Emily and I drove to San Antonio for the Elite Eight game yesterday. Actually, a correction to that statement: I drove Emily to San Antonio. Her duties were limited to not getting us too lost and finding a good place to east (both goals accomplished -- so good job!). The real surprise is not that we were that late for the game, but that we only missed the first couple of minutes. Considering Emily can't usually make it on time for class, making it on time for a basketball game about 200 miles away is a rather ambitious undertaking. Though I did bribe her with Starbucks.
Thanks to Texas A&M for losing so we could get the tickets from her brother, a disappointed Aggie who didn't want to watch the final game.
Memo to everyone whoever went to Ohio State: you can spell "Ohio". We're very proud of you. Please stop.
The game was pretty good until the final five minutes, when alleged "freshman" Greg Oden scored about a bazillion points in a few minutes. Then the Buckeyes failed to miss a free throw. And everyone in red started spelling "Ohio" again.
We took the chance to see the Alamo and wander around San Antonio for a bit, a city best described as quaint. And the definite highlight of the evening was during dinner at the Riverwalk, a mariachi band busted out their own rendition of "Devil Went Down to Georgia." If you've never heard the Mexican interpretation of this country classic, you have not heard Shakespeare the way it was meant to be performed. It really defied all explanation. Words do not do it justice. But it was awesome.
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