By Damon Hack, SI.com
I was walking around frigid lower Manhattan at 4 p.m. yesterday, killing time before my flight from Newark to Tampa, when my cellphone rang. It was Pittsburgh mayor Luke Ravenstahl, who was nice enough to get back to me for an interview.
I was far from my home and my office, so my choices were limited. I could ask the mayor to call me back when I found a Starbucks, or I could tough it out in the cold.
I knew he didn't have all day so right there, in front of a school on Greenwich Street, I took a seat on a cold slab of concrete, flipped open my laptop, and started asking questions. With people walking by and shooting me odd glances, I began my line of questioning.
After two minutes, my toes began to ache inside my tennis shoes. After three minutes, I could not feel my fingers on the keyboard.
The sun was going down and the temperature was dropping, but the mayor was telling good tales. I couldn't ask him to stop just so I could make my way to the nearest Barnes and Noble.
It was time to man up. I kept hitting him with questions, even as my fingers turned into prunes. Finally, about 15 minutes in, I cried uncle. I thanked the mayor for his time, wished his team the best of luck, and waited for a ride to Newark.
I was still grumpy when I arrived to the airport until I spotted Little Steven Van Zandt, aka Silvio Dante, aka Bruce Springsteen's guitarist, waiting to board our flight to Tampa. I couldn't help but smile.
Super Bowl week had begun.