Phoenix Airport, 7:45am

A week's vacation and lack of sleep can turn any place into Bizarro World, but there is something special about airports. When I worked at Fisherman's Wharf in SF, I told people that if they wanted to see a cross-section of the world, just hang around there for a while. I still believe that's true, but airports take it to a new level - low or high, take your pick.

First, while sipping my coffee and not having it effect my weariness in the least, I noticed that there was something about the people in this terminal that was particularly offensive. I just figured there were too many chipper humans running around under the bright lights, but on closer inspection I discovered that my aversion was caused by that sickly rust-orange of Texas fan apparel. (When did they stop wearing that almost neon orange? At least it was an honest color. It seared your eye sockets and that was it.) Longhorn Fan was everywhere! I'm half surprised they weren't whoopin' and hollerin' over their win yesterday. Musta been all whooped out by a quarter to eight in the morning. Their incredibly bland whiteness, accented with cartoonish accents and big-hair dye jobs, made me sad that I had eaten breakfast. Had my stomach been empty, it may not have been so bad.

Their sheer numbers reminded me of the sports bar we went to on Sunday to watch the Eagles/Vikings game. Upper Deck Sports Grill in Scottsdale was a sea of green! I love my Jerseys folks, but it was nice to be in an entire bar that's full of Philly fans. I think there were about 60 fans there, maybe more. The bar was 2 stories, had a ton of screens, played Philly themed music pre-game and during commercials (even busted out "Green Acres" after "2" kicked that last field goal), and played a recording of the fight song after TDs. The people were friendly, the waitress was great considering the crowd, and the food was very good. I have to give Upper Deck props. And I have no idea why Philly is still in the playoffs. Just don't know... ya got me...

Saw something you don't see every day: a little girl, maybe 6 years old, trailing her mother thru the airport, clutching her obviously beloved doll - white girl, black doll. She probably thought something was wrong with me (and there generally is) the way I kept looking at the doll, trying to come to a conclusion as to its ethnicity. I just don't think I've ever seen that. Right on, little girl!