Down And Dirty – You Can Live Through Anything If Magic Made It!

Read Kyle Sanchez every Thursday... at StarCityGames.com!
Thursday, July 3rd – As you may have noticed last week, Kyle Sanchez was absent from the article roster. Today’s Down And Dirty brings us the reason for that, a tale of Grand Prix: Indianapolis that will frankly boggle the mind. While this one is low on Magic content, and while you should always take Kyle with a pinch of salt, this one has to be read to be believed…

We all received thin sheet blankets at around 1:30-2:00am, but in my sockless state I was forced to rap my poor phalanges. The freezing concrete of the 10×10 room was bearing down on me, much like the bare feet of an elderly black man named Magneto. And worst of all, every time I scooted a few inches to give a bit of room he would just extend his feet to match, with his filthy nasty feet rubbing up against my curly dome. What nerve… but I wasn’t exactly in a bargaining position, so I rode it out until 5:00am, when they unlocked the massive metal door to swipe our blankets. There were fifteen of us in that room, and the sound of an unlocked door perked all of us up in an instant. It gave me enough time to reposition myself to keep Magneto away from me. Disappointed, he got up and dropped a Deus of Calamity, which spread Noxious Vapors through our humble City of Solitude

It was my first Limited Grand Prix since Massachusetts, over a year ago. High hopes were had, so I chose to embark on a trip with some random people I’ve never met before. When I closed my door after tossing my gym bag in, I had a disturbing sinking feeling, telling me to pick my bag up and run. I didn’t, and made the five hour drive to northern Dallas.

Brandon Heal was the captain of the journey, having rented a fly-looking Accord for the trip. Funny (looking) Caleb Brignon was number two, with Asian Andy being the fall boy for the weekend. He got a little hurt about it, but when you introduce yourself as “That One Asian Kid” and open conversation on Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, you can’t exactly blame us.

Heal took the first shift, followed several hours later by Caleb. Just before we hit St. Louis, Andy volunteered. Being eighteen, I didn’t expect much from him, but he was bragging about his drifting earlier. Rain had poured since we got out of Oklahoma, and Andy began driving in two lanes minutes after taking the helm. We all didn’t think much of it, and the usually scenic downtown St. Louis was being drowned by the vengeful clouds above.

Immediately following downtown we had to merge onto another highway which led straight to Indy. Andy was driving like a madman and decided to go for a 20mph entry ramp going 60. As soon as my eyes connected with the speed marker I announced it was time for Tokyo Drift. It took the other two a few seconds to understand what I meant, and yelled at Andy to slow down. To his credit he did, and managed the turn about an inch away from the wall. But for some reason, halfway through the obnoxious turn, he started speeding up.

We started to fishtail, which prompted him to use the brake and turn the wheel left and right frantically, only worsening the situation. I was in the back right when he crashed the wall against my shoulder. He hurled back on the other side to hit Caleb before screeching over to hit my side again. He finally straightened out to pull over, and was completely shocked at what just happened.


I was first out to examine the damage. My side looked like a crunched soda can, while Caleb’s had no paint damage whatsoever. The wheel, on the other hand, was sticking out at a 45 degree angle. I banished Andy to the trunk, making room for the more deserving luggage in the backseat, and started the 15 mile drive to the airport in an attempt to get a new car. The route there was perilous, and after getting lost in a neighborhood in which it’s dangerous to get lost, I found the highway. My emergency lights were on the entire time because the car wouldn’t do better than 35mph without fishtailing. The alignment was clearly off, having to hold the wheel at 10 o’ clock as opposed to the straight 12 o’ clock.

After checking in at Hertz we had an hour and a half wait. She called in the manager from his cosy bed, and he refused to give us another car since letting Andy drive was voided our contract. Andy started freaking out, so we jumped on him even harder. Poor guy, this was his first GP, but given the sour taste in his mouth I doubt he’ll ever pick up another Magic card. He’s still young and clearly didn’t have the scrilla to pay for it, and looked like he was having a panic attack numerous times.

So we took public transport to another rental agency, who had no trouble getting us an fuel economic SUV. This was my first go with an eco-SUV, and I must say my Grandma’s ’84 Cadillac has more balls than that big slow mother. It was embarrassing, I couldn’t even keep up with the 18-wheelers striding at sixty.

I drove the majority of the rest of the trip, with Caleb tagging in a bit before we reached Indy. At one point he declared that he saw a turtle walking on the side of the road. Luckily there was a U-Turn lane less than a mile later. I asked if we could turn around to pick up the creature, he ignored me. I offered ten bucks, twenty bucks, a hundy, but he still didn’t turn around. I think he was lying. Our center compartment was the only redeeming factor about the second rental. We had plans to shove Andy in there, but a Turtle would make for a much better story, and we could feed it vegetables, fruit, leftover Caesar salad. I had plans to name him Melrose and paint his shell solid red to rep the bloods for protection in Indy. But Caleb didn’t stop, and all I was left with were lost fantasies of the mighty Melrose.

After finding the site and a hotel for them at forty-five bones a day, we stopped by White Castle because they’ve never experienced its awfulness before. I entertained them, but let them know it wasn’t going to be anything like the Harold & Kumar movie. They ignored, me and rightfully had diarrhoea the following day. Except Andy, who downed something like fifteen of those things like it was his last meal. I do fancy their fries, but I’m not sure if it’s because I actually like them, or because everything else on their menu is so horrid that fries are the only appetizing solution.

The tournament site was next, and I was surrounded by a crew of masterful Magicians. There are a lot of different archetypes in this draft format, and sometimes it’s overwhelming thinking about each decision tree for every card you take since a lot of the archetypes have numerous cards with overlapping value. That said, nearly every time I draft I always end up UR. This particular draft I had some Power of Fire, but lacked Pili-Palas, and made an attempt to make up for it with a pair of Merrow Wavebreakers.

I beat my first round opponent before jawing it out with Jelger. We each took a game down before Game 3, when my horrible weekend of Magic started. I don’t remember the exact situation, but I basically got stuck on two for about seven turns with all the answers to everything he could have played. The game should have been an easy W for me, advancing to the finals to face Gabe Walls. I didn’t care much though, as I got in another draft before taking my bag up to Goodman’s room, where I’d be staying the whole weekend.

After dropping my stuff off, Gadiel hit me up from the lobby and we took a walk to find some alcohol. A bum on the street harassed me for change, and I made the stupid mistake of asking where a liquor store is. I was under the impression that he would obviously know detailed directions to the closest shop. He did, but he also forced himself on me to walk with us, grabbing my shoulders and patting me on the back. I asked for “just directions” and pulled a shiny quarter out.

“Well, I’ll walk you, its close!”

“Not needed.” I pulled out an additional dime and nickel.

“Three blocks down, half a block up.”

“Thank you.”

I clinched up the change and put it in my pocket while Gadiel, Goodman, Mike, and Jacobson each dropped handfuls of change before the jubilant man.

Three blocks down, half a block up, and we found ourselves on the doorstep of Gabriel’s Liquor Corner, which actually wasn’t located on a corner. Said refreshments were purchased and we walked back, passing offset onlookers along the way. A car honked at me for no reason while I was crossing the final block home, where the same demented guy was negotiating with some other patrons, but he stopped to make a hysterical laugh at us carrying the booze.

The rest of the night was spent drafting at the event site and on Magic Online, ending with expensive room service and Superbad around four in the AM. Jesse Hawkins snuck onto the pull out with me, and his awkwardly lanky body sprawled over me several times through the night. He kept trying to put his arm around, and the scary part was that he wasn’t kidding. He was stone asleep and was trying to cuddle. I punched him a few times to wake him up, but he dozed back off just as soon as he woke.

The morning came too slowly, but was accompanied by a much needed breakfast downstairs. The layout was impressive, with gourmet omelets, multiple types of eggs, and a cereal bar that would make Sir “Circumcise” Kellogg crumble. None of those really impressed me though, and as soon as the sausage and bacon were in my sights I couldn’t manage to put any undeserving food in this meat craved belly.

Sealed Deck

1 Island
1 Plains
5 Mountain
1 Fire-lit Thicket
8 Forest

Seedcradle Witch
Devoted Druid
Medicine Runner
2 Farhaven Elf
Wilt-Leaf Cavaliers
Lurebound Scarecrow
Cultbrand Cinder
Scuzzback Marauders
Kulrath Knight
Merrow Wavebreakers
Blazethorn Scarecrow
Reaper King

Power of Fire
Presence of Gond
Consign to Dream
2 Burn Trail
Runes of the Deus
Biting Tether

2 Gloomwidow’s Feast
2 Cinderhaze Wretch
2 Kinscaer Harpoonist
2 Sinking Feeling
Elsewhere Flask
Raking Canopy
Ember Gale
Old Ghastbark (OG Bark)
Crimson Wisps
Viridescent Wisp
Rustrazor Butcher
Illuminated Folio
Scardale Ritual
Dawnglow Infusion

This pool was extremely deep, and all signs pointed to four colors. The best part about having the fortune to open a pool like this is the numerous angles you can attack with the sideboard.

Looking back after playing with this deck, I definitely would have trimmed the crow team. I thought Blazethorn Scarecrow was the Haste Persist at first, which would definitely get a spot given synergy with Reaper and Heartmender. Luckily I noticed it while playing during the bye period. I didn’t get a chance to play the Lurebound Scarecrow the entire time, and my thoughts on him are still up in the air. There are ten Green creatures in here along with a Scuttlemutt, so it seems like there’s enough.

I wasn’t concerned with the manabase, since I had so many fixers that it acted like the deck really has twenty lands, which is why I didn’t include Elsewhere Flask, but in hindsight it would be much better than that stupid Scarecrow. I’m a big Folio fan, but I just wasn’t comfortable running it in this kind of deck where I want to play all my Green spells early and lean back on the Red spells that I wouldn’t want to show my opponent. Not to mention the crazy color configuration in here.

Round 2 – I lost due to extreme mana screw.
Round 3 – I was able to cast my spells, so I won.
Round 4 – Met a buddy of Sullivan, I was really mana light Game 1 and flooded like the Mississippi Game 3.
Round 5 – I meant to drop, but I forgot and had plans to scoop to this guy. He didn’t have any byes and wasn’t very friendly, so I didn’t bother.

My heart just wasn’t in it, so I recouped some value by playing in a bunch of drafts before heading back to the hotel to chill. I definitely think the deck could have won out if I got decent draws, but with my back against the wall and needing a 5-round win out I didn’t feel too optimistic.

After Gadiel and Jacobson were through with Day 1, we headed over to Champs for some grub n’ drinks. The place was pretty dead when we strolled in a little before midnight. Immediately after sitting down, I ordered a crown and coke with a water. She was a little off put from my quick order, and gave me a smirky comment. I gave her another smirky comment and our positions of A-customer and B-waitress were clearly defined.

She brought everyone else’s drinks at our ten person table, apologizing for forgetting the water and adding the crown and coke would be out soon. They called last call before my coke got there, and about ten minutes after everyone got their drinks she came back with my crown. I couldn’t order another because of last call, and we ordered appetizers. Another ten minutes passed and the appetizers came out, and I felt like a beached whale. A couple more minutes passed before I got my freaking water, and I ordered something simple that couldn’t take a long time: a grilled cheese sandwich with bacon, ham, with some fries on the side.

We finished our appetizers, involving seven plates of food. We waited another fifteen or so before food came out. Several pasta plates, a steak, various chicken assortments and some sandwiches. When she vanished back into the kitchen I assumed she was going to be back out with Mike’s Philly Cheese steak and my Cheese. Ten minutes passed and she came to refill the drinks, saying ours should be out any minute. Her next trip was only a few minutes later, but I knew I was in trouble when she only had one plate in hand.

At this point several were already done, and went to play some basketball on that Hot Shot game. Espo was first up, scoring a mid-thirty against Jacobson, who only managed ten or twenty. I started practicing on a different one, hitting forty-nine on my first try. I followed it up with a seventy-three and was ready to play against Espo for fifty.

He went first, scoring a personal high of fifty-four. I followed it up with a sixty with just under thirty seconds left. I retired with to the table, where my food still hadn’t gotten there. She was refilling our drinks, and everyone was already finished so I told her to straight up cancel my order and walked out the door, hungry and pissed at this piece of crap establishment. It had been about forty minutes in a dead slow restaurant, and they couldn’t even make a freaking grilled cheese sandwich.


On my way out, she brought a free grilled cheese sandwich to the table, but I gave it to Espo in my irritated state.

Back to the hotel for some more beer pong, and we all got run by Gadiel, who sits at home practicing every hour of the day. It was pretty hilarious actually, he was complaining about not being able to fully extend his leg when he kicks back on release. Goodman was too messed up to see straight, but was easily the second best player in the room. After them there was a steep drop off in BP talent.

Our smoke alarm went off in our smoking room, and the entire eighteenth floor was flooded with sirens and flashing lights. Jesse Hawkins took this time to grab his bags, and threw on some running shoes and booked it for the stairs, running as fast as he could with bag in hand. We had eleven in the room at the time, so our NJ boys Marty and Mike ran out to bring the room count down in the case that they came up.

After a couple of unanswered calls from the desk, I saw Jesse Hawkins running around the railing back to our rooms, claiming that a team of cops were running up the stairs towards us. Everyone started to freak out, and Jesse ran out of the room again.


The alarms finally turned off, and Jesse gave us a call from downstairs saying cops were at the front desk. We were all watching through the curtains as people made their way back to their rooms. No cops in sight. At this point his creditability is shot, much like he’ll be the next time I see him. There was no one coming, we weren’t in trouble, and Jesse was just trying to cause a ruckus.

I crashed out around six with Espo and Goodman still drafting, and awoke at a prompt 9:00am to see Espo and Goodman still drafting. I went downstairs to bring up some breakfast around ten, in anticipation of some coverage work. I met Sadin and Julien in the mall to borrow his laptop for coverage work, and shared a malt and ate a second breakfast of cheese fries.

When I came back about 11:30, Espo was still drafting and all the breakfast plates were gone. I didn’t have much time to chat, so I booked it for the site, which was only a couple blocks away. On my way to the site I did all the math on my seven drafts and sealed decks this weekend, and it turns out that exactly half the games I played I didn’t get above 2-3 lands. I felt Depression on my shoulder, accompanied by his father Fatigue, but I still had another day in paradise to perk my perception.

My first feature match was round 12, featuring Jelger opposite Gaudenis Vidugiris. They had quite the history that weekend, with Jelger’s only Day 1 loss coming to Gaudenis. They had history prior to that, so I turned it into a grudge match, with vicious slurs going back and forth. Apparently it wasn’t good enough to publish, but I was pretty excited about it. Jelger ended up winning the weekend record, going 2-1-1 against Gaudenis, winning in the finals opposite his arch-nemesis. Funny thing is that I took Gaudenis as a Euro, but he’s actually a Wisconsin resident.

I hung out for a bit during the draft before getting another featuring Lachmann and Saito. It took me awhile to edit this one, and Tim told me to take off ’til the Top 8 Draft. Chapin and I hit up Champs with the Chapinettes, two girls he brought from Michigan named Chloe and Lia. After a couple of rounds, some socializing, and Nationals talk, I made my way back to the site.

Sadin asked if he could cover the Top 8 draft, so he needed the laptop back. After the draft I walked around and looked at everyone’s’ decks before being assigned to the Jelger match. It was almost close, but Jelger again conquered the weekend, starting by beating me in a draft early on Friday. Payment for my six or so hours of work were two foil Crystalline Slivers. I wasn’t sure on the exact price on them, so I asked a wandering boy with a backpack to inquire. He responded “Dealers are buying them between $5-8.”


I felt like a train hit my face. The past times I’ve done coverage work I’ve received between $100-200 in foils. But really, $10? I wasn’t sure if Wizards was just messing with me, so I consulted Sadin. He informed me he also only got two Crystalline Sliver, and he only did draft coverage! Infuriated, I began my trek back to the hotel, having wasted a day of hanging out with people for a mere $10.

Father Fatigue was bearing down again, and with constant rants from my car crew I was feeling super rushed. They said they wanted to leave at midnight, and I finished my editing around nine, but they were on my heels. I had a few errands to run and ran back to the hotel to chill out. I packed my bags, paid my debts, and bounced back to site much mellower than when I left. I talked to Sadin again, he said everyone got two Slivers. I consulted Tim, who was the head of the operation, and he nodded in disagreement and informed me that it was Wizards who assigned the foils.

I just can’t see anyone wanting to invest that kind of time on a weekend where they could be hanging out for a measly ten bucks. I’d honestly rather have gotten nothing for the task, so I burnt my Slivers and Call of the Herd in a tremendous trash can fire. Also, I’m not upset for just myself here, everyone who put in hard work and valuable time who did coverage that weekend got penny pinched, and I still have a bad taste in my mouth from the lack of appreciation to the people that represent the game we all love.

We left Indy around ten, and stopped for gas just inside the border around eleven. I felt karma nipping at my heels, so I bought a bunch of lotto tickets for twenty bucks and got thirty out of it. I ran into the station to cash ’em out, only to find that they stop cashing lotto tickets at 10:30pm. What a blowout… the deadline is midnight in Texas! So I offered him twenty five for the thirty in tickets, and he quickly dismissed me, asking for the next customer in line.

The rest of the drive back was thankfully uneventful, but we were still forced to return our SUV to exchange it for a Grand Caravan in St. Louis. It cost an additional $170 bucks to take a car from Missouri to Texas, but we just wanted to get home at this point. I’d had very little sleep and food the entire weekend coupled with numerous stressful situations. I put in five hours of driving to the cause, and arrived in Dallas at 1:00pm on Monday.

From Dallas I didn’t even bother filling up my tank, being 80% full. Just north of Austin I made plans to meet up with a buddy south of Austin. Seconds after I hung up, and traffic was at a dead stop. I turned my A/C off to conserve what little gas I had left, but ten minutes later the check gages light came on. I tried to ride it out, but had only traveled half an exit in the past half an hour. The needle well below the E, and I was forced to make a move. A dirt road leading from the highway to the access road was my out, but after taking it I was promptly pulled over by a bike cop hiding behind a tree.

My eyes were red from having little sleep and driving for the past eighteen hours, so after he checked my ID and stuff he didn’t hesitate to ask me to step out of the vehicle. EYE-ROAN-IE much? He ripped through my small car, tearing out all of my clothes from my crammed bag. My center console was where he found two additional identification cards… my spare, and my fake.

The fake was so good he couldn’t tell the difference, so I thought I might be okay until he swiped them. My vehicle was clean otherwise, so I expected to get off with a pat on the hand until he informed me that falsified government documents is prisonable offense.


Another motorbike cop arrived prior to searching, and they called an actual car to haul me away. It was the hottest day of the month, and I was drenched in sweat when I stepped into the freezing cold atmosphere of Williamson County Jail. Hard looks were shot at me from every direction, but I kept my cool and swagger about me.

I waited, and waited, and waited. The freezing concrete on my naked feet was nearly too much to take, and the shivers started. The TV in the main room was on, so I directed my thoughts to Everybody Loves Raymond and The King of Queens, but I had far more on my mind. After sitting for a few hours in the cold, I was tossed into a holding cell with a date with the Judge in the morning.

A man legally named Magneto was on my right, and a man legally named King on my left. Both weren’t very talkative until some crazy dude in a jogging suit waltzed in. He immediately brought up the religion topic, and I felt like bashing my brains into the wall. I wouldn’t mind a good religion argument, but there were two completely different ends of the spectrum providing biased opinions, so I didn’t even want to get into it.

Magneto, King, and the crazy guy were hating on Christians. A huge Mexican dude with tattoos splattered about his rippling biceps, an elderly man having problem sitting down because of his arthritis, and a skinny crack-head in the corner were on the other side.

The Christian haters didn’t even have a chance, as the crazy guy was way too wasted to say anything remotely resembling a conscience thought. At one point his main argument was that Christians all believe they are God because they imitate him. Whatever, we were interrupted by an angry Mexican guard named Hernandez who ordered the muscly guy to put on his shirt and to stop tempting the girls outside with his arms. Muscly told the officer that he was just jealous, and to come in there and get it if he wanted it.

Hernandez busted in, asked for the shirt again, and when Muscly wouldn’t give it up he called for Easter.

Michael Clark Douglas waltzed in, having to enter the holding cell sideways due to his large physique. Apparently he changed his name to Easter, and asked Muscly for the shirt one last time. Muscly made a 3-pt shot into the toilet with his shirt, and told Easter to fetch. Easter then proceeded to level him across his forehead with a club, knocking Muscly out cold, carrying him out by his wife beater and pants.

The religion talk stopped, and the cell was silent for another couple hours before food arrived. A medley of flavors, it looked like three of my top five foods. It had very small bits of ground beef, little chunks of potato, with a red soup-like sauce filling the tray. I ate a few bites before handing it off to another jail mate.

They moved all of us out of the cell for an hour to get it cleaned, and we alternated through cells for the next few hours while they took their time cleaning. I was freezing cold all the while, so I asked the kindest looking woman in the room for some socks.

She replied with “Sure honey, I’ll get them to you as soon as I can.”

To this day I’ve never received any socks from her, and I’m still slightly bitter about it. This was actually one of the most shocking parts of the weekend for me. I was entirely fooled by her Grandma aura that I didn’t stop to consider that she played me.

We all received thin sheet blankets at around 1:30-2:00am, but in my sockless state I was forced to rap my poor phalanges. The freezing concrete of the 10×10 room was bearing down on me, much like the bare feet of an elderly black man named Magneto. And worst of all, every time I scooted a few inches to give a bit of room he would just extend his feet to match, with his filthy nasty feet rubbing up against my curly dome. What nerve… but I wasn’t exactly in a bargaining position, so I rode it out until 5:00am, when they unlocked the massive metal door to swipe our blankets. There were fifteen of us in that room, and the sound of an unlocked door perked all of us up in an instant. It gave me enough time to reposition myself to keep Magneto away from me. Disappointed, he got up and dropped a Deus of Calamity, which spread Noxious Vapors through our humble City of Solitude.

Breakfast came around eight, which featured a white mushy substance, a small sausage patty, and some grape juice. The grape juice was awesome, but when I took a half bite out of the patty I nearly gagged. I can’t even describe it anymore because the taste has completely vanished from my mind like a terrible dream, but jeez, was it nasty. I finished the patty out of principle, and gave the mushy stuff to the guy sitting next to me, named Greg.

I still hadn’t slept a wink when they pulled our group out to get our prints and paperwork done before we see the judge. Sitting in the cold center room again, it became apparent that this room was at least ten degrees lower than the meat lockers they had us in. It was like the entire point of this process was designed to make us the most miserable we could possibly be. In and out, stand up, sit down, go to sleep, wake up. It was like having a super controlling kindergarten teacher with tattoos and a stalky posture. Which is really messed up, since we pay the money to build this building, we pay the money to these employees that treat us like this, and we pay money for them to spend the other twelve hours of their lives.

I had that speech all worked up, prepared to give to Hernandez since he’d been starring me down since his shift got off at seven. He must really hate people, as he loved to tell me to stand up, sit down, shut up, talk up.

Lunch came at about twelve when I was next in line, so they ordered me back to a holding cell. This one had some new faces, a snake shop owner, a guy I’ve played poker with, and a dozen people I didn’t dare look at. It took ’til two to talk with the judge. I did the whole Magic explanation coupled with an already miserable weekend, and he assigned me a Class C Misdemeanor and a $1,500 bail. Man, that’s it? I thought I was in for far worse… why the hell didn’t they just take the $1,500 out of my wallet to pay the freaking fine when I got there?!

I contacted a bail bonds place, but I needed a co-signer and revenue outside of the money I brought with me. I called up a few friends, and eventually got Louie to come up and get me. We both signed the bond and submitted at 5pm. Seven came and went, and I was in for another night with Hernandez, who kept moving my folder to the back of the queue. Felons came and went, other bonds came and went, and anger started to fill my heart again. If the next words that came out of Hernandez mouth weren’t “get out of here,” I felt like I was gonna snap.

I skipped dinner in anticipation of several burgers the moment I got out, but didn’t get out until 2am, leaving Louie waiting outside for nine hours. On top of that, McDonald’s was closed and I had to resort to numerous snack items from the gas station. It was Wednesday already, so I had him take me home instead of crashing some place in Austin.

When I awoke, I went over the paperwork they gave me and called my bail bonds place, scheduling a picture later in the day. I had Mom drive me two hours back up to Georgetown and retrieved my car keys. On the way to the lot, that was located halfway across town at another towing place, we stopped by the jail to pick up my cash. They told me they’d close around 4:30-5:00pm, and since it was only 4:00pm I didn’t expect any trouble, since I had already called ahead.

Nope, they left thirty minutes before I arrived.


After getting my car, I hit up the bail bonds and set my call-in date for every Monday until my court date on July 27th, which I will probably get a motion for continuance to avoid stupid probation restrictions that would inhibit me from going to Nationals and GP Denver. If that doesn’t work, my Nationals invite will be put to waste and I won’t be able to play in a GP until 2009, which would be a tragic nail in the coffin.

My love for Magic remains, but man, I need to find some safer ways to travel to these things. Every time it’s another abstract story of stupid things happening. This month has been pretty atrocious for me. Three car accidents (none my fault), a friend since 6th grade died, I got jacked for $1,200, nearly incarcerated, and now I got probation to interfere with my traveling plans. I’m also pretty sure that I have to cancel my lease on an apartment here to move back primarily with the parents and drop out of another apartment deal I have in Austin. None of those are really my primary concern. I also fumbled a $200,000 installation deal because I told the guy I’d contact him after I ran the logistics on it, but I couldn’t get around to it until Friday the 29th. By that time he claimed to have another bid he was going to go with.

So if I don’t die in Chicago, Denver will most likely be my final resting place. After thirteen hours of sleep in a whopping one-hundred forty-four, I’m pretty damn tired.

But you can live through anything if Magic made it…

Kyle Sanchez

Top 5 Picks

1) Can’t Tell Me Nothing – Kanye West
2) Dr. Carter – Lil Wayne
3) Joy – Against Me!
4) Melt Into The Walls – Pilate
5) Prison Sex – Tool

PS: I didn’t realize it until Friday, but iPod #6 was missing, jacked by the freaking impound people. I can’t do anything about it. I paid an impound place that put my car on a different impound lot. Complete screwery, and I’m not even sure if I should buy another one. If this trend of horrible travel continues I probably won’t be able to use it much since my death is growing closer and closer with each tournament I attend.