Late Thursday night we arrived in San Antonio for what we’re absolutely positive will be the greatest weekend of our lives - so long as we spot Bob Huggins at the bar at Tony Roma’s today ’round 2pm.

(San Antonio: A sight for bloodshot sore eyes!)

We’ll be blogging our hearts out for you over the next four days, covering all the frightfully exquisite events surrounding the Final Four. And we’re happy to report that so far, it’s already been an eventful first day.

Continental Airlines lost our luggage, and thanks to some well-timed, extensive construction work on the roads immediately surrounding the San Antonio airport, it took us about 45 minutes to reach our beloved Whataburger - despite being about 75 feet away for most of the ordeal.

Tomorrow we’re headed down to the Alamodome, laptop in hand, which will no doubt ensure our being barred from any team-related *excitement*. Yes, it is truly a shame that we don’t have a credential for any of the NCAA-sponsored activities, since we all know how fun and exciting those events can be for the lobotomized.

Instead, we’ll provide some non-credentialed color. Which pretty much means scouring the grounds for confused KU coeds (thrown off by the faint scent of muskrat emanating from Bill Self’s scalp).

We have no idea how this is going to go, so bear with us. We’ll do our best. At the very least we brought a couple cameras, one equipped with Bruce Pearl infra-orange radar. Not because we want to see Coach P., rather we’re more interested in his companions for the occasion.