Spring break ended over a week ago, but considering all I've done since returning to the drudgery of school is cry myself to sleep every night, I think I deserve a pardon for reaching back a bit.
Break was very relaxing, which was great, but the best part was I learned a couple of things: First of all, I learned what it feels like to be Greg Focker. Secondly, I learned what a Booeymonger is, not that I ever really wanted to know.
Ever since I dressed like Derek Zoolander for Halloween first year and made a reference to myself as said character in my first column, I am cognizant of experiences which put me in Ben Stiller-esque situations. This break, for a brief period, and thanks to the efforts of a few wonderful flight attendants, I was Gaylord Focker.
I can currently see myself attempting to cram the carry-on I've traveled with a hundred times without problem into one of those obnoxious metal grids they have by the gate. As I was being yelled at, I was tempted to go on a verbal tirade, berating the woman who was harassing me for the crazy chopsticks in her hair and her unpleasant demeanor.
There were several things, however, that kept me from doing this. First of all, this particular flight attendant did not have chopsticks in her hair. Any sort of argument on my part referencing said chopsticks would probably have made me look insane.
Secondly, I did not want to be arrested. I am not positive, but I'm almost certain that Robert DeNiro would not have rescued me from airport jail.
Lastly, this woman was very pregnant. I'm pretty sure you are not allowed to yell at a pregnant woman. I don't know where that rule came from, but I know it exists. I must have seen too many movies where a pregnant woman is either in an argument or some sort of stressful situation and all of a sudden goes into labor. That was not something I was prepared to deal with. Do not yell at pregnant women, they will go into labor and it will be your fault.
Luckily, my flight landed safely in D.C., and I headed to the city for a quick lunch. While walking, I saw a deli by the name of "Booeymonger." Do you want to eat at a place named Booeymonger? I didn't think so. Call me crazy, but the first thing I thought of when seeing that name was that I'm fairly certain eating there consists of sitting down, having some sort of monster walk to your table, throw up on your plate and walk away.
"Hey, welcome to Booeymonger, I'm a monster. Blech. Enjoy."
Maybe it's because Booeymonger sounds like Boogey Monster or Boogey Man or something unpleasant along those lines, but that's what I think of.
Anyways, once I thought about the situation a little more, I figured maybe the locals call the place by a nickname so they don't have to actually call the deli by its full name. Then I realized pretty much the only way to shorten Booeymonger would be to call it BM. If there's anything I can think of that's less appetizing than the word Booeymonger, is BM.
"Hey Bill, want some BM for lunch? What? You're right, that is short for bowel movement. How unappetizing!"
Enough about break, it's time to talk about some good old college basketball. Last year during tournament time, I ranted about the glorious Burger King commercial featuring Darius Rucker from Hootie and the Blowfish. That commercial played during every commercial break for a month and it was fantastic. Unfortunately, this year, there isn't that one commercial which has captured the hearts and minds of idiots like me. There is one where some dude jumps on a trampoline and flies onto his roof, but that's certainly not Hootie-worthy.
Overall, this year's tournament has been full of upsets and a lot of fun to watch. I do have one bold prediction, though: If Duke wins the National Championship, J.J. Redick's head will explode due to sheer ego. Hold on a second, if it didn't happen to Christian Laettner, it probably won't happen to J.J. I guess he'll just start wearing headbands and suck in the NBA instead. Enjoy the tournament!
Eric's column runs bi-weekly on Tuesdays. He can be reached at ast@cavalierdaily.com.
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