Our first guest post from Las Vegas comes from Anthony Maggio, a local media personality and a friend of ours. Anthony and his wife Melissa brought their 18-week-old son, Brooks, to Vegas for the Gophers/UNLV game and much more. Here is the report from Sin City, through the eyes of Brooks:
As an 18-week old, my only exposure to Sin City before Thursday was the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas audiobook I listened to on my way back and forth from day care (remind me to nominate my dad for Father of the Year, by the way). Naturally, I was a bit wary I wouldn't have the endurance for such a trek. But I quickly surmised a Raoul Duke Vegas experience wasn't imminent when the only drugs in my parents' suitcase were Pepto Bismol, Ibuprofen and Lipitor.
My parents seemed nervous as our travel commenced, and I wasn't sure if it was due to this being my first time on an airplane or because they rolled the dice on the cheaper flight that was scheduled to arrive a mere two and a half hours before kickoff of the Gophers/UNLV tilt. They certainly weren't the only Gophers fans who gambled on Sun Country's punctuality – there were a couple dozen folks sporting maroon and gold on board. And, of course, a large fellow in a Jordy Nelson Packers jersey. Fortunately, he wasn't in our row.
Donning my Gophers onesie with a screen-printed necktie, I was the star of the flight thanks to less than a minute of combined crying and being the cutest person on board. The fancy attire was required – I changed into my tuxedo onesie later after multiple spit-ups – because my parents are part of the Section 117 Classy Gentlemen. It's a bit of a misnomer for my mom, but you get the idea. A couple times a year they whip out the tuxedos, buy copious amounts of fake money to randomly throw around while laughing maniacally, and do their pregaming in a limo. Being that this was Vegas, the hot pink stretch Hummer limo they arrived in to whisk my parents away made perfect sense.
Between my Uncle Jaso's fake mustache, my Uncle Tony's smoking jacket and my Uncle Big Party's form-fitting maroon tux, the group was a sight to behold. I immediately understood why my dad attended a season-planning meeting at Hell's Kitchen last weekend – you can't pull off a gathering like this without some serious preparation. In fact, I perused the agenda meticulously crafted by my Uncle Matt from said meeting en route to the airport. Of particular note was the spawning of a book club to discuss 50 Shades of MarQueis Gray.
If I were to pen such a tome, it would largely chronicle overthrown receivers. It sounds like he pulled it together a bit in the second half, but I was fast asleep by then. I probably shouldn't have been awake for the first half, but decided to live it up a bit. I may be a baby, but I'm still in Vegas!
