Up at 8, chill, shower, pack, check email, and head out. Grab a cab to the airport, jump in the rental car and head south.
Don't have any CD's to listen to, so I bounce around the radio dial for 5 hours. All this does is remind me of why I never listen to the damn radio and haven't since the mid-70's. It's just godawful.
Hit the Louisville airport around 4:30, turn in the car and grab a cab to the hotel. Check in, drop my stuff and head out to see what's here. Find a cool little area just around the corner and wind up at The Pub, one of thousands of pseudo-British pubs in America. None that I've ever been to have been remotely similar to the real thing, but as in most cases, they'll do.
They've got Boddington's on draft (the "Cream of Manchester"), so I slap back a couple of those babies at a table outside while watching the human river flow past.
A couple of the players spot me (Spyda and Helicopter) as they're walking down the street and come over to join for a while. A few minutes later, there's a crowd of 20 people surrounding us, getting autographs from the guys and getting their pictures taken with them. When that's all done, the guys split, and Scott Cameron (the tour's skydiving nut, who's a pretty cool guy, except I can't figure why on earth he likes to JUMP out of a perfectly good airplane…) drops in on me. A few more beers, then we both have dinner. He manages to talk our waitress into going skydiving with him tomorrow morning.
Around 10:30, I head on back.