Whew. What a ride. If you’re looking for a summer filled with precision bowling, sweaty man-hugs, high-speed plastic vehicles, and enough humidity to cook pasta in the air… you’re in the right place.

Grab a cold drink. You’ll need it. This is the story of how I went from Louisiana lanes, to Texas chaos, to melting in my upstairs LEGO dungeon. And yes, I bought the pink Fast & Furious car. Because I’m a man of taste.

🎳 Bowlin’ in the Bayou

Let’s kick it off in Louisiana, where I proudly competed in the USBC Open Championships, a.k.a. the Super Bowl of bowling, but with more Cajun food and fewer Gatorade commercials.

Picture this:

• 1 slightly jet-lagged LEGO addict
• 2-day-old bowling shoes
• 1 extremely aggressive gumbo
• 98% humidity and 2% oxygen

Every lane felt like a runway. Every roll was a performance. Every frame… was a gamble. I walked into that bowling alley like I was The Dude from The Big Lebowski, but I left like a sweaty shrimp po’ boy who maybe should’ve practiced more.

Did I bowl a 300?
Absolutely not. But I did knock over 7 pins with a single sneeze once. Legend.

🤼‍♂️ Texas Rumble: AEW + Nachos = Bliss

No time to rest. After the last pin fell (and so did my dignity), I grabbed my boys and headed to Texas for the AEW All In event. Because nothing says “men’s getaway” like yelling at muscular strangers in spandex with 15,000 other adults doing the exact same thing.

We showed up full of energy and questionable snack decisions.
The crowd was LOUD. The pyrotechnics were close enough to singe eyebrows. At one point, a wrestler flew off the top rope and landed so hard I dropped my $13 beer like it was a live grenade. It was majestic.

My voice gave out halfway through yelling “YOU SUCK!” which, by the way, was directed at the villainous heel and not the guy in front of me who dropped his hotdog on my shoe (though he also kind of sucked).

It was mayhem. It was beautiful. It was brotherhood, body slams, and an unnecessary amount of soft pretzels.

🧱 Brick Me Up, Buttercup: The LEGO Haul

Now, let’s talk LEGO. Because while others buy souvenirs like magnets or hats, I buy boxes of colorful plastic destined to be transformed into masterpieces. My suitcase came home less like luggage and more like a rattling box of dreams and potential lawsuits from overpacked airline weight limits.

Top prize:
The brand-new, eye-meltingly pink LEGO Speed Champions Suki’s S2000 from 2 Fast 2 Furious.

Let me paint you a picture:

• It’s PINK. Like, "Barbie had a neon dream" pink.
• It comes with a tiny LEGO Suki minifig, who looks like she’s about to challenge Dom to a race and a bake-off simultaneously.
• It has racing decals that scream "this car does NOT obey traffic laws."

It’s everything I didn’t know I needed. I saw it on the shelf, made direct eye contact with it like we were long-lost soulmates, and whispered, “You’re coming home with me.” The cashier didn’t even blink. She knew.

I also may have picked up a few other sets... but let’s not get into that right now. This blog post is already being monitored by my bank.

🌡️ The Return to the Fiery LEGO Lair

So I made it back home to New York, ready to assemble, film, and bask in the plastic glory of my new treasures.

But then...
I remembered something very important.

My LEGO build space is on the second floor of my apartment.

The same second floor that, during a heatwave, turns into the surface of Mercury, if Mercury also had terrible insulation and a sad, weak window AC unit that makes more noise than cold air.

I walked upstairs with my new LEGO boxes and was immediately hit by a wall of heat so aggressive I nearly lost a layer of skin. The minifigs started sweating. The instruction manuals curled at the edges like scared parchment. My water bottle gave up.

My AC unit wheezed like it had just run a marathon and was now reconsidering its life choices. It was less “air conditioner” and more “air contemplator.”

So now? I wait.
I sit downstairs, in the cool, dark living room, surrounded by my untouched LEGO sets like a LEGO dragon guarding his hoard.

I want to build. I need to build. But I also don’t want to die mid-timelapse with a half-built pink S2000 in my hands like some modern-day Icarus who flew too close to the attic fan.

🔜 Coming Soon: Sweaty Time-Lapses and Fast Cars

Once the temperature decides to act like a responsible adult again, I’ll be heading back into the upstairs furnace to film the glorious return of LEGO Time.

You can expect:

• A full build of the Suki S2000 (complete with me narrating in between heatstroke-induced ramblings)
• Reviews of the other mystery sets I bought while pretending not to hear my credit card cry
• Probably some bloopers where I try to fan myself with instruction manuals
• And maybe, just maybe, a functional fan install if I finally snap and take action

🧊 Final Thoughts From the Melted Zone

This summer has been a perfect blend of sports, spectacle, and sweat.
From hurling bowling balls in Louisiana, to screaming at spandex-clad heroes in Texas, to hiding in my apartment waiting for the weather to stop attacking me every moment has been unforgettable.

And the LEGO? Oh, it’s coming.
But not today.
Because today, my second floor smells like hot plastic and broken dreams.

Stay cool, stay hydrated, and if you see a pink LEGO car on the internet soon, just know… I suffered for that content.

🧱🎳🔥💪🌡️🌮💗

Blog by Chay —
Professional bowler of average skill, AEW hype-man in the stands, and future builder of excessively pink LEGO cars once the temperature stops trying to kill him.