It's 888 Miles to Chicago...

Okay, it's been a week...

My brother has called me out, and posed the question..."You don't have anything else to say?"...well, let me answer it.  I've been taking a little break from posting.  Figured it was a good time to lay low, as I'll be doing a lot of posting when I get down to Miami.  Plus, this is the first weekend with no football in the last 6 months...and so I figured I'd spend some time with the wife and daughter.  But really, I've just been trying to answer the following question...

Did that really happen?

Did the Bears really destroy the Saints?  Roaring at the top of their lungs, showing the defense that tore through the NFC all season...and as the snow fell, it melted in the Miami heat on their shoulders...

Did Peyton really lead a last minute drive to snack victory from the jaws of defeat?  And against the Pats?  And in doing so, punched his ticket to Miami, home of the player he's been compared to many times over (including here in this blog)...

Really?  That all happened?  I didn't just wake up from some nasty bender?  Or a drug induced coma?  Wait, I'm not laying in some ICU, hooked up to a machine with a jello cup sitting in front of me that every vistor thinks about eating, but doesn't, cause maybe, just maybe, I could wake up, and then it would be really awkward...right?

And this isn't some crap Total Recall or Vanilla Sky moment?  It's not the year 2392, and my brain has been kept alive on a machine, in some crazy experiment on human existence?

Okay, good, just checking...cause I've spent the last week trying to convince myself that this is all happening.

To all of you that had to listen to or read my constant "I'm going to the Super Bowl" statements, I'm sorry.  It's my way of attempting to answer the question...

Did that really happen?

Was I really sitting in the fetal position, having flashbacks to the Jauron era when the Saints closed the gap to 16-14 and were marching down the field?  And when they were lining up for a makeable FG, did I become despondent?  And when Drew had his brain fart, did I leap off my coach and laugh off the nervousness I had in my stomach, while my daughter said "Touchdown"?

After the Pats scored on their first drive by recovering their own fumble in the end zone, and Peyton reacted like a little kid who'd had his new trikey stolen, did I think the game was over?  And did Peyton come out at the end of the game, and really show his meddle, and make me rethink my opinion of him?

That all happened, didn't it?

After spending the whole last week pondering that question...I finally asked...why am I even asking the question?  I saw the whole thing unfold with my own eyes, why would I doubt it?  And I came to 2 conclusions...

Whenever you've dreamed about something for so long, and then it becomes's hard to turn off the dream, and it's harder still to recognize what is dream and what is reality.  So when the dream becomes reality, it's only natural that one looks down to make sure he's not wearing only his tighty whiteys, looks up to make sure he's not falling, looks in front to check for a harem of perfect beauties, and finally looks behind to make sure he's not being chased by werewolves or vampires (sorry, old childhood dream).  Well, I've covered all the angles, and they all check out...although that damn werewolf keeps getting a little closer...

That covers the dream angle, but why would I doubt what I've just seen?  It has to do with the society we live in...and I'm not just talking about the fact that you can't always trust what you see these days...the digital age has ushered in a new level of paranoia and conspiracy fact I had to listen to a co-worker explain how the NFL is completely rigged, and that it's all scripted like WWE...nah, that's just a small part of this.  No, the part of society that I'm referring to is the paperless internet part.  All of my plans for this trip, they all exist in reaches of cyberspace...all I have to show for one of the most exciting weekends of my life...a few emails.  It's hard to get excited over email...I mean think about it, everyone of us gets told in email everyday how they might of won a free trip to the Bahamas, that our dream job is only a click away, lose weight by emailing Bill Gates, or that some foreign dictator is willing to give you millions of dollars, and all you have to do is send him a couple thousand...and amongst all that are a few emails confirming my flight, hotel, car, and tickets.  Just hard to get worked up about that...

I suspect the first time I'll stop worrying that this is all a dream, is when I step off the plane in Florida, and meet up with my partner in crime...

And if you're in Miami for the game, you'll be able to spot me without trying...I'll be the guy that's constantly looking down, up, front and back...gotta make sure that werewolf doesn't get to close.

Talk to you all Thursday, when I start my pilgrimage to, Miami.


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