Can you feel the love, people? It's everywhere in Minny. Not that I could tell by looking out my hotel window, which has a lovely view of the inside of the hotel. Can you say Biosphere? (Hmmm, I wonder what the weather is like today. Let's have a peek at the atrium.)

When you can't tell if it's sunny (nope) or rainy (yup) outside, you need to find other ways to keep your spirits up before the games begin. Which is just what the folks at The Loon Café were doing on Wednesday night. Don't let the "Café" part fool you. This is a bar where people go to watch sports and drink beer. (Or is it drink sports and watch beer?) And this is where I found myself enjoying my first-ever "Leiny" with the likes of Bruiser Flint, Mike Jarvis II and, of course, my boy Andy Katz. (If you want to find the coaches, just follow Mr. Daily Word himself. And if, like me, you've never heard of Leinenkugel, you ain't from these parts.)

This is also where I was greeted by a suprising kiss to the cheek from Sports Illustrated's Seth Davis. (Now how can you hate the enemy when they go and do that?) Not far away, Georgia Tech's Shaun Fein, Notre Dame's Martin Ingelsby and Virginia's Keith Friel were feeling that warm fuzzy glow that comes from sharing a laugh with friends -- or throwing back some crazy concoction called "Grape Ape."

"We'll have what they're drinking," said my colleagues, Scott and Guff, in a truly selfless attempt to advance our journalistic cause. It was the kind of scene that reminded me of what I love about Final Four week -- the camaradarie among players and coaches and even us famously cranky media types.

By Thursday night, the keepers of the game had arrived en masse, and it seemed like they were all trying to squeeze into Manny's, a steak-lovers' paradise. Steve Alford, Rick Barnes, Rob Evans, Tark the Shark, Billy Tubbs. (If you want to find the coaches, just follow the beef.) "I'll have the porterhouse," I said, still giddy from leaving the Biosphere behind.

A few hours (and pounds) later, we were back at the Loon, along with half the population of the Twin Cities. Normally, a crowd like this would have sent me fleeing for the comfort of my nice warm bed. But then I would have missed the drunk Gonzaga fan who was trying to pass himself off as an assistant while insisting that his team would have upset Michigan State if only the Spartans weren't such monsters on the boards. Of course, that's like saying I could dunk if only my vert was 30 inches higher.

Speaking of the Spartans? If they win the whole thing, I win the office pool. And what's not to love about that?