I'll explain my Styx reference in a bit, but I wanted to address a couple of things first. This was a pretty eventful week. Work is nuts, as always, so I won't bother chatting about that.
I guess the big thing to mention here, pretty much because I've had a few too many conversations about it in the last 48 hours, is the shark attack. While I'm tempted to assume my usual tone and make snarky comments, it's really nothing to joke about. I was in a breakfast meeting on Friday when my phone started lighting up. I was as shocked as anyone to read what happened. It's a fairly intense gut-check moment, when you stop and approach the fact that the night before you were swimming in the Pacific, not all that far from where it happened. And you have to admit to yourself that despite the new specter lurking in the shadowy part of your mind, you'll be back at it before too much longer. Sure, you might take an extra beat when you zip up your suit, but you'll get in and go.
I don't know, I've been puzzling over what to say about this for a while, and there's nothing overly eloquent that comes to mind. So I guess the main thing is that we keep the man in our thoughts as we pursue the sport. And that we be careful, on the bike, in the water, that we keep an eye on each other and help out as best we can.
Okay, that's it with the serious stuff. I'm going to gloss over the details of most of the weekend since they aren't really pertinent. Except to say that after you have a night of insomnia and are running on, say, 2 hours' sleep, you should think twice about going out until 3AM. A good night, in the final analysis, despite a few rough patches, but I learned a lot of useful lessons like the one I just pointed out. For the rest, well, maybe another time. I am bummed that I missed the two gay guys and their butter knife fight in the Denny's. How often do you get a chance to witness something like that? But thanks for letting me know it happened.
Saturday was the main event. REO Speedwagon, Styx, Def Leppard. One night only. Oh, yes. While Speedwagon was surprisingly good (I had to go buy their greatest hits CD today, since I couldn't get that damn "Take It On The Run" out of my head.), Styx made me mad. I mean, I sat through their set, they were even pretty good. They played songs I didn't know were theirs. I made it through "Come Sail Away." I sat through a Styx show and they didn't even have the common decency to play "Mr. Roboto." Sure, they held out and mercifully failed to play "Lady," a fact for which I remain grateful, but no Roboto just makes me mad. That's like Leppard not playing "Pour Some Sugar On Me." What the hell? Seriously....Tommy Shaw, I want my money back.