When in Rome, Do What the Tourists Do

Hope everyone had a memorial weekend. My Pregnant Wife and I shared a lovely B&B in a town called Bolivar, OH, so we could get up early, have the latter B, and head up I-77 a spell to visit the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton. Since this was our third anniversary (celebrated), and the traditional gift is leather, I figured this was the best I could do with a vegetarian, save buying a sportscar with leather interior, and we're a little short on the cashflow these days.

The museum was fantastic; tons of memorabilia, great history, and right-in-your-face displays. Ainsley said I wasn't supposed to touch the jerseys, but if it were really discouraged, there'd be an electric fence or something, no? They also had a section on the NFL at war, from Pat Tillman back to WWII when some teams had to combine rosters since so many players had gone to fight.

All in all, a great visit--we'd highly recommend it. Not too big, not too small. Gandered about in about 3 and a half hours.
The bizarro thing was that five minutes after we got there, I spotted a guy walking up the center ramp who worked with me in Colorado Springs a year ago. He was on his way to Maryland for his next job, and just decided to take a detour to the Hall of Fame. So we had a much-welcome third wheel to join us on our tour. Small little oblong planet we've got spinning here.


A spaceship's landed on my museum and I'm mad as hell!