Drive to the 405: Day 4 Diary Of Life On The Road By Billy Football (edited by PFT)
Editors note: I had to edit the headline again of this blog. Yesterday Billy had written it was day 4, when it was day 3. And today he said it was Day 3 instead of Day 4. Given the fact Billy is presently blasting a playlist in the Silverado of Viking chants he might believe its possible to go back in time if you just act like its moving backwards. The song were listening to right now is called "Digging a hole" and its about- you guessed it- digging holes. Billy presciently pointed out that it would be a great song to listen to when your digging a hole.
Billy blogged this on our way from Winslow to Flagstaff, then we switched and he's driving while I edit. As I predicted yesterday Billy started to read the blogs (he followed instructions for 2 days that's pretty good) so I'm sure he will be much more truthful in today's recap.
I am currently writing this from the road, last night I was supposed to write the blog but I sat on the edge of my bed and laid back and blacked out (Billy has discovered the ancient phenomenon of falling asleep). Woke up with all my clothes on, boots still on the floor (Lets take the time to recognize a new high for Billy -using the excuse of it wasn't his fault he didn't do something because he decided to go to bed instead). Honestly, a great way to start the day considering all I had to do was stand up and I would be ready for the day (sneaky genius lifehack here). Well looking back on Friday, it was a shit ton of fun, I had a blast. Personally find it so crazy that once we get outside of NYC its so mindblowing how people think we are famous. This is a totally unrelatable statement but it's just wild how people think we are any sort of special. Like we are just regular dudes.
Yesterday I woke up after a long night of writing (*). After getting into Amarillo too late to do the 72 oz steak challenge we decided I would do it in the morning.
The night before, I Drank a couple of too many margaritas and blue mountains, but we were in Texas that's what you are supposed to do (Its like how Inuits have 50 different words for snow, Billy has unlimited ways he's able to say "No its not my fault. I had to get drunk". ) Woke up that morning to go directly to the Big Texan to tackle this steak. Pulled up to the parking lot bumping the Hu a Mongolian metal band that would be instrumental in getting into war mode. Started banging out power cleans in the parking lot to build up an appetite. Repping out Clean and Presses of 135 (light work) in order to maximize my ghrelin production for consuming 72 oz of steak (remember like 30 seconds ago when Billy referred to himself as a "regular dude.")
The barbell was really fucking cold. Jack McCarthy took the video.
My approach and the events of the steak-eating challenge will be documented in an upcoming vlog. (Just asking you guys out of curiosity- if Billy had dominated this challenge and ate the entire steak super fast and pounded all the side dishes, do you think he would have figured out a way to make sure the video came out soon? Bubba pointed this out yesterday and I thought he made a compelling point. Again Im just curious sound off in the comments below.)
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Fast forward to the end of it, I was drunk. ("I sat down for breakfast, yadda yadda yadda now I cant drive." The truth is Billy decided to crack open a beer before the challenge and then continued to drink beer, then he had another beer, then he drank a beer for the road) I passed out in the passenger seat and knocked. I had put on a Hans Zimmer playlist and PFT drove for the first time. He got the easiest drive in beautiful New Mexico.
I white-knuckled the hardest driving and he's trying to say he gets to drive the best roads. (Again, Billy was passed out drunk at the time. He was also pissing every 30 minutes into a open soft drank cup with no lid. I would play a fun game of trying to stop parallel to a truck in the next lane so that Billy had to just have his dick out facing the window for as along as possible to give the trucker a show. Then because Billys cup had no lid, poor Snapchat Steve in the back seat had to take the open cup of hot piss and throw the pee out the back window so that he wouldn't get hit with Billys piss.) We are currently fighting about who gets to drive the last leg from Flagstaff to LA. I better be driving unless PFT gets his way. I rightfully deserve to drive some of the good roads after battling through the ice storm. (This is kind of fair Billy did a great job so I have agreed to let him take us the final stretch)
We stopped for Mexican in Albuquerque recommended to us by Arian Foster. It was called El Modelo and it was bomb. Waze took us to a homeless settlement at first but google maps took us to the right spot. (Arian told us to be careful and to get things not as spicy since were not used to it, he was really dancing around the fact that he doesn't think white people can eat hot food which is very racist of him, but if I had spent my life working around guys like Brock Osweiler, Matt Schaub, and Brandon Weeden Id think white folks couldn't handle heat either.)
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Admittedly I had started drinking 10 am during the steak challenge, and I continued throughout the day. "Apparently" I was considered "unmanageable". Just because I was shotgunning Black Rifle coffees and dumping my piss out the window does not constitute "Unmaneagable". I would have absolutely done all those things while I was sober (this is not the dunk that Billy thinks it is)and I also had fire aux (Again, he was passed out drunk and had his phone on the instrumental musical score to Letters From Iwo Jima. .
(This was the make or break moment of the trip right here. This was were it all could of fallen apart. Billy was continuing to responsibly drink Coors lights at every stop we made while also growing louder and more confident in his various statements regarding people we would see and which industries guys like that definitely work in and why there arent as many of those jobs any more because of global factors. I actually think Billy could be like the Crocodile Hunter except just for people. He would spot a woman from Denmark and run up, tackle her, and tell the camera why shes likely an excellent distance runner due to her ancestors herring intake. Then he tags her and lets her run off to rejoin the herd.
However Billy locked in and started rocking the fuck out with us)
In the last part of the stretch to Winslow, Arizona we straight up jammed. Like tons of jamming tunes, Warren Zevon, Skynyrd, Led Zeppelin. It was sick. By the time we got to Winslow we stopped in at a local brewery and had another sick time.
(Billy just now asked me to include something he forgot: He wants me to write something about how Manifest Destiny in the USA was inspired by the giant western sky of the western states. The psychology of seeing all this open sky inspries one to go west and take on a pioneer mentality, I personally should note that its also a fullback mentally. You see a gap and you try to fill it.)
The road life is awesome, having great pals on it is also great. I don’t want to jinx it, but this trip has been one of the best trips of my life. So many awesome little parts.
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(Billy is completely unaware of this but in this paragraph above, he has unintentionally just written an "ABBCA" rhyme scheme, except instead of rhymes he's using different synonyms for the word "cool".)
It's been an awesome, awesome, time. (My mistake- ABBCAAA)
The day was also a year to the day that I fought Jose, I will blog on that this week (he wont), couldn't do it service yesterday. Lotta different perspective on what happened with a year to think about it.
Insert Wikipedia article on Irish involvement in Spanish American war.
The Saint Patrick's Battalion (Spanish: Batallón de San Patricio, later reorganized as the Foreign Legion of Patricios) was a unit of 175 to several hundred (accounts vary) immigrants and expatriates of European descent who fought as part of the Mexican Army against the United States in the Mexican–American War of 1846–48. Formed and led by John Riley, the battalion's members included many who had deserted or defected from the United States Army. The battalion served as an artillery unit for much of the war. Despite later being formally designated as two infantry companies, it still retained artillery pieces throughout the conflict. In many ways, the battalion acted as the sole Mexican counterbalance to the recent U.S. innovation of horse artillery.