Thursday, November 10, 2011

Livin' The Dream Gets Engaged!

I know it's been quite some time since I posted last, but it hasn't been for lack of news! After our trip to Jamaica, I have been busy with work events, a trip to Denver for the Great American Beer Festival, hosting a Halloween party, a trip to Vegas, and oh yeah, one other thing...

I manned up and finally put a ring on Julie's finger!

Yep, that's right, after two years of dating, I decided it was time to make Julie my lifetime roommate. And wife. Many people have asked for the full proposal story, so here ya go (delayed).

THE PROPOSAL

For months leading up to the engagement, I convinced Julie that before I actually proposed, I was going to fake her out one day by getting down on a knee and giving her a Ring Pop, instead of a real diamond. So suffice to say, Julie had no idea when it was coming.

Many people close to us expected me to propose while we were in Jamaica. Although a prime opportunity and beautiful setting, my one guiding rule was that I would not propose to Julie if I thought she might be expecting it. And let's face it, that thought would have crossed every girl's mind while standing on the white sand along the shores of Jamaica.

Upon returning from Jamaica, I began my planning for the proposal, and waited for an opening. On the morning of Sunday, September 18th, we made plans to go to the beach after Julie had gone for her run and we met her mother and grandmother for brunch. Perfect, I thought...the plans had been set. But upon getting home from brunch, Julie felt tired and told me she wanted to take a nap. FOILED! So I spent the early part of the afternoon watching football and wishing Julie wasn't such an awesome runner all the time, while she slept next to me on the couch.

As soon as Julie awoke, I wasted no time saying "Do you still want to take our cruisers down to the Farmer's Market to get ice cream sandwiches?" The response was an obvious "yes", as anyone that knows Julie can attest...the girl loves ice cream. So we jumped on our bikes and I casually said "Let's check out the waves cuz I might want to surf later." Julie agreed, so we rode down to Julie's favorite reading steps at Fletcher Cove. I told her I had been working on our famous Halloween Party "Evite" invitation, and wanted to hear what she thought. So I pulled out my phone and read her what I had written so far.

(*IMPORTANT NOTE - For anyone that doesn't know, Julie is obsessed with Halloween. The girl would trade in every holiday (excluding Christmas) to have another Halloween. I have never seen someone so head-over-heels for Hallow's Eve, and I knew that this was my ticket...)

Anyway, while I read the Halloween poem, Julie sat there oblivious to what was going on. She listened intently to the poem, thinking to herself what changes she would make and what lines she didn't like...which was even better considering I was worried sick that she would notice the giant square ring box in my pocket.

At the end of the poem, I had made an alteration to the Evite, and as I got down on one knee, I read the following closing lines:

If I could say one last thing,

Before they bury me,

I would get down on one knee and say,

Julie Ray, will you marry me?

Shocked about the ending, confused why I wasn't holding a Ring Pop, and with tons of mental Evite edits gone to waste, Julie buried her face in her hands, then looked up and mustered up the word "Yes". We began staring at each other in shock for about ten minutes and temporarily lost the ability to speak. But we finally started with the nervous laughter and jokes, and haven't stopped smiling since.

Later that night, I looked at Julie and could tell something was wrong. I asked her what was bothering her, concerned she was getting nervous already. But instead she kept the frown on her face and said...

"I never got my ice cream sandwich."

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Jamaica - Retro Diary (Part Two)

For those of you catching up with my recent blog posts, this is Part Two of my Jamaica Retro-Diary. If you have not yet read Part One, click here!

So where were we....?

Our awesome balcony!

So after standing far too long gawking at the awesome view from our balcony, we finally decided to get some food and explore the resort a bit while it was still light out. So we left our room and walked down to the main beach (which our room overlooked) and promptly found "The Sand Trap", a small outdoor bungalow that was open for lunch. I ordered Jamaican Jerk chicken, because I had already had a Red Stripe and needed to immediately immerse myself in the Jamaican culture! The chicken was excellent (for sake of my readers' time, I will not detail every piece of food I ate on this trip...you can imagine what the two of us took down in seven days).

First meal in Jamaica - Jamaican Jerk Chicken!

We then made our way to one of two resort pools, both of which feature a swim-up pool bar. We quickly jumped in the water and swam up and met my two new favorite bartenders, Brian and Martin. For the entire trip, I'm not sure I ever actually ordered a drink. I just went up to them and said "Surprise me" or "Give me something I've never had before"...sound logic, I know. Within ten minutes of being in the pool, we heard someone yell "Pool Shots", and before we knew it, we were taking a shot of some sweet liquor while Brian the Bartender sung "Ain't no party like a pool bar party, cuz a pool bar party never stop!" Suffice to say this would not be the last time we heard this song, nor was it the last "pool shot" of the trip...not by a long shot.

Pool Bar!

By far, the toughest part about the trip was choosing where we wanted to eat, as the resort boasted an impressive eleven restaurants. But we decided to pace ourselves and have faith that we would, by the end of the trip, have tried them all. I'm not sure if I'm ready to dedicate an entire blog post to the different restaurants of Sandals Grande Riviera (or if my readers can stomach more Jamaica-blabber), so for now I will tell you that we ate a TON, and seeing that it was an all-inclusive resort, we certainly did not skimp on our choices!

Julie at Neptune's, our first dinner stop.

After dinner on our first night, Julie and I ventured out to the pier surrounding the property and found a fire-pit with a huge sofa lounge. We quickly sunk into the couch and were set in a trance from a combination of the cool evening air, a solid meal, the lapping of the water on the rocks, and a long day (and night) of travel. Before I knew it, I found myself opening my eyes after a 30-minute siesta and looking at Julie with a "Where am I look?" Yep, it was official...Marc was on vacation!

Julie at the fire-pit sofa where I crashed the first night.

Every night the entertainment team at Sandals, known as "PlayMakers" (not Playmates, which Julie frequently mistook them), had some sort of entertainment planned for their guests, and we took advantage of it. Over the seven nights we saw a steel drum band, talent show, a reggae band, swimsuit fashion show, two dance-parties, a reggae-style Jamboree, and a beach party. We befriended one of the PlayMakers and hung out with her a few nights, which made for some entertaining evenings when she was teaching Kelly (our friend from Toronto) how to shake her booty, while I shamelessly took notes in the corner.

Steel Drum band at the amphitheater.

We spent the next day, our first full day at the resort, exploring all the different beaches, pools, bars, views, cabanas and restaurants of the hotel. We settled at one of the far beaches and got working on our tans. And of course, no beach day was complete without the hotel staff checking on the level of our cocktails every 15 minutes! After a couple days of straight drinking and sun, Julie and I realized we were going to have to tone down both, as we were on pace to start looking like leather-skinned drunks by the end of the trip.

One of the pierside cabanas.

View of the far beach.

As I mentioned before, we started to run into Ryan and Kelly everywhere at the resort. Whether it be at one of the pool bars, the beach, the action sport center or dinner, we couldn't seem to shake them (I still think they were still just trying to figure out if I was actually Ben Stiller). Finally we gave into our stalkers and started meeting up with them every day for a meal or an activity. It was definitely great to actually meet another couple at this couples-only resort who wasn't a) on their honeymoon, b) engaged, or c) celebrating an anniversary (not to mention the fact that Julie would have probably gone nuts spending eight straight days with me, with no human interference).

Julie and Kelly at the Jamboree.

When we made our way to the second pool bar, we met Bishop, the crazy bartender whose favorite saying was "WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY....WHY NOT?!", a saying that had an eerie resemblance to to the birds in Finding Nemo that say "Mine, mine, mine!" Whether we liked it or not, this line would stick with us for the rest of the trip (much to our own chagrin).

Now, no trip would be complete without me taking 18,000,000 photos, right? Well, not only did we bring my camera, we brought two more (a point-and-shoot and Julie's nice one) to ensure that every square inch of the resort would be digitally remembered. I definitely made Julie pose for more than her fair share of photos, but I figured, "Hey, I'm in Jamaica and it's pretty. My girlfriend is in a bathing suit. Need I say more?" It's just simple math, people. I know this blog post has some select photos featured to help show what I'm referring to, but if you'd like to see more...you can click here for my full Jamaica album.

*NOTE - These are just the ones from my camera. If you start to notice photos of only Julie, there is a reason. I managed to steer clear of most photos. If you want the ones with my goofy mug in them, you have to contact my lawyer (Julie).

Me and Kelly learning some new moves.

About midway through our trip we decided to take advantage of a very unique activity covered in the "all-inclusive" umbrella - GOLF! For those of you who have been to an all-inclusive resort, you know that it includes food and drink and some activities, but it almost never includes golf. But Sandals Ocho Rios allows you to play any of its courses for free (although you do have to pay for a caddy). So Julie and I knew this in advance, so we brought our clubs along with us on the plane and prepared for a day of golf in the tropical Jamaican heat!

Smidge and me on the last hole.

The night before we golfed, we met a caddy named Rudolph (who told us he went by "Rudy", but when he wrote his name down as a referral for the next day, he spelled it R-U-D-D-Y). So when we got to the course, we asked for Ruddy Rudy and he caddied for our 9-hole extravaganza. The course was in average shape, with lots of slopes and hills and relatively solid greens. Julie was able to get some great tips from Ruddy Rudy, and by the end of the round, she was starting to hit and putt lights out! Golf was one of the best parts of the trip, as we were able to get off the resort, see some more sights, had a great guide in Ruddy Rudy, and just enjoy our wonderful vacation. Taking our clubs and playing golf was the best decision we made, by far.

Julie and our caddy, Ruddy Rudy.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention one of the dinner restaurants we tried. A few nights into the trip we made our way to Kimono's - a Japanese-style restaurant where the chef stands in front of you as he cooks your food. As if that weren't enough entertainment, the chefs coerced their guests to bang their chopsticks on their plated to whatever beat he had in his mind at the given moment. After drumming to Johnny B. Good, Billie Jean and other songs, we all had certainly worked up an appetite. After all the food had been eaten, our chef had one last game he wanted to play. He placed a shrimp on his spatula and wanted to toss it to us and catch it in our mouths, no hands. And who was the first to volunteer? JULIE!!! Not only was she the first to try it, she caught it first try and triumphantly thrust her arms in the air as if she had just won the Boston Marathon. Epic highlight.

Shrimp tossing at Kimono's.

*FUNNY SIDE STORY* - Our chef at Kimono's started the evening by asking the four couples at the table where they were from and what they were celebrating. Julie and I were last in the line. The first couple said they were on their honeymoon. Then the second couple said they were on their honeymoon. Then the couple seated next to us said they were on their...you guessed it....honeymoon. Then he came to us and asked "And what are you celebrating?", and before I even had time to answer, my trusty sidekick pipes up next to me and yells, "LIFE!" Yep, that's my girl...proudly celebrating life amongst honeymooners.

The resort offered all sorts of amenities, bars and activities on a daily basis, including random things like darts, life-size chess, a sports bar and a piano bar. And yes, we hit them all. In addition to those activities, the resort also offered complimentary water sports, including sailing, wind surfing, snorkeling, scuba diving, paddle-boarding, aqua-tricycles, and glass-bottom boat tours. During our stay, Julie and I opted for the aqua tricycle, paddle-boarding and snorkeling off the glass-bottom boat.

Julie before she got KILLED in giant chess.

Cruising on the aqua-trike!

During our one hour snorkel, I kind of separated from the group and started diving down low into the reef to look at some of the bright fish. All of a sudden, I heard another person yelling underwater (you know, that underwater "MMM! MMM!" sound) trying to get my attention. I turned to see Julie frantically waving at me, so I went to the surface and she said "There is a stingray over here!" My little adventurer had ventured away from the group as well, and sure enough she had found a huge ray. I swam to her and then dove down deep to glide over the top of it. It had a four foot wingspan and was about three feet long (minus the tail), and it was actually spotted! I asked our guide later and he said that was actually an Eagle Ray. Definitely one of the highlights of the trip. Point for Julie.

One of the nights of the trip we went to the "Hot White Chocolate" night, which was basically a giant chocolate bar with tables covered in different types of chocolate. And the kicker? We all had to wear white! Who thought of that idea?! Anyone that knows me knows that I have a major problem with eating without spilling, and now they are combining chocolate and white clothes?! I am happy to report that I did not spill a single ounce of chocolate on myself, although I must admit I curbed the amount of chocolate I ate for fear of inevitably staining my awesome white linen pants.

White Night!

Toward the end of the trip, we signed up for one of many off-site excursions offered by the resort - a catamaran cruise to the Dunn's River Falls. The cruise included an hour of snorkeling, then a hike up 800 feet of cascading waterfalls (hiking in the water), then an hour-long booze cruise back to the resort. The snorkeling was so-so (not nearly as good as the eagle ray sighting the day before), but one of our guides was really cool and dove down to the bottom and gave Julie and I an abandoned sand dollar that we got to take home. You can imagine how customs suspiciously eyed that piece in my luggage on the way home! The guide also picked up a spiny sea urchin and cracked it open and fed all the fish with the insides! The fish swarmed his hand like bees on a hive. It was unreal.

The hike up the Falls was spectacular. The water was much cooler than it was at the beaches, and it was actually quite refreshing as we started our trek up each set of waterfalls. There were tour guides who held your camera for you and took photos along the way, and they made sure we knew they were doing us a favor, as they hovered next to our catamaran yelling "We took care of you," obviously waiting for their tip. They deserved a tip, but man, did they hound us!

Dunn's River Falls

The booze cruise back was one of the most bizarre experiences in my life. After serving some appetizers, they busted out the Red Stripe kegs and opened the bar and people made their way out to the deck where they played music and started dancing. The crew was extremely lively and did their best to make sure everyone was having a good time, had a full drink and was ready to party. About thirty minutes into the cruise, they announced they wanted to play a game, and needed "a brave man" to participate. I looked around to see who would volunteer, and before I knew it, there were quite a few hands pointing at me (the effort no doubt led by my not-so-awesome girlfriend). So they called me up, had me sit down and asked me to hold a plastic water cup between my legs. Odd, right? Well, then they called up four female participants, including Julie, and gave them a full water bottle with a hole poked in the cap. Then they were instructed to place the bottle between their thighs, and when the whistle was blown, they walked toward me and tried to squeeze the bottle with their thighs and spray as much water as possible in the cup between my legs in 30 seconds. If you're not sure you are understanding this correctly, let me remove all doubts...yes, the basic goal was to pee on me as much as possible. So the four girls took their turns aiming at the cup, except for Julie, who took it upon herself to just spray it all over my face and chest, giggling the whole time. Suffice to say Julie did not win (she got second), and after four girls taking their turns spraying me, the game ended. Anybody else find this to be the weirdest game ever?

...the game...

One thing I failed to mention earlier is that we were in Jamaica during thunderstorm season, and there were predictions of rain and isolated storms every day. We were incredibly lucky, and had absolutely picturesque weather until the final day, where we encountered a three hour thunderstorm that had bright lightning and equally loud thunder. The clouds that rolled in looked like the spaceship in Independence Day that covers the entire sky. It was very eerie and pretty cool to watch develop. We got rained on a bit on our way back to shelter, and ate some lunch as we watched the staff clear all the soaked towels off the chaise-lounges. We walked back to our room, and before I could even put my stuff down, Julie raced out to the balcony, opened the doors, and started dancing in the rain in her clothes. You could tell the girl was on vacation and had just let go of everything and was enjoying life. Needless to say, for anyone that knows Julie and her grueling job, it was refreshing to see.

Independence Day storm.

That night, we met up with Ryan and Kelly for drinks and dinner, and as they came into the bar, Kelly had a larger-than-normal smile on her face. Before we could even ask, she held up her hand to show off the new ring she was wearing! Damnit Ryan! We were the only two couples on the whole damn resort that weren't engaged or married, and then you propose on the final day?! His first question to Kelly after he had popped the question was "Do you think Focker is going to be mad?" We were very excited for our new friends, and we laughed about it the rest of the night, as Julie and I enjoyed every minute of being the only two soldiers still standing amidst the litany of engaged and married troops around us. As Julie says "We = Awesome."

This is our idea of a "not engaged" photo.

Our final night at the resort was perfect. After dinner with Ryan and Kelly at a big beach party, we made our way to the beach-side nightclub at the resort and ordered drinks from the shore. We kicked off our sandals and talked and danced in the sand and reminisced about the trip and how much fun the week had been. Ryan and Kelly finally left Julie and I on the beach around midnight, and Julie and I just started dancing on the beach, just the two of us. There were people all around on the pier, but we were the only two on the beach, and we just let loose. We didn't care about anything. We had no shame, no embarrassment, no inhibitions. We just danced and laughed. It couldn't have been any more awesome. And besides, I wasn't about to leave Jamaica without busting out all my crazy-good moves.

Chillin on the shore outside the nightclub.

Our trip back to the states was not without incident. To shorten the story, let's just say we waited two hours in customs in Charlotte, then another thirty minutes in security, and then ran as fast as we could (well, as fast as I could to keep up with my runner-girlfriend), and got to our boarding gate in time for the flight attendant to tell us they had held the plane for us. We caught it by three minutes. After another lengthy delay on the runway, we began our trip back to San Diego. They lost our golf clubs on the transfer, and after waiting for two hours at the airport in San Diego at 10pm, we left with the assurance they would be delivered the next day to our house (which they were).

All the airport/airplane mistakes in the world weren't going to ruin this trip for us. It's the best trip I've ever been on, and I wish I was still there. Julie and I laughed every second of every day, we met some great new friends, ate tons of food, got tons of sun, drank tons of booze, and relaxed for seven straight days. It was, as they say, just what the doctor ordered.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Jamaica - Retro Diary (Part One)

At the beginning of this month, Julie and I spent one incredible week (eight days, seven nights) in Jamaica, where we stayed at Sandals Grande Riviera, Ocho Rios, an all-inclusive resort in a beautiful part of the island nation. The resort was an adult-only (no kids allowed) that only allowed couples (no singles allowed). It was paradise.

Given that this trip was seven days and jam-packed with activities and stories, I have decided to write a two-part retrospective diary about the trip. This is 'Part One' of a two-part series, where I detail the journey to Jamaica, and the setup of what would turn out to be one amazing week. We hope you enjoy our trip as much as we did (I know it won't be as good, but hopefully you can take a relaxing break from your Excel, Word or Outlook and breathe easy as you take a retrospective journey to a tropical paradise).

JAMAICA RETRO-DIARY: PART ONE - "THE JOURNEY"

The trip started with a red-eye flight (10:30pm) from San Diego to Charlotte. Being someone who has trouble sleeping in his own bed, you can imagine my concern with the thought of not being able to sleep on a plane! To calm my nerves I had three glasses of wine at home (don't worry folks, mom drove us to the airport). We got through security at the airport relatively quickly, and had some time to kill. We started walking inside the terminal, and like an oasis mirage in a desert you see in the movies, a beautiful site presented itself to Julie and I...Karl Strauss! Feeling the need to sedate myself in any way possible, we went into Strauss for another beer, Red Trolley, which was excellent. At the time we did not appreciate the fact that we would be drinking beers that start with "Red" the rest of the trip. "Hooray Beer!"

As expected, I slept ZERO percent of the flights, despite my attempts of alcoholic self-tranquilizing. Our flights were relatively uneventful, save for our one-hour delay in Charlotte en route to Montego Bay, Jamaica. The delay occurred out on the runway, but surprisingly this didn't affect my travel partner, who, after sleeping the entire 4.5 hour flight to Charlotte, promptly slept the entire delay on the runway. As we took off, she stirred and woke up and said, "Are we running late?" Oh, how I envy her.

Upon arriving in Montego Bay, we went through customs, which always takes longer than anyone would like. Standing in a line of B.O.-smelling, Hawaiian shirt wearing, Teva-wearing tourists is nobody's idea of a good time. As we got to the customs agent, I realized I was traveling with an experienced world-traveler when Julie pulled out her passport and had to find a page with any sort of open space to get stamped. I, on the other hand, opened mine to the first page and got my first international travel stamp. Mommy wow, I'm a big kid now.

After winding our way through the aforementioned Teva-travelers, we got our first taste of the hospitality that awaited us at the resort. Around the corner from the customs line was the Sandals Airport Lounge, where all Sandals guests (there are seven Sandals Resorts in Jamaica) were welcomed into a private, beautiful, air-conditioned lounge. We were immediately handed a cool towel, and were instructed where the bathrooms were, as well as the light refreshments. After cleaning up a bit, I made my way to the refreshment area, where I expected to find water and lemonade. Instead I found myself grabbing a cup and pouring myself a Red Stripe straight from a tap. Welcome to Jamaica!

Julie getting refreshments at the Sandals Airport Lounge.

Sandals Ocho Rios is about two hours away from the Montego Bay airport, and as part of our all-inclusive package, the resort runs shuttles to and from the airport to pick up its newly-arriving guests. After forgetting to fill my Red Stripe for the road, we were herded out to the "shuttles", which ended up being more like a sketchy, stretched-out 1994 Mazda MPV. We were divided up into groups of eight, and we met our driver Frederick and we were on our way.

When we weren't praying for our lives or gripping the hand-rails as tight as possible, our shuttle-ride was our best chance of seeing the countryside, as we would end up spending most of our time on the resort. So we took in all the tropical sights and beautiful water, while also noticing a few heavily-armed officers on street corners. The country of Jamaica is relatively poor, with many of their buildings lacking a roof or running water. It is always somewhat of an odd feeling to spend a week of pampered, spoiled activity, seemingly oblivious to the world outside the resort gates.

During the shuttle ride, we introduced ourselves to the other couples and had some idle chit-chat about travel and where everyone was from. After we exchanged pleasantries, we all started enjoying the scenery and starting to decompress and work our way into "vacation mode." And about five minutes later, a very sweet girl from Toronto seated next to Julie looked at me and somewhat shyly said, "I'm sorry, I have to ask...has anyone ever told you that you like that Focker guy?"

For those of you that know me and my distaste for "that Focker guy" well, you can imagine my response. I rolled my eyes emphatically and politely said "Yes, unfortunately I get that a lot," to which she replied, "I think he's funny."

The best part about that story? We ended up spending the majority of our time on the resort with that couple from Toronto (Ryan & Kelly). More to come on them later.

Ryan & Kelly

After a quick stop at a local gas station where we were able to watch a game of cricket, we competed our trek to Sandals Ocho Rios. Upon arriving at the hotel, we went to help our driver with the bags, but before I could even get my hand on the bag, one of the Sandals employees raised his voice and said "No, no no. You are on vacation now. You don't touch that bag until you're in your room!" Sir, yes sir!

Maybe the single bets part of the trip came when we set foot in our room. We immediately looked straight ahead to find ourselves with not only an ocean view, but with a huge, shared balcony with three other rooms. This may not sound that impressive given that we're in Jamaica, but one thing we learned as we looked up at the rest of the hotel was that there are 500 rooms, and only FOUR have walk-out balconies...and we had one of them. And the kicker? We didn't pay any more than anyone else...we just got lucky with our room assignment!

Looking out to our balcony.

Our killer balcony.

Needless to say, we were awestruck. While I struggled to keep my mouth from gaping open, my travel partner/roommate/girlfriend was having trouble holding back tears. She was absolutely in heaven with the setup, and she just couldn't believe we were in Jamaica, in the most perfect room, with seven nights free from phones, work, e-mail and the constant buzz we so desperately needed a break from.

And so our week had begun. We had made it to Jamaica and survived our moderately-scary shuttle ride. Now it was time to get into "relaxation mode", and see all there was to see at the Sandals Grande Riviera...

Stay tuned for Part Two, where we encounter aqua tricycles, dance competitions, eleven restaurants, toe-sucking fish, pool-bar parties and some of the craziest people-watching you've ever seen.

See you in Jamaica!

I Owe You All a Post

So I made a mistake. As soon as I got home from Jamaica, I should have put together a blog entry recapping the trip highlights, complete with some photos. I know some of you have browsed through the photos on Facebook, but they is still so much that we left out.

I am going to attempt to back-log this trip and post it later (within the next week). I apologize for the delay in this.

It's going to be a beast of an entry!

Friday, July 29, 2011

Oh Hey, Blog World!

Wow, I haven't posted since June 9th? I bet you all are wondering what the hell happened to me and my blogging. Well, if any of you read the last post, you'll understand that I've been recovering from the half-marathon ever since. You know, running kills your typing fingers...

But enough with the excuses! I'm back and now have to figure out what I'm going to write about! While I come up with my next extensive blog topic, here's a cornucopia of Marc's Random Thoughts to hold you over:

SINCE WHEN ARE WE GROWNUPS?
It is only July, and between Julie and I, we have figured out we have at least six weddings to go to in 2012 and we've got two close friends that are pregnant and due this week! What the hell people? When did we stop running at recess and getting grass stains on our knees? And when did we start trading in Ring Pops for engagement rings?

JAMAICA!
Yep, that's right. Next week Julie and I take off for a one week vacation to Ochos Rios, Jamaica! You can imagine how excited my camera-happy self is right about now!

NFL & NBA LOCKOUTS
What a bunch of fools. I have followed the NFL lockout closely, and I have a relatively good understanding of the collective bargaining agreement and the respective sides of the lockout (i.e. owners vs. players). And with all that being said, I still only have one sentiment I'd like to share with both sides...SHUT THE HELL UP, ALL OF YOU! Lockouts in professional sports should never happen. Owners have so much money, they don't know what to do with it so they spend it on "high quality investments" like the Detroit Lions (sorry, Tom) and Sacramento Kings...(yes, sarcasm). Players are getting paid millions to play a sport. I can understand why Kobe Bryant feels he deserves more money than say, Brian Scalabrine, but their scale is so warped that Scalabrine (a 4-minute man) still made $1.22 million in 2010-11. But these lockouts are sickening.

*SIDE NOTE - Prior to the NFL lockout being lifted, I could have still guaranteed you they will come out of this, and be fine. Because they are the NFL, the world's largest sports operation. But let me be clear on something...The NBA is not the NFL. After its rise to prominence peaked in the mid-90's with Jordan winning titles like crazy, the NBA suffered horrendously as they developed a perceived reputation as a "thug" or "hip-hop" league, and they spent over a decade trying to rid themselves of that stigma. And in 2008, they were back in the public's good graces, thanks to some huge trades, an influx of young talent, and some old-school teams returning to their roots with some major rivalries (i.e. Lakers vs. Celtics). They held this through this past year. And now they are throwing it all away. The public does not need much ammunition to remind them of their old sentiments about the league, and the NBA lockout is enough. Hearing about players wanting more money, whether right or wrong, is disenchanting for us fans. We all have real lives outside of sports, and when the "privileged few" start raising hell over their Escalade, mansion, Bentley lifestyle...we want to vomit. Just watch...the NBA will suffer from this, and it will be their own damn fault.

OTHER SUMMER ACTIVITIES THAT MARC HAS ENJOYED
1) SUP Boarding - Julie's friend lent us a stand-up paddle board for a week, and it is awesome. Took it out in the ocean and rode through the surf, and learned to surf the waves as well on it. Cruising out beyond the waves is so relaxing.

2) The Wire - I watched Seasons 1-5 of this show and was hooked from the beginning. If you enjoy police detective type shows/movies, I highly recommend this. This show effectively makes you connect not only with the police officers, but for the drug dealers as well.

3) Surfing - Been surfing 2-3 times per week, and loving it. The water is ridiculously warm, which just makes it that much more awesome. Seen lots of dolphins, bat-rays and tiny schools of fish over the last month, too.

4) Beach Cruising - I bought Julie a beach cruiser for her birthday in June, and she hasn't stopped riding it yet. I have a little mountain bike, so I am able to ride with her. But she is obsessed! We ride everywhere...from the Farmer's Market two blocks away, to Encinitas bars/restaurants (8 miles round-trip). It's been another good source of exercise for my out-of-shape ass.

Oh yeah, did I mention I'm going to JAMAICA?!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Marc + Half-Marathon = Humbled

As I mentioned earlier this year, I signed up to run the Rock 'n Roll Half-Marathon in San Diego, which was this past Sunday, June 5th. I always said I had wanted to complete a half-marathon, and this was the year I committed to the training and race...or so I thought.

Back in March, my training started off as one might expect, with short mileage runs a few times a week. I slowly started to increase my mileage to four runs a week averaging between 3-5 miles. I had a very solid training plan in place, as well as consistent motivation from my roommate/coach/girlfriend. I was feeling good about my commitment to the race.

Then in mid-April, nagging injuries started to rear their ugly head. I developed some pretty gnarly shin pains, which then made their way up my leg to my knees and hips. I ended up developing some tendinitis in both knees, and my training began to suffer. Over the course of the next two months leading up to the race, I was only able to extend my long run to 6 miles. Yes, SIX, as in less than half of the target distance of 13.1 miles.

And then, before I knew it, it was the week of the race. How the heck was I going to pull this one off? The stress levels the weeks leading up to the race got worse and worse for me, worrying about whether I should run the race, how my body would hold up, would I be risking worse injury by running, etc. But I was resolute in my decision to run this half-marathon, regardless of the physical toll it may take on my ridiculously unprepared body.

I am lucky enough to have three of the most awesome friends in history of the planet. About three months prior to the race, I had convinced my friend Heidi to complete the half-marathon RELAY with her husband Tom, who happens to be my best friend. Now I'm pretty sure Tom still fosters some hatred toward me for convincing his wife (over a beer) to make him run this relay without him being there to take part in the decision, but nonetheless, these two wound up being integral to my race-day strategy.

So on race-day, Heidi ran the opening leg of the relay (which, by some sick twist of planning, ended up being 8.2 miles...not the 6.5 miles one would expect for half of a half-marathon relay), and we decided that since I no longer had aspirations of beating a certain time, but rather just finishing, I would run with Heidi and try to enjoy the race atmosphere with a friend. So Miss Positive and I took off at 6:15am and she hung right on my hip for all 8 miles of her leg, smiling and keeping my mind off my legs the whole time.

At the relay transition zone, Heidi passed the baton (which by that time, I'm pretty sure I was the baton) off to Tom, and he decided to forget whatever time goals he had, and dropped back to stick with me for the remainder of the race. I feel bad for Tom...cuz he got me when I was hurting bad and not a happy guy. Heidi had me when there was still some adrenaline running through my veins. So Tom and I set out on my tortoise-speed pace for the final 5 miles, all of which began to feel miserable, as my legs started to give.
*SIDE NOTE* - At no point did I have problems breathing or side-aches or wheezing. My endurance seemed fine. I attribute this to a much slower pace than I had intended when I started my training. I am certain that if I went out faster in the beginning, I would have suffered in more than just my legs.

As Tom single-handedly pulled me from miles 9-11, my condition suffered greatly. By the time we passed the 11-mile marker, my body was spent. I had lost the "bounce" of the running pace. I was literally dragging each leg for every step. And worst of all, I had broken down mentally. I did not think I had another step in me, and certainly not another two miles! I told Tom to leave me at my pace and go on and finish the race, as I continued to slow my pace. With a look of minor disappointment from Tom (I couldn't blame the poor guy after he tried agonizingly hard to keep me motivated for two miles), he took off to finish his leg of the relay.

I then found myself facing the biggest physical challenge I'd ever encountered...and I was on my own. No positive Heidi. No best friend Tom convincing me to dig deeper, believing I had more in me. And my own motivation to finish was wavering, as my mind wandered somewhere between the pain, the seemingly endless distance to the finish line, and a rapidly increasing feeling of disappointment in myself, as I found myself actually walking. For a grown man to realize he doesn't have what it takes is a tough thing to stomach. But I could not let myself just walk this race the rest of the way...I had to find something inside, but I had no idea where to look...I felt done.

I walked for about 25-30 seconds just past the 11.1 mark, and then gave myself a spirited pep-talk (although the people around me were almost certainly thinking I was suffering from mild delusions and had turned into one of those hobos that curses the world, while never really directing his words at anyone in particular), and tried to re-gain the running pace. The speech worked, as I began to rally (although I'm not sure what I was doing at that point could actually count as "running") and trolled my way through the remainder of the course...very slowly.

And then, right when I was coming to the conclusion that I had nothing left in my legs to continue running, who should appear but my kick-ass girlfriend who, after finishing the half-marathon in 1:26 (12th fastest woman), decided to weave her way back through the course and find me. There I was, looking like I was running in place in quicksand, when Julie came flying into the course, looking as if she hadn't yet run her race, and somehow found a way to get my legs moving again. All of a sudden, I had the third person of the day helping me get through this damn race, and I needed every one of them.

So Julie and I trudged the final 1.5 miles together, sometimes in spirited running, sometimes in dead silence after I told her "no more talking the rest of the race" (yes, I actually said that to my girlfriend trying to coach me...I know I know, I'm a dick), and sometime just trying to see straight. At this point I knew I was going to finish, but with no clue when or how.

And then I saw the clock.

Now before I go any further, I should say that because my training did not go as I had hoped, I no longer had any idea of how long this race would/should take me. I figured it would be somewhere between 1:50 and 2:20...with no real clue which of those ends was more likely.

With about half a mile to go, I saw that I had about four minutes to break two hours. At this point, this was neither exciting nor disappointing...it was just the easiest goal to set for myself at that point in the race. So I looked to Julie and said "Make me break 2 hours." She nodded (I think she was still shocked she had been told not to talk the rest of the race) and kept running. The pace picked up, then slowed dramatically, and I had no clue if I was going to break the 2-hour mark. Then, as Julie and I got to the final chute, I saw the finish line within close distance, and I yelled "C'mon!" like a crazed war-cry, and turned on (what felt like) the jets and floored it down the final turn. I kinda scared Julie with the shout, and before she knew it, she was trailing me as I dragged my 50lb shoes through the finish line.

The Final Time - 1:59:35

My body started cramping as a volunteer put the medal around my neck, but I was proud to have finished my first half-marathon. And then I was immediately humbled when the volunteer went to give Julie her medal and she responded "Oh, I already finished earlier." F-M-L. I love her, but F-M-L.

I walked through the runner area, grabbing all sorts of bananas, raisins, power bars, water (and air), the whole time Julie sticking by me telling me she was proud of me for finishing, despite my training setbacks. I probably acted like I didn't hear her, but I did. And I was proud to. But not of myself....

I was proud to have the three friends that were the sole reason I finished that race. Heidi kept me smiling and my mind off the daunting distances that lay ahead for those first 8 miles. Tom gave me the necessary kick in the pants combined with positive encouragement you could only get from your best buddy. And Julie gave me hope and reason to finish. By the time Julie basically picked me up off the floor when she found me, I had to finish the race because I owed it to those three to finish. They sacrificed their own races, their own days, to make sure I finished, regardless of what it did to their times, their bodies, and their expectations. They had one goal in mind, and it was to help me meet mine.

Those are some good friends. The best friends, actually.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Catchy Commercials from Childhood

No idea why, but I had some random commercial jingle from back in the day stuck in my head this morning. I used to annoy the crap out of my sister by singing commercial jingles all day as a kid (one of my favorite memories = annoying my sister). Anyway, thought I'd find the links of some old jingles (some of which even out-date me) that always find their way into my head!

CARAMELLO
Stretch it out out out, Caramell-ooooo!

MATTRESS DISCOUNTERS
Have a good night sleep on us....Matt-tress Dis-count-ers!

DOUBLE MINT
Double double your refreshment,
Double double your enjoyyyyyment,
No single gum double freshens your mouth liiiiike,
Double Mint, Double Mint, (oh it's the Double Mint),
Double Mint, Double Mint....Gum.
THERE"S NO SINGLE GUM LIKE IT.

HONEY NUT CHEERIOS
It's a race for the taste, of Honey Nut Cheer-eeee-O's!

LIFESAVERS
I never knew the words to this song, but I always loved this commercial. I'm just gonna let you watch this one for yourself. Enjoy!

BAGEL BITES
Pizza in the morning,
Pizza in the evening,
Pizza at supper time!
When pizza's on a bagel,
You can eat pizza any time!

ALKA SELTZER
Plop Plop,
Fizz Fizz,
Oh what a relief it is,


Which ones do YOU remember?

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

How Are We Already in May?

How in the world are we already in mid-May? Guess it's time for a quick "Land of Marc" update:

1) Two of my UCLA friends (1-4-3) are getting married this weekend up in L.A. Gonna be a huge reunion of all the UCLA people I used to cheer with, sleep with, eat with, tailgate with, camp with, plan events with, throw frisbees with, brush my teeth in a science lab with, jump up-and-down and yell "Ohhhhhh" with, look like a doofus with, and much, much more. I can't wait.

2) Next weekend is my work's annual Jack in the Box "Hoops at the Beach" tournament in Mission Bay. We're expecting around 160 teams to take part in this two-day 3-on-3 basketball tournament, and crossing our fingers for good weather too. If you're bored and looking for something entertaining to pass the day, check out this video from last year's Slam Dunk contest. These guys were ridiculous. Best dunk contest in the 24-year history of the event:

2010 "Hoops at the Beach" Slam Dunk Contest


3) I am still planning on running the San Diego Rock n Roll Half-Marathon on June 5th...and it's not gonna be pretty. Training has been severely affected by an annoyingly consistent barrage of injuries, and now the race is right around the corner. Let's just say my goals have changed from wanting a certain time...to just finishing.

4) I love the comments from the "Board Game" blog post. Let me know what other nostalgic topics could be fun for me to explore!

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Waxing Nostalgic for...BOARD GAMES!

So growing up, me and my sister played a lot of board games. Be it playing with one another, our Grandmas or Mom, let's just say we became best friends with Milton and Bradley. Below is a list of the 18 games that most vividly stick out in my mind, and usually garner some memory of my sister beating the pants off me. You'll notice Candyland does not make an appearance on this list - cuz I never played it (and proud of it).

It should also be noted that "Crossfire" is not listed. Please do not think that game is not worthy. The only reason it is not listed and described below is because this list is about games I used to play and, well....I still play Crossfire. Nostalgia is for wussies, I play the game!

Enjoy the trip down memory lane!

TROUBLE
Does anyone remember how annoyingly difficult it was to actually pop that die inside the plastic bubble in a way that actually made it rotate off the number it was on? I swear you'd push down, just to see the die pop up, and either fall straight back to where it was, or roll over one number to the side! I actually don't even remember if there was anything more to this game other than pushing the bubble and moving your game-piece.


GUESS WHO?
Now I know you know this game! Do they have red hair? Do they have a mustache? It's Frans! I swear, the creators of this game were subliminally trying to teach children how to judge people and discriminate. Red hair? Black or white? Male or female? I mean, how many times did you look down, see that you got the red-haired guy with ugly facial hair and think, "Ugh, I hate being Alfred!"


SORRY!
Welcome to the first of many games that my sister absolutely dominated. I have an especially bitter taste in my mouth about this game from my childhood, because when I was young, my Grandma would tuck me and my sister in, and then once we went to bed, Grandma would go in and grab Paige and let her stay up past her bedtime and play Sorry! What the hell Grandma? Just cuz she was eight and I was six doesn't mean I can't party like a rock-star too! As for the game, it was just fun to land on one of those "Slide" spots, where you got to slide across the board like you were grinding on a skateboard.


BATTLESHIP
Now this is probably the only game on the list where even my sister will admit I wrecked shop. The reason I was so good at this game was not because I had great spacial reasoning skills and could guess where her ships were located. It was actually because I was super ballsy and would put the ships in the most bizarre places that would drive her nuts and make her think "There's no way he would line them up all next to each other, that would be dumb!" Well, in that case, "Hi, I'm Mr. Dumb, and I just sank your battleship!"


PARCHEESI
This one reminds me of my other Grandma (not the wily devil that gave sister preferential treatment past what I thought was "bedtime"). This is definitely an old-school game that dates back well past my childhood, but Grandma taught us the rules at an early age. I really remember liking the sound of the dice in the slim little shakey-cup when I cupped my hands over it to shake up the dice. Solid game.


YAHTZEE
Another game that my Grandma dominated. This was a really loud one that drove my Mom crazy in the next room, because that blue cup filled with dice was really loud and obnoxious as much as I shook it. But I gotta tell you, I was lights-out when it came to rolling a Long Straight or Four of a Kind. Do you remember how frustrating it was when you didn't get enough points in the upper section of the score-card to qualify for the additional 35 bonus points? Without that, I was done-zo against my Yahtzee-rolling Grandma.

BOGGLE
This is one of the more educational games you'll find on this list. I loved word games as a kid, so this was right up my alley. I do remember frequently making up words, then trying to convince my Grandma they were real (NOTE TO SELF - Grandma does the Sunday New York Times crossword in pen...wrong target).

MOUSE TRAP
This game was more fun just to set up than it was to play! Does anyone remember how touchy that final contraption was? It was that long post with notches with a basket on the top that falls on the mouse at the end of the entire domino-effect system. If you touched the board, the thing would fall over! Then there was that rubber-band spring-loaded arm, and the plastic dude who jumped into the "pool"? Oh man, that game rocked!


GRAPE ESCAPE
I have a feeling this one could be a relative unknown for some of you compared to the others on this list. Grape Escape was the "Squish 'em, Squash 'em, Squoosh 'em Game!" It was basically a bunch of purple play-dough that got put through a plastic torture chamber of fun. Not sure what the premise of the game was, but me and Paige used to run those guys through the contraptions for hours!

OPERATION
Ah yes, a classic. It really bothered me that the tweezers were attached to the board by a rope. What if I wanted to take a crazy angle at the Bread Basket? What if the only way for me to get the Funny Bone was to stand? Quite an inhibiting rule I think. But nonetheless, we all can remember easily grabbing the Adam's Apple, and breathing with a sigh of relief as we pulled out the Heart, and laughing uncontrollably as your opponent, without fail, developed a case of the shakes as they attempted pull out the Wishbone! Educational for the aspiring doctor, entertaining for the creator of the Saw movies.


SCATTERGORIES JUNIOR
We have all played Scattergories, the fun adult game that always stirs up a bit of controversy and argument in interpreting the rules and responses. But how many of you have played the kid version of this game? I can tell you with 100% certainty that there was nobody in the world better at this game than...my sister. Now, of course I may be a bit jaded as our two-year age gap probably affected most outcomes, but I tell ya, that girl came up with some creative shi*! As a 10-year old! She may be a dipstick, but man she knows her Scattergories Junior.


CHUTES & LADDERS
Another game I did not play frequently, but I feel like a lot of my friends probably played this, so I let it make the cut (and yes, I stand by my decision to omit Candyland from this list). For the same reason I liked SORRY!, this game allowed me the chance to slide my game-piece around the board. Anybody have good C&L stories?

DON'T BREAK THE ICE
I was proud that I remembered this one. Remember the little "ice pick" (aka plastic hammer) you had to use to tap out a single block of ice (aka sugar cube) underneath the little red man without knocking out the whole floor? I loved this game! You wanna know how I know I loved this game? I always lost! I didn't care! How fun is it to be able to take a swing at some ice with a pick-axe? I wrecked shop on that little red man!


TIDDLYWINKS
Ok, so this technically isn't a board game. But it's a childhood game, and it's my damn blog, so screw you nay-sayers trying to catch me on a technicality. This was a game that we always modified to fit our own youth desires which, in this case, meant flipping those little suckers all over the house! I think the original objective of the game was to flip your tiddlywinks into a receptacle of some kind in the least number of attempts? But that was too boring, so we created our own games, which I'm sure were way more fun.


KERPLUNK
In addition to being the best titled game I can remember, it also had the best drama! In my warped head, this game of marbles and sticks is a mix of Jenga and Hearts. Jenga because of the obvious pulling out the base without the whole thing crashing, and Hearts because you can knock over a couple marbles and still be in the game. You just don't want to knock them all over, like the Queen of Spades. You see what I did there? I'm crafty.


HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPOS
This game had great TV commercials. I wanted this game so bad because of the commercials. And the game did not disappoint! How fun was it to hit the tail-lever on their butt as fast as possible and watch all the white balls fly across the board? Everything was perfect about this game. The stretchy necks, the board size, the colored hippos, the catchy commercials, the apparent promotion of binge-eating, and a solid name. What's not to love?


ROCK EM' SOCK EM' ROBOTS
Another dream-game for kids. Unfortunately, I did not have the pleasure of owning this game, so I had to take advantage of the times I had sleepovers and after-school care with kids that had it. And man was I missing out! Despite the heavy violence in the game (trying to punch a guy so hard you knock his block off?), it was so awesome that they put them inside a boxing ring. I feel my childhood was slightly less-whole without this game.


PERFECTION
"Pop Goes Perfection!" Man that is stuck in my head now! This was kind of a reversed version of Operation, but on speed. Another game on the list that some of you have never seen or played, and that's a pity. You had a set amount of time (maybe 60 seconds) to fit all the shapes in their respective places before the buzzer sounded and popped all the pieces out, ruining your masterpiece. An aptly named game, and for my OCD personality, I did not like it when it shot all the pieces out. What can I say, I was high maintenance...sue me.


PHEW! That was a strong list. Now I'm gonna go set up a life-sized version of Mouse Trap at my house to try and trap Julie. Complete with cage!

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Let's Explore That Further....

Here's what I'm thinking about. Sorry, this is just how my brain works.

"IF LOOKS COULD KILL..."
What does that mean? People say that and usually are inferring that someone is so attractive, that if personal appearance were a way to end someone's life, that some smokin' hot babe could cut me down? Now, of course she could be so hot that my heart stops and I suffer a massive coronary, or I could see her across the street and want a better glance and step in front of a rapidly approaching semi filled with Krispy Kreme doughnuts...but I tend to think these ideas are just slightly far-fetched.

And even beyond the obvious absurdity of this idiom, I have a fundamental problem with the argument that attractive people would be doing the killing. I actually believe the exact opposite. Let's explore this further. Are you really trying to tell me that an ATTRACTIVE person is more likely to kill me with their looks than an UGLY person? There are some unfortunate looking people out there that have fallen out of the ugly tree, beaten with an ugly stick, and kicked with the ugly shoe, and you're telling me that "if looks could kill", Charlize Theron has a better chance of whacking me than this fool...?

Joakim Noah, President, Team Ugly

"CUTE AS A BUTTON"
HUH?! Who here has ever seen a cute button?! I wonder what a cute button would even look like. Do you think it would be a button that has a kitten or bunny on it? Or do you think it's just some button on a pair of regular pants that, for some unexplainable reason, gives everyone the warm-and-fuzzies inside because of its awesome color, shape and symmetry? "Aw, that little girl is cute as a button!"...Why do people think human babies resemble buttons?

ALSO ON MY MIND...
-What is a "heeby-jeeby"? (i.e. "Man, that Joakim Noah guy really gives me the heeby-jeeby's.")

-Who would win a fight between the Crazy Burro and El Pollo Loco (crazy chicken)?

-What percentage of the world likes to be "it" (the seeker) in a game of hide-and-seek? I would like to see this in the next census poll. My guess - under 15%.

-How sweet was Connect Four? I loved that game.

*Stay tuned for the next blog post on board game nostalgia from my childhood!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

How Do I Follow That?

So I've been looking at my last blog post, and I feel like that set the bar so high for the rest of my posts that I've been hesitant to write anything else! So now this post is meant as a "mental blog reset". Now I can look back, see this as the most recent post, and not feel the pressure to write an epic opus like my last LaserTag post.

In the meantime, I'll leave you with an ESPN photo taken of Marcus Thames striking out in last Friday night's Padres vs. Dodgers game in San Diego. Recognize anyone?

Here's the link to the ESPN recap of the game, just in case you're thinking I'm just good at working in Photoshop.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Laser-Tag - The Ultimate Birthday Party


*THIS IS THE MOST RIDICULOUS POST EVER - CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED*


As I alluded to in my last post, this past Tuesday myself and ten others celebrated our good friend Peter's birthday with what anyone would call the typical birthday party celebration...for an eight year-old.

We started the evening with pizza and old school 2-liter bottles of soda (NOTE - I don't know why I think 2-liter bottles are old school, but I do), complete with Spiderman paper plates and napkins, and Star Wars plates for dessert. Dessert was a huge brownie with birthday candles...the re-igniting, impossible-to-blow-out, sparking kind. The only thing we were missing were the cone-shaped party hats (major bummer).

After having our Moms wipe our faces and making sure we'd all been to the bathroom, we piled into a caravan of cars and made our way to the main event of the evening - Laser Tag at ULTRAZONE.

That's right ladies and gentlemen, we celebrated a 26 year-old birthday by going to teeny-bopper central. And it was maybe the most awesome night of my life!

Let me first say that for what appears to be a chaotic, unorganized war for kids, Laser Tag is not for the faint of heart. I went in there expecting to wreck shop on a bunch of little munchkins (redundant, I know), so you can imagine my surprise when we found ourselves in the "instruction room" with very few kids and a ton of people our age and older. The following is a detailed account of the events that followed.

THE "INSTRUCTION ROOM":
RULE #1) There is no running allowed, for safety reasons. You have no idea how infinitely harder this makes the game. "Oh no, he's gonna shoot/tag me, I'm in the wide open! I guess I better speed-walk until I find cover!" Which leads me to...

RULE #2) There is no speed-walking allowed. Yep, none of that either. Although I find this somewhat of a subjective rule to interpret for the supervising "Game-Masters" (a discussion topic in themselves), it nonetheless was a stated rule. So now if I have someone pointing a laser at me, I'll just take a leisurely stroll until I find a place to curl up in the fetal position for the remainder of the game. Which leads me to...

RULE #3) There is no crawling allowed. The only body part allowed to touch the ground is your feet. No knees, no butts...just feet. For an inflexible, 6'3" string-bean of a man, ducking under a 3ft wall becomes problematic when there are impossibly-accurate snipers on the roof. I mean, these guys can shoot. Which leads me to...

RULE #4) Both hands must be on the laser-gun for it to fire. There is a heat sensor on the bottom of the barrel that must be touched for the gun to be fired. Talk about a game-changer!

So...any delusions I had of popping out of a somersault in a dead sprint while one-hand wielding my laser bad-ass sideways style and picking off little blue-lit-up munchkins had to be left behind in the instruction room, along with my chance of survival.

THE TEAMS
Once the Game-Master finished giving the field-leveling "rules", it was then time to break into three teams. Because we came in such a large group, we were informed that two of us would need to break apart and be on a different team than the rest of our friends. After a bizarre moment of silence where all us adults starting crapping our pants as we battled with immature thoughts like, "But I wanna be on Tom's team!", I leaned over to the birthday boy and said "Let's do this!" My logic was the following - why would we go play Laser Tag if we can't even aim at our friends? We would soon find out that we couldn't have been more right.

So our nine friends, from now on referred to as the Blue Team, exited the room, glancing over their shoulders giving us the "dirty traitor" looks, and I'm pretty sure I saw somebody give me the "I'm-gonna-slit-your-throat" gesture. This was war.

Peter and I were relegated to the Red Team, and while we were in full planning mode on how to rip our competition to shreds, it was announced that our seven teammates would be Billy, Tommy, Bobby, Joey, Johnny, Timmy, and Ronny from the Mickey Mouse Club. Yep, that's right, Peter and I weren't going to be shooting the little munchkins, we'd be helping them. We weren't sure if this was awesome (cuz these kids gotta know what they're doing, right?) or horrible (cuz they are 10 and won't know how to operate the gun). But before we could change our minds, we were shoved into the vesting room, united with our Red munchkin friends.


"But wait a minute, who's the third team?" Funny you should ask. After estranging us from our friends and ordaining us babysitters for the evening, the Game-Master had one more surprise for us. As we walked away, we overheard him say "Oh man, I left you guys together? That's not even fair!" Uh-huh. That last group of people left in the instruction room were RINGERS! We're talking those people that butt-in while the rules are being given so they can clarify how much they know about the rules. We're talking the people who, if given the opportunity, would bring their own laser to Ultrazone. We're talking...gulp...experts.

So we began our death march to the vesting room, suddenly not giving a rats-ass about our ex-friends on the Blue Team because we were too busy looking over our shoulders as the Yellow Team started looking like the MonStars from Space Jam.

THE VESTING ROOM
As we entered the vesting room, we found the Blue Team starting to gear up and laughing as they looked down at their vests. At first I thought they were laughing at how ridiculous they looked, but then I realized they were laughing because all the vests have character names attributed to them. So they were wearing vests named Juggernaut, Predator, Darth Vader and Voldemort, and I got excited to see which vest I randomly chose for myself.


I selected a vest off the assembly line, geared up, strapped on the vest, and looked down to see what glorious bad-ass name my light-up screen displayed, ready to boast about my killer character. And the name that was shining back up at me was...

"Kyle"

Yep, in the biggest grudge match since Frazier vs. Ali, the gruesome Blue Team, led by Predator, would be facing the Red Team and their fearless leader...Kyle. But not to worry, I still had my trusty sidekick to boast about. So I turned to Peter to find him struggling mightily with his vest because the last laser-tagger honored with wearing that vest was apparently the size of a lawn gnome. No matter, no matter. After having to help him adjust the straps on his back and waist to free him up, we looked down at his vest in hopes of showing off his villainous character. And boy did we ever, because he had the kick-ass name...

"Stan"

Now, I would find out later that there was also a "Kenny" on our team and we were named after South Park characters, but the emotional damage had been done. My wall of confidence and bravery had been shaken, and now I was off my game as my mean-spirited friends made fun of me like I was back in 2nd grade home-room. But I digress....

THE ZONE
After everyone had their laughs, the doors abruptly opened and the Game-Master told us we had fifteen minutes. Just like that, it was on....

Stan and I hung together for the first five minutes, exploring the two-tiered level, looking for areas to pick people off and snipe them from far away distances. We also ran into the excruciatingly annoying problem of our munchkin teammates shooting at every person they saw, including us. Before we could yell "SAME TEAM!", we found our shields deactivated and lasers dark for 5 seconds before we could continue. Little Timmy, Tommy and Bobby ran by us with their heads down, just audibly whispering, "Sorry." Damn kids.

Well, we had no luck finding a sniper post, so we decided to cut the crap and start charging Rambo-style (walking, of course) and ducking (but not crawling, of course) and shooting everyone we saw (with both hands on the gun, of course).

This proved to be way more difficult than I expected. I was being totally ineffective. I was getting frustrated. And then, all of a sudden, I looked over at the birthday boy, and something inside me just snapped....

"Stan! Enemy over your left shoulder, 8-o-clock, now! I'll flank you. Go! Go! Go!"

I turned into a mad-man. I started screaming strategies and commands, ducking and flattening my back against walls as I tried to disguise myself against the fluorescent walls. Stan looked at me for a second with a confused "Are you serious?" look, but quickly held his tongue when he realized "This isn't Marc anymore. This is Kyle." I definitely yelled "Go! Go! Go!" at least thirty times, and soon we found our munchkin-land teammates, and before I knew it, I was standing back-to-back with little Ronny saying "You go for the base, I'll stay down and cover you. Go! Go! Go!" And the best part? Ronny tore off for that base like a bat outta hell (walking, of course) and got us some much needed points. The kid had now found his new best friend, and for the remainder of the game, wherever I went, Ronny stayed right on my side. Good soldier, that Ronny.

THE GAME-MASTER
I mentioned earlier this guy was a piece of work. After making some of the world's worst jokes in the instruction room, he was then charged with the task of staying inside the Zone during our game to supervise the running, crawling, shooting rules. But when I came across this dark figure with no laser vest, what did I find him doing? He was raving and cryp-walking in a corner by himself! And I mean busting arms, legs, ankles...everything. He was getting down with his bad-self. So what did I do? After firing at him about thirty times before realizing he wasn't playing, I stopped, stared...and got deactivated as little Bobby shot me on accident again. Damn kids.

CATWOMAN
I am still quite bitter about the Yellow Team and its ringers, but it would be an injustice to this night if I did not mention their fearless leader, "Catwoman".

This sassy little blonde vixen was there for blood. I got lit up by her so many times, I was her own personal Christmas Tree. She would run by screaming "You're Mine!" and proceed to destroy me and make me quake in my boots. Then she'd get hit by a random girl and would yell "YOU BITCH!" It was amazing. I appreciated her dedication to the game. I think I was in laser-love. Ah Catwoman, we had a good run, you and me. But Kyle's got bigger fish to fry.

THE RESULTS
Mercifully, the music stopped, the sounds halted, and the Game-Master directed us to the vesting room. We de-vested, I parted ways with my alter-ego Kyle, and made my way to the main room, cuz we were done...but I forgot one thing...

They post the results. The reason we had character names was for them to track our hits, base-steals, sentinel kills, alien shots, and times we were tagged. I was not ready for this, because I knew I sucked. I slowly raised my head to the monitor to see the damage, and saw a bar graph, with the three teams totals represented in their respective colors. Not only was my team last, but if you combined our score with the ex-friends Blue Team, we still had less than the Yellow Team! Bastards.

Then they passed out our individual results, and we all laughed as we compared who got hit the most, who we hit the most, and everyone asking "How often does Catwoman come here?!" Shockingly, I (Kyle) was the second best of our friends, falling only to Predator, the leader of the ex-friends. I was ecstatic. I had made my mark. I was an effective laser-tagger.

I will miss Ronny. I will miss Stan. But don't you worry UltraZone...I'll be back.