Category: Travelogues

Oh, the places I’ve gone

How to Crash the Superbowl, pt 7

Mar 24, 2012 — It’s hard to talk about what happened on February 5, 2012. The day feels like a confusing dream, the kind you wake from in happiness and then sadly realize never occurred. The only difference is that it did. Part 7: The Superbowl. Meeting Saturday Night Live stars, sitting in chairs waiting for commercial breaks, the Lonely Island, and an amazing Sundance coincidence!

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How to Crash the Superbowl, pt 6

Feb 14, 2012 — All the finalists and Doritos team met downstairs. “Make sure you have everything you need for the whole day,” they told us, “and don’t bring anything you can’t bring into the stadium with you.” This was really happening. Part 6: Superbowl Day. Peyton Manning, festival around the stadium, strict security; unbelievable nervous thrill!

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How to Crash the Superbowl, pt 5

Feb 6, 2012 — Saturday night before the Superbowl we were treated to a swank dinner where we met several more Doritos marketing and advertising bigwigs. And, finally, Akiva from Lonely Island!!!! Cognac and cigars on the roof of the restaurant; fellowship and nerves. Part 5: the day before the Superbowl!

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How to Crash the Superbowl, pt 4

Feb 4, 2012 — In Part 4, my brother and I skip some parties and go see a movie instead. Great. Also, I meet up with another local person who ALSO won a Superbowl contest, who works at the exact same copy shop I go to. Who’d have possibly believed it?

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How to Crash the Superbowl, pt 3

Feb 3, 2012 — During yesterday’s TV interviews, one of the TV stations asked two of the finalists (who shall remain nameless) what their favorite Lonely Island song was. The first guy said “Iran From You”—and the second guy nonchalantly said “Jizz in My Pants.” Everyone in the green room suddenly started chattering, “Did he just say Jizz in My Pants on live TV?” Part 3: media circus, parties, and meeting the guy who invented the Doritos contest in the first place!

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How to Crash the Superbowl, pt 2

Feb 2, 2012 — We were on the way to the airport and a semi truck crashed in front of us, about a football field’s length from the exit to the airport. We almost missed Crash the Superbowl because of a crash. Part 2: how we got there, and the incredible stash of swag they had waiting for us!

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How to Crash the Superbowl, pt 1

Feb 1, 2012 — Somebody asked me whether I’d be chronicling my experiences heading to the Superbowl, and the answer is: poorly. I haven’t been keeping up with my FilmTraveler blog because I have a backlog of entries about Charles Darwin that I felt honor-bound to post before switching to anything frivolous. It’s no wonder honor is so rare; it’s bloody inconvenient. This is the first of several updates about my trip to the Superbowl: why and how did I go?

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I Had to Leave America to Write, part 3

Sep 11, 2007 — In Part Three I return to Maine and have a terrific week with Fancy Pants, FPS (Fancy Pants’ Sister), and their assortment of very large dogs. I really like those girls. They’re smart and goofy and kind of ruthless; they’re full of odd personality combinations. They love the outdoors and have cynical senses of humor. They love their dogs.

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I Had to Leave America to Write, part 2

Sep 3, 2007 — We hiked every day, and I would read in the car and sometimes on the trails, and write at night and do my little Rosetta Stone CD-ROM course to try to learn Chinese. There was no running water. When it got dark, the sky was deep, with the Milky Way splattered all over it. We’d sit in the house and talk—well, mostly the girls would talk; I didn’t want to ruin their mother-daughter-sister bonding time by opening my fat mouth—a decision I was about to pay for dearly.

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I Had to Leave America to Write, part 1

Aug 27, 2007 — When I was invited to go to Maine and Nova Scotia for two and half weeks, I emailed all my web design clients, called a few friends to cancel plans, and left within three days. A dear friend got frustrated with me and said, “You don’t have to leave to write! You can do it anywhere.” Some people just don’t get it. Part 1: Here’s what she didn’t understand.

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