Steve Happening.

You all know that Steve happens. But, have you ever wondered what was happening right this very second? Well, now you'll know. Introducing Steve Happening. Real-time broadcast of Steve, well, happening.

Yes, it's boring. Yes, it's creepy. Yes, you will feel less intelligent for tuning it.

But hey, what can I say?

More advertising show and tell.

Here are a couple new commercials for your viewing pleasure.



And this one was aired during the NCAA March Madness.

Arena rock in a venue much smaller than an arena.

This past weekend, I treated myself to what was probably the most explosive and energetic music performance I have ever seen. Metallica took a break from their big arena tour to play an intimate venue in Austin at this year's SXSW. And I was front and center to take the audible beating. I managed to grab a few decent snaps amidst the chaos and carnage.





After the dust had cleared and the war was over I reached down to check my phone. Nothing. It was gone! Oh no. Somehow in the hysteria of the moment my phone separated itself from it's rightful owner. In a panic, I began scouring the dirt floor. It was littered with plastic cups and debris. But no phone.

There was no way a Blackberry could've survived the trampling of 2000 Metallica fans. As the floor cleared out and even remnants of the phone were nowhere to be found, reality set in. My phone was gone.

All my contacts. Gone.

But I couldn't give up. I ran up to the stage and quickly asked the MC to announce that I had lost my phone.

MC: Hey, this stupid bald guy up here lost his phone. Anybody have it?"

Awesome. Thanks.

Unfortunately, no one responded. That was it. I had to live with the reality. I lost my phone. Oh well, worse things have happened, right? So I set off into the Austin night air to hail a cab to take me to my friend's house where I was staying for the night. One pulled over and I got in.

CABBY: Where to?

ME: 2202 Garden Street.

CABBY: Where is that?

ME: I don't know.

CABBY: Well can you call someone?

ME: Crud. No, I lost my phone.

CABBY: Well, out you go.

Strike one. For the next hour and a half I failed to get a taxi to take me into this residential area. I even offered to pay double. No dice. As the night grew older, I began to realize something.

Holy crap. I'm lost. Lost in Texas. I'm 31 years old and completely lost in Texas. I have no way of getting ahold of my friend. He can't get ahold of me. I can't look him up.

Then I got an idea. I went into a hotel and asked the clerk if he wouldn't mind printing me off a google map from the hotel to my friend's house. No dice. I tried another hotel. Again, because I wasn't a guest they wouldn't help me. Finally, a nice chap at the Hilton printed me off a map. Perfect, now I just need to find a cab that will take me to residential and then I'll use this map.

About an hour later I succumbed to the reality that the cabs in Austin completely blow and that I was probably going to have to sleep in the park. The SXSW crowds were dissipating into the night air. Oh well, I guess I have no choice but to walk. I stepped into a corner store and purchased me a gatorade and begin my journey.

I felt a little like Red Riding Hood walking through the scary forest on her way to grandma's. Only, this scary forest was lined with shady bars and mexican dives. The street was lit just enough for hoodlums to identify me as an out of towner, clutching a google map. Oh great. I'm going to die. I'm going to die in Texas. I'm going to get jumped and kicked in the neck with cowboy boots. Great. Just great. Stupid lost phone! Why! Why! Family, I love you!

Before too long I found myself not but a block away from my friend's house. I had made it. Unharmed and un-killed. Just then I felt something mushy under my foot. My stepping on it released a fowl odor into the air. I looked down. Oh great, a dead cat. Stupid lost phone!

Once I arrived I relayed my night's adventures to my friend. And before retiring I thought I would make one last effort to call my phone. This time, however, somebody answered!

GUY: Hello.

ME: Hello!

GUY: Who's phone is this?

ME: It's mine! Oh thank you heaven, it's mine!

He then explained to me that if I could get down to where he was in the next ten minutes he would wait and give me back my phone. My buddy and I jumped in his car and drove like the wind. We found the guy and he returned my phone. Suddenly, the entire night's drama had a happy ending.

I didn't die. I didn't sleep in the park. I didn't have to pay for a new phone.

I must say, looking back, the whole thing was rather heroic.

Update.

Just a quick update to let you know that the Lululemon items mentioned below have already been returned and exchanged for other items.

This is what happens when subtle hints materialize.

Subtle hints.

My much better half has never been known for her sense of subtly. But nevertheless, that doesn't stop her from trying. I've been on the road for a few weeks and am in LA for a little while. My hotel just happens to be a few blocks from the Santa Monica Lulu Lemon store. Last night the light on my phone started blinking, informing me that I have an incoming message. I look. Woo hoo, it's from Hailey! I open it up expecting something sweet like "I love you" or "I miss you."

Nope. Just a link. This link.

Karma.

The emotions displayed in the post below were quickly replaced as I was invited to fly in a private jet back to LA. Leather seats. Fresh fruit plates. Gold seat belts. Filet Mignon. All at 43,000 feet.

Yes, I tasted the good life. And now I shall never return to Economy Plus again.

My letter to United Airlines.

Dear Important People at United Airlines,

Hi. My name is Steve. And first of all, I'd like to say that I like your airline. And by like I mean, I'm too far down the road with your miles program to switch to anybody else. But suffice it to say, I'd probably hang out with you if we were neighbors.

Moving on.

Yesterday you intended to whisk me along the friendly skies from Los Angeles, CA to Raleigh, NC. It was going to be magical. I was going to properly stow my carry-on luggage and you were going to thrice offer me a ginger ale and once a snack box for $9.99. Correct change appreciated.

Total travel time about five and a half hours.

At 7:55AM I boarded your 767 and promptly settled into 24A. I plugged my white ear buds into your arm rest and tuned in to channel 2. Yes, I realize this is the Top 40/hip hop/rap station. What? What's the big deal? Can't I have a guilty pleasure that I indulge in only when inflight? Look, stop it. Stop looking at me that way. I can see the way you're reading this. This is my letter to you. So back off. But seriously, why is every rap song about "making love in a club with a thug"?

Moving on.

I cracked open a book (Adrift. A thrilling tale of a man left to survive among the open seas.) and settled in. It was at this point that I was informed by one of your pilots that, due to mechanical issues, we were going to be delayed. But hey, that's okay because the East coast was getting blasted with bad weather and we would probably end up being delayed in the air anyway. Pretty good justification. I bought it.

One hour later.

The mechanics (your best mechanics, by the way) were still trying to resolve the problem. But rest assured, we'd be on our way soon. No worries. I'm a cool guy like that. Cool as a cucumber.

Two hours later.

Still working on the problem. At this point I started to get the bum cramps. You know, when your butt starts to hurt from sitting in your incredibly comfortable seats. You should know, you can find very temporary relief by shifting cheeks. But when you only have two to choose from, your options for relief get very limited very quickly.

Three hours later.

Okay, seriously? I was trying to maintain my cool level of cool levelheadedness. But I was weakening by the second. Meanwhile, the guy from my book, Stephen Callahan, had already gotten rescued. Seventy six days at sea and he was rescued. Meanwhile, I remained trapped. Finally. Finally we pushed back and headed toward the runway. Sorry, I mean taxied. We taxied toward the runway. I know how you guys are about your lingo. And I respect that. I can get behind that.

Just before we were to take off, there was a radio problem. So we sat there. Again. Fortunately, this issue was resolved relatively quickly and we were on our way.

Once in flight, you offered me a screening of The Express. I didn't know it was possible to make another movie about racial segregation confronted and conquered through collegiate football. But someone did. And you blessed me with it. Then we landed in Washington DC and you blessed me with something else. A cancelled connecting flight.

Fortunately, I was able to book myself on another one of your connecting flights from the other airport in DC. I had just enough time to catch a car over and get onboard. I arrived in the nick of time. Oh, wait. I mean, I thought I arrived just in the nick of time. You see, that flight got delayed five hours. Scheduled now to leave at 1:40AM.

Oh well. At least I'll get to Raleigh in time for my TV shoot the following day. Hey, guess what! After sitting in the airport for three hours, you cancelled that flight too.

I scrambled down the hall to see if you had any other options for me. You can imagine my utter elation when your virtually animatronic customer service representative informed me in the affirmative. After listening to her ridiculously long and ridiculously fake fingernails tap ferociously on the keyboard, she handed me a ticket. Somehow, this flight was leaving at 12:45AM.

Hey, now we're talking! Now I'm saving time. Woo hoo!

With my new boarding pass in hand, I settled down in the terminal and waited for the magic moment when I would actually get on a plane, take flight, land and then crawl into my hotel bed. While I waited, the entire airport cleared out. In fact, some workers showed up and started painting the halls.

12:45AM came and went. But, on the bright side, I learned a few dirty jokes from the painters. So hey, I have that going for me. Which is nice.

1:40AM. Your representative told me to take an escalator down, hang a left and walk directly out a door into the frigid night air to board my flight. What she didn't say, however, was that I wouldn't directly board my flight. Instead, I would walk out and get on a bus. She also failed to inform me that the bus would be turned off and completely frozen. And that it would have its doors wide open the entire time. After about 30 minutes of shivering the enamel off of my teeth, your bus took me out to a small airplane.

That plane ride was excellent actually. I couldn't be more complimentary. Up and down. Just like that.

Eventually, I walked into my hotel room. I collapsed onto my bed, too tired to even remove my clothing. What was supposed to be a simple five hour day of travel turned into....wait for it...wait for it..18 hours of sheer bliss and awesomeness. So thank you for those 18 hours, United. I shall forever cherish them.

PS: Thanks for making everything right by offering me a complimentary granola bar. No, seriously. How did you know cinnamon is my favorite? Loves!