Our Ticket Stock Prospective

We are ducking our heads in the Grey Hound station as we write this to you, fellow P1's. Trying to scribble this message to you on the back of a pull out from the latest Texas Monthly (Ted Cruz strikes again bitches), and pass it along to Randall behind the counter at the Western Union stand. If this all sounds a bit jumbled, blame our rusty Morse code. Or the tamales we bought from Delfina outside the station. Unpasteurized goat cheese was a bad choice my Hispanic friend. Anyways, we had to get this out to you before we depart for the D.

What do we think is in store for this weekend? We don't really know. Us here at the Wastelander hovel, well removed from the watchful eye of Margaret Hunt Hill as she sits on top of her bridge, have a little time to ponder as we make our way into the metroplex. There is a good chance it ends up like our previously described agenda. Hopefully not, hopefully Cat got this whole thing sorted out right and we can follow the schedule. This is a schedule for human beings for crying out loud.

Enough with the nonsense for a second though. Listening in today we could hear the hosts realizing that this is more than just another Ticket Stock. This is two decades of history we are celebrating here. This will be all the hosts, digging deep and revealing to us the personal life they have that swims around beneath their on air consciousness. Mike for example revealed today that he was getting a little nostalgic, and that for him this was a big deal. Danny chimed in saying, "you should enjoy it man." As he should. The same thing has happened to us this week, realizing that this is more than just another Ticket Stock. These guys have been together for 20 damn years, and its time to pull the curtain back as a group and take a teary eyed look at the thing. And get drunk.

So shove your paw into that bag of Redman and pull out a healthy chaw, this ride in will be a rough one. Get that spit cup ready and tune Pandora to the closest rendition of Waylon Willie and Kris. We already got our eye on that tweeker over there in the corner of the station as The One To Watch Out For On This Ride. Or that lady with the Cricket phone, Cricket means trouble.

And once we make it to that station on Lamar street, we'll make that 7 minute walk over to the convention center, to see the whole family. And beat them down, and pay homage to a body of work that will never be repeated.