Tonight's dinner at the Hard Rock Casino in Hollywood was delightful. Table of six -- made up of FOXSports.com video gurus Nick Neves, Christian Anderson, and Jed Pearson, FSN Rocky Mountain's Charissa Thompson, Kevin Hench, and myself. Pretty good cheeseburger, and some great tunes (including an inspiring three minutes of Falco's Rock Me Amadeus).
 
Neves and I catch our waitress humming the Dave Matthews Band's What Would You Say, blasting throughout the restaurant.
 
The following sequence of events actually happened:
 
Me: Ah, you a fan?

Nick: Like the DMB, huh?

Waitress: (Pulls out a photograph of Dave Matthews that she keeps in her wallet) Love Dave Matthews Band. I keep three pictures in my wallet. One of my son. One of my daughter. One of Dave.
 
(Nick and I stare at each other, both startled ... silence ensues. Tumbleweeds breeze by.)
 
She then tells us that Hootie and the Blowfish played a set at the casino earlier, and roughly 15 people attended the show. Most of them just happened to be in the building. None -- she assumed -- were there to specifically see the band.

Something sad about that, no? Didn't Hootie win a bunch of Grammys about 10 years ago? Weren't they the main act at the 1995 VMA's? They were pretty much the biggest band in the country.
 
And now, they're playing on a stage in an empty casino in a northern suburb of Miami? Depressing.
 
I blame the Hard Rock. Poor decision. They should have gotten the guys from Falco to play a set, instead. Rock Me Amadeus beats I Only Wanna Be With You 10 out of 10 times.
 
On our way out, we roll by a desolate nightclub called Passions. Place is empty, just blasting that To the Left Beyonce song, with purple dry ice just glimmering from every inch. I ask the woman at the door -- who, despite there being no one inside or outside, is holding a clipboard and wearing an earpiece on her head -- what the story is. She tells us we can come in ... if we buy a few bottles.
 
And that was that. Monday night had come to a close.
 
Back to the room for some Maui Fever re-runs, then a little sleep. Media Day's tomorrow, and I want to be fresh for my day at the circus.

My Super Bowl week started off bright and early Monday morning with a 9 a.m. flight from lovely Newark to Miami. Not to get all Peter King on you, but the flight had a handful of somewhat interesting details. None of which were aggravating.

- First, I had the honor of meeting the New York Times' Dave Anderson while waiting at the gate. Anderson, a man who I once witnessed Mike Greenberg of ESPN Radio's "Mike and Mike" address as "Mr. Anderson," is a true legend in the biz. He's attended 38 of the 41 Super Bowls, only missing Super Bowls I, II, and XXXVIII. In a world where talking heads and screaming maniacs have become the face of sports journalism, Anderson's a throwback from a different -- probably better -- era. After intentionally sitting right next to him (there were about 40 other empty seats), then blatantly flipping through my Super Bowl Media Guide, and next -- shamelessly making a phone call in which I used the words "Super Bowl" 15 times -- I finally just sucked it up and introduced myself. Great guy. Picking his brain a bit was a real treat. His column from Monday's New York Times can be found here.

- On the actual flight, I sat next to a real easy-to-please guy. Mid-30's, wearing a tight pair of Levi's and a turtleneck -- we didn't exchange a single word the whole flight. But I'm telling you -- this is the man every comedy club in the country wants in the seats. Continental apparently doesn't run movies on their flights. Rather, they just run CBS sitcoms back to back to back. I never saw the show with Elaine from Seinfeld in it. But judging from this guy's reaction -- it's the most hilarious program on the tube. On a three-hour flight, we were blessed with episodes of the Elaine from Seinfeld show, the one with Charlie Sheen and Ducky, and something called The Class. Turtleneck and jeans guy averaged 11 LOLs per show. And these were not small laughs. We're talking really loud, heartfelt, from-the-belly ones. I wanted to know more about him. Had he never seen television before? Did he grow up in one of those no-TV homes? Or was he the average American -- and was I just a cynical bastard who expected too much out of our country's TV writers? Was this the reason Arrested Development goes off the air after three seasons, and Becker just steamrolls along in syndication? I'm not sure. I never got turtleneck man's back story -- but I know he enjoyed his flight. And I guess I've got to give Elaine's show a watch. Apparently, it's rip-roaringly funny.

- A real exchange at the baggage claim:

Me: "Ah, Just got a text message that Barbaro's dead."

Guy who was waiting with me: "Good. I f---in' hated that horse."

(Silence)

- As for my hotel, I didn't spend much time in it yet. But it looks like the same spot from the chainsaw scene in Scarface. Hopefully, my time there doesn't end up the same way. But yeah -- I think the A.C. is busted, I'm not sure the TV works, and when I asked if there was room service -- one of the receptionists said "yes," while the other shook her head "no."

Ah, but it's Miami and it's Super Bowl week. And who am I to complain? Dave Anderson sure as hell wouldn't.

- Over at the Media Center, it's a who's who of NFL scribes. John Clayton's filing something at a table (and wearing jeans!), Michael Smith's on his cell phone, Sal Palantonio is roaming the grounds, and WPIX's Sal Marciano is making the rounds. Yes, two different Sal's! Adam Schein's busy on the SIRIUS Satelite set, gesturing as only Adam Schein can.

There's an evident buzz in the building. Everybody's gearing up for what should be a crazy week.

Meanwhile, I'm just soaking it all in, noshing on some delicious pistachio nuts, and listening to my iPod.

And no, the song that's on loop is not Will Smith's Welcome To Miami or The Super Bowl Shuffle. That'd be corny; tacky.

It's Miami Sound Machine's Conga.

Terrific.