Stairway to Sevenburgh

It appears as though my planning skills leave a lot to be desired, as the Black and Gold are scheduled to compete for the Lombardi trophy while I'm thousands of miles away.  Dumb.  Had I known Big Play Willie Gay was finally going to do something worthwhile and propel my beloved Men of Steel to the Super Bowl, I probably would have pushed my departure date back a few weeks.  In fact, I have already been toying with the notion of making an unplanned pit stop back in the Burgh to take in the game amongst a bunch of Iron City swilling yinzers.  But I just so happen to be the most indecisive bastard on the planet so I'll most likely just go back and forth a million times and never really commit to anything.  That being said, I'll most likely be watching the action from a quaint beach bar in Kauai.  There are worse things, I suppose.  I will have my Terrible Towel in hand for the duration, as I did during yesterday's game.  I went to a bar in town called The Shack.  I got there around 9:30am to ensure I got a seat at the bar before the games began.  No worries on that front as I was the second person to show up.  The first was a Navy officer/Packers fan who was still drunk from the night before.  So he, naturally, was my new best friend.  After his Packers won, it was time for the main event.  Right before kickoff, I was joined at the bar by Tim, an Army man and avid Steeler fan.  We talked shop and spent the next 3 hours high-fiving, heckling Jets fans (who had all disappeared by halftime), and basking in championship glory.  Here's a picture of me, Timmy, and Timmy's super excited buddy whose name escapes me right now:

Hahahaha, buddy's face kills me.  He wasn't nearly as miserable in real life. 

The bartender at The Shack was clad in a pretty nice Bradshaw jersey which I thought was cool...until he started cheering for Jets.  Tim was outraged and questioned his loyalty.  Turns out his dad was from Pittsburgh and had gotten him the jersey, but he doesn't care about the Steelers.  Blasphemy, we told him.  He couldn't argue and as penance for his tomfoolery, agreed to give me the jersey if I stuck around til his shift was over at 7.  So you bet your sweet ass I did just that.  Tim and his buddy couldn't hang so they left to go clubbing or something (but not before paying my tab which was incredibly awesome considering Miller Lite drafts were $4 and I had enjoyed more than a few). I was slightly drunk on beer and severely drunk on happiness by the time 7 rolled around so as soon as barkeep handed me the jersey, I put it on and took to the streets.  Lots of random strangers congratulated me.  I high fived all of them.  Then I realized I had no idea where I was....but by some wild stroke of luck, I had wandered into the Rodeo Drive-like section of Waikiki.  Gucci to my left, Prada to my right, and me smack dab in the middle of it all with my homeless person hat and oversized Terry Bradshaw jersey.  It was awesome.

I told the Japanese lady who took this picture that if it ain't steel, it ain't real.  Too bad she didn't speak English. 

So Championship Sunday was a definite success.  I met lots of fun people with Pittsburgh ties including a nice couple from Penn Hills and a crazy idiot from Greensburg who bought me 2 shots and a beer within 5 minutes of meeting me.  So suffice to say, Steeler Nation is alive and kickin over here.  As if you expected anything less.

Ok that's about all I got for now.  Planning on checking out Pearl Harbor tomorrow and perhaps making a stop in Chinatown to scope the scene there.  Or I might just lay on the beach all day.  It's anyone's guess at this point...