Monday, April 23, 2007

'cuz i'm bad

I can't really come up with anything to add. I tried writing something funny about how bad ass we are, but if you can't tell that from looking then my pithy little lines are going to open your eyes.

Honestly, I just feel happy to be a part of the picture. And the brass knuckles you can't really see, yeah, not real brass. I think they are actually part of a belt buckle, and I'm pretty sure the words "for amusement purposes only" were imprinted on the inside.

But don't let your amusement with the words lull you into a false sense of security. I don't need brass knuckles or even steel toes or titanium knees. The hot woman next to me doesn't either. We'll stomp a mudhole in your ass quick as look at you.

friday night

In my continuing efforts to catalog our weekend, I offer you our Friday. Friday was mostly spent rushing about wanting to leave followed by a few hours of driving. We reached the hotel, dropped off our luggage, peed, and set off for downtown.

Most of the league had arrived before we did by a couple of hours. They were already well into supper with a couple of the Naptown girls. We were hungry and knew that crashing that party wasn't doable, and it was nice to have some time to ourselves. Keep in mind that we were completely childless for the weekend, the longest we've ever been apart from the boys.

Downtown Indianapolis, or what we saw of it, probably isn't nearly as confusing as it seemed. We got through 21st Street becoming something else as it bounced off the train tracks. We finally even got downtown to find it lively and crawling with all sorts of people.

I'm not sure what their Friday nights usually look like as this wasn't likely the average. The town was hosting a firefighter convention that raised the population by about 35,000 people. I have no idea how that changed the usual Naptown Friday night, but given the amount of things to do downtown, I'd imagine it's a popular place.

We parked next to the fountain which is next to the World War memorial, a large ancient looking structure that seemed worth a visit had we had the time on this trip. Not sure which direction to walk, we chose to go toward the place from which so many people seemed to be walking.

We hoofed it a couple of blocks and found ourself in a circle area, a fair sized fountain, sitting up on a sort of pedestal made of steps. That's a shitty description for the beautiful area, and it gave me an impression of what I'd expect an old European city to look like, a public space, beautifully built where people were hanging out.

We slipped into Rock Bottom Brewery only to find not a single seat at the bar. We tend to prefer the bar when we're just a couple and didn't want the hassle and time of being dining room customers. We stepped outside to reconsider when Momma spotted the word brewery on another place.

We walked toward that light which turned out to be Alcatraz Brewing. The beer earned a very strong Meh, not good enough to go back, but made by a very well trained corporate brewer. I don't really like chain brew pubs any more than I like most chain restaurants. I'd have been much happier finding the local place with the local brewer.

Alcatraz is where we hung out with the firefighters from New York. I don't quite remember now what got us talking with them. We may have been agreeing about the very noisy gentleman who seemed to think his companions were hearing impaired. Or perhaps he had vision issues that makes one foot seem like twenty. Whatever his problem was, he was one loud and obnoxious son of a bitch, the kind of guy you're glad to see go.

We considered eating at Alcatraz, but our new firefighter friend mentioned another brewpub across the street and a couple doors down. We were willing to walk and check out another place, though we later learned we'd have been happier staying at Alcatraz. I don't even remember the name of the place, but since I'm only going to trash it, that may be for the best.

I don't like corporate sports bars any more than I like corporate brewpubs. I want some soul, some local flavor. I want the bar with employees that love the place they work. I also want my wings to come with the pointy, inedible part removed. I also want my reuben to be a reuben, not some crap laced with what I'm quite certain was horseradish, totally out of place. We couldn't even finish our food, even though we took it to go after eating half. The maid threw it away for us though as we left it sitting cold and ick in the hotel room when we left.

Momma and I were nice enough then to try and fight about where we'd left the car. As it turned out, neither of us was quite right, though once we found the circle again, we were able to retrace our steps back to the car immediately. We apologized to each other for having been buttholes and insisting on our individual rightness. Then we got in the car and did the same thing all over again.

We finally arived back at the hotel. Most of the skaters were asleep, though it was early enough that we suspected someone had to be awake. Someone was, so we went and had a couple of last beers before wandering back to our room.

As an aside, a little message to the people of Indianapolis, it would really help if the people who sold beer knew what the laws were concerning late night beer sales. There's some crazy shit headed law that allows cold beer retail sales only in liquor stores. I don't get it, but I don't live there, so it's no big deal. We did get our beer and a bag of ice, so the law didn't hamper our intent in any way, though the kind lady who sold it to us wasn't quite sure if it was even too late to be selling it.

And so went our day. You can see for yourself how exciting and full of grand fun we are. That's quite fine though as I don't need grand fun. I got two nights in a row to go out childless with Momma, and that's always better than grand fun. Of course we missed the boys, so don't think we were completely heartless, but they got to have grand fun with grand parents, so I'd call it even.

back from up north

I have had the worst time since last night trying to write the welcoming myself back post. The trip was a hell of a time, and I'm sure I should only safely tell you about half of what happened. There was plenty of debauchery, though most of it was the safe showing each other our asses kind. Many asses were shown as well as a pair of testicles and possibly a peach, if you know what I mean.

I'm pretty sure that as a group we drank our weight in beer. I'm certain I helped the average, but it was all in the name of doing my part for the league and the skaters.

The bout was exciting, though I'm sadly unable to post about it. The scoreboard indicated that we lost, but your momma told you not to believe everything you read, and she was right. I'm nearly voiceless from screaming and cheering, and as usual, I could not be prouder of the girls. I can't say enough how beautiful, how awesome, how strong, how amazing the Hard Knox Rollergirls are. Chances are we are coming to your town, and chances are if we do that someone is going to get knocked sillier.

I have this secret trick I use on road trips that I call driving fast as fuck. There's no sane reason a six hour drive really has to be six hours unless it was originally and eight hour trip, but that may just be me. As long as you're careful and watch the road, there's no reason you can't use the interstate as it should be. Wide open highways with limited access via distinct entrance/exit areas are meant for high speeds and getting the fuck out of my way. I may use this as post fodder because, as you might guess, I have some opinions on this as well as about the idiots that surround me on the road. But that's for later.

My chest hurts a little, though I really don't know why. Perhaps it was the shouting? Can you strain your chest muscles by having yelled too much and too loudly? I'm sure I can. I can't complain though because I know our skaters have plenty of aches that were earned in battle. One has to wonder why Momma has so many obvious finger marks on her arms, but again, that's another story for another day.

I scalded my tongue at Starbucks, probably some infernal punishment for having gone there in the first place. But we needed coffee, and I can no longer stomach the sort of ick that too often passes for coffee. And for all the complaints I've heard about Starbucks prices, for slightly more than three dollars Momma got a medium coffee, and I got a large, though that isn't how they'd describe it, stupid venti and grande and all that other pretentious fuck awful nonsense. Seriously, just cups of coffee, a little cream and sugar, not the fat content of a porterhouse and not seventeen dollars and not a frappamochadilletante.

Saw lots of dead animals along the roads though no possums. It doesn't seem to me that Ohio or Indiana really cares that their roads seem to contain about three dead animals for every mile travelled. Maybe they need to pass a road kill bill.

We may have been the coolest visitors, but we weren't the biggest group in Indianapolis over the weekend. Thirty five thousand fire fighters were also in town for a convention. I retain to this day my childhood love and admiration for fire fighters. I even smile a little as the big red truck rolls past in non emergency mode. That people are still willing to run in when the rest of us are running out almost gives me hope for humanity. And to the guys from Rochester New York, thanks for a good time. We met them at a bar in downtown Idiotapolis, and though we only hung out and chatted for a bit, they were one of the highlights of the trip.

I'm wrapping this up. Within this post are the roots of a few more posts that are playing nicely in my brain while I think about writing. I leave you with something to ponder, a little gravity in an otherwise light and fluff filled post. Why in 2007 do towns still have a "black part of town," and why is the black side of town always the crappiest least tended to by the local government?