A BROto Experience in Jacksonville. Part 2

While watching the 450 main in the press box with the interns, a group of kids probably around 18 came and sat down next to us. While my relentless focus stayed on the race, I did overhear these kids offering their crackerjack commentary. The question "How many laps is this?" and the reply "I don't know" were a recurring theme in the witty back and forth amongst this BRO show. What the fuck, bro? Clearly, Joey and the Novices were more concerned with the Monster Pit Party than the race, and since that had ended hours before, their razor thin attention spans had moved far beyond the stadium and on to which Metal Mulisha shirt they'd be wearing at the after party. If you want to piss me off, universe, then sticking people like that with VIP passes is one efficient way to do it. I can name dozens of people there that were relegated to the stadium or not even as far that actually know what supercross is, and these fucks are sitting in an air conditioned press box next to some legitimate industry moguls.Throw  a few people in the stadium that actually thought the race would be canceled with Stewart down and out, and I was ready to leave Jacksonville and light a match next to a few gas stations on my way out. Once again, I know that more mainstream attention means more cash, but it will never stop upsetting me to see people like that at the races. If there are going to be contests for VIP box passes, a questionnaire should go along with it and if you fail to answer each question, you are out like a fat kid in dodgeball. No questions.

Many of you might have seen fliers posted around the motonet for my biggest supportee BMayzee's debut for the public eye, and goddamn if I wasn't going to check that party out. There was no fucking way that Eazy would be dropping cash for a cover, so I just figured that showing up fashionably very late would allow me to hop in to the bar that would be undoubtedly desperate for customers. Drunk people have less inclination to dislike terrible music, so they would need people buying Four Lokos by the case.  But unfortunately everyone lost. As we rolled into the club, which happened to be in a pristine shopping plaza location (I think annexed to Bed Bath and Beyond or something), no one was to be found. The party had reportedly been shut down for lack of attendance, and I was forced to not listen to BMayzee's hottest joint from his debut album, Half Man, Half Honda. Needless to say, I was more upset than an malnourished stomach after a Baconator with a side of Ex-Lax. Like, whoa, BRO. If Half Man, Half Honda is wrong, I don't want to be right. Unfortunately for Mayzee, he would then fail to get in to the bar that everyone actually went to. He was forced to sit outside and rap for pennies while his hip-hop career went from shit to SHIT. True story, look it up.