Andrew Wayne…& His Faithful Sidekick, Ringo.

This summer, Andy & I went on a cross-country road trip, ala Thelma & Louise. Except we didn’t drive the car off of the cliff at the end. Our destination was Kentucky. Along the way we had many fine adventures, but there is one that sticks out in my head.

On the second, or third day of the trip, as we were getting ready to leave Chicago (where we experienced the Sears Tower, Michigan Avenue, and Pizza Due in one action packed evening – the only thing that we could have added would have been a Chicago Style Coney at a Cubs game), I began to make the customary reservations the morning of our stay. You see, I don’t subsribe to that whole, ‘planning your trip beforehand’ philosophy that so many seem to subscribe to. It’s called ‘Commando Vacationing’, and it’s the only way to do it.

We had decided to drive as far as Indianapolis, as neither of us had ever been there. I got online, and went to book a room. Unfortunately, there happened to be a large convention at the RCA Dome, and the rooms were pretty tight. In fact, the only choice we had was a one bed room. Ummmmmm….yeah. Well…uhh…I guess that will do. It will be like camping, or being in a war. You just have to make do with what you have. Yeah. The great battle for Indianapolis. We all had to make sacrifices, and ours would be this. But, you know what, it was no big deal. Andy is like my younger brother. He’s my peeps. Whaevs. No big deal.

Road tripping with Andy is great. He is a believer in the same school of thought as I, in that for every eight hours of driving, you only need to stop once, and during this stop you should only stretch your legs and buy a soda pop. Bathroom optional. Then you get back in the car, and you drive. It’s simple. So, Indianapolis came quickly, and we soon set about discovering the city.

As usual, it was a good time, filled with fine food and many laughs. After gorging ourselves with a mighty meal during the afternoon, and then retiring to the room for some quality internet and TV time, we again found ourselves setting about on an evening adventure in Indianapolis. We were looking for the places that only ragged people go (to quote a song), and I’m pretty sure that we found them. We just observed from the comfort of the O&JMobile. We didn’t actually interact with any Indianapolisites, or Indianapolitans…whatevs.

After our urban safari, we retired to the safety of our hotel. Again, we felt the need for another gorging of food, and the restaurant on the top of the hotel seemed to be the best bet. We put on our smoking jackets (ironic, as neither of us are smokers), and ambled to the special elevator that would take us to our rooftop eats in the rotating restaurant.

We boarded the elevator, which was quite swank, and began our ascent to the top. Soon, however, we noticed a poster advertisement for the revolving restaurant staring us in the face. The poster extolled the virtues of “Indianapolis Most Romantic Restuarant“, whilst displaying a photograph of a couple holding hands across the table as Indianapolis rotated by.

Uncomfortable silence. Both of us saw the poster, but neither of us said anything. Shuck, man, you can’t trust advertising. I mean, who really voted it this anyway?

The doors of the elevator opened, and the host looked at us and said, “Just the two of you tonight?”

“Yes. But…he’s my business partners brother, and we’re just passing through on business. We’re just here for food. Meat and potatos kind of food. Perhaps some wings. While we discuss football and the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders” was the response that I should have said, but instead, “Yes…just the two of us” was what came out.

Again, uncomfortable silence. “Right this way, gentlemen.”

We found ourselves seated at a two top table. The smallest two top table that you had ever seen. Seriously, the table was more of a nightstand than a table. But whatevs. No biggie. Hey, we’re in Indianapolis, we’ll talk cars, and racing, and car crashes…yes! I asked to see a menu, but we soon found out that the only thing that was being offered was the desert bufett. Perfect. Andy & I could go to the desert buffet and fill our plates with truffles and chocolate covered strawberries, and then sit at the candle lit table, mere inches from each other. Perfect.

After filling our plates, with manly cake and masculine cookies, we sat. And, I don’t know about Andy, but I suddently felt like we were on display, the redhead and the bald man. How nice. Our romantic evening…er…our evening in the romantic restaurant was filled with conversation centered mostly on what kind of a manly mechanical device powered the rotation system of the restaurant. Probably powerful diesel engines, powered by many diesel fuel. Yes.

We didn’t stay for much chit chat, and we soon paid our bill and were on our way, to our room with one bed. Um…yeah. Again, uncomfortable silence, and this is how we will remember Indianapolis.

Why do I tell this story? Right now, I’m not sure. But I think that it has something to do with the fact that Andy is the kind of dude that could appreciate the incredibly twisted humor that went down that night, and he truly is like my younger brougham. Ladies & gentleman, I present to you a class act, a gifted individual, and my good friend, Andy – Enjoy!

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