Miami Nice
OK, the 6:30 wakeup call had a little sting to it, but it's hard to complain about your official interviewing duties being done by 9:30 am, eastern.
It's even harder to tell who was happier about said development - Lovie "Seems like I've answered most of your questions two million times" Smith, who's now done talking to the press until after the game, or all the writers who have been pulling 15 hour days since they landed here. Of course, I haven't been here as long as most of those guys, so while they set about pounding out their Sunday stuff so they could get an evening free, I went for a walk - er, I mean, I went out to collect observations for this blog.
Observation No. 1: When sitting at a sidewalk cafe, enjoying lunch, it is polite to nod when Connie Payton, wife of Walter, stolls past. She might even nod back.
Observation No. 2: When leaving for big events, don't tell any nieces. Thus, anything you bring back in the form of souvenirs will be appreciated, because they won't have had the chance to request "a cute hoodie."
Observation No. 3: Depending on the level of cute, Super Bowl hoodies range anywhere from $45 to $85 at the dozens of apparel shops temporarily squatting on and around Ocean Drive.
MIAMI STINK: Those guys from the TLC show "Miami Ink" are blowing it. None of the stars from the reality show, set in a local tattoo parlor, are on duty this week.
"The show's done shooting for the season, so they're all on vacation," one of the artists on hand said Friday afternoon. "But Ami (James, a co-owner) was here earlier, so you never know."
Not that it mattered. The advertised "Special Super Bowl XLI Tattoo" was going for the price of roughly six hoodies ($500). And, according to the guys in the store, TLC owns the name of the show, so you can't even buy a "Miami Ink" T-shirt in the tattoo parlor.
MIAMI TREAT: If all goes well later, I'll file an update after the ESPN The Magazine party tonight in the design district - and I secured that invite while on my walkabout, so that's got to count for something, right?
And I finished off my jaunt with a soothing, complimentary media massage, in a tent on the sidewalk outside the Miami Beach Convention Center. But I discovered nothing quite wrecks a soothing, complimentary massage like the sound of radio legend Les Grobstein, thanking his masseusse profusely, wafting over from the next cabana.
