So Long, Jacko

Last Thursday, Winning Run and I were driving through the mountains of western Pennsylvania, heading back from touring Frank Lloyd Wright's Falling Water around 6pm ET when I got a text from Crazy Greg.

It read simply: "MJ is dead."

"Holy crap," I told Winning Run. "Either Michael Jordan or Michal Jackson just died. Which one does he mean, Jordan or Jackson?"

We turned on the radio and scanned the stations. One of the first stations we hit was a sports-talk station that was involved in the typical banter about area sports.

"Jackson," I decided.

Sadly, the last fifteen years or so of his life were ones in which his eccentricities and the accusations against him overshadowed the power of his music. In the aftermath of his death, it's apparent that his music affected so many people. Seriously, it's great to turn on the radio or be at a ballgame or in a pub and hear the tunes that transport you back and instantly make you happy.

Man In the Mirror

Last weekend, I went to my buddy Jason's house-warming party. For the last year or so, he and his partner have been renovating the place. So, my wife and I went over to see them and have a look. After the guided tour from Jason, we ended up on the back patio with some friends that we'd not seen in years.

During our conversation, a stranger walked up and asked me a question.

"Do you remember me?," he said.

Honestly, that question is the one I dread the most. Actually, it might fall slightly behind something like "Are you the son of a bitch who knocked up my sister?". The point is, I feel like a deer in headlights when someone asks me that.

"Did we work together at WebTone?" I guessed.

"No. You don't recognize me?" he continued.

"Your face looks familiar but I can't remember your name," I confessed.

"I'm Darren. We went to Mexico together!"

"That's it. Hell, that was thirteen years ago. So how are you?"

We chatted for a bit about the study abroad program we did in the summer of 1995. During the trip, we took classes at La Universidad de Guadalajara and traveled around the country quite a bit. We caught up on each others lives and continued to reminisce about the trip.

I have particurlarly vivid memories from a side trip that we took to Puerta Vallarta. In-country flights were pretty cheap, so we booked a trip to the west coast and had a blast. One night, we decided to go on a "Sunset Booze Cruise."

Obviously, we left before sunset and hit the coastline. We passed the location where "Night of the Iguana" was filmed. Man, the drinks flowed freely and we tried our best not to waste a drop. I found a few photos that document the progression of the evening.

Ahoy!

We're on a sunset cruise.

Wheere on a sumshet crooze.

No, YOU guys are awesome!

My favorite memory of the trip stems from the end of the evening. After the sun set, everyone moved inside to the dance floor and continued the party. A little later, the crew cleared everyone out to make way for a "very special guest." We moved out and wondering what was going on when all of a sudden, "Man in the Mirror" starts blaring. Then, Michael Freaking Jackson appeared out of thin air. We could not believe it! I mean, really, we knew it wasn't the real MJ but the closest damned thing you could get. Seriously, we were stunned by how much of a spitting image this guy was. Not only that, he had all of the moves down. We were as thrilled as if it were the real Michael Jackson; it was awesome.

Then, I got my photos back.

I'd prefer to be tied up in this guy's crawl space
rather than be this close to the real Michael Jackson.

Alcohol is a hell of a thing.