GPS can find a Circle K, three restaurants and an airport gate. It still refuses to acknowledge the mayor.
The Riff
I have been trying to determine the exact location of Flavortown.
This seems like something GPS should be able to handle.
We have satellites orbiting the planet that can guide me around temporary construction, warn me about a disabled vehicle four miles ahead and identify the fastest route to a coffee shop inside a casino I have never visited.
Surely one of them knows how to reach Flavortown.
“Navigate to Flavortown.”
There is a pause.
Then the phone begins reconsidering our relationship.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”
Flavortown.
Home of bold flavors, Trash Can Nachos and a mayor whose hair appears to have been installed during an electrical storm.
Nothing.
GPS can locate a dirt road outside Tonopah using three numbers and a cactus, but Guy Fieri’s sovereign territory remains beyond the reach of modern cartography.
Part of the problem is that Flavortown does not appear to have established borders.
There is no city limit. No welcome sign. No municipal building where you can apply for a permit to add donkey sauce to an existing structure.
Flavortown is less of a place and more of a condition that can occur anywhere melted cheese achieves sufficient density.
You can apparently enter through a casino in Las Vegas, an airport terminal in Phoenix or, increasingly, a Circle K.
Guy Fieri and Circle K have introduced Flavortown-inspired food at roughly 450 stores across Arizona and Nevada.
This is an important cultural development.
Flavortown is no longer restricted to restaurants. It has expanded into the same buildings where you buy gasoline, use a hopefully maintained bathroom, purchase lottery tickets and acquire a charging cable that will stop working before you reach the freeway.
BUT it’s 20 feet long!
Four featured menu items include a mac-and-cheese burger and a fried chicken-and-waffle sandwich.
These foods aren’t designed for quiet reflection.
Nobody eats a mac-and-cheese burger while thoughtfully reviewing the choices that brought him there. You eat it standing beside a beverage machine large enough to supply hydration to a minor-league baseball team as each little player creates an unworldly combination of Dr Pepper, Coke and that strange cinnamon milk stuff.
You return to your car and let your digestive system begin negotiations.
This means the Circle K near my house may now be an official portal to Flavortown.
GPS still refuses to admit it.
“Navigate to Flavortown.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that.”
“No. Flavortown.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that.”
Damn 20-foot cable.
The confusing part is that Guy Fieri already has several restaurants in Las Vegas. He has locations at the LINQ, Horseshoe and Caesars Palace, which means Flavortown has established multiple diplomatic outposts along the Strip.
There is also a Flavortown Kitchen in the Phoenix airport, after security near Gate D11.
This makes sense because airports are already imaginary cities governed by different laws. Time has no meaning, breakfast beer is socially acceptable and a sandwich costs the same as checked luggage.
Flavortown belongs there.
Flavortown is there.
At an airport, you can eat barbecue wings at 6:15 in the morning while staring at a departure board that says your flight has been delayed for reasons nobody intends to explain.
Nobody judges you.
They are too busy trying to decide whether eighteen dollars is reasonable for a premade turkey wrap.
Guy Fieri has restaurants in other airports too, which suggests Flavortown may not be a municipality at all.
It may be a connecting flight.
You cannot drive there because you must first remove your belt, place your laptop in a separate bin and wait behind someone who has apparently never encountered airport security despite standing directly beneath fourteen instructional signs.
Once through security, follow the scent of bourbon-brown-sugar barbecue sauce until your phone loses signal.
You have arrived.
Guy Fieri is commonly described as the mayor of Flavortown, but I have questions about the local government.
Was there an election?
Who ran against him?
Was it Bobby Flay?
That would have been an ugly campaign.
“Guy Fieri wants to eliminate zoning restrictions on loaded fries.”
“Bobby Flay has accepted money from Big Shallot.”
“The Barefoot Contessa supports strip clubs!”
Perhaps Guy ran unopposed. Anyone arriving at the polling station without frosted hair, sunglasses positioned on the back of the head and a working knowledge of smoked brisket was immediately ruled ineligible.
Still, the mayor appears to have been effective.
Flavortown has restaurants, airport locations, casino territory and now a convenience-store distribution network. Most mayors spend years trying to attract one regional warehouse.
Guy Fieri has annexed the roller grill.
What Flavortown lacks is a functioning address.
You cannot mail anything there.
There is no Flavortown ZIP code.
The Postal Service will deliver a package to a boat, a military base or the bottom of the Grand Canyon, but if you write “Flavortown” on an envelope, it gets returned with a grease stain and a note asking for additional postage.
Real estate must be complicated.
“Beautiful three-bedroom home in the heart of Flavortown. Open floor plan. Recently remodeled kitchen. Walking distance to Trash Can Nachos.”
I would photograph that house.
The kitchen would be easy.
Every counter would already be covered with food, the range hood would be operating at industrial capacity and nobody would complain if I turned the saturation up until the cabinets looked like they had been glazed with buffalo sauce.
The exterior photos might present a problem because Flavortown appears to exist simultaneously inside casinos, airports and Circle K stores.
The drone would become confused.
“Unable to establish home point.”
Neither can Guy.
Maybe GPS is right to resist.
Perhaps Flavortown is not somewhere you go.
Perhaps Flavortown happens to you.
You walk into a convenience store intending to buy coffee. Eleven minutes later, you are holding a fried chicken-and-waffle sandwich while a photograph of Guy Fieri watches from the packaging like he personally approved the transaction.
The transformation is complete.
You did not navigate to Flavortown.
Flavortown rerouted you.
That may also explain this column.
Every morning, I ask the internet for directions to a winning day. It examines the pitching matchups, checks the football lines and calmly announces:
“Rerouting.”
Yesterday, it sent us through Australia, Tampa Bay, Philadelphia and New York.
We arrived at 2-2.
There were no tolls, but emotionally, the route was expensive.
Yesterday’s Autopsy
Yesterday went 2-2, a familiar neighborhood located directly between progress and disappointment.
The 49ers +3.5 cruised past the Rams 27-7 in Australia, validating San Francisco’s strategy of arriving early enough to determine which day it was.
The Rams trusted their internal body clocks.
Their internal body clocks lost 27-7.
The Rays moneyline lost 3-1 to Atlanta. The game remained scoreless until the Braves scored three in the eighth. Tampa Bay answered with one run in the ninth—enough to demonstrate awareness, but not enough to complete the assignment.
The Phillies -1.5 lost 2-1 to Houston. Zack Wheeler allowed one run over seven innings and struck out nine. Philadelphia rewarded him with one run and the opportunity to appreciate his own performance.
Then Cam Smith homered in the ninth, ending both the game and our interest in further review.
Finally, the Yankees -1.5 beat Colorado 10-3. New York scored six in the seventh, including an Anthony Volpe grand slam, and covered the run line for the third consecutive day.
Continuing to pick them feels reckless.
Stopping feels disrespectful.
Two winners. Two losers.
The round robin produced one surviving pair: San Francisco and New York.
Everyone else has been rerouted.
The Giant Scoreboard
ALL SPORTS: 1,059-1,083-7
TENNIS: 1-1
Who the hell bets on tennis?
Today’s Picks
Today’s route begins with the Guardians moneyline against Minnesota.
Parker Messick enters at 11-9 with a 2.53 ERA and 173 strikeouts. Minnesota counters with Taj Bradley, who is 11-6 with a 3.95 ERA. Cleveland is also 43-23 against the Twins since the beginning of 2022.
At approximately -119, the price remains reasonable.
The Guardians are today’s anchor—a ceremonial title awarded to the pick most qualified to ruin the entire structure.
Next, we’re taking the Nationals moneyline behind Cade Cavalli.
Cavalli is 12-5 with a 3.12 ERA and 185 strikeouts. The Angels counter with Yusei Kikuchi, who is 1-5 with a 4.96 ERA.
Trusting Washington requires paperwork, references and a willingness to ignore several previous incidents.
The starting-pitching advantage is enough to proceed anyway.
The Rays moneyline returns immediately because apparently yesterday taught us nothing.
Drew Rasmussen is 14-5 with a 2.88 ERA. Houston counters with rookie Miguel Ullola, whose résumé is still waiting for additional pages.
At roughly -174, Tampa Bay is not a bargain, but it is not yet priced like a small appliance. We will give the Rays another opportunity to score before the eighth inning.
Finally, we’re taking Rutgers +3.5 at Boston College.
The line has moved heavily toward Rutgers, but the current number still gives us the portion beyond a field goal.
That half point is not decorative.
Rutgers does not need to win.
They merely need to remain within navigation distance.
Guardians ML
Nationals ML
Rays ML
Rutgers +3.5
Four picks. One round robin. No ceremonial fifth.
If your book has Rutgers at only +3, do not chase it. GPS has already missed the exit.
Today’s route includes Cleveland, Washington, Tampa Bay and Boston College.
Flavortown would have been easier.
At least it has a Circle K.
Bad Picks. Better Stories.
This isn’t called Pick What I Pick.
It’s called Don’t Pick What I Pick.
Please wager accordingly.
Recalculating.
