I’m A Hitter.

When I die, I want Jay Z’s life to flash before my eyes.

Lately, my own life ain’t half bad, with the fancy flights and hotel accommodations. The goodness continued here in the states Friday night, as I met my little brother at Yankee Stadium to see a game. He came through with seats behind the Yankee dugout. $2400 apiece.

What they included: waitress service, and an all-inclusive menu. Access to the Legends Suite, and all the not-so-classic ballpark fare you can eat. Like gelato…

…sushi, ribs and prime rib.

Of course, this is more my speed.

To make sure I didn’t completely lost touch with the peasants, I took the subway to and from the stadium. Friday night’s featured subway smell: wet dog.

Pastrami From Katz’s. On Top Of The World.

Or as I like to call it: lunch.

Checking In.

My hotel room in New York came with a guitar and an old-timey refrigerator. If it were any more hipster, I’d be posting this with a typewriter.

Biggest Lesson I Learned All Trip.

The Amish fly?

Get to Know São Paulo From The Safety Of The Internet.

The weather here is incredibly similar to LA (right down to a massive drought), but it’s winter right now. Yesterday was so frigid, I desperately needed an afghan.

It’s quaint here. Take these shoe shiners, for example, who I’d like to believe live in this box and never leave.

The architecture here is eclectic as hell, including what appears to be a giant monument to Jenga.

The overall look of the city is very pre-Guiliani New York. By that, I mean they’ll tag anything that can’t move.

Impressively, too. Graffiti in the most unreachable places. Much respect, punks.

São Paulo. Come For The View – Stay For The Kidnapping.

This is what I see from my shower every morning. Boneriffic.

Assigned to us is a badass security detail, which moves us around town in a bulletproof vehicle with bulletproof glass, and a second car following us. A dangerously cool requirement when visiting Brazil with an American accent.

On the left: my friend Rob and I, who were walking with our friend Chris. Out of frame: our security guys: a huge MMA fighter, a detective who tucked the biggest Glock I’ve ever seen into his pants yesterday, and a Brazilian Special Forces guy who’s an expert shot. I kinda want some bad dudes to come after us, just to watch them get put down.

It’s The Only Way To Fly.

On a shoot like this, with a cumulative flight-time of 65 hours, the key is comfort. Business and first class whenever possible. Above, flying from Shanghai to São Paolo (via Dubai), my friend Rob and I toast “to evil.”

Talk about a caste system: the flight from Mumbai to Dubai was on an Emirates A380, featuring two levels of seating and separate jetways for first/business class and economy.

The UAE first class lounge in Dubai runs the entire length of the massive airport, including an all-inclusive five-star restaurant. Let coach eat bread crusts.

For the first time since I can remember, there were empty seats on a flight. So we had the flight attendant prepare our beds (complete with mattresses) on separate seats so we could retreat to our quarters.

Constellations on the ceiling. Next time I’m packing my footsie-pajamas.