Miami Vice and March Madness....

To say that last week(end)’s Winter Music Conference (WMC) in Miami was a Darwinian test of endurance might be the understatement of the year. I snuck in a few afternoon naps over four days, but that was about it. As of today (+3.5 days), I’m still a bona fide resident of the hurt locker. It’s like I’m having a Dorothy moment, longing for somewhere over the rainbow....except I don’t want out of Oz, I just want to leave my bed in the morning with limbs in motion sans spasm. Perhaps too much to ask.

No pity needed. Any future amputations that result will have been worth it. And now, a stream of consciousness recap of the weekend that will probably make absolutely no sense to anyone that wasn't in Miami of conversing telepathically with my brain:

S&D yacht party. “Stardate: cero; hora: dos.” A1A (beachfront avenue). Danny Howells blasting the air horn from the cab at Pawnshop. Thom Yorke’s, “The Eraser” (remix). Big Pink. “I’ve been Zabielaed.” Vodka and Sprite, splash of pineapple. Toby at Space for 11.5 hours. “Just another day on the double decker.” Jumping on my trampoline. S&D at Mansion. Techno-House. “We’re checking out for two days, but we’ll be back on Sunday.” I think I just ordered a $9 Sprite. Ferry Corsten randomly showing up. Trancetastic. I’ll take another buffalo chicken sandwich. My Girl Wants To (P.A.T.T.). “I didn’t ask how much you've slept; I asked how you're doing.” The terrace at Space with Cedric Gervais. Better make that two waters.

I’m sure there were other happenings I should reference, but that’s all I've got from the yellow brick road for now.

Actually, I do need to salute the fine fare of Big Pink (located around the 100 block of Collins in South Beach). Legendary stuff. Their menu includes: breakfast all day, a Myles Davis salmon club sandwich, killer fries, 10 oz. burgers, and strawberry-laden Belgian waffles.

We ate there a couple times.

On the way to the airport we found out that Tony Blair recently had a lay-over in Miami and demanded Big Pink. So in honor of TB and those quenching meals which often served as our only form of nourishment for the day, I will now offer up the first-ever (sure to annualized) Big Pink Awards for Winter Music Conference. And so without further ado:

The Big Pink for Best Random Statement of the Weekend: Brock (I think) who said, “I’ve never been to Miami but I feel like I know this place already -- it’s exactly like the game Vice City.” That might deserve two Pinks.

The Big Pink for the Best Party I Had No Business Being Invited to: Sasha & Digweed Yacht Party. Enough said.

The Big Pink for the Best 10-Minute Interval that Got Us No Closer to Eating: The ten minutes we spent arguing about whether the guy sitting in the corner of the diner was Colin Farrell, while not moving an inch in line, even though there was only one person in line ahead of us (in the end we left without ordering but decided the pony-tailed, corner eater was Farrell).

The Big Pink for the DJ Who Caused My Knees to Sink Through the Dance Floor: Cedric Gervais’ killer session to close the weekend on the terrace at Space. Unforgettable.

The Big Pink for Kindest Gesture from Relative Strangers: Al & Eric, the father and son duo at Sander Kleinenberg who greased not one, but two bouncers, then took us with them to the front of the line. Al and Eric make WMC an annual tradition, trekking down from Freeport, Maine and Washington D.C. (respectively). What a way to host a family get together: impressive.

The Big Pink for Best T-Shirt: The guy at Mansion for S&D with the shirt that read, “I Shaved My Balls For This.” There was serious laughter from the mancave after that one.

The William Wallace Big Pink (for refusing to die or go home): Jason Warth, who didn’t even break stride or contemplate leaving the dance floor AT NOON ON MONDAY when I told him that my time in the heart of darkness was done, and that I was headed back to the hotel.

What a weekend. But give me eleven months before tempting me again.

Elsewhere…..

Kudos to the NBA for disallowing players to enter the draft prior to their 19^th birthday. That rule, in conjunction with the posse from Florida returning to school, has made this year’s NCAA tournament one of the best in memory. After a lackluster first round, the level of play and competitiveness of the games has been off the charts.

UCLA played the best defensive game I can ever remember (at the collegiate level) against Kansas. Was flat out awesome to watch their performance, and equally as wrenching to endure another Bill Self melt-down.

Ohio State did their part to aide the madness by offering us two redonkulous comebacks. The first of which more or less sealed the fate of my brackets. I’ve been an OSU hater all year and actually picked Xavier in the majority of the pools I entered. If nothing else that game will help reignite the rallying cry that numerous fans (including myself) with IQ > 1 endorse: when you’re up by three with less than ten seconds left, YOU SHOULD FOUL.

And then there was the classic Georgetown vs. UNC reunion game that allowed CBS to offer elder Ewing and Thompson the most camera time they’ve seen since the Jack Tripper era (and yes, you'd better believe he qualifies as an era maker). Still, in my mind Georgetown’s miraculous comeback will be overshadowed by Roy Williams’ kamikaze effort to give the game away. I’m still in disbelief that UNC didn’t call a single timeout in overtime. Not after they’re down four or six or eight points…..not after they miss their first eleven shots. Even more difficult to fathom when reminded that UNC’s overtime lineup included four freshmen or sophomores -- underclassmen who might get a little rattled???

Maybe it’s already time for the next ex-player/coach/rodent in the fabled UNC family to assume the helm. I bet Clifford Rozier is available. Now that would be funny.

Anyway, the Final Four awaits in less than twenty hours and greets us with two monster games: a rematch of last year’s final (Florida vs. UCLA) and a show-down between two seven-footers (Oden and Hibbert) with Ohio State and Georgetown. I still think the Buckeyes are overrated so I’m going down with the ship. Give me Georgetown by eight.

In the second game I will stick my head directly into the noose and pick UCLA to upset the Gators. In actuality I don’t have much confidence in Afflalo and company, and I think the Gators are the real deal. But the Bruins remind me of the Duke squad that beat the invincible Running Rebels (also defending champs). So I’m picking the Bruins for nostalgia’s sake (trust me, nostalgia ranks higher than some of my previous rationales). If nothing else I think it’ll be a close game, and this way I get to cheer for the underdog.

In the end, the outcomes are of secondary importance anyway. The primary consideration is that Whit’s girl is out of town, and we get to watch the games on the 50” in HD. Now I just need to gain control of my motor skills in time to snag a six-pack of Bud Light and mosey on over there. I've got fifteen hours.

Cross your fingers.