Closest Indian Casino To My Location - chismecalientito.com

Ok, forgive the formatting. This was originally a greentext post for all the /b/tards at 4chan. It's also a long read but if you can get past that then it is actually a quite interesting story that happened to me years ago.
be 22 active duty air force assigned to Nellis in Las Vegas not disclosing job, but no stranger to weapons and tactics get pulled in to supervisor's office one day told I've just been "voluntold" to participate in a training exercise with DOD no other information given other than reporting instructions pretty much any question I asked was answered with "I have no fucking idea " report to conference room at base hotel next morning per instruction see about 12 other guys from my unit also voluntold to be there five guys enter room in civilian clothes introduce themselves as the "WHITEBOX" Group Assume it's an acronym for something, but never explained told we will be upgrading our security clearances hours of paperwork, only told we are participating in a force on force exercise released back to our unit crack jokes about how the exercise is a lie and we will be experimented on return to regular job and time passes eventually assume that it was canceled and forget the whole thing
about 2 months later supervisor pulls me aside and tells me that I need to report to a briefing the next day says it’s about "some WHITEBOX exercise" has no idea what it is and doesn't seem to care. once again report to base hotel with the other 12 guys WHITEBOX guys show up and pick us up in a van driven off base to some random office building and escorted into the offices of the Department of Energy, WTF? mystery only deepens, what the fuck is happening? what if this actually is some evil experimental shit more hours of paperwork and security/safety briefings by random suits had to fill out and sign a non-disclosure agreement and that threatened arrest if violated required to turn in cell phones and any other electronic devices in our possession our cell phones get locked in a cabinet while the office phone in the room gets unplugged WHITEBOX guys finally return and fire up a power point briefing first slide just titled WHITBOX Exercise 0X slide also labeled in bold red letters "CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET / NOFORN / ORCON this is really starting to feel serious
WHITEBOX Exercise finally explained told that for the next two weeks we will be role playing as OPFOR (opposing forces) we will try to attack and penetrate a DOD facility and carry out a simulated act of sabotage facility is protected by a contracted privately owned security force security group is required by the DOD to carry out this exercise in order to audit their protection every couple of years if we succeed, security company fails the audit and looses the contract the exercise is the conclusion of a two week inspection of the security contractors and their procedures every exercise a random military unit is chosen as OPFOR "reminded that we are silent professionals and that this isn’t something we should be advertising shaving wavers granted and civilian attire only FUCKYEAH.jpg power point scrolls to a page with a google earth screenshot on it instantly recognize the picture it's Area 51 holyfuckingshit.exe are we are being told to break into Area 51? can't be real random unit bro pipes up out of nowhere "Is that fucking Area 51?" we are all fucking stoked later told not to call it Area 51 as that just makes you a total chode Groom Lake, Paradise Ranch, or Homey Airbase are the acceptable names many insiders simply refer to it as “The Base” also reminded of the possible legal action via UCMJ if we go around telling everyone about it One of the WHITEBOX guys is now our designated "insider threat" exercise is designed to simulate that someone inside has been comprised by a foreign government he will provide any information that we ask for that he has knowledge of or access to other WHITEBOX guys handle will handle exercise logistics they will provide any weapons or equipment that we request to carry out mission "within reason" told this is not a COD loadout screen
ground rules established... will only be provided with weapons that we are certified to carry weapons will be armed with blank rounds or completely empty also no vehicles will be utilized by us within the DOD property landmarkers simulating road chases are not authorized our insertion is simulated so we will already be escorted/processed through various checkpoints and dropped off near the base no impractical equipment requests, so no tanks, helos, surveillance drones, or scud missiles, lol any explosives we intend to simulate will be assessed by WHITEBOX so if we want to blow the perimeter fences we will tell them before hand, they will calculate the weight of the bang we would need, it would be simulated by rocks, and then someone would need to hump the weight number 1 rule established and stressed with a very serious tone we will be escorted by WHITEBOX evaluators at all times within the DOD landmarkers at no point are any of us authorized to be alone in the facility actual security is not laxed because of the exercise, nor is this a free pass to roam security personnel can still use real force in the event that we deviate from the established protocols shown various pictures within the airbase that most will never get to see a specific hangar is designated as our target building. we will need to gain access to that hangar and carry out an act of sabotage for our sabotage we will need to ///REDACTED/// obviously we won't be doing it for real so we will actually need complete a random task inside the hangar task will be designed to be as complex and time consuming as the real thing all while being hunted by the security force insider threat briefing continues, various elements of the base security procedures and day to day operations explained however, get the impression that the chosen source is someone with a generic admin position and is not actually involved with security we are also encouraged to do our own research and scour the interwebz for info about the base told to supply the URLs to WHITEBOX if we find anything of interest. sorry if we got your Alex Jones or Art Bell conspiracy blogs taken offline briefing finally concludes, we are reminded of our non-disclosure policy and taken back to Nellis and dismissed for the day
next day we all meet at Creech Air Force Base in Indian Springs, Nevada we will be using this location to build our plan of attack and do rehearsals/dry runs it's actually pretty cool because it's on us to plan our op, just a bunch of random Airmen periodically grill our insider with questions and start asking our other WHITEBOX guys for gear we tried to have our insider take pictures of the interior of our target hangar, but he got caught IRL he would be arrested and interrogated by the feds, and the whole op would be dead instead though the guys that caught him received kudos from the inspectors, and he just tells us nope have to rely on a whiteboard sketch of the inside decide to keep it simple, M4 riffles only however I am certified on the Barret M82 .50 cal. we decide that I will carry that heavy mother fucker as well as an M4 and provide overwatch from the distance kind of bummed out because im not going inside it will be on me to neutralize certain security positions that we have previous identified we remind our WHITEBOX guys that the M82 is an anti-material weapon with the ability to disable vehicles they tell us that I will just need to call my shots to the evaluator that I will be partnered with he will radio to the vehicles that they are destroyed and will need to stop driving guess I should mention that is also part of the disadvantage we have we will all be paired with WHITEBOX evaluators who will sort of act as referees during this simulated battle however they will all be wearing bright orange reflective vest identifying them as exercise officials that really fucks our ability to stay hidden and stealthy, but it is what it is also should mention that this is a daytime raid despite our objections sounds like they are setting us up for failure, but they remind us not to think of it like that this is all being done just so the evaluators can get a good look at the security's incident response procedures it's not an unannounced drill, the military doesn't really like to do that kind of thing especially with large scale exercises such as this everyone on the base know we are coming, there's no element of surprise here except with what kind of attack we prep it would be a real hot clusterfuck if the security contractors failed the audit heads would roll, people would get fired, and numerous officers would be relieved of command I still get to attack Area 51 so don't care as this is the coolest thing I've done in the military
our plan is starting to come together over the days decide to sacrifice one of us in a suicide bomb attack figure out which of us is the most "FNG" or lowest ranking and make him do it he will approach one of the ECPs (entry points to the base) on foot wearing a rucksack loaded with rocks (make-believe explosives) he will be wearing a uniform and will identify himself as Air Force and will franticly yell that he needs help we don't anticipate that he will make it that far or that the security will actually swallow this ruse however his goal is to get as close as he can to the ECP and yell allah ackbar and release his dead man's switch and try to take out what he can his evaluatoescort will drop a GBS (ground burst simulator) when he detonates GBS is a little miniature explosive device that just makes a really loud boom anyone who’s been through any type of military training is familiar with them, they are used to add stress and create excitement we are hoping this will be a distraction and will get as much security as possible to converge on that location the rest of us will assault from the other side of the base and try to breach the perimeter several of us will also be rucking explosive rocks for the breach chose a breach point that will have us crossing only a minimal portion of the flightline (place where aircraft operate) if we successfully simulate breaching the perimeter the exercise will be paused and we will be inprocessed through the ECP and brought into the base exercise will resume and we will continue to assault towards the target hangar I will stay outside in my sniper position and try to smoke what I can inside the hangar the team will cover the doors with simulated claymores and take up cover two guys will carry out the simulated sabotage act while the rest cover the doors WHITEBOX doesn't have any inert claymores to provide so the will be simulated with small weighted ammo cans the weight is really starting to become problematic so we abandon the claymores and decide to just cover the doors with firepower would really help if we had a vehicle, but not happening to be fair, vehicles wouldn't make it that close to the base if they tried to attack IRL armored or not
week one down, plan looking solid considering how much of our attack is simulated two weeks of planning is actually excessive not complaining though cause two weeks of hanging out and smoking and joking compared to normal work at Nellis only downside is the hour drive back and forth each day to Creech AFB casino right outside that base with awesome steak and eggs so not too bad though one of the WHITEBOX guys tells us he's actually employed by the Department of Energy he doesn't actually work at Groom Lake, he works at the Nevada Test Range the massive amount of Nevada landscape that is restricted and owned by the feds is actually impressive contrary to popular myth there is road access to Groom Lake via the adjacent test range, but not too many people actually make that drive. the 737 shuttle from McCarran Airport is how everyone gets there since the drive is long as fuck the main paved road through Rachel Nevada that all the tourist flock to doesn't really have any operational use anymore allegedly we will be driving there through the test range via a convoluted series of paved and dirt roads route is CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET, not kidding
DOE dude gives us a tour of the test range one day load cases of water in back of van drive to Mercury Nevada and stop at checkpoint inprocessed inside, get pictures taken and issued escorted visitor passes also required to wear radiation badges once inside get to see all that shit from The Hills Have Eyes, fake towns that were blown up with atomic bombs not as intact as they are portrayed in films though, they are pretty rekt or deconstructed show us a massive crater called the Sedan Crater in the 50's they experimented with using atomic bombs for mass excavation projects hoping they could just nuke the ground and build shit instead of fucking around with bulldozers pretty stupid and impractical but they didn't know any better back then they buried an atomic bomb a half a mile underground and blew it up Sedan Crater left behind as a result and the fucking thing is huge. they allegedly herded cattle down to the bottom of the crater afterwards to test the post fallout effects pretty fuckin savage, and it was actually stunning to look at two hour drive to Groom Lake though endless desert roads now see why we loaded the water, we’d be pretty fucked if the van broke down or got stuck get first distant look at the base without having to enter their checkpoints holyshit.mp4 very few people get to actually see what we are seeing to be honest though, looks like any other air force base I've ever seen except smaller besides the obvious fact that it is in the middle of bum fuck nowhere and its main runway is long as fuck also realize one of the reasons they didn't want us operating vehicles most roads are dirt and the entire lake bed is surrounded by "moon dust" everywhere moon dust is the ultra-fine sand found in certain parts of the desert with the consistency of flour it's also a total bitch to drive in and the security patrols getting stuck is a somewhat frequent occurrence told that they even have some of the AAFES fast food joints there that you find on any other base imagine working at a Burger King that you need a Top Secret security clearance for, how the fuck does that work??? noticed that despite being authorized to be here, we are still being watched by distant security patrols wonder if they know we are the bad guys that are going to be attacking the joint make some minor adjustments to the plan since the google earth pictures lack some detail conclude tour and take the 3 to 4 hour drive back home, most of us slept in the van
arrive at Creech next day and see that more WHITEBOX guys have been added to the mix, now there's like 20 of them for the past two weeks they have been inspecting the security contractors and its procedures you can tell a lot of them are ex-military based off of language and the people that are dipping and spiting in empty water bottles the mood is light, all of the exercise planning is finished, nothing to do the last two days we managed to borrow an empty hangar at Creech and used it as a mockup of our target hangar to run rehearsals no longer asking our insider questions about security, instead start asking completely ridiculous questions about conspiracies for lulz accuse some of them of being reptilians to see how they react, some of them get legit uncomfortable before you go sounding off, doubt they are hiding anything, some folks just don’t get military humor one does, however, and shows us a velcro patch that he wears on his rucksack it's one of those standard patches you spot on a pilot’s flight suit that has the name, rank, branch, and blood type his blood type seriously says reptilian it's obvious that they embrace and poke fun at the reputation this base has, in fact they thrive off of it
the day finally fucking arrives, time to attack this bitch wake up at 0400 and drive an hour to Creech dressed to kill decide to wear DCU "desert combat uniform" pants and a sand t shirt with my personally owned Blackhawk tactical vest to carry spare M4 mags sometimes the military issues some real shitty gear so our unit is somewhat lax and allows us to personally buy our own better equipment if it has command approved use and doesn't break SOPs also wear my empty gas mask pouch attached to my hip and use it to carry spare M82 .50 cal mags also wear a black turban for lulz that I bought off an ANA (Afghani Northern Alliance) dude downrange used to have a guile suite but it got lost on a deployment so that's a no go unfortunately arm up with an M4 with M68 red dot sight and attach a BFA "blank firing adapter" to the muzzle, and load six mags of .556 blanks also provided with my trusty Barret .50 M82 and five mags there is no BFA for the Barret that I'm familiar with so carry that with empty mags, guess I get to cheat with the weight load up in the vans with WHITEBOX team and drive another hour to Mercury get inprosscessed through security checkpoint and receive visitor badges for the test range drive another 2 hour on random roads passing more checkpoints /// REDACTED /// forced to surrender cell phones, personally owned electronic devices and CAC cards (military ID cards) again receive our escorted visitor passes for Groom Lake and now continue down some of the most forbidden roads in American history start unloading as close to our start point as the terrain allows and hump the rest of the distance on foot with our escorts suicide attack bro hangs back in the van with other escorts and is driven to his start point the terrain is favorable and allows us to set up out of sight hence why we chose the spot I break off and try to set up my nest at my chosen OP "observation point" as discreetly as possible not really stealthy cause I'm being followed by a guy wearing an orange reflective vest that says STAN EVAL and he's just casually walking he tells me to set up the Barret, but just simulate your shots by firing the M4 blanks now in a spot where I can observe base activity and provide cover fire for the breach, but I am also the most easy to spot sniper ever now wait for confirmation that our distraction on the other side has happened, taking a real long fucking time
my escort's radio chimes to life and starts talking "attention all WHITEBOX, we now have proper authentication via CASTLE ROCK for initiation of a detachment level exercise" voice on radio proceeds to spit out a long winded exercise safety briefing realize it's been about 40 minutes and we are just now fucking starting another 10 minutes and finally get word that suicide bro is approaching his target escorts all inform us that the security force is responding to reports of an explosion outside of the ECP later find out that suicide bro was stopped and challenged at gun point about 50 meters outside of ECP by a mounted patrol he then just fuck it and started sprinting towards the ECP until they opened fire with blanks and his escort set off the GBS he actually managed to take out the vehicle that stopped him and create several casualties (we gave him the heaviest explosive rocks loadout) overall our distraction was pretty fucking successful give it a another minute or two and finally start shooting and calling my shots to my escort/evaluator he's talking on his radio and relaying my simulated violence, "inform Merc-17 that they are dead from sniper fire" etc... I have predetermined targets to engage based off of what poses the biggest threat to the breach team I actually do some damage and get confirmation of casualties from my escort it's about a 600 meter run to the base perimeter in the open desert so it's on me to try and clear their path as much as I can the plan is to try to lure some security vehicles to our position then eliminate them with the Barret while they are en route the dead vehicles can then serve as points of cover for the breach team as they assault towards the base breach team was also aiming to see if they could snag any security radios from the dead patrols so we can monitor their comms didn't really work out that way however, in the end we simply didn't have all the info about the anticipated security response without giving away too many sensitive details, we all got ambushed by the security from unexpected locations forced to abandon my nest and the Barret to start moving towards another location to back up the breach team that was under fire trade some shots with security until my escort finally announces "ok dude, you're dead. go ahead and lay down" that's it, game over
play dead for about 20 minutes while security cleans up the area breach team gets rekt, we managed to get within 100 meters of the perimeter couple of security dudes approach me and perform a dead combatant body search on me it's a specific type of search designed to search a dead body while also checking for possible explosive booby traps pretend to be dead and let security dudes run my pockets finally one of the evaluators shouts "PauseEx" (pause exercise) we got fucking annihilated, no chance this attack was going to be successful our evaluators tell us that everyone did a great job, HOWEVER.... we are going to continue the exercise because they didn't get the chance to observe much of the internal security components we are going to resume the exercise assuming that we were actually able to get inside that target hangar this will give the evaluators the opportunity to observe the security's recap and recov procedures (re-capture and recovery) we all get magically resurrected from the dead I realize that I am actually going inside Groom Lake! Fucking Awesome...
spend about 15 minutes policing up the area for brass which means wandering around and picking up spent cartridges board vans and get driven around to ECP. realize that only half of the security force is playing in this exercise the rest are still armed with live weapons and are still performing regular protection duties forced to show our visitor passes, names and badge numbers are compared against a master list that the security has /// REDACTED /// /// REDACTED /// notice a homemade sign hanging on the wall at the security center it’s got a picture of an alien with a red X through it that says "no extraterrestrial entities or relics beyond this point" like I said earlier, everyone enjoys the reputation this base has drive to our target hangar, holy fuck! I am now inside Area 51 use of blanks not authorized indoors, everyone is told to clear out weapons rest of the exercise will use simulated firing, the equivalent of pointing your empty weapon at someone and yelling bang sadly not the first time I trained like this, military does it all the time it’s ridiculous and awkward every time, looks like a bunch of kids playing backyard soldiers with sticks security has already reset its posture, they know we are attacking but doesn't know the building we are hitting we all enter the hangar, get the impression that it doesn't actually get used IRL anymore reeks of mildew and no power inside, dust everywhere in the center there is a pickup truck covered with a tarp and roped off with red rope and stanchions, signs posted identifying it as a controlled area told that this is a simulated military asset and this is what we are sabotaging WHITEBOX evaluator pulls a box out of the bed of the truck remember when I said we will have to do a complex and time consuming task to simulate our act of sabotage? it’s a fucking Star Wars Lego kit! I shit you not! evaluators tell us we will need start building it and reach page 12 in the instructions without errors or mistakes kind of wish we went with our earlier plan and brought claymores cause I spotted some sweet chokepoints outside the building to set them up also wish we had the idea of bringing padlocks and chains so we could lock down the hangar and make life more difficult for the security force set up our spots to cover the doors, we are well versed with building clearing tactics so we know what spots to cover to make it hard
WHITEBOX evaluator authenticates over the radio with someone by passing letters and numbers back and forth, process known as sign/countersign voice on radio announces that the detachment level WHITEBOX exercise has resumed showtime! Two unit bros start opening the Lego kit and sorting parts me and the suicide bro weren't supposed to be in this hangar or even on the base to begin with so we don't have points to cover inside come up with idea and ask one of the escorts if we can go out the back on to the flightline plan to walk to two separate buildings in opposite directions and see if we can create distractions evaluators approve the plan, but tell us we can't approach or enter other buildings, nor approach any parked aircraft decide to leave firearms and my tac vest behind for clever reasons if we are unarmed the security will most likely apprehend us, and search us this is more time consuming than just shooting us and will keep them away from the hangar longer exit the back of the hangar on to the flightline and just start casually walking down the tarmac with my escort eventually hear the sound of police sirens in the distance getting louder, hear they come! get the urge to start sprinting but decide not to since it would most likely result in me being tackled on the pavement, fuck that later realize distant sirens are actually responding to hangar after reports of a silent alarm being received so much for the distraction plan
decide not to return to hangar since there is not much I can do unarmed, and continue walking down flightline all the parked aircraft I see are just normal military aircraft, although some do seem to have “enhancements” or cosmetic features that I haven’t seen before ask my escort where they keep all the flying saucers, he smirks and just replies "underground" wonder if there are actually any subterranean levels to this base, suppose a lot of these buildings could support that ask my escort if there are really underground levels, he facetiously says “who knows” white pickup truck with police lights approaching fast pretend not to notice and keep walking voice starts barking at me over a loudspeaker "stop right there! do not move! get your hands up! security mercs climbing out of vehicle with rifles drawn, don't see magazines in the riffles, they are part of the drill they actually try to challenge both of us, escort has to remind them that he is out of play security goons bark at me, "face away from me NOW! keep your hands up!" they are actually pretty intimidating, I comply proceed to have me lay on the ground face down with my arms and legs stretched out yell at me to put my hands in the small of my back, palms together, fingers up big black guy approaches me and actually puts his knee on my neck George Floyd style "don't fight me, don't resist me, or you are gonna get hurt" he says puts me in zip ties and picks me up, see other guards still have weapons drawn on me overall whole thing similar to a gangbanger getting rolled up by the cops black guy puts me in some weird and uncomfortable arm hold tells me to start walking while he steers my body with the arm hold and walks me off the flightline taken to a grassy area, get put back on the ground and searched and questioned /// REDACTED /// I try to bluff and say that the hangar will blow if anyone goes inside, see if that stalls them he tries to question me about it, but I can tell he’s not biting, I decide to tone it down and stay quiet cause the dude really looks like he’s going to fuck me up actually overhear his partner talking on the radio, he’s telling others to exercise caution and beware of possible explosive booby traps lights out, realize that someone put a bag over my head evaluator calls out "EndEX" (end exercise) all portions of the exercise are terminated, it's all over
black security guy cuts my zip ties, takes off the hood and sets me loose later find out that security retook the hangar with no problems my guys inside struggled with the Legos since it was so dark and hard to see instead of immediately going in, security tossed inert CS gas canisters inside none of us brought gas mask since it was something our insider failed to mention evaluator let us build legos for another 30 seconds then yelled “GAS, GAS, GAS” unit bros in the hangar were told to lay on the ground and pretend to be incapacitated security swarmed the place with gas mask and guns, kicked away weapons they got a similar treatment to what I received on the flightline and got hauled out of there we all regroup at the base's main visitor center for the AAR (after action review) overall security responded quite well, only some points were critiqued, nothing failing smoke cigarettes and crack jokes back and forth with the security dudes, finally get to see the human side of the guy who snagged me on the flightline tell him he’s one scary mofo, he smiles and we shake hands security dudes leave, head to base theater for full debrief WHITEBOX guys thank us for our participation, time to head home wait a sec, let’s see some fucking aliens WHITEBOX guy smirks and says he’ll give us the dollar tour another day drive back to Mercury knowing full well that we are not going to hear back from them, especially about a tour return radiation badges to the Mercury office told that if we never hear back from them that it’s a good sign told that if they do call us then our Tricare (military health coverage) will get put to good use whole experience was cool as fuck one of the evaluators hands out business cards for ///REDACTED/// and tells us to look them up when we separate from the military starting pay for the security force is pretty fucking dope and only certain military backgrounds are considered for it return to Indian Springs and hit up the casino for drinks with the original 5 WHITEBOX guys ask if any of the prior OPFOR units actually pulled it off and broke in told that a group of CCT guys from the 24th STS was the closest anyone’s ever gotten but even they still failed makes sense, I’ve heard that those dudes are legit operators tell war stories and get drunk actually receive a letter of appreciation from the Air Force Test Center Detachment 3 from Edwards Air Force Base, California about a month later it thanks me for my participation in an exercise but makes no mention of Groom Lake my participation in a vaguely worded “DOD exercise” actually gets mentioned as a bullet in my annual performance report mfw I attacked Area 51
tldr - me and my coworkers "broke" into Area 51 with automatic weapons so we could put together an X-wing starfighter out of Legos
Thanks for reading. I should mention that I have intentionally withheld a lot of details and even altered a few. I'm not trying to blow up anyone’s spot and compromise shit. Just wanted to share a true story about some cool shit I got to do in my youth. For example WHITEBOX is a completely fabricated name while the whole operation actually went under another random weird name. It still ranks as some of the most cloak and dagger shit I got to do in the military. I actually don’t really tell too many people because it is no one’s business and no one would believe me anyways. I finally figured that enough time has passed and like I said, I have specially tailored this story to avoid leaking any sensitive shit. Overall the base was actually kind of underwhelming. I didn’t really see any earth shattering secrets there. All of the alien and reptilian conspiracy theories were openly mocked and made fun of there. It’s really just a base that gets an extra layer of discreetness and physical security for more sensitive assets and projects to be kept there. The CIA, JSOC and other intel gangs from Washington even have offices out there because it’s just a quiet tucked away place to do business. I will say that their security is no joke and that they have some truly fascinating techniques to detect and deny intruders. Hope you enjoyed.

Yee Naaldlooshi - Skinwalker
by Gunnar Angel Lawrence
Terry noticed the quick blink of the computer screen when the email arrived. It seemed odd, he thought, but then again it was the end of a long day at work and he made the conscious decision to ignore the email until the next day. He eyed Christina as she got up from her desk and stretched. Her long blond hair cascaded over her shoulders and to her back. She looked at him and smiled broadly, it was time to go home. Terry got lost for a moment in her ice blue eyes and looked downward quickly.
“I know there’s a song called, ‘Its Five O Clock somewhere’ but let me make it official, and it’s time to go home.” Terry said with a smile. Christina lifted both arms into the air and gave a celebratory ‘yay’.
“Christina, call Scott up here, tell him we get paid this week, not a lot, but enough to eat for a few days anyway.” She smiled and pushed the intercom button and relayed the message. Terry opened the drawer picked the two checks out and slammed the drawer shut. The computer screen blinked once and Terry noticed that somehow the email had opened. He looked at the first line and swore.
Christina turned and noticed the expression on Terry’s face.
“No! Terry what is it?”
Scott lumbered into the room and knew that something wasn’t right.
“Wh—What’s wrong, guys?” he asked.
Terry sighed and handed them their checks. Then he summarized the email.
“The package we got from Show Low, Arizona, the one for the new casino? There is an issue. An Indian man is claiming it was stolen from an ancient burial site. He is on his way here now from the airport.”
“That’s bullshit! I know I paid for that piece from Andy, he’s a reputable dealer. I’ve bought from him before.” She said.
“I know that Christina, please do me a favor, find the paperwork on that piece and give the dealer a call for me, he is going to be here in less than an hour. Scott hang around, you’re bigger than I am and I might need someone to take out an elderly Indian for me.” Scott grinned and nodded.
Terry’s company found and acquired rare pieces for private collections, hotels, casinos and the occasional museum. The new casino in Miami had asked for interesting Indian décor. Unfortunately, few genuine Indian artifacts were found anymore in Florida that didn’t already have the name of a casino stamped on them. This piece was found in Navajo territory in a backwater community called Show Low.
Terry watched Christina lean against her desk with a sigh, her paperwork in hand. They were all very aware of the financial difficulties their company had been having since the recession started. And they all knew that a delay with the selling of this piece to the casino would mean a delay in cashing their next checks. He cleared his throat and pretended not to watch her stretch again. He knew that she knew that he liked her; there was just never the right moment. It wasn’t too much longer before a truck pulled up to the office. They heard the squeal of the brakes and all three bolted for the door. The delivery driver heaved his overweight frame out of the truck and shoved the small box and a clipboard into Terry’s hands. Terry took the box and signed the form on the clipboard.
The driver, Lenny, nodded with relief.
“Now you can deal with the Chief here, He’s followed me all day.”
Terry glanced over to where he pointed and saw the long white car pull to a stop behind the truck. The man who stepped out could have been in his seventies, but there was a strength about him that was conveyed with swift, firm movements. His bronzed skin seemed to glisten in the humid Florida afternoon. He strode over and waved good bye to the delivery driver who was moving as quick as his girth would allow.
The old man called after the delivery driver.
“Get out of here now sir, it is very important.” Lenny nodded and climbed into his van from the rear.
Terry watched the old man turned and focused on him.
“My name is Ata Halne. I am begging you not to open that package. We need to get inside, before the sun sets, it is coming.”
Terry smiled, “Mr. Halne…
“No! My name is Ata Halne, I don’t have time for explanations out here, we have maybe ten minutes before the sun sets. Get inside now please.”
Terry stared back at Scott and Christina and they appeared to be as confused as he was. All three of them backed into the building and shut the door. Ata Halne reached over, bolted the door and slid the bar lock in place. He turned toward them and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Now, are there any open windows, barred or not, and are there any other entrances to this building?” He moved closer and they backed up. Christina, normally not one to take attitude, especially when she was ready to leave, was not speaking. She was gripping Scott’s hand with enough intensity to cause him to wince.
“Mr. Halne…” Terry started.
“I said my name was Ata Halne, now answer the question.”
“Okay fine. No there are no other doors, no windows on this floor….”
The old man pointed at Scott, “You, go shut the windows on the other floor now.” Scott hesitated, and looked at Terry, who nodded.
“Hey, we paid for that package and we got it from someone who has always been honest with us. What is your beef with this package?” Terry demanded.
The old man lifted his calloused finger and pointed it straight at Terry’s face. Unwavering, he held the finger there and spoke.
“Anasazi.”
II
The word rolled off the man’s tongue with a cold trill. Terry felt a chill shoot through him when he heard it, though he had no idea what the word meant. The old man repeated himself.
“Anasazi. What you have in that package is Anasazi.”
Christina cleared her throat, still hesitant to approach the old man and spoke, “Anasazi, that’s Navajo legend right?”
The old man stared at her, “Funny thing about legends, a lot of them tend to have some element of truth to them. For the Anasazi, even the legend doesn’t cover how evil and how real they are.”
Terry looked at Christina, who had become something of an expert in Indian artifacts in a short time.
“Chris, I’m at a loss here, what is Anasazi?”
She grinned cautiously. “They’re spooks, ghosts, witches; he’s keeping us here for a damn ghost story.”
Ata Halne raised his finger to her and the cautious grin retreated from her face. “You are about to find out how much of a ghost story the Anasazi are.” He turned to Scott who had just returned from upstairs. “Are those windows shut and locked?” Scott nodded.
The old man turned to the door and reached into a small leather pouch hanging from his belt and pulled a white powder from the bag. He tossed the powder against the door with some low chanting.
Terry had finally had enough. “All right, Mr. Halne, whoever you are, we’ve had enough. It’s time you get going.” He walked over to the door and began to pull on the bar lock. And that’s when he noticed the door knob slowly turning.
“It’s here.” Ata Halne muttered.
Maybe it was the cold way in which he spoke; maybe it was just the sight of the door knob turning as he reached to open it. Whatever it was, Terry stopped and backed away from the door. Christina and Scott were behind him and shuffled over to the door. The knock came loudly and insistently, echoing inside the room making it seem as if it had come from seven different directions.
The three of them stood behind Ata Halne, their eyes focused on that twisting, turning knob. A muffled cry came from the other side of the door.
“Terry! Can you come out here please?” they recognized the voice of the delivery driver and Terry laughed slightly.
“Oh shit, Ata, you really had us going there. But seriously it’s time for you to leave. I need to see what he wants.”
Ata Halne lifted his hand and placed it on his shoulder. “If you open that door, he will kill you, your friends and me.”
“It’s just Lenny, he’s an asshole but he isn’t going to kill anyone.” Terry moved toward the door and was stopped again by the Old Man who shook his head.
“Lenny is dead, because he didn’t listen to me. What stands out there now is the Yee Naaldlooshii, a Skinwalker.”
Christina giggled. “So what old man, you’re saying Lenny is a werewolf? Terry, let’s go home.” She gave the old man a look of disbelief and walked over to Terry.
Terry looked at her puzzled.
“The Yee Naaldlooshii, skinwalkers, they are suppose to use Anasazi magic to wear animal skins and become whatever animal they want to. They are early werewolf legends, but they turn into more than just wolves. It’s magic bullshit.”
The old man walked past Christina to the window and pointed outside. “Can you see him, out there, in the shadows, are you sure it is Lenny?”
She moved to the window and nodded, “Yes, Lenny is right there, plain as day. He’s standing next to his truck.”
“And how far is that from the door here?” the old man asked.
Christina shrugged, “About fifteen to twenty feet.”
The old man nodded, “I see, so how is it exactly, that Lenny is turning the door knob on your door from twenty feet away?”
Christina then turned to look at the knob, and back to the figure in the dark. The Indian was right, the knob was still moving. Her face grew pale as she backed away from the window. Terry made his way over to the window and peered outside. The overweight shadowy figure rocked back and forth on his heels in the shadows, and he was indeed too far away to be turning the knob. Terry tried to speak but felt a lump form in his throat.
Seeing he had their attention, the old man said, “Call him closer, but don’t touch the door.”
Christina called out, “Hey Lenny, come on over here.”
‘Lenny’ moved deftly for a fat man and walked briefly into the light that shown from the roof of the building. When ‘Lenny’ looked up, the old man touched Christina’s shoulder. “Look at his eyes.”
She saw “Lenny’s” eyes glow a fierce yellow and gasped. “Lenny” seemed to hear her and stepped back into the shadows swiftly.
Her eyes widened, she looked to the old man.
“When the Yee Naaldlooshii are in human form, their eyes glow at night, like an animals. When they are in animal form, their eyes do not glow like an animals’ should. Like I said, your friend Lenny is dead.”
The tears formed in her eyes quickly as she realized that the old man was telling the truth. Scott was yelling.
“Bullshit, no this is bullshit!” he tore his cap from his head and tossed it to the ground. Terry looked out the window, then back at the old man.
Ata Halne spoke, “If you had told me when I was your age, that I could sit at a desk here in Florida and type something that would be seen in Arizona, or any other part of the world instantly, I would have said it was bullshit. Today, you call it email.”
Terry glanced out the window and addressed Ata Halne. “What the fuck is in that box, old man?”
He opened his mouth to speak and that is when the pounding began. It was as if two massive invisible fists beat the metallic walls. The walls shook with each hit. Christina screamed and ran to Terry. Scott looked up as the pounding escalated, now the roof was being pummeled. The pounding continued as Ata Halne began sprinkling the white powder toward the window.
He turned toward the three and began to speak, hesitated, and started again.
“Short version. The Anasazi control very dark magic, there are very few of them left. The amulet inside that box belonged to a chief among the Anasazi, he was said to have consorted with demons. When he died, his house was burned and his charms were buried on sacred ground. It was buried in a tomb on sacred burial grounds where Anasazi cannot go. When the honest person you bought it from found it, he had no idea what it was. The Skinwalker wants this amulet, to help him consort with demons and gain the power that comes with it.”
Terry shook his head. The pounding suddenly ceased. They stared up briefly and Terry spoke.
“So why didn’t he get it in Arizona? Why wait until it got here?”
“The Skinwalker has no power when the sun is in the sky. The amulet was removed from the protection of the sacred grounds and was on a plane bound for here before the sun fell. A Skinwalker is fast, but cannot keep up with a plane.”
Scott, recovered from his earlier fit, now asked, “So what do we do now?”
The old man leaned in, “Are you sure those windows are shut tight?”
“Shit!” Scott yelled and rushed upstairs.
Terry watched Scott go and faced Ata Halne, “So about his question, what do we do now?”
The old man sighed, “The amulet needs to be returned to sacred ground. It needs to be buried and this,” he reached down into his leather pouch to pull out some white powder, “this needs to be sprinkled on top of the burial place. Preferably, it should be sprinkled in the form of a circle. The Yee Naaldlooshii will not be able to enter sacred ground in Skinwalker form, and will not be able to reach the amulet shielded by the white ash in human form. One more thing, their power they get from fear, the fear you feel now, fuels the Skinwalker outside. Pretty soon, he will be strong enough to get in.”
Scott shook his head. “No, no damn it, we paid for that thing. No shit-face Indian monster is gonna take it. I’m getting the Judge.”
Terry agreed. Scott disappeared into his office and returned a moment later, the massive three inch barrel weapon at his side.
It was Ata Halne’s turn to be confused. “Judge?” he asked.
Terry pointed and explained, “Scott’s judge is a 45 long colt. He’s gonna blast the shit out of your Skinwalker.”
“No weapon will have an effect on the Skinwalker. All he’s going to do is make a hole big enough for it to get in the building. Unless…” he approached Scott who held the Judge in his hand.
“Scott, are those hollow points?” Ata Halne asked. Scott nodded. “Please, let me see them.” Ata Halne asked. Scott looked at Terry and Christina, removed the bullets and handed them to the old man.
The old man packed his white powder into the hollow points and stood them up on the desk next to him. He pulled out a flask and wet the powder in each bullet with the liquid inside.
When he saw the three looking at him, he shrugged, “Whiskey, it will keep the ash from flying out while the bullet travels.”
Terry pointed at the Indian’s pouch, “Ash? What does that do?”
The Indian patted the pouch and handed the bullets back to Scott.
“This ash is the white ash of a sacred tree. The branches of the tree are capable of killing the Yee Naaldlooshi, but only in his human form. Sharpen a branch, pierce the skin. When the Yee Naaldlooshi is strongest in animal form, not even sacred tree can kill him, but the ashes of part of the sacred tree branches can cause it great pain.”
“So, this ash can kill it then?”
The Indian shrugged, “It is possible. I’ve have only heard of one Skinwalker that was successfully hit with a bullet. He was three feet away when the bullet struck him. It didn’t affect him and he killed the man that shot him.”
Scott heard the last part and hesitated, staring down at the Judge. He looked at Terry, then at Christina and approached the window. He glanced briefly and turned inside.
“Guys, he’s gone.”
All of them gathered around Scott, and looked out the window. The delivery truck was still where Lenny had parked it. But “Lenny” was no longer in sight. The absence of the pounding from the outside now screamed at them in silence.
Ata Halne pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Terry. He placed his hand on Terry’s shoulder and spoke.
“We do not have much time; this is the location of the closest true sacred ground to us. It is behind a house several miles from here. If your gun does not work, and it won’t, you must bury this in the center of the enclosed area behind the house. This house was built on the site of a great chief’s dwelling.”
Terry stopped him, “Whoa wait. What about you?”
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out another leather pouch handing it to Terry. “We don’t have much time, left. Take the amulet and when I say go, you go.”
“What about that thing out there?” Terry asked.
Ata Halne gave Terry a grim look, “It’s not out there anymore, it is in here with us.”
Christina screamed and pulled close to Scott. They pulled together in the center of the room, their eyes darting to and fro in the room.
Ata Halne began speaking.
“Remember, the Skinwalker can appear to be anyone or anything or any size. Do not let each other out of your sight. It can take your appearance, and your voice, but it won’t have your memories. It will try to stop you from completing the burial, in human form; the Skinwalker has all the strength of any human, but is cunning. You have the map; you must go and do this.”
A high pitched wail rose from the corners of the room and the lights snapped off. Scott yelled, “Shit!” Terry’s hands grasped around in the darkness and pulled at the arms closest to him. He felt Christina trembling and Scott, arms extended waving the Judge around in the darkness. From the darkness came Ata Halne’s cry, “Go, all of you. Go now!”
He cried out in pain and screamed in Navajo. The three bolted in the general direction of the front door and stumbled over the unseen desks and chairs in their path. Terry still clung to the box and fumbled in his pocket for the car keys. They heard Ata Halne grunt and an unearthly screech pierce the night.
They made it to Terry’s car, scrambled in and locked the doors. While Terry fumbled with quaking hands to get the key in to the ignition, Christina looked back at the doorway and shrieked, pointing. Ata Halne stumbled out of the office and raised his hands. She grabbed Terry’s arm and squeezed. He watched the old man approach the vehicle. An odd grin was on his face and he began to beckon to them. Terry stuck the key in and turned, nothing happened.
“Oh shit!” He turned the key again, the engine clicked.
Ata Halne came closer and smiled. He reached his hands around the back of his neck and pulled. His face collapsed inward, blood poured from his eyes, mouth and nose as the flesh mask fell forward.
Click click
Scott pointed the Judge at the gruesome sight aimed, and pulled the trigger. The explosion roared in their ears as they saw the creature reel back from the impact. The remains of Ata Halne’s flesh fell from around the creature. It was more shadow than substance, and turned its glowing yellow eyes toward the car as it fell to the ground.
Click, click, the car engine roared to life as the creature stretched out its hand. Scott raised the Judge and fired four more times. The creature cried out as each round struck home. Terry slammed the car into ‘Drive’ and punched the accelerator. With a swift turn of the wheel he drove over the creature writhing on the ground.
There was a slight shudder as the rear wheel spun off the slick bloody mass that was once Ata Halne. It was only now that Terry noticed that Christina had been screaming, he spun the car around and they sat and watched the quivering mass on the ground. With their ears still ringing from the gunshots, and from the screaming, they didn’t hear Scott speak the first time. Terry turned when he saw Scott’s mouth moving and asked, “What?”
“Is it dead?” he yelled back.
Terry shook his head, “I don’t know.” Tears ran down Christina’s face as she reached up and removed hair from her eyes with quaking fingers. The creature shuddered. With eyes locked onto ‘it’, the trio waited. They barely breathed as they watched it raise a misshapen arm from the pile of flesh and begin to push itself upwards.
“Damn it! I’m out of bullets. Hit it again, Terry.”
“No, we’re getting out of here.”
Terry yanked the wheel to the right and headed toward the highway at full speed. They stared back at the creature that was now stumbling to its feet, standing over Scott's corpse. They were doing eighty when the creature finally disappeared from view.
Each of them were panting heavily and remained silent for several minutes. Terry wiped the sweat from his brow and pressed harder on the accelerator. Neither of them realized how many hours they were driving before they finally came to the turn off the old man had indicated. They pulled in, exhausted. And Terry got out of the car.
III
Terry watched Scott get out of the car. He could tell that Scott was nervous, more because of the expression on his face as he stared straight ahead at the house in the distance than because of any words he used. Scott gave him a familiar nod of the head in the direction of the odd house and stepped away from the car. Terry turned to walk toward Christina when it hit. The blur leapt over the rear of the car with a deafening wail and landed on Scott’s back. Terry heard the strained gurgle as Scott fell to the ground with a thud. His neck had been torn open in one swift move, the blood exploding outward hitting Terry and Christina. She screamed as Scott hit the ground and began pulling and clawing at Terry to run. They stumbled away from their friend and headed toward the only cover available. The house.
Christine reached the door first, slamming her body against it with full force; the door gave as they burst into the room. Terry was a half second behind but still managed to get in her way when she tried to slam the door shut. With trembling fingers, she bolted the door and fastened the chain. Then she noticed the blood on her hand, her clothes and face. She began shaking. They had heard it coming; the warm moist breath it expelled with each step seemed to reach the backs of their necks even at a hundred yards. That panting might as well have been the creature laughing at them, for all the effort it expended in killing their friend and chasing them down. As Terry looked at Christina, they both realized that the only reason they made it to the house, was because Scott didn’t.
‘The old Indian had been right.’ Terry thought to himself. ‘Here we were, the young smart professionals with no time for ancient magic bullshit being chased by a homicidal magic creature.’ He winced at the irony and cursed the damned email that started it all, just a few short hours ago.
Christina shivered as she wrapped her arms around Terry’s neck and wept. The house was deserted and there were several more hours before sun rise. She buried her face in his chest and he embraced her. He kissed the top of her head, and said, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” She nodded silently. Terry kissed her again and guided her away from the front door. After a few moments, Terry took the amulet from his pocket where he had stashed it just in case, and examined it. It wasn’t anything spectacular; it appeared to be made of wood and turquoise with some gold pieces dangling from the center.
The wind whipped up outside the door, but there was no banging. There were no scratches at the window and no pounding on the roof. Terry pocketed the amulet and peeked out the window. On this moonless, starless night little was visible save the glow of the nearby city that lit up the hills and horizon around it.
A rap on the back wall caused him to jump. He looked over at Christina; her head buried in her hands and decided to check out the noise. The room appeared to be the den of a hunter or outdoors enthusiast. Mounting boards lined the wall with distorted heads of long departed animals. Terry approached what appeared to be a fire place and wondered if anything could get in.
He heard a rustle behind him and turned. Christina stood in the shadows, and he could see her shaking.
“I’m scared, Terry.”
He nodded and came to her side.
“I know. Me too.”
“Hold me, Terry.” She brushed her chest against his sending his heart rate skyrocketing. He placed his hand at the small of her back and squeezed.
“Always, Christina, always.”
Her hands fell to his waist and pulled him in tighter.
“Why couldn’t we just toss the damned thing out there and let it go away. Doesn’t that make sense? Then we could stay here. Please, please, just throw it outside.”
Terry shook his head. “That thing killed my best friend. I’m not giving it shit.”
Christina pulled back, “I know that, he was my friend too, but I don’t want to die. Where is it Terry? It wasn’t in the box.”
A chill went up Terry’s spine. “How did you know it wasn’t in the box, Christina?”
She shrugged and raised her eyes to meet his. Terry saw the yellow glow emanating from her once beautiful ice blue eyes. He stumbled backward.
“Oh God, no, not Christina!”
‘She’ smiled. “Is this what you want, this body? I know it is.”
Terry stared into the face of the woman he loved, but never told. He reached for the leather pouch as ‘she’ continued speaking.
“Where is the amulet, Terry? Tell me now and I’ll make sure that you die as quickly as she did.”
“Go to Hell.”
‘She’ laughed. “Kiss me Terry.” ‘She’ leaned down and climbed on top of him. He could still smell the perfume in her hair. Her cold lips locked on to his and pulled. Terry struggled to retreat, to get that hand full of ash from the pouch, but he shook as ‘she’ leaned in again. She placed a hand on his thigh and slid it upward.
Terry yanked his hand from the leather pouch and shoved the white ash into ‘her’ opening mouth. ‘She’ screeched and tore Christina’s flesh off where it collapsed into a crimson mess.
It rolled on the floor with a horrible wail as it clawed at what could only be its ‘mouth’. Terry leapt to his feet and ran for the back door. He passed Christina’s body lying in a bloody mound and cried out in anger and pain. He tore open the back door and ran into the back yard. One section of the yard was fenced off, and he saw the Indian symbols on the grave. Terry kneeled and overturned a stone in that section of the yard.
He tore at the ground with his hands trying to get a hole dug in the tough soil. He reached into his pocket, removed the amulet and dropped it into the shallow hole. He covered it over, replaced the rock and sprinkled white ash in a circle over the stone. Then with two handfuls of the remaining ash, he waited. The creature burst from the house and raced toward Terry. Its form glistened and sparkled, looking more like a shadow than a solid creature. Its forward progress stopped suddenly at the fence, as if it had hit an invisible wall.
“Skinwalker, meet sacred ground.” Terry said.
“NO!” it shouted. “It’s not possible. We are too far from Navajo land.”
“So was the Navajo chief they buried here.”
The creature shrieked and clawed at the air trying to pass through the invisible impenetrable shield. After several minutes of fruitless attempts, the creature began walking the border around the sacred ground. Terry turned as the creature did, never taking his eyes off of it.
“In a couple of hours, the sun will be up Skinwalker. I can wait, can you?”
The creature looked to the east and knew Terry was right. It spoke.
“The woman, you loved her?”
“Yes, I loved her and you killed her.”
The creature’s expression, if you could call it that, turned up into a smile. It pointed a finger at Terry.
“With the power of the amulet, I can give you your woman back alive.”
Terry stopped.
‘No, Ata Halne said that the creature would be cunning.’ Terry thought.
The creature spoke again, “We sit here at an impasse, and I have told you what I can do for you. You know what you can do for me. And yet neither moves.”
“You can make Christina alive again?”
The creature nodded. “With the help of the amulet, I can do anything.”
“How do I know you won’t kill me when I give it to you?”
“Obviously, you don’t. But you can sit and wait for her body to decay, or I can give her back to you now.”
Terry held out his left hand, as if to drop the amulet he didn't have any longer into the creatures' grasp and extended it over the border of the fence. When the creature opened its hand, Terry grasped it and pulled. White ash flew into the creature, searing it. With a hard yank, Terry pulled the creature through the fence. It writhed in agony, thrashing on the ground.
“I kind of figured that if touching sacred ground was too painful for you, that having the shit kicked out of you with sacred ground might do the trick.” Terry turned and picked up the stone. He brought the stone down on the creature’s head and heard a sick crack. He lifted the stone again and brought it down through the torso of the Skinwalker. Green smoke bellowed from the cracks in the creatures form.
Slowly, the creature began to lose his form and the twitching ceased. Terry looked down and watched as the form melted into the sacred ground and sizzled. He dropped the stone back into its place and stood over the liquefied remains of the Skinwalker. He picked up more stones from the sacred ground and placed them on the bubbling black liquid. He stayed for the sunrise; just to make sure the creature was as dead as it now smelled. When the sunlight hit the black ooze, it disintegrated into dust. There would be no human form for this Skinwalker not any more. Only when there was enough light in the sky did he leave the sacred ground and head for his car.

TL;DR: Man with too much time on his hands goes deep down the rabbit hole on a concept this sub already didn’t seem that enthusiastic about. If you really want to skip ahead, CTRL+F “verdict” and it’ll get you there.
Two days ago, u/MrPhillyj2wns made a post asking whether USL should launch a D1 league in order to compete in Concacaf. From the top voted replies, it appears this made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move.
But I’ve been at home for eight weeks and I am terribly, terribly bored.
So, I present to you this overview of what the USL pyramid might look like if Jake Edwards got a head of steam and attempted to establish a USSF-sanctioned first division. This is by no means an endorsement of such a proposal or even a suggestion that USL SHOULD do such a thing. It is merely an examination of whether they COULD.
Welcome to the Thunderdome USL Premiership
First, there are some base-level assumptions we must make in this exercise, because it makes me feel more scientific and not like a guy who wrote this on Sunday while watching the Belarusian Premier League (Go BATE Borisov!).

1. All D1 teams must comply with known USSF requirements for D1 leagues (more on that later).
   
2. MLS, not liking this move, will immediately remove all directly-owned affiliate clubs from the USL structure (this does not include hybrid ownerships, like San Antonio FC – NYCFC). This removes all MLS2 teams but will not affect Colorado Springs, Reno, RGVFC and San Antonio.
   
3. The USL will attempt to maintain both the USL Championship and USL League One, with an eventual mind toward creating the pro/rel paradise that is promised in Relegations 3:16.
   
4. All of my research regarding facility size and ownership net worth is correct – this is probably the biggest leap of faith we have to make, since googling “NAME net worth” and “CITY richest people” doesn’t seem guaranteed to return accurate results.
   
5. The most a club can increase its available seating capacity to meet D1 requirements in a current stadium is no more than 1,500 seats (10% of the required 15,000). If they need to add more, they’ll need a new facility.
   
6. Let’s pretend that people are VERY willing to sell. It’s commonly acknowledged that the USL is a more financially feasible route to owning a soccer club than in MLS (c.f. MLS-Charlotte’s reported $325 million expansion fee) and the USSF has some very strict requirements for D1 sanctioning. It becomes pretty apparent when googling a lot of team’s owners that this requirement isn’t met, so let’s assume everyone that can’t sells to people who meet the requirements.
   

(Known) USSF D1 league requirements:
- League must have 12 teams to apply and 14 teams by year three
- Majority owner must have a net worth of $40 million, and the ownership group must have a total net worth of $70 million. The value of an owned stadium is not considered when calculating this value.
- Must have teams located in the Eastern, Central and Pacific time zones
- 75% of league’s teams must be based in markets with at a metro population of at least 1 million people.
- All league stadiums must have a capacity of at least 15,000
The ideal club candidate for the USL Premiership will meet the population and capacity requirements in its current ground, which will have a grass playing surface. Of the USL Championship’s 27 independent/hybrid affiliate clubs, I did not find one club that meets all these criteria as they currently stand.
Regarding turf fields, the USSF does not have a formal policy regarding the ideal playing surface but it is generally acknowledged that grass is superior to turf. 6 of 26 MLS stadiums utilize turf, or roughly 23% of stadiums. We’ll hold a similar restriction for our top flight, so 2-3 of our top flight clubs can have turf fields. Seem fair?
Capacity is going to be the biggest issue, since the disparity between current requirements for the second-tier (5,000) and the first tier (15,000) is a pretty massive gap. Nice club you have there, triple your capacity and you’re onto something. As a result, I have taken the liberty of relocating certain (read: nearly all) clubs to new grounds, trying my utmost to keep those clubs in their current markets and –importantly--, ensure they play on grass surfaces.
So, let’s do a case-by-case evaluation and see if we can put together 12-14 teams that meet the potential requirements, because what else do you have to do?
For each club’s breakdown, anything that represents a chance from what is currently true will be underlined.
Candidate: Birmingham Legion FC
Location (Metro population): Birmingham, Ala. (1,151,801)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Legion Field (FieldTurf, 71,594)
Potential owner: Stephens Family (reported net worth $4 billion)
Notes: Birmingham has a pretty strong candidacy. Having ditched the 5,000-seater BBVA Field for Legion Field, which sits 2.4 miles away, they’ve tapped into the city’s soccer history. Legion Field hosted portions of both the men’s and women’s tournaments at the 1996 Olympics, including a 3-1 U.S. loss to Argentina that saw 83,183 pack the house. The Harbert family seemed like strong ownership contenders, but since the death of matriarch Marguerite Harbert in 2015, it’s unclear where the wealth in the family is concentrated, so the Stephens seem like a better candidate. The only real knock that I can think of is that we really want to avoid having clubs play on turf, so I’d say they’re on the bubble of our platonic ideal USL Prem.
Candidate: Charleston Battery
Location (Metro population): Charleston, S.C. (713,000)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Johnson Hagood Stadium (Grass, ~14,700)
Potential owner: Anita Zucker (reported net worth $3 billion)
Notes: Charleston’s candidacy isn’t looking great. Already disadvantaged due to its undersized metro population, a move across the Cooper River to Johnson Hagood Stadium is cutting it close in terms of capacity. The stadium, home to The Citadel’s football team, used to seat 21,000, before 9,300 seats on the eastern grandstand were torn down in 2017 to deal with lead paint that had been used in their construction. Renovation plans include adding 3,000 seats back in, which could hit 15,000 if they bumped it to 3,300, but throw in a required sale by HCFC, LLC (led by content-creation platform founder Rob Salvatore) to chemical magnate Anita Zucker, and you’ll see there’s a lot of ifs and ands in this proposal.
Candidate: Charlotte Independence
Location (Metro population): Charlotte, N.C. (2,569, 213)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Jerry Richardson Stadium (Turf, 15,314)
Potential owner: James Goodnight (reported net worth $9.1 billion)
Notes: Charlotte ticks a lot of the boxes. A move from the Sportsplex at Matthews to UNC-Charlotte’s Jerry Richardson stadium meets capacity requirements, but puts them on to the dreaded turf. Regrettably, nearby American Legion Memorial Stadium only seats 10,500, despite a grass playing surface. With a sizeable metro population (sixth-largest in the USL Championship) and a possible owner in software billionaire James Goodnight, you’ve got some options here. The biggest problem likely lies in direct competition for market share against a much better-funded MLS Charlotte side due to join the league in 2021.
Candidate: Hartford Athletic
Location (Metro population): Hartford, Conn. (1,214,295)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Pratt & Whitney Stadium (Grass, 38,066)
Potential owner: Ray Dalio (reported net worth $18.4 billion)
Notes: Okay, I cheated a bit here, having to relocate Hartford to Pratt & Whitney Stadium, which is technically in East Hartford, Conn. I don’t know enough about the area to know if there’s some kind of massive beef between the two cities, but the club has history there, having played seven games in 2019 while Dillon Stadium underwent renovations. If the group of local businessmen that currently own the club manage to attract Dalio to the table, we’re on to something.
Candidate: Indy Eleven
Location (Metro population): Indianapolis, Ind. (2,048,703)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Lucas Oil Stadium (Turf, 62,421)
Potential owner: Jim Irsay (reported net worth of $3 billion)
Notes: Indy Eleven are a club that are SO CLOSE to being an ideal candidate – if it weren’t for Lucas Oil Stadium’s turf playing surface. Still, there’s a lot to like in this bid. I’m not going to lie, I have no idea what current owner and founder Ersal Ozdemir is worth, but it seems like there might be cause for concern. A sale to Irsay, who also owns the NFL Indianapolis (nee Baltimore) Colts, seems likely to keep the franchise there, rather than make a half-mile move to 14,230 capacity Victory Field where the AAA Indianapolis Indians play and expand from there.
Candidate: Louisville City FC
Location (Metro population): Louisville, Ky. (1,297,310)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Lynn Family Stadium (Grass, 14,000, possibly expandable to 20,000)
Potential owner: Wayne Hughes (reported net worth $2.8 billion)
Notes: I’m stretching things a bit here. Lynn Family stadium is currently listed as having 11,700 capacity that’s expandable to 14,000, but they’ve said that the ground could hold as many as 20,000 with additional construction, which might be enough to grant them a temporary waiver from USSF. If the stadium is a no-go, then there’s always Cardinal Stadium, home to the University of Louisville’s football team, which seats 65,000 but is turf. Either way, it seems like a sale to someone like Public Storage founder Wayne Hughes will be necessary to ensure the club has enough capital.
Candidate: Memphis 901 FC
Location (Metro population): Memphis, Tenn. (1,348,260)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Liberty Bowl Stadium (Turf, 58,325)
Potential owner: Fred Smith (reported net worth $3 billion)
Notes: Unfortunately for Memphis, AutoZone Park’s 10,000 seats won’t cut it at the D1 level. With its urban location, it would likely prove tough to renovate, as well. Liberty Bowl Stadium more than meets the need, but will involve the use of the dreaded turf. As far as an owner goes, FedEx founder Fred Smith seems like a good local option.
Candidate: Miami FC, “The”
Location (Metro population): Miami, Fla. (6,158,824)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Riccardo Silva Stadium (FieldTurf, 20,000)
Potential owner: Riccardo Silva (reported net worth $1 billion)
Notes: Well, well, well, Silva might get his wish for top-flight soccer, after all. He’s got the money, he’s got the metro, and his ground has the capacity. There is the nagging issue of the turf, though. Hard Rock Stadium might present a solution, including a capacity of 64,767 and a grass playing surface. It is worth noting, however, that this is the first profile where I didn’t have to find a new potential owner for a club.
Candidate: North Carolina FC
Location (Metro population): Durham, N.C. (1,214,516 in The Triangle)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Carter-Finley Stadium (Grass/Turf, 57,583)
Potential owner: Steve Malik (precise net worth unknown) / Dennis Gillings (reported net worth of $1.7 billion)
Notes: We have our first “relocation” in North Carolina FC, who were forced to trade Cary’s 10,000-seat WakeMed Soccer Park for Carter-Finley Stadium in Durham, home of the NC State Wolfpack and 57,583 of their closest friends. The move is a whopping 3.1 miles, thanks to the close-knit hub that exists between Cary, Durham and Raleigh. Carter-Finley might be my favorite of the stadium moves in this exercise. The field is grass, but the sidelines are artificial turf. Weird, right? Either way, it was good enough for Juventus to play a friendly against Chivas de Guadalajara there in 2011. Maybe the move would be pushed for by new owner and medical magnate Dennis Gillings, whose British roots might inspire him to get involved in the Beautiful Game. Straight up, though, I couldn’t find a net worth for current owner Steve Malik, though he did sell his company MedFusion for $91 million in 2010, then bought it back for an undisclosed amount and sold it again for $43 million last November. I don’t know if Malik has the juice to meet D1 requirements, but I suspect he’s close.
Candidate: Pittsburgh Riverhounds SC
Location (Metro population): Pittsburgh, Penn. (2,362,453)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Heinz Field (Grass, 64,450)
Potential owner: Henry Hillman (reported net worth $2.5 billion)
Notes: I don’t know a ton about the Riverhounds, but this move in particular feels like depriving a pretty blue-collar club from its roots. Highmark Stadium is a no-go from a seating perspective, but the Steelers’ home stadium at Heinz Field would more than meet the requirements and have a grass surface that was large enough to be sanctioned for a FIFA friendly between the U.S. WNT and Costa Rica in 2015. As for an owner, Tuffy Shallenberger (first ballot owner name HOF) doesn’t seem to fit the USSF bill, but legendary Pittsburgh industrialist Henry Hillman might. I’m sure you’re asking, why not the Rooney Family, if they’ll play at Heinz Field? I’ll tell you: I honestly can’t seem to pin down a value for the family. The Steelers are valued at a little over a billion and rumors persist that Dan Rooney is worth $500 million, but I’m not sure. I guess the Rooneys would work too, but it’s a definite departure from an owner in Shallenberger who was described by one journalist as a guy who “wears boots, jeans, a sweater and a trucker hat.”
Candidate: Saint Louis FC
Location (Metro population): St. Louis, Mo. (2,807,338)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Busch Stadium (Grass, 45,494)
Potential owner: William DeWitt Jr. (reported net worth $4 billion)
Notes: Saint Louis has some weirdness in making the jump to D1. Current CEO Jim Kavanaugh is an owner of the MLS side that will begin play in 2022. The club’s current ground at West Community Stadium isn’t big enough, but perhaps a timely sale to Cardinals owner William DeWitt Jr. could see the club playing games at Busch Stadium, which has a well established history of hosting other sports like hockey, college football and soccer (most recently a U.S. WNT friendly against New Zealand in 2019). The competition with another MLS franchise wouldn’t be ideal, like Charlotte, but with a big enough population and cross marketing from the Cardinals, maybe there’s a winner here. Wacko idea: If Busch doesn’t pan out, send them to The Dome. Sure, it’s a 60k turf closed-in stadium, but we can go for that retro NASL feel and pay homage to our nation’s soccer history.
Candidate: Tampa Bay Rowdies
Location (Metro population): Tampa, Fla. (3,068,511)
Time zone: Eastern
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Raymond James Stadium (Grass, 65,518)
Potential owner: Edward DeBartolo Jr. (reported net worth $3 billion)
Notes: This one makes me sad. Despite having never been there, I see Al Lang Stadium as an iconic part of the Rowdies experience. Current owner Bill Edwards proposed an expansion to 18,000 seats in 2016, but the move seems to have stalled out. Frustrated with the city’s lack of action, Edwards sells to one-time San Francisco 49ers owner Edward DeBartolo Jr., who uses his old NFL connections to secure a cushy lease at the home of the Buccaneers in Ray Jay, the site of a 3-1 thrashing of Antigua and Barbuda during the United States’ 2014 World Cup Qualifying campaign.
Breather. Hey, we finished the Eastern Conference teams. Why are you still reading this? Why am I still writing it? Time is a meaningless construct in 2020 my friends, we are adrift in the void, fueled only by brief flashes of what once was and what may yet still be.
Candidate: Austin Bold FC
Location (Metro population): Austin, Texas (2,168,316)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Darrel K Royal – Texas Memorial Stadium (FieldTurf, 95,594)
Potential owner: Michael Dell (reported net worth of $32.3 billion)
Notes: Anthony Precourt’s Austin FC has some unexpected competition and it comes in the form of tech magnate Michael Dell. Dell, were he to buy the club, would be one of the richest owners on our list and could flash his cash in the new first division. Would he have enough to convince Darrel K Royal – Texas Memorial Stadium (I’m not kidding, that’s its actual name) to go back to a grass surface, like it did from ’96-’08? That’s between Dell and nearly 100,000 UT football fans, but everything can be had for the right price.
Candidate: Colorado Springs Switchbacks FC
Location (Metro population): Colorado Springs, Colo. (738,939)
Time zone: Mountain
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Falcon Stadium (FieldTurf, 46,692)
Potential owner: Charles Ergen (reported net worth $10.8 billion)
Notes: Welcome to Colorado Springs. We have hurdles. For the first time in 12 candidates, we’re back below the desired 1 million metro population mark. Colorado Springs actually plans to build a $35 million, 8,000 seat venue downtown that will be perfect for soccer, but in our timeline that’s 7,000 seats short. Enter Falcon Stadium, home of the Air Force Academy Falcons football team. Seems perfect except for the turf, right? Well, the tricky thing is that Falcon Stadium is technically on an active military base and is (I believe) government property. Challenges to getting in and out of the ground aside, the military tends to have a pretty grim view of government property being used by for-profit enterprises. Maybe Charles Ergen, founder and chairman of Dish Network, would be able to grease the right wheels, but you can go ahead and throw this into the “doubtful” category. It’s a shame, too. 6,035 feet of elevation is one hell of a home-field advantage.
Candidate: El Paso Locomotive FC
Location: El Paso, Texas
Time zone: Mountain
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Sun Bowl (FieldTurf, 51,500)
Potential owner: Paul Foster (reported net worth $1.7 billion)
Notes: God bless Texas. When compiling this list, I found so many of the theoretical stadium replacements were nearly serviceable by high school football fields. That’s insane, right? Anyway, Locomotive don’t have to settle for one of those, they’ve got the Sun Bowl, which had its capacity reduced in 2001 to a paltry 51,500 (from 52,000) specifically to accommodate soccer. Sure, it’s a turf surface, but what does new owner Paul Foster (who is only the 1,477th wealthiest man in the world, per Forbes) care, he’s got a team in a top league. Side note: Did you know that the Sun Bowl college football game is officially, through sponsorship, the Tony the Tiger Sun Bowl? Why is it not the Frosted Flakes Sun Bowl? Why is the cereal mascot the promotional name of the football game? What are you doing, Kellogg’s?
Candidate: Las Vegas Lights FC
Location: Las Vegas, Nev. (2,227,053)
Time zone: Pacific
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Allegiant Stadium (Grass, 61,000)
Potential owner: Sheldon Adelson (reported net worth $37.7 billion)
Notes: Sin City. You had to know that the club that once signed Freddy Adu because “why not” was going to go all out in our flashy hypothetical proposal. Thanks to my narrative control of this whole thing, they have. Adelson is the second-richest owner in the league and has decided to do everything first class. That includes using the new Raiders stadium in nearby unincorporated Paradise, Nevada, and spending boatloads on high profile transfers. Zlatan is coming back to the U.S., confirmed.
Candidate: New Mexico United
Location: Albuquerque, N.M.
Time zone: Mountain
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Isotopes Park – officially Rio Grande Credit Union Field at Isotopes Park (Grass, 13,500 – 15,000 with expansion)
Potential owner: Maloof Family (reported net worth $1 billion)
Notes: New Mexico from its inception went deep on the community vibe, and I’ve tried to replicate that in this bid. The home field of Rio Grande Cr---I’m not typing out the whole thing—Isotopes Park falls just within the expansion rules we set to make it to 15,000 (weird, right?) and they’ve found a great local ownership group in the Lebanese-American Maloof (formerly Maalouf) family from Las Vegas. The only thing to worry about would be the metro population, but overall, this could be one of the gems of USL Prem.
Candidate: Oklahoma City Energy FC
Location: Oklahoma City, Okla. (1,396,445)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark (Grass, 13,066)
Potential owner: Harold Hamm (reported net worth $14.2 billion)
Notes: There’s a bright golden haze on the meadow and it says it’s time to change stadiums and owners to make it to D1. A sale to oil magnate Harold Hamm would give the club the finances it needs, but Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark (home of the OKC Dodgers) actually falls outside of the boundary of what would meet capacity if 1,500 seats were added. Could the club pull off a move to Gaylord Family Oklahoma Memorial Stadium in Norman, Oklahoma – home of the Oklahoma Sooners? Maybe, but at 20 miles, this would be a reach.
Candidate: Orange County SC
Location: Irvine, Calif. (3,176, 000 in Orange County)
Time zone: Pacific
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Angels Stadium of Anaheim (Grass, 43,250)
Potential owner: Arte Moreno (reported net worth $3.3 billion)
Notes: You’ll never convince me that Rangers didn’t choose to partner with Orange County based primarily on its name. Either way, a sale to MLB Angels owner Arte Moreno produces a fruitful partnership, with the owner choosing to play his newest club out of the existing Angels stadium in OC. Another baseball conversion, sure, but with a metro population of over 3 million and the closest thing this hypothetical league has to an LA market, who’s complaining?
Candidate: Phoenix Rising FC
Location: Phoenix, Ariz. (4,857,962)
Time zone: Arizona
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): State Farm Stadium (Grass, 63,400)
Potential owner: Ernest Garcia II (reported net worth $5.7 billion)
Notes: We’re keeping it local with new owner and used car guru Ernest Garcia II. His dad owned a liquor store and he dropped out of college, which is making me feel amazing about my life choices right now. Casino Arizona Field is great, but State Farm Stadium is a grass surface that hosted the 2019 Gold Cup semifinal, so it’s a clear winner. Throw in Phoenix’s massive metro population and this one looks like a lock.
Candidate: Reno 1868 FC
Location: Reno, Nev. (425,417)
Time zone: Pacific
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Mackay Stadium (FieldTurf, 30,000)
Potential owner: Nancy Walton Laurie (reported net worth $7.1 billion)
Notes: The Biggest Little City on Earth has some serious barriers to overcome, thanks to its low metro population. A sale to Walmart heiress Nancy Walton Laurie and 1.6 mile-move to Mackay Stadium to split space with the University of Nevada, Reno makes this bid competitive, but the turf surface is another knock against it.
Candidate: Rio Grande Valley FC
Location: Edinburg, Texas (900,304)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): McAllen Memorial Stadium (FieldTurf, 13,500 – 15,000 with expansion)
Potential owner: Alice Louise Walton (reported net worth $45 billion)
Notes: Yes, I have a second straight Walmart heiress on the list. She was the first thing that popped up when I googled “McAllen Texas richest people.” The family rivalry has spurred Walton to buy a club as well, moving them 10 miles to McAllen Memorial Stadium which, as I alluded to earlier, is a straight up high school football stadium with a full color scoreboard. Toss in an additional 1,500 seats and you’ve met the minimum, despite the turf playing surface.
Candidate: San Antonio FC
Location: San Antonio, Texas (2,550,960)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Alamodome (FieldTurf, 64,000)
Potential owner: Red McCombs (reported net worth $1.6 billion)
Notes: I wanted to keep SAFC in the Spurs family, since the franchise is valued at $1.8 billion. That said, I didn’t let the Rooneys own the Riverhounds based on the Steelers’ value and it felt wrong to change the rules, so bring on Clear Channel co-founder Red McCombs. Toyota Field isn’t viable in the first division, but for the Alamodome, which was built in 1993 in hopes of attracting an NFL franchise (and never did), San Antonio can finally claim having *a* national football league team in its town (contingent on your definition of football). Now if only we could do something about that turf…
Candidate: San Diego Loyal SC
Location: San Diego, Calif. (3,317,749)
Time zone: Pacific
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): SDCCU Stadium (formerly Qualcomm) (Grass, 70,561)
Potential owner: Phil Mickelson (reported net worth $91 million)
Notes: Yes, golf’s Phil Mickelson. The existing ownership group didn’t seem to have the wherewithal to meet requirements, and Phil seemed to slot right in. As an athlete himself, he might be interesting in the new challenges of a top flight soccer team. Toss in a move to the former home of the chargers and you might have a basis for tremendous community support.
Candidate: FC Tulsa
Location: Tulsa, Okla. (991,561)
Time zone: Central
Stadium (playing surface, capacity): Skelly Field at H.A. Chapman Stadium (FieldTurf, 30,000)
Potential owner: George Kaiser ($10 billion)
Notes: I’m a fan of FC Tulsa’s rebrand, but if they want to make the first division, more changes are necessary. A sale to Tulsa native and one of the 100 richest men in the world George Kaiser means that funding is guaranteed. A move to Chapman Stadium would provide the necessary seats, despite the turf field. While the undersize population might be an issue at first glance, it’s hard to imagine U.S. Soccer not granting a waiver over a less than a 10k miss from the mark.
And that’s it! You made it. Those are all of the independent/hybrid affiliates in the USL Championship, which means that it’s time for our…
VERDICT: As an expert who has studied this issue for almost an entire day now, I am prepared to pronounce which USL Championships could be most ‘ready” for a jump to the USL Prem. A reminder that of the 27 clubs surveyed, 0 of them met our ideal criteria (proper ownership $, metro population, 15,000+ stadium with grass field).
Two of them, however, met almost all of those criteria: Indy Eleven and Miami FC. Those two clubs may use up two of our three available turf fields right from the outset, but the other factors they hit (particularly Silva’s ownership of Miami) makes them difficult, if not impossible to ignore for the top flight.
But who fill in the rest of the slots? Meet the entire 14-team USL Premier League:
Hartford Athletic
Indy Eleven
Louisville City FC
Miami FC
North Carolina FC
Pittsburgh Riverhounds SC
Tampa Bay Rowdies
Saint Louis FC
San Antonio FC
New Mexico United
Phoenix Rising FC
Las Vegas Lights FC
Orange County SC
San Diego Loyal SC
Now, I shall provide my expert rationale for each club’s inclusion/exclusion, which can be roughly broken down into four categories.
Firm “yes”
Hartford Athletic: It’s a good market size with a solid stadium. With a decent investor and good community support, you’ve got potential here.
Indy Eleven: The turf at Lucas Oil Stadium is no reason to turn down a 62,421 venue and a metro population of over 2 million.
Louisville City FC: Why doesn’t the 2017 & 2018 USL Cup champion deserve a crack at the top flight? They have the market size, and with a bit of expansion have the stadium at their own SSS. LCFC, you’re in.
Miami FC, “The”: Our other blue-chip recruit on the basis of ownership value, market size and stadium capacity. Yes, that field is turf, but how could you snub Silva’s chance to claim victory as the first division 1 club soccer team to play in Miami?
Pittsburgh Riverhounds SC: Pittsburgh sacrificed a lot to be here (according to my arbitrary calculations). Their market size and the potential boon of soccer at Heinz Field is an important inclusion to the league.
Saint Louis FC: Willie hears your “Busch League” jokes, Willie don’t care. A huge market size, combined with the absence of an NFL franchise creates opportunity. Competition with the MLS side, sure, but St. Louis has serious soccer history and we’re willing to bet it can support two clubs.
Tampa Bay Rowdies: With a huge population and a massive stadium waiting nearby, Tampa Bay seems like too good of an opportunity to pass up for the USL Prem.
Las Vegas Lights FC: Ostentatious, massive and well-financed, Las Vegas Lights FC is everything that the USL Premier League would need to assert that it didn’t intend to play second fiddle to MLS. Players will need to be kept on a short leash, but this is a hard market to pass up on.
Phoenix Rising FC: Huge population, big grass field available nearby and a solid history of success in recent years. No brainer.
San Diego Loyal SC: New club? Yes, massive population in a market that recently lost an absolutely huge sports presence? Also yes. This could be the USL Prem’s Seattle.
Cautious “yes”
New Mexico United: You have to take a chance on New Mexico United. The club set the league on fire with its social media presence and its weight in the community when it entered the league last season. The market may be slightly under USSF’s desired 1 million, but fervent support (and the ability to continue to use Isotopes Park) shouldn’t be discounted.
North Carolina FC: Carter-Finley’s mixed grass/turf surface is a barrier, to be sure, but the 57,000+ seats it offers (and being enough to offset other fully-turf offerings) is enough to put it in the black.
Orange County SC: It’s a top-tier club playing in a MLB stadium. I know it seems unlikely that USSF would approve something like that, but believe me when I say “it could happen.” Orange County is a massive market and California likely needs two clubs in the top flight.
San Antonio FC: Our third and only voluntary inclusion to the turf fields in the first division, we’re counting on San Antonio’s size and massive potential stadium to see it through.
Cautious “no”
Birmingham Legion FC: The town has solid soccer history and a huge potential venue, but the turf playing surface puts it on the outside looking in.
Memphis 901 FC: Like Birmingham, not much to dislike here outside of the turf playing surface at the larger playing venue.
Austin Bold FC: See the other two above.
FC Tulsa: Everything’s just a little bit off with this one. Market’s slightly too small, stadium has turf. Just not enough to put it over the top.
Firm “no”
Charleston Battery: Small metro and a small potential new stadium? It’s tough to say yes to the risk.
Charlotte Independence: A small new stadium and the possibility of having to compete with an organization that just paid over $300 million to join MLS means it’s best for this club to remain in the USL Championship.
Colorado Springs Switchbacks FC: When a club’s best chance to meet a capacity requirement is to host games at a venue controlled by the military, that doesn’t speak well to a club’s chances.
El Paso Locomotive FC: An undersized market and a turf field that meets capacity requirements is the death knell for this one.
Oklahoma City Energy FC: Having to expand a baseball field to meet requirements is a bad start. Having to potentially play 20 miles away from your main market is even worse.
Reno 1868 FC: Population nearly a half-million short of the federation’s requirements AND a turf field at the hypothetical new stadium makes impossible to say yes to this bid.
Rio Grande Valley FC: All the seat expansions in the world can’t hide the fact that McAllen Memorial Stadium is a high school stadium through and through.
Here’s who’s left in the 11-team Championship:
Birmingham Legion FC
Charleston Battery
Charlotte Independence
Memphis 901 FC
Austin Bold FC
Colorado Springs Switchbacks FC
El Paso Locomotive FC
Oklahoma City Energy FC
Reno 1868 FC
Rio Grande Valley FC
FC Tulsa
With MLS folding the six affiliates it has in USL League One, the league is a little bit thin (especially considering USSF’s requirements for 8 teams for lower level leagues), but seems definitely able to expand up to the necessary numbers with Edwards’ allusions to five new additions this year:
Chattanooga Red Wolves SC
Forward Madison FC
Greenville Triumph SC
Union Omaha
Richmond Kickers
South Georgia Tormenta
FC Tucson
Format of Assorted Leagues – This (like everything in this post) is pure conjecture on my part, but here are my thoughts on how these leagues might function in a first year while waiting for additional expansion.
USL Premier – We’ll steal from the 12-team Scottish Premiership. Each club plays the other 11 clubs 3 times, with either one or two home matches against each side. When each club has played 33 matches, the top six and bottom six separate, with every club playing an additional five matches (against each other team in its group). The top club wins the league. The bottom club is automatically relegated. The second-bottom club will enter a two-legged playoff against someone (see below) from the championship playoffs.
USL Championship -- 11 clubs is a challenge to schedule for. How about every club plays everyone else three times (either one or two home matches against each side)? Top four clubs make the playoffs, which are decided by two-legged playoffs. The winner automatically goes up. I need feedback on the second part – is it better to have the runner-up from the playoffs face the second-bottom club from the Premiership, or should the winner of the third-place match-up get the chance to face them to keep drama going in both playoff series? As for relegation, we can clearly only send down the last place club while the third division is so small.
USL League One – While the league is so small, it doesn’t seem reasonable to have the clubs play as many matches as the higher divisions. Each club could play the other six clubs four times – twice at home and twice away – for a very equitable 24-match regular season, which would help restrict costs and still provide a chance to determine a clear winner. Whoever finishes top of the table goes up.
And there you have it, a hypothetical look at how the USL could build a D1 league right now. All it would take is a new stadium for almost the entire league and new owners for all but one of the 27 clubs, who wouldn’t feel that their property would be massively devalued if they got relegated.
Well that’s our show. I’m curious to see what you think of all of this, especially anything that you think I may have overlooked (I’m sure there’s plenty). Anyway, I hope you’re all staying safe and well.

Continuing…
“Well, if that doesn’t throw the damper on things.” Dax remarks on our trip back down to the ground floor.
“Yeah. How rude. Up and deceasing your own self without bothering to tell anyone beforehand.” I noted.
“This is going to be a bloody balls-up. Trust me. This is going to be inordinately messy. A bog-standard botch job. A total dog’s dinner, just wait and see.” Cliffs adds.
“First, we have to contact IUPGS. Then what? Does Bulgaria have a consulate or embassy here? I wouldn’t think so…Then what?” I grieved. For once, I was rather low; both emotionally and on ideas.
“Let’s go back to the conference room and let everyone know. We’ll pull a brain session together. We should be able to sort out what needs to be done. The hotel already knows, so the state security forces also do as well. Be prepared for lengthy interrogation sessions, Gentlemen”, Cliff advised.
Back in the conference room, we relayed the sad information. All were taken aback and there were general notes of commiseration. However, since no one knew Iskren too well personally, it was more detached professionalism rather than overt weeping and wailing.
“Let us toast to our fallen comrade!” was accepted as both entirely appropriate and a damn good idea.
I got on the conference room phone and ordered up some more sandwiches, mixers, and bottles of booze. The moment was obviously structured that way, I reasoned.
We made our toasts to our fallen comrade and we had half a chalkboard filled with suggestions of what to do next.
The main consensus was: “Nothing.”
As in there was not much we could do. We were foreign nationals in a strangely foreign land. Our comrade was the sole member of his country, that is, Bulgaria, and the closest geographically we had aboard was Dr. Academician Ivan. No one wanted to loose Ivan on the DPRK security forces and have to deal with all that international fallout.
After some number of hours, after I suggested we all remain in the conference room as we’d (A.) be together, as in unity there is strength, (2.) we’d have each other’s backs when and if it came to interrogations, and, (iii.) this is where the free booze was.
Then there was a polite knock on the door.
I, as the den mother of this special education class, slowly got up and answered the knock.
It was a cadre of DPRK internal security forces, kitted out in their spiffy, tailor-made, and actually, quite smart-looking uniforms. Shoes and buttons polished to mirror-finishes, pants creases that could cut flesh, and enough polished brass to construct a spittoon.
“Hello? Yes?” I said through the semi-opened door.
“May we please come in? If the time is convenient.”, the head military type, very treacly asked.
“Of course”, I replied, “Please, do come in.”
Four of them entered as one. They did a quick-step, tight-march formation together and went to the head of the conference table.
“Good day, gentlemen. I am Colonel Hwangbo Dong-Hyeon of Internal State Security. First, we must offer condolences on the loss of your comrade. It must have come as a shock.” He intones.
There are mutters of “Thanks.” and “Damn right it was.”
“I have been entrusted to update you on the, ah, ‘situation’. First, Dr. Iskren Dragomirov Dinev, recently deceased, has been examined by the best medical practitioners in the country. He was obviously a foreign national and state guest, and we do not wish this to be a cause of suspicion or mistrust, especially during this auspicious Festival season.” He asserted.
We listened with rapt attention.
“I am authorized to tell you that it does not appear that the late Dr. Dinev expired of any untoward circumstances; or ‘foul play’, I believe is the western term. It has been ascertained that he expired due to wholly natural causes; namely massive myocardial infarction. Given his age, apparent health, and, ah, mass, this does seem a most reasonable explanation. This has been verified by no less than three DPRK medical professionals; one of which is the Emeritus teaching professor of Cardiology at Pyongyang Medical University. Again, you have our deepest condolences on the loss of your comrade.” He continued.
“I do remember Iskren complaining of gas pains the other night at the bar,” Joon agreed. “Thought nothing of it, given the change in all our diets.”
Colonel Hwangbo studied Joon like an entomologist examining a particularly fascinating new species of beetle.
“Which has been fine! Just rather rich compared to our usual food!” Joon hastily added.
Satisfied that Joon wasn’t making light of the ‘fine’ North Korean cuisine, Colonel Hwangbo continued, “As such, the Bulgarian Embassy here in Pyongyang has been contacted and apprised of the situation. They have taken over the case, as well as recovered the mortal remains and possessions of Dr. Dinev; all of which were conserved and authenticated by his Bulgarian national counterparts.”
“Ah, that’s good”, I said, “I’m pleased that there actually is a Bulgarian embassy here.”
“Ah. So.”, Col. Hwangbo continued, “Yes. They have already taken possession of Dr. Dinev’s mortal remains and possessions as I had noted, and will handle their repatriation to his country and family. As you can see, we have acted in the best of faith and with the utmost respect for your lately departed. Again, our condolences.”
There were some “Harrumphs”, and “Yeah, rights”, from the crowd, but since I was the team leader, it fell to me to handle this situation from here on out.
“Yes, indeed”, I replied, “We see that and do so deeply appreciate your efficiency and your keeping open the lines of communication. We have absolutely no room to complain. You, your team, your country, and your services have acted to the highest degree of professionalism and decorum. Let me extend, for the team, our heartiest appreciations in this most unfortunate matter.”
That seemed to please the Korean security forces. So much so they didn’t see the rolling eyes and smirks of grudging compliance from the crowd. I gave the evil-eye to several who were twittering quietly at my delivery of a load of over-the-top twaddle in the name of international goodwill.
“Thank you, Doctor…? Doctor…?”, he asked.
“Doctor Rocknocker.” I replied, “It’s spelled just as it sounds,”, I chuckled a knowing chuckle.
Colonel Hwangbo cracked a small smile for the first time since we met.
“As long as our orders of business are concluded, “ I inquired, “Might we offer you and your men a drink or sandwich or…”
“Cigar?” he suddenly brightened.
I smiled the sly, smirking smile of one of those used to the old duplicitous game of international diplomacy.
“Why”, I replied smilingly, “Of course.”
Col Hwangbo gratefully accepted a brace of fine Oscuro cigars. Probably more tobacco he’s seen in one place at one time since the last he rousted a snozzeled Western journalist or hammered European tourist with an overage of custom’s tobacco allowances.
His team eschewed cigars, but gladly accepted a pack each of pastel-colored Sobranie cocktail cigarettes.
It still slays me to see these battle-hardened, armed-to-the-teeth, unsmiling servants of the great state of Best Korea mincing about the courtyard smoking avocado, baby-blue, and peach-colored pastel cigarettes.
The Colonel and his team left after a couple of quick smokes, sandwiches, and surreptitious beers. I even enticed the Colonel into a couple of convivial vodka toasts when his team was otherwise occupied.
“Well, gang”, I said, closing the door, “Looks like that situation has been handled, most appropriately at that. We’ll miss ol’ Iskren, but at least he went fast and hopefully painlessly.”
I knew that last one was but a load of old dingo’s kidneys as I’ve had run-ins with cardiac disorders in the past and they are anything but painless. In any case, that was, as I noted, in the past. What was done is done. It was as it was. It is as it is.
“So, gentlemen”, I say, “Let us get back to work. Reality calls. Now, we’ve given you landlubbers the lowdown on our seismic pleasure cruise. Now we’d like to hear what you who had stayed onshore have come up with.”
Erlan, Graco, and Viv fill us in on the regional geology of Best Korea and lay out a plan to examine the sedimentary piles closest to the few paved roads in the north and east of the country.
We’ll be traveling by bus, as my request for four or five off-road vehicles was denied due to timing and lack of availability.
Yeah. Right. What a massive pile of bovine biogenic colluvium. A country with a military as huge as Best Korea’s and they can’t spare a few jeeps or Hummer reproductions?
Truth be told, they still don’t trust us and don’t want to let us out of their sight.
However, we did manage to snag some internal publications from the Central Geological Survey of Mineral Resources, which we figured as a major coup. Never before were Westerners allowed to even know of the existence of these materials, much less be able to research (read: slyly copy) them.
That ‘personal shaver’ I carried was actually a sneaky personal copier, a Vupoint ST470 Magic Wand Portable Scanner with all the external stickers peeled off, and any serial numbers abraded away.
Hey, they photograph us from every angle on the sly, listen in on our conversations, record our phone calls…hell, turnabout isn’t just fair play, it’s almost expected.
It’d be rude to refuse to play along.
Anyways, we learned that The Korean Peninsula (KP) occupies a junction area of three large tectonic domains that are the Paleo-Central Asian Orogenic Belt, Paleo-Tethyan Orogenic Belt, and the Western Pacific Orogenic Belt.
Tectono-fascinating.
To summarize:

1. The Archean Rangrim massif is divided into the Rangrim and Kwanmo submassifs, high-grade region and greenstone belt, respectively.
   
2. Early Paleoproterozoic rocks underwent metamorphism up to granulite facies, which may be correlated to the Jiao-Liao-Ji mobile belt in the North China Craton (NCC).
   
3. Proterozoic rift sequences in North Korea are similar to those in the NCC with rare late Paleoproterozoic strata and more Neoproterozoic strata.
   
4. Mesozoic igneous rocks are extensively distributed in the KP.
   
5. The main Paleozoic basin, the Phyongnam basin in NK, have a similar Paleozoic tectono-stratigraphy to the NCC.
   

Of most interest is item #5. The Phyongnam basin is the only sedimentary and depositional basin of mention in the north of the Korean peninsula; and therefore the center of our attention as it pertains to oil and gas.
The potential source rocks, and possible reservoirs, include the Paleozoic Late Ordovician Miru Series was identified as the Koksan Series and subsequently renamed. The 170-meter thick limestone and siltstone centered around the P'yongnam Basin have extensive crinoid, coral, and gastropod fossils. Paleogeography researchers have suggested that corals formed in the Miru Sea-a branch of the South Yangtze Sea. At the base of the Taedong Synthem is the P'yong'an Supergroup, which lies disconformably atop older Paleozoic rocks.
In the Pyongyang Coalfield it is divided into the 650-meter sandstone, shale, and conglomerate of the Nogam Formation, the 500-meter Kobangsan Formation, 350-meter coal-bearing Sadong Formation and 250-meter chert-bearing Hongjom Formation, all typically assigned to an Upper Permian shallow marine environment.
In the Mesozoic, north of Pyongyang, Precambrian basement rocks are unconformably overlain by a Jurassic limestone conglomerate ascending to layers of siltstone and mudstone. The Upper Jurassic Shinuiju Formation northwest of Shinuiju has sandstone, conglomerate, and mudstone up to two kilometers thick.
Offshore drilling in the West Korea Bay Basin indicates these rocks are the onshore extension of offshore units. It is subdivided into fluvial rocks and Upper Jurassic black shale, limestone, conglomerate and sandstone formed in a lake environment.
There are very few Cenozoic sediments are known in North Korea, likely as a result of erosion due to uplift of the peninsula. Submarine normal faults along the eastern coastline may have driven crustal tilting. The 350-meter thick Bongsan Coalfield in Hwanghae Province on the west coast preserves and coal-bearing layers dating to the Eocene.
Further to the north, in the West Korea Bay Basin Eocene and Oligocene sedimentary rocks up to three kilometers thick unconformably overlie Mesozoic rocks, formed in lakes and coal swamps during the Paleogene.
What this meant is that we’d need to travel mostly northeast and/or southwest. This was fortuitous as the paved roads in the country were created in structural valleys formed by the primary fault trends in the country. The main trans-tensional set trended NE:SW and the conjugate set trends approximately 90⁰ to the main set at NW:SE.
The topography was heavily dissected by drainages and the terrain consists mostly of hills and mountains separated by deep, narrow valleys. The coastal plains are wide in the west and discontinuous in the east.
The plan was to take the bus north to Sunchon, then hang a right off towards Unsan and Yongha. There were outcrops between the last two towns and they appear to be upper Paleozoic to Lower Mesozoic clastics. Ideal oil and gas hunting grounds.
From there, we’d head north-northeast towards Yangwon. There appeared to be some fair to excellent outcrops of rocks that are as of yet, unidentified as to age. From there, we’d continue to follow the outcrop belts either to their termination at the basin’s edges or at international borders with China or Russia.
But, once we hit the field, time goes into relative warp. Put a bunch of geologists out on some relatively virgin outcrops and just stand back as they spend hour after hour after hour first looking for evidence of the formation’s provenance, it’s age and field relations. Then begin the heartfelt, stalwart, and sometimes vicious, arguments between all concerned about each and every one of those salient points.
We were all looking forward to it and wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s our intellectual and scientific equivalent of meat and potatoes.
We all agreed on a way forward and generated a document to deliver to those in charge of our logistics on this trip. There would be a total of 11 Western geoscientists, four guides, perhaps a couple of national geologists or geophysicists, and whatever cadre the shiny suit squad wanted to include.
There would also be a driver, his relief, and a couple of extra translators. Good thing it was a large bus, as it’s going to be a huge crew.
We needed to allow our handlers a full day to arrange room and board for us while in the field, as we had to be bivouacked somewhere outside our fine hotel. It needed to be secure, pass sanctuary muster, and be ‘controllable’, referring to both Western scientists and nosy locals.
One thing we found odd was the lack of concern for long-term logistics, not to mention the end of our self-ordained indentured servitude. When this trip and all the Western geoscientists were contacted, we were all assured of an opportunity to meet with the Supreme Leader, Kim Jong-Un once our trip was completed.
We were to personally deliver one hell of an international photo-op. A ‘hey look how progressive we are’ meeting and our findings in this wonderful and progressive country.
But lately, with what we thought was the fallout of the Festival washing out all the usual propaganda, we’ve heard nothing about Herr Comrade Leader Supremo, K1J1-Un. Nor had we heard one iota about our intended final meeting with him before we left for China.
Since there are “absolutely no” COVID-19 cases in Best Korea, it seemed, well, odd that Beijing was our only possible current exit port of call, and onward to our individual homes.
There were all flavors of rumors flying all throughout the basement bars and casinos of the hotel. One claimed that Kim was now receiving treatment at a villa in the Mount Myohyang resort north of the capital Pyongyang after cardiovascular surgery. That he was near death and that his sister, Kim Yo Jong, is already warming up in the North Korean political bullpen if her brother kacks it.
Others said Kim is believed to be staying at an unspecified location outside of Pyongyang, with some close confidants. It was said that Kim appeared to be normally engaged with state affairs and there has not been any unusual movement or emergency reaction from North Korea's governing party, military, or cabinet.
There was also one other that tries to cover up any conspiracy rumors by shouting over a raspy bullhorn: "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!”, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!"; but most ignored that little crank.
We all thought that rather odd, but of fairly low concern. In the final analysis, it would have little impact on our studies and their outcome. In other words, it wouldn’t affect our pay one way or the other. We all felt like we’ve given more than what was called for on missions such as this.
And we still haven’t a clue as to when this will all come to an end.
However, we all agreed to the consultation, it would have been fun to meet with him and have our pictures taken with the Supreme Leader. Dr. Academician Ivan Ivanovich Khimik. was especially cheesed that he might miss the opportunity to make finger-vee bunny ears behind the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces of the DPRK during one of our photo sessions.
We all agree if we do somehow find ourselves in the same room with Ivan and Kim Jong-Un, we’ll form a human shield around the latter. We want to get back home; as we’ve all heard the rumors of the horrors of ‘political realignment’ camps here in Best Korea.
So the meeting breaks up and I’m left with Dax to take the final inventory. Two loads of sandwiches gone, piles of used napkins, ketchup-y table linens, bacon rinds and chicken bones, drippy ends of ice cream cones, prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, pizza crusts, and withered greens, soggy beans and tangerines, crusts of black burned buttered toast, gristly bits of beefy roasts…
“The hell with this”, I say, I grab the last nearly full bottle of vodka and hand Dax a bottle of Royal Navy dark Rum.
“Tally’s good”, I say, not really giving two tiny shits at this point. “At least, I think it is. Let’s make like horseshit and hit the trail.”
“I’m headed back to our floor and going to zone out in front of some old, looped BBC for the next few hours with a cold drink and hot cigar.” I proclaim.
“Oh, hell”, Dax says, “I agree. It’s been a weird couple of days. Let’s go.”
And so we do.
On the way, I leave the logistics concerns and itinerary for the upcoming field trips with the front desk clerk. I slip her 1000 won as its Festival! and I had a bulgy pocketful of same. She smiled and quietly said there’s be a surprise waiting for me in my room when I got there.
“Rock, you fucking old hound!”, Dax exclaimed as he punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Taking a dip in the hotel secretarial pool?”
“Dax, you surprise me”, I said in my defense, “I have been, and continue to be, happily married for the last 38 years to the most loving, most intelligent, most well-connected, and most accurate snap-shot with a Glock .380 Automatic I know of.”
“Well, me ol’ mucker”, Dax smiles slyly, “If one has been happily married for 38 years, one must have a little something on the side. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge, ‘eh, Squire?”
“Oh, nothing like that”, I replied, while waiting the obligatory 30 minutes for the fucking elevator to arrive. “I couldn't break my word to Esme, and not because I don’t believe in a God that will send me to Hell without an electric fan or because it's not the right thing to do. I simply don't want to. A man is only as good as his word; and if he loses that, he loses too much. I couldn’t function without people thinking that I’m square and on the level. My business would crumble to dust. As would my marriage.”
“Yeah, there is that”, Dax agrees, “You say something is going to happen and God damn, it fucking happens. That’s what makes you honest and honestly scary.”
I stare intently at the annunciator that tells me the fucking elevator is stuck on 4 again.
“You’re not mob, are you?” Dax harshly whispers, snickeringly.
I turn to face Dax and smile wistfully.
“Я с уважением отказываюсь отвечать, потому что я искренне верю, что мой ответ может обвинить меня”, I reply quietly.
“What the hell does that mean?” Dax demands.
“I respectfully decline to answer because I honestly believe my answer might tend to incriminate me”, I calmly reply.
“Oh, look. Bloody elevator’s finally here.” I note and stride aboard.
Dax gets caught up in the tsunami of the crowd and is carried bodily inside. It was so remorseless, he almost lost his grip on his bottle of Dark Rum.
Up on ‘our’ floor, I go to key open my room. Dax is just down the hall and looking around to see what special surprise might show up. I was too tired to wait so I just push in, and see all my field clothes fully laundered, pressed, and either folded or hanging.
Someone broke into my room during the day and committed a compound neatness.
“POUND! Pound! POUND!” Hmm, appears to be someone at my door.
“Yes, Dax?” I said.
“You too?” he fumed, “Everything, cleaned to within an inch if its life. They even polished my bloody field boots.”
“Oh, fuck”, I said and ran to find mine re-pristinized.
“FUCK! FUCK! FUCKITYFUCKFUCK!” I swore. They had polished my field boots and removed the fine years-of-work-to-acquire near-subsurface of the leather’s oil layer. They polished the water-proofing and conditioning out of the leather of our boots.
“OK. OK.”, I said, “Minor emergency. Cool out. I have the solution.”
I toss Dax a small can. It was brown, oily, and claimed to be “Neatsfoot oil”. It was the SPF- 500 of field leathers.
“Go ahead and oil them up with that”, I told Dax, “I’ve got another can, so don’t worry. Use what you need, don’t be shy, but if there’s any left, let me know. I’ll combine ours and offer it to anyone else in the team who had their boots steam-cleaned.”
So, a bit later, I’m sitting on my hotel room’s floor, on several sheets of newspaper, rubbing Neatsfoot Oil into my ancient, multinational size 16 EEE Vasque™ Tracker field boots.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
“It’s open. Enter carefully”, I say aloud.
It’s a bell clerk with a room service cart. On the cart are a bucket of ice, a bowl of sliced limes, I think, several gimlet glasses, some Best Korean ‘Air Koryo’ carbonated citrus drink, and a fresh bottle of “Kaesong” vodka.
“Compliments of the front desk”, the bellman says.
I stand up, tip him a few thousand won, and set a new record in mixology; a fresh brace of drinks in less than 7.3 seconds.
I offer the bellman the lighter one and he accepts with a wide smile.
I say “건배” (geonbae) literally means 'empty glass', which is similar to the expression 'bottom's up'. For you see, my Korean’s coming along a treat.
We clink glasses and send those drinks to the places that they’ll do the best.
The bellman smiles offloads the cart onto the table in my room, shakes my hand, and departs.
I finish my boots, my drink, and my cigar. After another drink or seven, I crater early. Dax was right; it had been a long, weird day.
The next day, Festival! is still going strong, but still no word on the whereabouts of El Líder Supremo. I find that odd, only slightly interesting, and since it will impact the day’s events zero, I file it away for maybe later use.
I go to the hotel pool around 0530 and there’s no one there. I’m able to get in a good 100 laps, unburdened with either small talk or by yammering kids blocking my lanes. I go early as I don’t wear gloves in the water, obviously. Statistically, there is less chance there will be others, adults and kids included, that would get freaked out by my gnarly left hand. I really don’t feel like recounting the old Russian Rig Accident story again.
After a brisk shower and double shower-scotch back in my room, I dress casually and wander down to the casino and bar level. It’s essentially breakfast time, but with the revelers not giving two hoots to AM vs. PM, it’s surprisingly busy. I find a perch up on Mahogany Ridge and order a classical breakfast cocktail of one liter of beer and 100 milliliters of chilled vodka.
I see Mr. Ho is manning the bar. I ask him to ring the massage parlor down the hall and see if Ms. Nang Bo-Hee is free sometime this morning.
He does and reports that she has an open hour and a half at 0900. Would I like it or any portion of that time?
“I’ll take the lot”, I said. “Tell them I’ll be there spot on 0900.”
“That’s great.”, Mr. Ho says, hanging up the phone, “Doctor Rock, they tell me that with the Festival discount and you taking the full 90 minutes, they can cut you a very special deal.”
“I’ll bet”, I replied, “Like what?”
“Oh, I cannot say for they did not tell me”, he smiled, “They will tell you when you arrive.”
“Marvelous”, I exhaled tiredly. “Another, Mr. Ho; make it a double, if you would please.”
The massage center here is run by a group not employed directly by the hotel. It’s a separate entity altogether. They run specials and have different discount programs that are not only not controlled nor advertised by the hotel, but they’re also not in any way beholden to the hotel, except for rent, I suppose and run it like their own little fiefdom.
Ms. Nang, my preferred masseuse, is a little, tiny Korean lassie about 5 feet tall and probably all of 90 pounds soaking wet. However, she is amazingly well trained and could probably put me in the hospital for a lengthy visit with her wiles and methods of flesh, bone, and muscle manipulation.
She offers a whole suite of different massage genres: Swedish, hot stone, aromatherapy, deep tissue, sport, trigger point, reflexology, shiatsu, Thai, and Rolfing.
Oh, fuck. I know Rolfing. I tried that nonsense back in grad school with an old east Indian lady that could have linebackered for the Minnesota Vikings. That shit fucking hurt. Today, it’d incapacitate me permanently. That’s a definite no-go.
I decide that it’s going to be the Hot Stone-treatment today. A geological-manipulation inquiry.
At 0900 I’m the only client at the massage ‘store’. It’s early, day two of the festival, and people are either sleeping off the previous night’s festivities or too wobbly to even think of partaking in a massage.
I’ve had several major back surgeries over the years, including one bilateral laminectomy about seven years ago that removed 7.5 kilos of overgrown bone and muscle from my lumbar region, so I’ve been very cautious about soliciting a massage. The masseuse has to know that area is strictly verboten and will do everything to avoid annoying that particular piece of bodily real-estate.
I’ve walked or limped out of massages before where the practitioner said they understood my reticence, but went ahead and kneaded and provoked that land of keloids and deep-body scar tissue.
However, based on past experience, Ms. Nang knows full well my reluctance as well as my desires. That’s the reason I’m returning. She’s very, very good; a consummate professional and has a never-ending series of jokes and observations while she’s pummeling you into submission.
Today, we retire to a private cubicle and she hands me a small robe or napkin, not sure which, of Korean manufacture.
She tells me to get au natural and to wear the robe while she prepares the tools of her trade.
OK, I’m not a small person; not by a long shot. This robe, however, is made for a sprite, not even for a small person.
She returns to our massage cubicle as I’m sitting there, at the end of the massage table, sipping my drink clad only in my dapper red-and-white checkered boxers.
“You need to be unclothed, Doctor. Use the robe. OK, sir Rock?” she says.
“Ms. Nang,”, I said, shaking my head, “It’s one or the other.” I show her how laughable the robe is as I can’t even get it over my upper arm. It’s not even as a tea towel when it comes to covering my expansive acres of exposed epidermis.
“I can close door.”, she says, “I’m used to it. I am professional. Does not bother me if it does not bother you.”
I lost all forms of bashfulness, timidity, or prudery long, long ago. After years and years of Russian banya, Swedish massage, Turkish baths, and surgery; well, if it don’t bother you, it don’t bother me.
“OK”, I say, using the robe as a small two-dimensional breechcloth. She tells me to ‘hop’ up on the massage table and lie down, facing the floor.
After chuckling about the fact that I haven’t hopped for decades, I wander over to the nicely padded and extremely clean massage table and lie down. She rearranges the ‘robe’ to cover my backside and tells me to relax. She’ll be right back with the stones.
I’ve never tried this type of massage before, but as a geologist, I must; if for nothing else, progress in the name of science.
Ms. Nang returns with a large parcel consisting of many sizes of steamed stones. They were river-washed and tumbled basalt from the looks of them, all wrapped in a large fuzzy towel.
Now she finds the large towels…
She selects them one by one and places them in ‘special, strategic’ spots on my exposed back. From the lower 2/3rds of the nape of the neck, down the spine, over the fundus mountains, and down the back of each leg.
It’s a warm, almost hot in some places, but not an uncomfortable feeling. She returns to adjust them, grind them in a bit in places, and flip them to extract all that igneous lithological thermal goodness.
I have to admit, at that point, it was feeling quite delightful. Relaxed; I had my drink and was being kneaded My dorsal musculature was being de-lithified by the application of hot rocks and expert point massage.
All was going quite well as Ms. Nang was building a huge tip in her ‘job well done’ bank.
Then the rocks had all attained room temperature. She excused herself to reload with another minor outcrop’s-worth and told me to flip over for round two of the process.
“In for a dime, in for a dollar”, I said, as I flipped over and use the robe as a laughable forward-facing breechcloth.
Ms. Nang mentioned that she was always fascinated by Westerners and their surplus of bodily fuzz. With my long, shoulder-length silver hair, full Grizzly Adams beard that drooped down to my sternum, and torso that picked up where my beard left off; she was quite unprepared to see the beached silver-gray panda that awaited upon her return.
“Dr. Rock!’, she exclaimed, “You are as a bear! So much hair. And silver color!”
“Yeah, sorry”, I replied, “Just the hand genetics dealt me. I guess it’s an adaptation for ethanol-fueled organisms that never feel cold.”
“I will soon return.” She titters excitedly and almost runs out of the room.
“Hmmm. I wonder what that’s all about?” I muse as I lie largely undraped in the massage cubicle.
Suddenly, the door bursts open and every female massage practitioner there herded into the room. They simply had to see the specimen upon which the delightful Ms. Nang was working.
OK, truth be told, I was a bit taken aback. Here I am lying on an elevated, and heavily padded, massage table. I’m ‘wearing’ only a crooked, worried grin and a sheet of a cotton washcloth that measures about 12x12 inches.
They Oohed! and Ahhhed!
I did feel like some form of an alien animal suddenly thrust out into public view. It was a bit disconcerting, but as usual, I just tried to deflect any unease with jokes and idiot remarks. At my age, not much is going to bother me, and this I found all the more laughable than troubling.
Suddenly, I was fielding their barrage of questions:
“You are American? All American men so…hairy?”
“Yes and no”, I replied. I also mentioned I hadn’t undertaken a study in that particular subject.
“Why you so big?” one tiny lass asked, eyes as big as dinner plates.
“Genetics”. I replied. “Just a corn-fed Baja Canadian doofus. We grow ‘em big back home.”
“Can we touch?” one particularly brave little lass asks.
“Touch what?” I asked. Look, I might be over 6 decades old, but there are still some areas reserved for my one and only betrothed.
I did tell Esme of this whole event later that evening during our nightly call. She laughed herself silly.
“Your beard! Oriental men never have such beard. We touch maybe?” she implored.
I was going to say “Go nuts”, but I decided that a simple “Sure” would be more fitting.
So they did. They were enthralled. They had never before, from what I was told, seen such a large silver-gray ZZ Top-style beard, especially here at the hotel. That part was weird enough, but when they started in on working their way south toward the equator, I had to say something to dissuade them.
“Where were you girls 45 years ago?” I laughed.
I don’t think they got the joke. They became somewhat bolder in their austral exploratory activities.
“OK! Time out! Ms. Nang! We have an appointment to keep”, I said as I shooed the rest of the lassies away, “We need to finish what we started.”
By the time that the third syllable of that last sentence came into being, I knew it wasn’t the right thing to say.
They all laughed and tittered as Ms. Nang ushered them out of the room. I could have sworn I heard the door lock behind them.
Ms. Nang reprieved her earlier stone placement therapy, with a couple of strategic detours.
She wasn’t that type of masseuse, and I wasn’t looking for that type of massage. She did, however, knead and pummel me mercilessly.
I’ve been bruised less from barroom brawls.
Finally, she announces that she’s finished. She’ll leave while I shower, as she used essential aromatic oils, and would await me out in the lobby.
After showering, I felt like a large bowl of pummeled Jello. I felt relaxed, and for the first time in weeks, my back was silent. My head was clear as a spring Sunday morn in Reykjavik.
The full 90 minutes, plus sideshow, was 4,500 won.
I paid the owner the required sum and handed Ms. Nang an additional 15,000 for a job well done. And for another anecdote that goes into the hopper.
I left the massage parlor feeling quite fine, thank you. I wandered over to the bar to see if I could augment and prolong this feeling of harmony with the universe. The mental picture even now of all those cooing Korean lassies in the massage room never fails to elicit a laugh and head shake.
A few hours later, I’m back in my room, tidying up my field notes and making certain all my paperwork was heavily encoded and up to date. It was, so I placed a number of expensive overseas calls to catch up with everyone on the outside.
I’m thinking of calling room service to have my mini-bar repaired when my room phone rings.
“Now who would be calling me at this hour?” I wondered.
It was the tour group leader. He informed me that the itinerary had been worked out and we’d be leaving tomorrow for the field at 0600. We were to arrive with all our luggage and be prepared to check out. We would spend at least a week in the field, if not two, depending on our results, and be bivouacking in different places in the interior of the country.
I thanked him for the information and said I’d inform the rest of the team. He told me that wouldn’t be necessary as they would come up to or floor, deliver the notice verbally, or by note if they were out of their rooms. If I wanted to later call each participant and ensure they were apprised of the situation, that would be most appreciated.
I assured him I would do so and that we’d be ready, to a man, at 0600 the next day.
I whip up 10 Post-it™ notes and stick one on each member’s door.
“Leaving for the field. Check out 0530. Wheels up 0600. Bring all luggage. Road trip!”
To be continued…