if one of the many sports channels included in the cable package might carry the Citrus Bowl featuring Mizzou vs. Minnesota. If nothing else, I might be able to watch the final game of Mizzou's season. I figured I would have the room to myself, seeing as it was 5:00 in the morning, but I figured incorrectly. As I made my way around the corner, I heard loud club music being played, and saw a lone figure sitting on one of the couches facing the TV. As soon as I walked in the room, the lone figure bounded into action, greeting me with much enthusiasm. Upon hearing that I, Alan, was from Nashville, TN, my new best friend Sean, from Ireland, told me that he absolutely loved country music, and music from the bayou, and that back in Ireland he was a hillbilly. "I just love everything from Texas, Tennessee, Louisiana. Gumbo, boy do I love gumbo. Nashville, TN. Wow..." and the litany went on, in a strong Irish accent. When I mentioned wanting to check on a football game, he stopped the music playing from his phone, and handed me the remote. It was then that I noticed the bag of wine sitting on the coffee table, well, wine table at this point, I suppose, as some of the wine seemed to have spilled.
"Join me in a drink, my Nashville friend! Some people just don't know how to drink, you know? I've been awake and drinking for three days. Three days, I tell you!"
"No thanks," I politely said. "I just woke up and might need some breakfast first."
The whole time I was frantically searching the cable guide, half hoping the game would be on, and half hoping it wouldn't, as I figured I wouldn't really get to watch much of it anyway, due to Sean's energetic spirit.
Just as I realized the game wasn't listed on any of the 14 or so sports channels (don't worry, Snooker and Cricket were well represented, and two other bowl games), and reverted to flipping through every channel, just in case, I saw someone else enter the room.
Picture Regis Philbin combined with Richard Simmons and you get the idea. He was wearing gym shorts, flip flops, and had a towel around his neck, looking like he was headed to the spa or something. While some might say that I have my own man shirt, this guy had a man sweater (chest hair reference).
"Do you know where I can find someone to help me?" he asked. "I have been to the shower, and when I went back to my room, my key was not working." At this point, he held out his hotel slide card room key and turned it about, giving it a perplexed look.
Sean jumped into action, moving across the room faster than seemed humanly possible, took the older gentleman's hand holding the key card and told him that sometimes you have to do it slowly, "like this," he said as he demonstrated with the man's hand.
"I try this already. It don't work. How do you find somebody to help?"
"Where are you from?" Sean asked exuberantly.
"Brazil. I have to travel today. How do I get back into my room?"
"Do it slowly, man. I'm telling you. Do it slowly," Sean replied
At this point I had given up looking for the game and sat there rapt with interest in the scene unfolding before me. The older Brazilian gentleman asked to use our phones, but we both told him we didn't have cell service. We both suggested he ring the night buzzer or search for a security phone, and after a few more minutes of him telling us he really needed to get into his room, he wandered off.
When he left the room, the spell was broken, so I rapidly flipped through a few more channels and then did my best to bid Sean a good night, or was it morning, and make my exit. I went back to the room and crawled back into bed for a few hours, and upon waking, wondered if I had dreamed the whole thing. Who knows? Maybe I did. Either way, I now know what happens when an America, an Irishman, and a Brazilian walk into a common room at 5:00 am.
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