Omaha boys (you know who you are) will enjoy this...

This was written immediately after I got home, obviously over two years ago, so...

Cancun or Ohama? That was the question.

In the fall, when the leaves were still orange, Senor Frogs wasn't hoppin', and long before the rolling hills of Nebraska echoed with cheers for "HUSKER! POWER!" Chris Lowe and I had a decision to make.

Not known for being hardcore partiers, Lowe and I quickly dismissed the notion of traveling to Cancun, where the beer flows like wine and the women flock like the salmon of Capistrano. Instead, we opted for Nebraska, where the Cokes flow like wine and thousands of sleepless cornheaded Husker fans flock to the General Admission hill like sheep.

After months of waiting, wondering, talking, planning, waiting, planning, ordering, canceling, wondering and inviting, this dream of a senior trip became a reality when the Fed-Ex man brought me my shrink-wrapped, overnight-shipped book of College World Series tickets. I remain amazed that I had to pay $15 to have these Fed-Exed to me. By comparison, I could've had 15 double cheeseburgers at McDonald's and got my tickets in two weeks like everyone else. But no, convenience is very important to me.

Now when Lowe and I sat down to carefully discuss and plan this trip (Read: When Lowe and I made passing remarks about the trip while playing MYP on the Ps2) it was decided that only a select, elite group would be invited to the Land of Corn. Our master plans were foiled, however, when Edward, despite our finger-over-mouth, dont'-say-anything gesture, loudly asked, "So who all's goin to Omaha?"

Good question. The terrific three, as decided on by me and Lowe, were Shaw, McLaughlin, and Clay. Five, we thought, was a solid number. Just enough to ride uncomfortably in an Expedition and for some unlucky soul to have to sleep on the floor.

It was all final. Hotels were booked. Vehicles were confirmed. Heck, even Clay was in.

Then Will spoke up. He claimed to have been in the initial group along with Tice, and refused to accept despite illness and near death, watching the CWS in ESPNHD.

This became a problem. Sure, Joshua marched around Jericho seven times and the greatest switch-hitter of all time, Mickey Mantle, sported the big 7, but there was absolutely no way seven people were going in one car twelve hours to Omaha.

Now, you've heard of addition by subtraction, but have you ever heard of subtraction by addition? Here's how it works: to rid ourselves of the bumming ways of Will and Austin, we invited more pilgrims on our cross-country trek. Well-behaved and good-natured buddies Ben Scott and Weston Langdon were invited to join the seven, giving us nine, the exact number of companions in the Fellowship of the Ring. By adding a tenth, initial recruit Edward Porter, we formed the "Fellowship of the PING."

Day One

Our experience of a lifetime would begin precisely at the beginning of Day One, the very stroke of midnight, when we began packing Lowe's Expedition, collecting gas and parking money, and taking our BEFORE Omaha picture.

When Group Two arrived at 1, late, as usual, and without the bed-ridden Cripps, we finally set out for Barbecueville, or, so we had heard. Lowe was behind the wheel, while I rode shotgun, as we held the coveted all-night driving shift. Shaw and Clay, obviously energized about the journey, stayed conscious and we laughed the night away. McLaughlin was asleep before we put the keys in the ignition.