Monster Jam and Truck Pull

Throughout the entire span of the last seven years that I have been working at the Allstate Arena, I have never seen such enthusiasm at any event than I did today at the Monster Truck Jam. It was wild to see these truck fans (are they truck fans?) get so into watching these big-ass engines and wheels with a truck body on top wreck cars and jump around in dirt. My best guess is that the sold-out crowd's jubilation was a direct result of the truck fumes they'd been inhaling for years. I am also pretty sure that the pitch and decibel level of their cheering is a result of their damaged eardrums.

I shouldn't be the one judging, and I won't. It's much too easy for me to criticize, who would ever understand my own addictions to baseball, topographical maps and sour patch kids? I won't pass judgment. To each his own. Having acknowledged that, I can say that I did not know that so many hicks lived in Chicago (and I use that term not in a denotative way, but purely in a circumstantial kind of way.) Where are they when their not at the Monster Truck Jam? What are they doing if their not cheering loudly for GRAVE DIGGER to rev his engine and smash up painted and stripped autos? I have no idea where they are. I can only assume that their driving their Ford F-150s down state to another truck pull.

I'll further admit that once I took the opportunity to put in ear plugs and venture out in the smog and dirt filled arena, I was drawn in. It was interesting to see the truck cabs bounce around on wheels bigger than my room. I watched IRON OUTLAW thrash around the arena floor and jumping over demolished cars. I felt the raw engine power of TAZ (One of Warner Bros. sponsored trucks) as I watched him freestyle over piles of dirt. Hell, I even watched the US AIR FORCE truck spin in circles until I finally got a little satiated. My indifference was clear when I realized I was spending much more time watching the crowd toss beer around and lift up their little kids over their heads. I could only assume that they wanted to offer sacrifices to the chrome Gods.

What was funny to me was how many dads had to buy their toddlers $20 Ear Muffs so that they could get through the sounds of the thundering engines. I noticed that a few families had to leave before the main event started simply because the kids were too scared of the noise. Good luck trying to get any of your $40/ticket back. Stop it Chris, you pay $40 to go sit 400 feet from a ballgame with hundreds of shirtless drunks on benches that can't pronounce the names of the Hispanic ball players for whom they are 'rooting', (and by 'rooting' I clearly mean 'shouting fewer obscenities at than they are shouting at the away players'.)

But anyway, watching the Monster Jam was a neat experience, however, instead of surrounding myself by frenzied fans and ear-splitting noises for two hours, I'd rather watch it on TV, not have to breathe in the exhaust and have the ability to change the channel at my leisure.

Now, I just have to get pumped up because tomorrow is the third and final Chicago competition, this event, of course, is preceded by a crew party for which we get to work and may be followed by a caravan of pickups and trailers driving down to the next jam. Maybe I'll join them, and then again I heard it was going to snow here and I'd rather shovel.

Oh, in case you want to know the results of Saturday's two Monster Jam competitions the link is here.

Valentine's Day and NIU Shooting

A shooter opened fire in an Introductory Geology lecture classroom in Cole Hall this afternoon in DeKalb, Illinois at NIU leaving 6 others dead and 16 more wounded. The proximity of the shooting sends reverberations quickly and powerfully around the Chicagoland area. One of the victims was from my home town and a friend of my brother's. Dan Parmenter was a sophomore finance major who worked at the school newspaper, the Northern Star, and an innocent victim of an unforgivable crime. I know a handful of people studying at Northern Illinois and the crime is haunting. It seems that everyone will be affeced by what happened today. A good friend, Ben, who works at NIU's counseling center, was able to help students on campus understand and deal with the emergency. Thankfully, the rest of those I know are safe and home now with their families. Yet, the crime is callous, cold and cowardly. My prayers are sent out to the families and friends of those affected by this heinous crime.

The only bright side of this crisis was the resulting strength that the campus and community used to pull together through adversity and pain. Ben said that schools and centers from all over the area were calling his office to donate their services and help those struggling to cope. While the hatred and troubles we face have been stark and highlighted today, we can also see underlinings of good will and humanity.

On a side note: Doing what I do best, as I tend to smile my way through pain, I ponder the St. Valentine's Day design. I don't understand flowers for Valentine's Day. Now, maybe I'm bitter because I have no one to whom I can send dying flora, but I still can't see the point. 'Here, baby, my undying love for you is best represented by a bouquet of these finely cut and lacerated withering plants.' Now, I'm no botanist, but I'd say get her a desk calendar. It's February, they're 80% off. I guess I'm not a romantic either.

I suppose my dad put it best when he told us that he was debating on buying my mother a helium balloon from the dollar store today but realized he should spend his buck on a carton of Fritos Scoops for her instead. “Why waste a dollar on a balloon which can float away or deflate and become useless when you can fill your stomach with something delectable and useful?” He later commented. That's so shallow that it's actually deep Dad.

I guess my question in response would be, “Why do you feel that your wife of 28 years deserves such a wonderful $1.00 (plus tax) gift on this day of love?” Yet, we are left to contemplate why the more we waste on flowers reciprocates more love. At least I came up with a new pickup line today; "Hellow. I'm neither a botanist nor a romantic, but I sure am both prudent and frugal, would you like to buy me a drink?" I wonder if I'll be spending next Valentine's Day alone too...

Con Queso?

My family is enamored by traveling and exploration. My mother, father, brother and I have found how receptive other cultures are to our insatiable curiosity. From Argentina to Greece my family has created some memorable events. One of my favorites however was when we were in a Costa Rican souvenir shop and my father found a handful of items he wanted to purchase.

Not knowing the Spanish language very well, but also wanting to make an effort he brought a coconut, a seashell and a necklace up to the counter and inquiring their price he asked; “Con Queso?” The cashier looked at him in bewilderment, laughed and asked “Que tipo?”

“Does he want a tip?” My dad asked.
“No,” I replied, “you just asked for your souvenirs with cheese. What kind do you want?”

That Damn Grape

I know this is an odd way to begin a blog, but what I experienced and had to share this morning is, similarly, odd.

I was getting ready today, making a cup of coffee and starting the dishwasher when I decided it was about time to pull my McDonald's fruit and walnut salad from the fridge. Watching the coffee drip, I casually dug into my fruit salad. I was thinking about many things, such as how unforgiving the weather was going to be on the upcoming weekend and wondering what was to stop someone from buying an electronic item with "two AA batteries included!", replacing the batteries with dead ones and then returning the item. It was at this moment of deep and profound thought that I felt something fall off my fork.

Quick question, is it correct to eat fruit and yogurt with a fork or a spoon?

Moving on, I felt something fall off my fork. When I looked at my utensil, I realized that I had dropped a grape. Begrudgingly, I bent over to pick it off the floor, but I couldn't find it. (A quick caveat, I easily lose things.) However, this grape was truly elusive. I couldn't find it anywhere. It was after a minute of hunched-over frustration that I decided it best to get on the floor and crawl about in search of my missing grape. Unfortunately, I still couldn't find it. I mean, I seriously was on my belly looking around the kitchen floor. I lifted up chairs and looked under the fridge. Heck, I even crawled into the next room. I swear that I stopped the dishwasher at one point, opened it, and looked inside. This grape had mysteriously disappeared.

I ask, have you ever had a frustrating experience such as this? Indubitably, yes. Further, I ask, doesn't it begin to put things in perspective? YES!

While crawling on my belly, I decided to stop toiling over hot button issues that currently ravage our housing market, our economy or our international relations and focus on the real problem. I decided that I would vote for the candidate that could help me find my grape. I mean, I was THIS anxious to find where that little bugger had rolled. I began to panic as I asked myself, "Self, what will happen if you don't find this missing grape?" I was in such discord that I answered myself. "Inquiring other Self, I don't know...I just don't know". It wasn't the answer that I was looking for, so I got even more upset.

In a moment of passion I threw both my arms up towards the heavens and beckoned! Amongst all this bedlam, a tiny yet sharp stream of light shone through my window and lit my wrist to create a moment of clarity. WWJD. What would Jesus do? Well, he would probably be eating a date palm, but if he did lose a grape, he'd probably use his omnipotence to seek it out and turn it into wine. Me, incapable of uniting the powers of the earth, heavens and universe, I sat back down, dumbstruck and defeated.

Head down and frowning, I left the kitchen to begin the rest of my day. I call it; "Life after missing grape". Nothing was the same. The clouds didn't seem as bright. The coffee tasted bitter. My life had changed....

...Then in a wild turn of events as I reached for my keys, the clouds opened up, a choir began to sing aloud in the background, white light lit the earth (and, as if to bring life to an old cliche, my frown had turned upside down). My vision quest had ended as abruptly as it began. I found that the grape had wedged itself inside my right front jeans pocket. Order had been restored. Life can resume. Now we can begin to focus on feeding Sub-Saharan Africa.

The End,

Chris