Continued tales from the family reunion…Here’s the thing about the hayride at the Burke Kerr Newton O’Brien family reunion. You need to go early. There’s a hayride near ‘bout every hour, on the hour, but the later the day gets, the more tractor driver and reunion host Kevin Burke has been, uh, enjoying the adult beverages. So if there’s one piece of advice Emily received, repeatedly, it was this – go on the hayride, early.
So she did, climbing aboard with Colin and about fifteen other souls for an off-road excursion through the Indiana countryside.
And, in a hayride first, halfway through the ride, we had to bail.
Turns out, Kevin was driving extra cautiously (it was early), and so, all of us hopped off the back of the trailer, while Kevin negotiated an especially steep ditch. We then hopped back on, and the ride continued uneventfully. (By “uneventfully,” we mean there were no more than the average amount of branches snapping back in to the hay riders faces, and that no souls were lost overboard. This is not always the case…)
Emily met wave after wave of Colin’s relatives, and near relatives. Oddly, some of the nicest people at the “family” reunion are what we would consider third cousins, four times removed… or what Colin’s Grandma would call, “strangers.” These were the friends of the family, a group that, at times, threatened to outnumber actual descendents of the O’Brien clan, and included a very nice young husband, wife, and newborn whom we met near the volleyball courts. (Hi, Wiley, Missy, and baby Joss! Thanks for letting us babysit… your camera. Read the past entries of the blog, and that should explain the photo we took of Car Woody while you were off on the hayride…)
There was, as always, a lot of volleyball played, but not by your intrepid but injury prone bloggers. Colin usually plays a game or two; Emily was thrice injured in the week leading up to the game (slip and fall in Kansas City, tough tumble in St. Louis, and “ego” bruised, too), and was listed as “doubtful” and a game-time decision on the Vegas tip sheets. We both later did get some volleyball practice in, and look forward to someday leading a team of O’Brien descendants including Colin’s siblings Alanna (6’0”), Morgan (6’1”), and cousins Cody (at least 6’2”) and Ryan (about the same) to volleyball victory over the much shorter Kerr/Burke branch of the family tree. Plus, any game interrupted by Kevin Burke's smoked meat breaks... well, that's a game you've got to enjoy. (Car Woody checked out the barbecue and smoker situation, and pronounced it "delicious.")
As has been tradition at the last few reunions, Colin organized a tournament game of poker. Five dollars to buy in, and with seven takers, first place was worth 25 bones, with the silver medalist doubling their initial investment and taking home a ten-spot. Everyone else got nothing. It should come as no surprise that FCOR (First cousin, once removed) Dale was the big winner; he’s played a few hands of poker down at the firehouse, no doubt. And also no surprise, to anyone who’s ever played with her, was Emily’s second place showing. Emily threw down, betting strong and kicking cousins to the curb, claiming victory in a hard fought battle with Cody for the money bubble spot. (Going out third when the top two places pay out is harsh… Sorry, Cody!) As a side bonus, Emily’s poker win also gave her and FCOR Dale something to talk about, besides fishing and bow hunting. (After Colin wrote this part, Emily said: “You know, that’s really funny, but I want to make it clear that I enjoyed talking to him! You know, that’s not the only thing we talked about… I really liked him!” Okay, it’s clear.)
Emily later more than earned her O’Brien credentials, answering the call for the last hayride of the day. Survive the seven o’clock ride, and you join an elite group of daredevils and thrill seekers. (It’s been said that “surviving the final hayride” was a stunt deemed “too extreme” for the recent Jackass movie.) Was it that bad? In a word, yes. But again, through an act of providence (and not Providence Health Care systems), there were no injuries to report.
We were among the last to leave the reunion, and certainly among the first on the list of those who enjoyed and appreciated it. We took great pride in being strong contenders for the prize for “people who came the furthest to attend the reunion.” But our greatest satisfaction and joy came from the number of people (Popps, mostly) at the reunion who came up to us and said they enjoyed the blog, and, more importantly, enjoyed Car Woody. Yay!
Remarkably, it was after this full day of reunion excitement that our day finally started to get interesting. How interesting? Well, Jo Jo, our much-missed cocker spaniel, almost got a new big brother/big sister, and Emily cemented her reputation as a force to be reckoned with, in the world of big-time riverboat gambling.
Let’s start with the pit bull.
Driving home from the reunion, Colin and Emily took a city street that cut in front of the world’s second largest clock. It was here they found the world’s second cutest puppy (Jo Jo, of course, being first…), just out for an evening stroll. The problem being, this evening stroll was more than a bit dangerous for the dog, what with it being in the middle of a street and all. So Colin rolled down his window, and tried to tell the dog to get home. The dog wanted no part of that. It wanted “in.” It wanted to go for a ride. It wanted… love? Attention? Affection? Who knows? But when Colin popped open the car door, this puppy was more than happy to spring up in to the CR-V, and see what new adventures awaited.
This was a strong dog, with a strong body, strong muscles, strong jaws, and a strong, affectionate personality. Holding it, and trying to calm it down a bit, it was easy to see how this type of dog could go horribly wrong. Emily took over dog holding duties, while Colin fumbled for a cell phone, trying to come up with a backup plan, since Plan A - get the dog’s name and maybe a phone number from the dog’s collar tag - wasn’t going to work. This pup wasn’t wearing a collar. And he/she (we never checked) was getting a bit more rambunctious. Emily did a good job keeping her voice calm and happy and soothing, while calmly, happily, soothingly saying, “I don’t think I can keep holding him, Colin! He’s going to jump out the window!” He didn’t, but eventually, the best plan we could come up with (and by we, this included Clarksville firefighter Uncle Fred) was to return the dog where we found him, get him out of the street, and sternly tell him to go home. (They don’t have 24-hour animal shelters in Clarksville, we were told.)
And so we did. We dropped him in a safe location, and sternly told him to go home. He sternly hopped up, putting his paws on the ledge of the car window, not wanting to go. Eventually, he did move safely out of the way, and we were off, leaving behind a mysterious friend, with hope that home was waiting for him, somewhere in the Clarksville night.
Because at that point our day hadn’t yet been exciting enough, we decided to continue our tour of America’s riverboat casinos, because, you know, we’re Harrah’s Gold Card holders now, and we were sure that they were just going to be so damn excited to see us and our big money (Ten dollars in slots! Whoo!!) sitting down at the Caesar’s Indiana Riverboat Casino, conveniently located just ten miles down the road.
They certainly were excited in the poker room, where Colin gave a few lessons in “How Not to Win at Low Limit Hold ‘Em.” Ugh!
But the big winner of the night was again Miss Emily Moss, who parlayed a $0.25 bet at her new favorite game, video poker, in to a $68.75 payout when the machine coughed up a royal flush. Ah, if only all gambling was this easy. (Emily: “It was skill!” Please note – she spun a royal flush, not having to make any decision about which cards to keep.)
Emily’s winnings were quickly cashed out, because Emily is the smart gambler. Colin’s winnings were… well, entirely hypothetical. So White Castle, at 2:00am, on our way back in to Clarksville, was on Emily. (We managed to feed “The Crave,” as it’s known, on just about every day of our visit.)
After Sunday’s reunion fun, we had decided to spend a final day in Clarksville, to let America have the roads to themselves. No fun driving on Labor Day! So we went only as far as the Louisville tourist trap and former VISA commercial star Lynn’s Paradise Café. Ugh! Nightmare! The wait for a table? About an hour. Once we had been seated, and our order was taken, the wait for the food to be made and brought to our table? Another 45 minutes! Yikes! It would be one thing if the waitress said to us, “Uh, folks, it’s batshit crazy in here today, cuz of the holiday and all, and three of the cooks called in sick, but we know they were just out having a little too much fun last night, but end result is, it’s gonna be more than a while until we can get you that biscuits and gravy.” Instead, we got zip, zilch, nada, nothing…just a very, very long wait for our order to arrive. Customer service, apparently, is off the menu, at Lynn’s Paradise Café, and it should be avoided at all costs. (Oohh! Busted!)
It was also closing day for the Cincinnati Reds Triple-A farm team, the Louisville Bats, and by the time we got over there to Louisville Slugger stadium, thanks to the Lynn’s debacle, the game was already in about the third inning. However, this did help in the ticket acquisition department, as people were literally giving away ducats to the season-closing affair by the time we arrived. The price was definitely right. We stayed for a while, took in the flavor (Car Woody had himself a big Pepsi and $1 hot dog), then fled the heat and headed back over the bridge for a final evening in Indiana.
FCOR Dale was kind enough to thaw out and fry us some fish (bluegill, mostly, and it was delicious). It should also be pointed out, as it was by FCOR Dale, that this was just “frying up some fish,” and not an official, Dale-sanctioned FishFry™. That involves a whole lot more in the way of fish preparation (although really, the bigger scale is apparently the primary determining factor). Regardless, the hospitality shown by all the FCOR’s was much, much appreciated.
And as for Tuesday, we were back to our “road routine.” Make sure everything was packed and in place. Make sure the drinks were iced and the cooler was full. Make sure both Car Woody and Isis, our trusty GPS, were in position and ready to go. (They’re getting along a lot better these days, and Isis is especially excited about tomorrow’s planned trip to Graceland. However, Car Woody thinks we should ditch it, and spend the day at the Sun Records studios. Car Woody is all about keeping it real.) We cruised through Nashville, enjoyed a delicious brunch at the famed Pancake Pantry (thanks for the tip, St. Louis friend Robynn!), and updated the blog at a cool coffee shop called Fido.
Then, Emily took the wheel for the trip to Memphis, where it was ribs tonight at Blues City Café. Emily liked ‘em better than Kansas City ribs, but Colin thought there was nothing wrong with them that a little Arthur Bryant sauce wouldn’t cure… A split decision between America’s rib capitals! We closed the evening following the siren song of Mr. Rudy Williams and his trumpet, which lured us in to listening to some blues guitar at a quiet New Orleans-style jazz club on Beale Street. Colin was only mildly disappointed; he wanted to meet Gus Cannon, and see the jug band show…
So now, off to bed, with another big day planned for tomorrow - which will be the beginning of our third week on the road. Seriously, now, where does the time go? Upcoming highlights: Graceland! President Clinton! Texas! Adventure!
Links: See the world’s second largest clock:
http://www.gearthhacks.com/dlfile23190/Worlds-2nd-Largest-Clock.htmUpdate your blog in Nashville:
http://www.bongojava.com/fido.htmlSee some jazz in the home of the blues:
http://www.kingspalacecafe.com/home.htmCurrent mood: Feeling not unlike Paul Simon (“We’re going to Graceland, Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee…”)
Current location:
The final leg of our trip, Flagstaff to Los Angeles, was marked by two distinct parts of the journey. The first part - mountainous desert and vast sandy plains - was characterized by desolation and openness. The second part - say, the part where you get on the I-15 just south of Barstow - was marked by good, old fashioned Los Angeles smog and stop and go traffic. Isis particularly didn't enjoy the traffic, continually updating our estimated arrival time to the point where her normally reliable travel time prediction was off by about 45 minutes. Isis forgot what L.A. traffic was like. So did we.
Also, a tip for future travelers: Grab that last gas at the trucker rest stop thing in Arizona, because once you cross the border to Needles, they bend you over. Most expensive gas of the trip, but after crossing all that desert, you need it. And they know it. Ouch!
