The thing is, my Spanish kinda sucks, and so does parking; but not Jared and Mirta!

The last two days were, unequivocally, the most frustrating times of my young journalism career. 

I was assigned to cover an exhibition soccer game between two top teams from Mexico. Easy enough. 

My editor woke me Tuesday with a request to get up to Round Rock for a press conference with one of the teams. So I hurried through a shower, choked down a handful of cereal, and cruised up to the ridiculous high school football stadium. 

After hanging out there for a while, I was informed the press conference had been changed to 2 p.m. in AUSTIN. 

"Grr," I thought. 

So I went to the 2 p.m.-er. 

You know what the problem is with Mexican soccer teams? Their press conferences are in Spanish. All in Spanish. Without translators. 

That was about productive. 

Anyhow, I grabbed one of the players and a bilingual promoter and grabbed a quote for this preview of the match. I was later informed this was a huge burden for the player, because in Mexico these guys are on the same pedestal as rock stars. I was also later informed, the guy made about $10 million a year. I suddenly felt less awful about burdening him with my questions. 

The game was scheduled for 8 p.m. Wednesday, and after needing two hours of road time to go 25 miles, I made it, only to find out the nicest high school stadium in Central Texas doesn't have wireless Internet. 

Listen here, Round Rock Independent School District, if my Aunt Jan in Mosier, Ore., can have wireless Internet, so can you. 

Anyhow, because the game was starting late and nobody in these YOU-nited States gives a hoot about soccer anyhow, I made my story about the fans, as opposed to an actual gamer. 

Sidenote: If you've doubted the ignorance of people lately, read the comments on that story. I am all for responsible border control, but I can't reconcile the values of some of those commenters with my own.  

So the game finally started at 8:45 p.m., well behind schedule and just an hour and a half from my deadline. I had to bail out shortly after and retreat to the parking lot where I would find my car, jet off to a little cyber-cafe, file my story and be home by Leno. 

Right? Wrong. 

After 20 minutes walking up and down the parking lot looking for my car among the masses -- word was they crammed 16,000 people into an 11,000 seat stadium -- I finally found it. Conveniently, it was located right where I left it. Of course, the row of cars that blocked in my Honda wasn't there three hours earlier. 

So here I was, pushing my deadline, stranded in the parking lot, without any way to file my story. 

I had flashbacks to this night. 

Anyhow, I hitched a ride with a wonderful couple from south Austin named Jared and Mirta. In case they ever Google me or randomly find the blog: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

 I learned Mirta's grandfather had played for Toluca in another life. I also learned that the new Jettas are really nice cars. But I digress...

We drove miles until we found a McDonald's at which they could drop me off. I paid $3.19 for access to the Arch's wireless, and filed my story, just shortly after deadline. It's a good thing I made it, too, because the story was teased with the main photo on A1 and it was the sports centerpiece.  

Also, another story ran today, this time a feature on a group of young mountain bikers who are competing in Vermont.