*sidenote * Since the USA has been defeated in World Cup and we are out, we at Faster Then The World have formed an alliance with another team in our league. We want to keep the World Cup stories going on here. Hey, we knew we weren't gonna get far. We are the USA. Miracle on Ice shit happens once every thirty years. We are not stupid. But an alliance has been formed. Brazil will take us there. BRAZIL! BRAZIL! BRAZIL! Oh hell. You guys know they are gonna win anyway. But from now on, Michele will be topless screaming about Sepultura and I will be eating BBQ Chicken laughing as our dark allies take this thing. Go Brazil!

*wait, it's another side note* I just want to say this is a great story turtle wrote. Also: BRAZIL! I mean...Sepultura. Max Cavalera. Half naked women. Sepultura. Brazil, fuck yea! -M

Buf for now, let's get back to World Cup USA.

Well that was it. Pasedena done. That was the match. It was over. Meh. I just wanted another beer and a ride home. We beat Columbia and we had moved on. We were going on. But to where?

What? We play in Palo Alto next? Oh yeah! We won! I need to be there! I need to see this! It's when? July 4? Oh my god! We have to be there! Against who? Who? Awwww shit...

Brazil v USA
2nd round
Palo Alto, Californina
July 4th, 1994

Have we ever gotten this far? I know we haven't since I was alive. I was used to us getting pretty much cleaned up. But, we moved on in this one. We made the 16! Pack your stuff cause we are going. We are gonna make this. Hitting the road at four in the morning. Enough beer and drugs to last us til six in the morning. Maybe. Did we? Idunno. We will cross that road when we come to it. Packing into a van. We are on our way. Van smells. There's still cans in here from three months ago. Christ. Doesn't anyone bother to clean this thing? Anyways. Let's go. This is July 4th. We were gonna get in to this show. We do this for America. And cause Brazil can suck me.

That's the way it works.

It's usually pretty bad at soccer matches, but now it was July 4th. This was gonna get ugly. You could feel it in your bones. They knew it and we knew it. This wasn't a day of a match. This was a day of telling us how Americans suck. Not only did we pop the group, we were playing Brazil. This just got serious. This might be rough. Get ready for some fucking abuse cause you are gonna hear it today.

Sun comes up. Lost in East Palo Alto. Man, I thought I grew up in a ghetto. Burned out schools and gun and liquor stores. I was just confused. Lost. We didn't know where the hell Stanford was at. We were lost. Just driving thru slow while looking for someone to get directions from. Like Chevy Chase in "Vacation," we heard many obscenities yelled at us.Hey man, just asking directions. You don't need to tell me you kill me if I look at you again in the eyes. This isn't jail dude. We really don't need to go there today. Driving out of there after figuring out the "East" part in EPA and finding the staduim.

Wow. This town changes as fast as Fresno does. Bad to good in like one minute. East is bad. West is good. Really fast. Burned out homes and gansters suddenly turned into Victorian houses and old ladies walking dogs. We still didn't know if we were in the right place. I looked out the window to see what I could see. Old ladies. Dogs. As we kept going, the old ladies were wearing less and less clothes. The also got a lot younger. They also became more tan. The dogs suddenly turned into beer in their hands. The leash was replaced by a bottle. Suddenly they were wearing thongs. And those thongs started having the Brazlian flag on their asses. And their breasts started hanging out. Way out.

We found it!

A knowing look was passed back and forth between us. This was it. Park the car. Let's go. Shut up and park this thing. This is gonna be good.

I put my foot on the ground and stepped out of the van. Streched. Lit a cigarette and was immediately hit up by two vendors. One with beer for sale. One with plastic American flags for sale. Hm. Tough decision.

I'll go ahead and say I love America, but dude, beer. Rolled right up to you in a little wagon covered in ice. Hell, all they have to do is piss it out for you and you won the lotto. Two for a dollar. The flags could wait. I'm loading up my pockets. The flag could be great, but hell man, I wanna be numb. And red, white and blue won't do that to me. Unless it's on a tab of LSD. Then it could, but that's another story. So I bought six. Not flags, beer. That was pretty cheap really. I mean jeez dude, considering I'll be paying five bucks a cup when I get in, I might as well load my barrels before I go in. I'm always gonna be an American, but I'm not always gonna be pissed and drunk yelling at Brazilians. Priorites, dude, priorities.

So that was it. Slamming down beer, going to the match that would make or break the USA. Smelling the dust already. One more turn. What the hell was going on up here? We hear the sound, but can't see anything. What the hell is going o................WHHHHHHOOOOOOOAAAAAAAA!!!!!

ALRIGHT!!!!

This is a Brazilian street party! Holy shit! This was big! No one was going in! None of them! No tailgate! Nothing! Just a street party with thousands! Huge! Vendors! Dancers! Bands! Jesus! These guys do this right! They took these streets over! They made it just made it a big party! A huge party!!

Thousands of dancers clogged the street. Half naked and sometime topless women dancing around with big feather head dress thingies. Ok. This is where I want to be. Brazil must be filled with beautiful women. This is cool. I like this. I'm not going in till the ball is god damn dropped. No. Don't ask me again. This is where I want to be. This is where the fun is. Let me know when we have fifteen minutes to go. Then I'll go in. But untill then...here dude, I'm staying right here. Right in the middle.

The funny thing was, they weren't nice to us. They actually kinda hated us. I know I'm not the nicest person. I'm not gonna fool you by saying I'm perfect, but I always wanted to have fun. Well, I'm actually a really nice guy, but that's besides the point. Chants of "USA GOODBYE TODAY!! USA GOODBYE TODAY!!" was pretty much all I heard. Sure, words were exchanged. But it seemed all they wanted to do was hang out with other Brazilians. This wasn't like Columbia. These guys just wanted to have fun, not talk to us and mock us. But to just hang around each other? Hm. Well this is no good. They wouldn't even sell me tacos while they pretended they didn't speak English.

Well fuck. I speak Spanglish, so they have to be able to understand that.

I was told by my friend that Portuguese is their official language.

The fuck is that?

Hm. I think they are ignoring me. Yeah. I'm smart like that. I can figure this stuff out.

No churros for the turtle. No bueno big guy.

Crap. These guys aren't mean. They are just rude. Just acting like we didn't exist. "USA GOODBYE TODAY!" Loud. And we weren't even inside yet? Really. The hell with this. These guys are dicks. Let's get out of here. Let's go inside.

Entering inside. You knew this was gonna get good. If you thought the face paint was bad in Pasedena? That wasn't shit. Everyone had it on. I didn't this time. I don't know why I didn't, but I just didn't. I was just a little too drunk? Maybe? Anyways. Walking in with Brazilians and Mexicans yelling in our faces. Yes, believe it on not, fans take up sides when it comes to soccer. They make allegiences to take people out till they eventually have to face each other. So we had no one on our side. This was kinda like a bad episode of "Survivor." We knew we were gonna be voted off the island but we had to try. Looking around. Seeing huge, and I mean huge, flags coming in to drape the crowd during the game. People wearing Alexi afros and goatees. And me. With no shirt on. Wondering if I should have done more.

Oh well. Sometimes you fuck up. Maybe I should've put some effort into this.

Ball dropped. Let's do this. I won't lie and say this was an exciting game. Brazil is not known for their, hm, offensive play. Kinda the reason the English Leagues are so much more fun to watch in World Cup. Those leagues play fast. But the teams over here have a different style. Slow the ball down. Pass a lot. Wait for that once chance shot. I'm not knocking it. It works for them. But it's just not as exciting. It 's just like keep away. Meh. It works for them

We had some good chances that day. A lot, really. But it wasn't in the cards today.

Brazil 1

USA 0

We were out. Dammit. Now I gotta walk out to the van. Crap. I gotta go thru that crowd again. Crap. Lighting a cigarette waiting for the shit to start. But wait. What's going on here? Something was different. The street party was going again. Going big time. Bands were playing and people were dancing. But it was different. They didn't hate us anymore. I was being handed beer by Brazilians? They were dancing with me and hugging me? What the hell was going here? A chant was started by the Brazilians. What were they saying? Why are they looking at us and giving us food? What was that? What are they saying?

"GOD BLESS THE USA! GOD BLESS THE USA!"

WHAT?????

Are you kidding here? Hugging me and telling me how awesome we were while fireworks were going up behind me as we celebrated Fourth of July drinking beer and eating food together while half naked girls crowded the streets dancing? What? I think I found heaven. My team was out. But I wasn't angry. This is when I looked at them. Stared. Hard.

We started a chant. The USA. We realized it was over. We realized it was time to have fun. We countered them with "BRAZIL! BRAZIL! BRAZIL!" They might have won the match, but there was no way in hell they were going to outdo us in thanking them for playing us. No fucking way in hell.

Really dude, it was kinda neato. I really can't describe how amazing the feeling was. No one was going home. This street was ours. The Brazilians and the Americans. This was our town. We took this over. Palo Alto was ours. Two teams coming out of a war and shaking hands over tacos and half naked women while fireworks blasted off. We chanting about how cool the other team was. We had to come back. We had to be louder. If we didn't win, hell, at least we could have fun.

We yelled "BRAZIL! BRAZIL! BRAZIL!" at the top of our lungs while dancing with them while they yelled "GOD BLESS THE USA! GOD BLESS THE USA!" while we all ate tacos and listened to music from Brazil while the cops stood around and just looked confused. That was fun. That was two nations shaking hands.

Those were the Brazilians.

They won't let you walk away angry. Never.

Cause there is always another person to hug in the crowd, another taco to eat at that stand, and another beer to drink from your pocket.

I like Brazilians.

They rule.

Buena Vista Social Club - Chan Chan*
Sepultura - Roots, Bloody Roots
Sepultura - Rise Above (Black Flag)
Fishbone Party at Ground Zero

*We know this is Cuban music. But you guys get the idea.

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