1:00 a.m. (EST)  I e-mailed my last post to Yahoo! after the Rockies loss. Down 0-2. I’ve decided life in the World Series is no longer worth blogging about.

5:00 a.m. Wake, kick cat. What possessed me to allow such an annoying beast into my house?  Shower. Feed cat.

5:40 a.m. Is there any form of humanity lower than taxi drivers? Just shut up already. Nobody wants to hear this babble about how you sang back-up for Marvin Gaye. Well, maybe NPR. Tell them, not me. It’s coming out of your tip buster.

6:00 a.m. Arrive at airport. Accidentally hand cabbie a five instead of a one. What? Et tu, Karma? Does everybody have it out for me this morning? Karma must be another frickin’ BoSox fan.

6:15 a.m.  Old guy has been standing in front of ticket kiosk for five minutes and a line has formed behind him. Does he actually need to use the kiosk? No, he’s just standing there, I hope he rots in the security check. Line finally starts moving.

6:30 a.m. Security checkpoint, behind two little girls who don’t understand how the process works. Get a move on twerps. Urchins. Swear to have tubes tied at earliest convenience.

6:45 a.m. Nuns. Who needs them? All helping the needy like it’s some sort of skill. Try hitting 90 mph high heat sister, now that’s a skill.

6:47 a.m. First sip of coffee. Terrible tasting but as the caffeine gets blood flowing to my head, I’m suddenly over wracked with burdensome guilt. What kind of monster am I? Did I actually kick my cat this morning?

7:00 a.m. Board first leg of trip to Denver, heading to Minneapolis. I get the window seat in a plane about the size of a Volkswagen. Over the next five minutes, 40 or so more people climb aboard but so far, none by me. Finally a break ...

7:06  a.m. 280 lb. man in cowboy hat climbs aboard. Only two seats left. O please, baby Rockies Jesus, don’t let him be sitting next to me.

7:07 a.m.  280 lb. man does, in fact, sit by me. At least I can’t smell BO underneath all the old man cologne he’s wearing.

7:20 a.m.  The guy’s actually nice, and I’m sure if I weren’t in a setting where I turn my head into his armpit to talk to him, I’d be more congenial. He’s going to do something with cattle in Montana. I feel for the horse.

7:30 a.m. (CST) Arrive in Minneapolis. Have second cup of coffee. I’m really feeling guilty about kicking my cat now. Eat a Cinnabon.

9:00 a.m. Board flight from Minneapolis to Denver.

9:20 a.m. This plane’s been on the runway for a while now …

9:35 a.m. “This is your captain speaking, we’re experiencing a minor glitch with our computer. We hope to be taking off in about 20 minutes once we clear this up. Sorry for the delay.”

9:55 a.m. “Sorry folks for keeping you in your seats, we’re still trying to resolve the issue. We hope to be on our way in about ten more minutes."

10:05 a.m. ….

10:10 a.m. “Folks, we’ve decided to just switch out to a new computer. The tech people are here to install it as we speak. Sorry for the delay.”

10:30 a.m. Realize that the plane must have been using the same computer the Rockies did for their ticket sales earlier this week. It all makes sense now. I feel strangely enlightened.

11:05 a.m. “Folks we’re finally ready to take-off. We hope you enjoy your flight and choose to always fly with us. Thank you for choosing … ” He fills in the blank his way, I fill it in mine.

1:00 p.m. (MST) Get baggage from DIA, head straight to Coors.

1:30 p.m. Kiss bricks, profusely. Security comes, tell them I was just looking for my contact lens on the wall. I don’t think they believe me, so I go to the team shop to buy some gear.

2:15 p.m. Sign my first born child to the credit card company. Ha. Too bad they didn’t read the 6:30 am entry. Suckas.

3:15 p.m. Finish Nachos at the Sports Column by the stadium. Maybe life is worth blogging about. Head to my hotel to start.

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