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fortworthrugby.com > Archive > Rugby_World_Cup_Tour_1999_messages.htm Monday, June 17, 2019



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1999 Ugly American Tour - Messages from Tour Members

Shannon Cokes - Feed my dog please. It's been about 3 days.
-Keith Dalton

To any American - Please send music, England is stuck in the 70's. ABBA rules here.
-John McLaury

Mom & Dad - Forget the money, send Pizza.
-Skip

To the tour members - Just give the ball to Rooster!
-Anonymous tour member

To the U.S. - I'm never leaving this country, these people worship me!
-Anonymous tour member

 

The following is an essay by our esteemed tour director, Naas Dalton.   Recovering from injuries sustained in the defense of our try line back in the sweet US of A, Naas has been unable to take the field except to deliver the necessary pints required for the completion of the rugby matches. With his disappointment at not playing rugby with Cowtown United, Naas' thoughts have turned to more learned issues than the banal brays and insipid vagaries of the other members of the tour. In this essay, Naas takes a look at the farcical nature of our accomodations, and gives us his enlightened viewpoint on the topic.

 

Come Back to the Maindy - by Naas Dalton

Situated on the edge of town in the heart of Cardiff city central is a lovely village known to the locals as "The Maindy." The accommodations are converted from an army barrack that was built by the Roman army in 9 A.D., and in order to preserve the authentic turn-of-the-first-millennium charm, the original beds and sheets are still in use.

The Cowtown United group stayed in the lovely St. Vincent 6 villa, which included beds for 24 men arranged in bunk-bed formation. The architect apparently designed the acoustics to resemble those of a concert hall, where even the slightest snore is amplified to fill the sleeping chamber. On a still night, the echoes of 18 men deep in the throes of the World Sinus Clearing Championship could be heard reverberating around the walls of the historic Caerphilly Castle, a short 20 mile jaunt up the motorway.

The beds themselves were a traveler's dream. The sheets of Bob McKillup's bunk, warm and still moist from an aborted trip to the urinal, mingled nicely with Dan Morgan's cupboard, still bearing the badges of many an unsuccessful night at Brannigan's. In true Maindy fashion, the bunks literally reeked of authenticity.

As with most luxury hotels in the UK, breakfast was included as part of the arrangement. Since we were health-conscious American rugby tourists, our private chef was kind enough to prepare a daily menu that focused on allowing us to maintain our fitness advantage and competitive edge. The daily breakfast consisted of fried eggs and gammon with three kinds of sausage, hamburger steak, baked beans, and fried bread, all washed down with orange squash and Sunny Delight (almost 5% fruit juice in every glass!). To coin a phrase, it was truly a breakfast of champions.

 

 

 

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