I prefer XXL, actually

It was an interesting and fun weekend amid the Super Bowl XL hoopla around town. The Motown Winter Blast was a total success, or so it seemed. Kerry and I went on Friday night, got killer, free parking and ended up having quite a time. It was very festival-like down there. I had heard more than one person compare it to a Mardi Gras-like environment. It was almost surreal, to be walking along Woodward, south of Grand Circus Park, on a Friday night, and see masses of people whooping it up, coming in and out of bars, lines of people ambling down the usually empty or not running People Mover stations, and a sense of mirth nearly leviathan in scope.

Overheard more than once were folks saying things like “It should be like this every weekend.” Yes, it should people, but sadly, it won’t, at least not for now. Check back in August, during the jazz festival, where they close off Woodward from Hart Plaza to Campus Martius, and line the street with food booths and musicians. I bet turnout for that will be impressive, seeing as how so many locals were downtown over the weekend, having themselves a good time in the middle of winter. Put out some good music and 70-degree temps and I bet the place will be packed. Still though, we had a lot of fun. The crowds were great, dominated mainly by Steelers fans. The game didn’t mean as much to me as what national and local media were saying about the city, and it seems that most of it was glowing and positive. And locally, most people appeared to behave themselves. However, the Chicken can go no further without extended condolences to the family of the 24-year-old woman shot to death early Sunday morning outside of Mavericks. Reportedly, police said in the Freep that the shooting was a result of a “bumping incident.” Somebody bumped into the wrong dude and got shot for it. No, that’s not fucked up or anything. That, and I think I read somewhere that a homeless guy was stabbed to death over the weekend. I really thought that something twisted would happen in the days leading up to the Super Bowl, like some out-of-towners were gunned down coming out of a hotel, but security all around downtown was tight, or so it seemed. But again, it was weird and exciting to see downtown lit up like that.

We were having so much fun, my pants started to glow.

And I’m sorry, but this was too good to pass up.

Oh, and I snapped this for my boy Thurston. This kid was in front of us and I actually asked him to hold still so I could get a picture of his jacket. “I have a friend of mine named Thurston,” I told him. And I do.

I didn’t take up many freebies, save for The Rooster getting us into the Sports Illustrated Super Swimsuit Party Saturday night at The Emerald Theater. Sadly, it was a HUGE disappointment. We got corralled into a red carpet media area where he waited for nearly an hour and a half before being let into the party, which is all we wanted to do in the first place. For 90 minutes on that red carpet, it was nothing but local losers and no names. A Detroit Lion came through, as did convicted rapist and former Macomb County Sheriff William Hackel. Some swimsuit models showed up eventually, which was ultimately good for the eyeballs.

Whatevs. The big hype of the night was that asshole wigger/whapper/neo-country bullshit opportunist Bob Ritchie, oh wait, sorry, Kid Rock. He was slated to play at midnight and he eventually showed up, as did that hanger-on/minion buddy of his, Uncle Kracker. We could’ve stayed for that concert, but we got in, had a couple of quick pops and got the fuck out. Forget that guy and his shitty music. That, and it was a total cock festival in there. Nothing but guys. Ball Soup. Pecker Party. It was billed as one of the biggest parties in town, but when you’re throwing down your gig in a snowstorm, 30 minutes away from downtown and on the same night as Maxim and Penthouse are having their parties, you’re probably shit out of luck. And we were. It was packed in this place and they had the stage open for dancing, including this aspiring prostitute. Oop, wait, sorry about that, she’s probably majoring in marketing or some shit.

Turnout, from a celebrity standpoint, was kind of sparse. There were the abovementioned “musicians,” as well as former NFL QB Mark Rypien, Darryl McDaniels of RUN-DMC, Eli Manning and Hall of Famer Lynn Swann, who is running for the Republican governor seat of Pennsylvania. So, I guess, he can fuck off. And that pretty much was it, which is disappointing considering that the list of invited guests included the following: Cedric the Entertainer, Terrell Owens, Reggie Bush (Heisman Trophy winner), Matt Leinart (another Heisman winner), Vince Young, Clinton Portis, Warrick Dunn, Carnell Williams (NFL Rookie of The Year), Edgerrin James, Curtis Marttin, Jerry Rice, Evander Holyfield, Lennox Lewis, Brandi Chastain and about a dozen other jocks.

I’m not complaining by any means. I wasn’t there to see any of those people or talk to them or interview them or get my picture taken with them. I managed some fun out of it, enjoying some quality time with my friend, The Rooster.

Now, the game is over and everyone is leaving, we’ll see how clean the sides of the freeways and downtown stays. They’ll usher in all of the homeless people they swept off the streets for the weekend and I’m sure downtown will go back to the dull roar it was before Super Bowl madness ensued. But make little mistake, a Friday or Saturday night in downtown Detroit is a lot livelier than it was, say, five years ago. There is more to do, more people actually living down there and a general sense of interest/pride in the city, which can only be encouraging, no matter where you live in metro Detroit.