Go (Mid)West Young Man!

Remember those stereotypical movies and tv shows where one of the characters decides to put off college, or real life, for a year or two so they can travel and "see the world"? Let let me say if you do plan to travel try not to do it all in one day.

When I was a Texan (for all of nine months) I was looking to get back to the Buckeye State as I had started a relationship with a girl I had met at a wedding in Ohio. That relationship blossomed into something more than just a fling and had no sign of fizzling out. So I decided it was time to move closer to see where this relationship would go. It kinda helped that all of my immediate family was in Ohio. Yet, another incentive to move back. Texas was not a purposeful move to begin with and I had no real "anchor" keeping me in the Lone Star State although I thoroughly enjoyed what it had to offer.

Once it was decided I found a job in Ohio (Newark, just east of Columbus) and planned the big move. My brother, Chad, who had never been one to turn down adventure was more than willing to assist in dragging all of my crap back to our home state. It was settled that he would fly down to Dallas then the next day while I drove the monstrosity they call a Uhaul he would would drive my super sleek chick mobile: a 1997 Ford Taurus family sedan missing a driver's side sideview mirror.

Since I had all but owned stock in Uhaul due to my long list of moves over the years I had the route mapped out already. Interstate highways would take us the entire distance across five states: Texas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky and Ohio. We had never discussed stopping at a hotel, motel, backwoods cubby hole or tree house along the way so it was assumed we'd see how far we could get before deciding to rest.

Getting up early on a sunny September morning in 2002 we were ripe to see if we could outdo what common sense said was not only asinine, but also dangerous. We were going to drive the entire distance straight through stopping only for gas, food, bathroom breaks and maybe the occasional goof off.

Just beyond the eastside of Dallas the highway was relatively empty for that time of the morning. I had made it a point to have my camera by my side to document what we had hoped was not going to be our demise. My brother, in my light blue sedan (that was now more arrow dynamic without the mirror), traveled ahead of the Uhaul and I. We collaborated on navigation as we each had a map and communicated via cellphone.

As we approached the large road signs that detailed the distances to the next major city I took pictures of them. The photos are not too bad, especially for being taken by someone who is driving a loaded down Uhaul on an interstate highway at 70 mph. You can document the trip through the photos that give distances to Little Rock, Memphis, Nashville, Louisville, Cincinnati & Columbus.

Somewhere just outside of Memphis, on the Arkansas side, we stopped to for a quick bathroom break before a scheduled dinner stop in Memphis. It was a simple exit with no visible sign of life, except for a gas station. It was the type of joint you'd see on an episode of the Twilight Zone with tumbleweed blowing past & being occupied by suspect characters. Curious to know exactly where we were my brother approached the friendly, bespectacled attendant. She had most of her teeth which to us meant she had to be halfway trustworthy and having grew up in a small, out-of-the-way town ourselves it would be interesting to document where we had been.

Once asked the girl uttered what came across like the sound you'd make when attempting to catch your breath after overexerting yourself. That was followed clearly by "Arkansas". We stared at each other then looked back at her in obvious confusion. The girl laughed when we didn't quite catch the name. Apparently our reaction was not uncommon. She repeated the name a little slower, but his time it had a more throaty rumble like the sound of hocking up a big loogie. She even assisted us by spelling it out: H-E-G-H. We were told the town, or village, was called Hegh (try imagining a cat loosening a hairball)...but less feline-y. We then understood why it wasn't on the map. Arkansas was too embarrassed to acknowledge it.

Back on the road to Memphis we had planned to stop and eat at a place that would have the Ohio State versus Washington State football game on television. It was airing on ESPN. Once there we found a Jillian's, but parking was at a premium especially for a Uhaul. After about five minutes of searching we talked a security guard into letting us park the gigantic truck in a spot in the parking garage reserved for emergency vehicles. That's because the truck wouldn't fit anywhere else in the garage. Actually I don't think you could have fit it in the Superdome much less a garage. We ate and watched the Buckeyes beat Washington State in a battle of highly ranked teams.

Somewhere between Memphis and Nashville we stopped for gas. After getting back on the road Chad apparently missed a sign dropping the speed limit from 65 to 55. Just as I think, "Dude, you need to slow down", a Tennessee State Trooper flies by me and flags him down. Chad exits and pulls into the parking lot of a gas station. This was compounded by the fact that the tags on my Taurus were expired... and had been for two years!! Totally my fault, but why the hell was he driving so fast!

Waiting for the other shoe to drop we lucked out. The trooper was from Evansville, Indiana....I town I had lived in and the place where my expired tags were from. So, being friendly, we began chatting about the town and gave him the story about what we were doing & don't you know...he let us off the hook!! It helped that I gave an award winning performance of kneeling down to examine the tags and giving this horrified look of disbelief that they had expired...nearly 800 days ago! The trooper's advice...just make sure the Uhaul was behind the Taurus to hide the fact it had expired tags. To this day I don't have a discouraging word to say about The Volunteer State.

Deep in the heart of Kentucky we came to a dead stop on the highway behind a long line of cars. Something had taken place miles ahead. Once we started moving again we expected to see the remnants of some sort of accident or reason why the highway was shutdown, but there was nothing. It was very odd. We didn't even see emergency vehicles pass on the opposite side of the road. Only god knows why a miles long string of vehicles came to a dead stop that evening. Maybe some bootleggers were trying to cross the road in the middle of the night and met the front end of a semi.

Along the way, traveling behind my brother in the Taurus, I noticed my car weaving a little. Chad was weary and struggling to stay awake. I felt his pain, I was in the same boat. I made several attempts to wake myself up, but none of them worked. Finally, on a whim, I rolled down the windows took a deep breath and screamed the f-word at the top of my lungs. I did this three more times, each one with more force. You would have thought I was a drunken sailor who was just told it last call and had to drag my ass back to the ship. Within seconds my blood was pumping, my eyes were no longer heavy and I was a new man!

At our next stop for gas and food I was eager to tell my brother about my unique system for warding off the body's need for sleep. Surprisingly, Chad had done the same thing!! Great minds think alike I tell ya. Though some would beg to differ.

Just as we get to the Ohio River we come to a dead stop again. This time the reason was in plain sight. We were about the fifth car back as a tractor trailer rig had jackknifed. The driver was okay and he had missed the other cars, but the truck was blocking several lanes. Being in the early morning hours of what is now Sunday we sat outside our cars along with other motorist waiting to pass. There were a pair of loud and obnoxious fellas in the car next to us. They seemed as if they had been patronizing several bars for way too long and were on there way to dodging the cops.

We, and the other motorists, did our best to ignore them. A few moments passed and one of them gets in the driver's seat of their car. The other was attempting to talk to the girl in the car in front of them. She struggled to pretend he wasn't there and only briefly acknowledged his existence. His friend, who was now in their car, was fiddling with the radio and such. Like a little kid was was bored and didn't know any better. Suddenly I see him reach for the gear shift, and being on a downward incline to begin with, their car goes forward and runs into the back of the car belonging to the annoyed girl! He just missed hitting her and his friend!

She, now scared for her life at this point, inspects the damage. There was nothing to be too worried about as it was short distance, but these two yahoos still had to drive home in their drunken condition! When traffic starting moving my brother called 1-800-Grab-DUI, Ohio's drunk driver reporting hotline. The following should make you feel safe. The dispatcher told my brother, "Oh you know, there's a lot of traffic over there and I'm sure our patrolman won't be able to fight through the line of backed up cars to find in them before they are out of reach."

What!? We give you details on a pair drunkards traveling an interstate around a major metropolis and you blow us off? We told the dispatcher about their previous actions and she still gave us the "oh well" attitude. I'm sure our troopers and patrolmen are busy & do their jobs flawlessly, but come on! Don't treat us like we're bothering you! You would have thought we were on an episode of Reno 911!

In disbelief we head into Cincinnati and beyond without another sighting of the drunk brothers. Hopefully, the other motorists did as well.

On the outskirts of Columbus we breathe a sigh of relief and dance in our seats as we have finally reach our destination. Coming to a stop at my brother's apartment in Grandview we high five on the fact we just drove from Dallas, Texas to Columbus, Ohio in 26 1/2 hours with the only stops being for the needed food, gas and OSU football game.

Once inside we immediately hit the sack. I slept for 13 hours. My brother would have slept longer, but had to go to work that Monday. On that day I drove the Uhaul with all my crap another 40 minutes east to Newark, my new hometown.

Here it is six years later and we still reference that trip like it occurred yesterday. People think we're nuts and, well, yes...we were...and are. We probably wouldn't ever do something like that again, but those who tell us how dumb it was? You know they would have done the same thing if it had been them.

We were young, able, willing and looking to capitalize on not having the chance to do something so idiotic ever again. And you can't let those chances get away, you have to live in the now.

We're a little older now. I live in Akron, Ohio and my brother he lives in....get this...Austin, Texas! No lie! He and his better half, Stephanie, love it. I'm happy for them. But if they ever have the urge to make a triumphant return to the Buckeye State I'll suggest they sell their crap and buy a plane ticket.

Just make sure it's tags haven't expired and the pilots are sober, ;)

Reflections On The Passing Of Tim Russert

Now that I've had the weekend to let the death of Tim Russert set in, this is my tribute. An area dentist who went to college with Russert in Northeast Ohio passed his recollections. This was originally published on Akronnewsnow.com on Friday.

Local Friend Of Russert Reflects On His Passing
6/13/2008 7:19:09 PM Craig Simpson

Area Dentist John Hudec, a college classmate and friend of Tim Russert, is reflecting on the passing of the televison newsman. Hudec, who lives in Brecksville, says Russert was much more into politics than his television persona.

He says Russert was definitely a politico from the start, "You could see him getting involving in politics but does anyone ever think somebody is going to achieve greatness like that? Not back in college because greatness was a long ways a way, but he certainly achieved it."

He says Russert was also a good friend of one his roommates who is now one of the team physicians for the Cleveland Cavaliers. He shares this story of the recent playoffs, "He ran into Russert and Russert could not have been more delighted. Tim was interviewing everybody and showing them 'this is my friend from college. Look at him, he's the team doctor for the Cleveland Cavaliers!' The sense of camaraderie never left."

In another recollection Hudec says the two were together at the school's library the day former presidential candidate George Wallace was shot in 1972. Hudec recently sent Russert a note asking him if he remembered that day, "He wrote back, 'Dear John...don't let anybody ever know I was in the library. Everybody here is stunned. They saw your note and couldn't believe I ever spent any time in the library.' We occassionally exchanged notes like that, but this...this is a sad day."

According to Hudec Russert was also involved in attracting top name musical talent to play at little John Carroll University, including the likes of Chicago and The Beach Boys. "You would have thought he would be more in to that area after college, but when he left Cleveland Marshall Law School he got involved into politics with (New York) Governor (Mario) Cuomo and Senator (Daniel) Moynahan," he says.

John Carroll University: http://www.jcu.edu/

The two were classmates at John Carroll and continued to be good friends until his untimely death.Hudec says this has taken the wind out of the sails with this being Father's Day weekend, "...especially knowing how important his son was to him."

Meet the Press: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3403008/

Tim Russert, the host of NBC's influential political program "Meet the Press," died of an apparent heart attack Friday while recording segments for this Sunday's show.

He was 58.

Link to the original story: http://www.akronnewsnow.com/news/itemdetail.asp?ID=21211&section=news&subsection=localnews

It Ain't Easy Being Green

With all the hubbub surrounding St. Patrick's Day the luck of the Irish was most definitely NOT on my side in 2007.

I've never been one to go "all out" for St. Paddy's, but when the chance to celebrate has come my way I have at least done my part to have a good time. Last year my friends in the Youngstown area (Niles) recruited me to tag along on their tour of local establishments. I was excited to be able to do so. With it being on a weekend, for once, I didn't have work to interfere.

On this weekend the leprechauns were apparently aware of my lack of an immune system. If its floating in the air chances are it will be coming after me first. And yes, I had a severe head cold when the mid-March holiday rolled around. These illnesses are best cared for by getting lots of rest. On that Friday I left work early (I work the 3pm to midnight shift) in order to get enough sleep to be alert enough for that Saturday's activities. I was to be in Niles by 7 am and it was an hour or so drive from my Canton home.

Niles, Ohio: http://www.thecityofniles.com/

I did myself a favor and went to bed early. It didn't last. My girlfriend at the time, who had been out with friends that Friday, didn't get home till late and wanted to chat. She calls me at 1:30 am to say hi. I oblige and answer. We chat.....for the next two hours! Christine...I loved the girl...but damn did that spell doom for me.

I get up two hours later with my head feeling like the size of a blimp and unable to breathe out of either nostril. I think I drank a gallon of water to rid myself of the cotton mouth I woke up with as it was the only way I could get oxygen into my body overnight. A good hot shower opened up the airwaves, if only for a short time.

The drive to Niles wasn't so bad and my Irish Catholic-ish friends, the Ellwoods and Means family, welcomed me with open arms. Our first stop on the St.Paddy's Day tour: Quaker Steak & Lube for none other than green eggs and ham, literally. The eggs, made green with the appropriate food coloring, and ham slices in the shape of shamrocks with the use of a cookie cutter. The food was actually a good thing....I was starving and I'm sure the virus that had invaded by head needed some fuel.

Quaker Steak & Lube: http://www.quakersteakandlube.com/

To go along with breakfast I was in the process of ordering a typical breakfast beverage, but before I could utter orange juice or coffee my ego was challenged as Ken (the party scene leader) ordered a beer. And not just any beer....a 32 ounce mug of leprechaun lager. Once he orders the waitress turns to me and my brain is screaming, "Orange juice you damn fool! Say orange juice! coffee, tea, milk, motor oil...anything but beer!" But as I look at Ken my immune system wasn't the only thing to break down. My common sense was pummeled into submission by my sense of pride and the phrase, "I'll have what he's having", raddled off my tongue.

Somewhere St. Patrick smiled and waited for the inevitable.

Not only did I down the 32 ounces of evil at 7am, I tried to keep pace with Ken who is twice my size. My pride continued to have common sense in a choke hold and ordered a second 32 ounce brewski. I downed that that one too. I at least avoided ordering a third. That's what Ken did and he sucked it down before I finished my second. By 8:30 I had ingested green eggs, shamrock-shaped ham and 64 ounces of beer. All the while I could have been quarantined with the type of head cold that was partying inside that melon between my shoulders.

As we headed out for the second destination I reminded myself that I needed to slow down. I had all the best of intentions, but on this day those intentions were about as good as snow in August in the Buckeye State. I didn't come across any other 32 ounce mini-kegs though they might as well have been.

The rest of the five to six stops include outside gatherings, inside parties with Irish music, buffet tables, a never ending flow of beer and the occasional nip of liquor. Near the end my body flipped the self-destruct button. This, I recall, was just about the time Ohio State's Ron Lewis hit the game-tying three that sent the NCAA Tournament Second Round game with Xavier into overtime.

I was rundown, forcing water into my system and pretending to be coherent to my much smarter companions. The game was up. It was obvious I working my way toward dumbass-ville. And they did what any good friends would do...laughed at my expense. I deserved it.

Once the St. Paddy's Day tour came to an end I headed back with the Means' to their home. Watching basketball, through the one eye I could keep open, Heather and Marc started getting hungry and want to order food from their normal hangout Gasoline Alley. A great local place to grab a beer, bar food or dinner. I wasn't in the mood for any of it.

Gasoline Alley: http://directory.vindy.com/dining/index.php?biz=535

They returned with plenty of food. Wings, loaded fries, stuffed mushrooms...wow did it smell good. But I knew my stomach, who was on a tilt-a-whirl doing 80 mph, would have none it. I instead nibbled on a sleeve of saltines and sipped down a can or two of Sprite. Marc and Heather watched basketball....I held onto the sofa like it was a seat on an out of control Boeing 747 on its way to crashing into the ground and I could do nothing to stop it.

That night I think I went to sleep. It was either that or just a really long nightmare.

St. Patrick let me off the hook as daylight hit, he had to. It was March 18th and his time was up. I awoke with the sofa still in the same place, my stomach had been let off its wild ride and the evil liquor in my system was out of gas. Though my headcold was alive and well. It continued for the next week. And I'm sure it stayed as long as it did because of the fuel I threw on the fire that Saturday afternoon.

This year I had to work on that holiday as it landed on a Monday. It was disappointing not to join my friends for another round of Irish fun as I would have been much better prepared, but then again it was probably a good thing. I was relegated to attending Akron City Council that night. I think St. Patrick was doing me a favor...he knew better than to let Mr. Amateur try it again.

Remember those commercials of the egg frying in the skillet with the voice saying, "Your brain on drugs." Well...I have never dabbled in the illegal, or even legal, narcotics of any kind. But I now know exactly what they meant.

For me, pride and common sense don't - and didn't -mix....and the lack of sleep....and head colds...and alcohol... and an empty stomach.

My new slogan for St. Patrick's Day: The weak need not apply ;)

Hall Monitors For Hire

Between radio jobs (those of which decided I was no longer a desired commodity) I've looked into some interesting sources of income. In Dallas when delivering pizza six days a week, 14 hours a day became a little old I searched for other opportunities.

Dallas Morning News: http://www.dallasnews.com/

The one that sticks in my mind is the ad I answered in the Dallas Morning News for "Security Guards Wanted". Decent pay was offered with hours which would allow me to have a second job without a problem. I had to at least check into it. Following a quick phone call I was scheduled to join a group of others interested in the job to hear more details. Upon first look most of those who attended this meeting along with me I wouldn't have allowed to guard my mailbox let alone my business. You could tell the majority just needed a quick income because they had nothing else or refused to do anything else. Others had families to support and needed a second job.

Our instructor...hmm..imagine Aunt Jemima being REALLY ticked off. No wholesome attitude here. She had a menacing look and a stare that would make you confess every sin you've ever committed or even thought about committing. She didn't take any crap either.

Aunt Jemima: http://www.auntjemima.com/

A couple of those in attendance thought they could break her, get her to laugh or joke around. Sort of like the substitute teacher who wants to play hardass in order to gain your respect. But wouldn't have it; the jokes and smart comments wouldn't penetrate her steel-like facade.

After getting the lowdown of what they were expecting we were told those who seemed worthy of their time would get a call back. I barely said a word and all I had done was fill out a small questionnaire. They could apparently tell the good from the bad & ugly by your address. Hey, if it works...maybe they should sell the idea to our legislators!

I was lucky enough to be contacted for a week's worth of classroom review of duties and regulations - its amazing to know all it takes to be a security guard is to complete five, one hour review sessions. This consisted of leafing through the recently photocopied manual with commentary from a ticked off & unhappy Aunt Jemima look-a-like with badge.

We were also relegated to watching their training videos. Yeah..you've seen these. Current employees forced (at gunpoint I think) to read a script of things they would never say on the job in a monotone, robotic voice in front of another co-worker with a camcorder. I know some the information passed on to us was necessary, but telling us our only weapon to scare off would be intruders or juvenile delinquents who were up to no good was a notepad and pencil isn't what I wanted to hear.

Leave It To Beaver: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leave_It_to_Beaver

As displayed by our training videos the world still revolved like it did in episodes of Leave It To Beaver. These people were supposed to stop what they were doing and drop their weapons of choice by my mear presence. Better yet they were dismayed that I was writing down their names, God Forbid! How could they go on! What I was supposed to do with this list of names was unclear. Was I supposed to submit them to management to get the culprits barred from the mall? "NO...I have to have my Orange Julius!", is the phrase I imagined would come from those being "punished".

During that week our instructor did loosen up a bit, but just enough to show she was human and not the cyborg we thought she was. Though I was taking part in the You Can Be A Security Guard Too! classes I was also looking for possible work elsewhere because I just wasn't exactly sold on the idea of being a rent-a-cop armed with a pen & pencil set.

Cyborg: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyborg

On the last day of classes we were given uniforms. Funny, we did this by going into the changing room closet that contained various sizes of security guard-like dress shirts, slacks and shoes. When I say security guard-like I mean they were all black in color. With my uniform ready to go I was given my assignment. On Monday I was to arrive at this office building with my notepad & writing utensil and guard the structure through the evening and early morning hours. I wasn't too enthused about it, but it was work.

Fortunately one of my other job searches had turned up another restaurant gig which paid a bit more (And was a bit less frightening). So on that weekend I informed the security company of my premature departure from law enforcement via voicemail on their business answering machine. I never heard anything back from them so I'm guessing my assignment was covered. I'm sure they were plenty others waiting to fill my shoes.

I've never had another urge, or situation to push me in, to dig into the security or law enforcement. I figured I'd leave that to those who weren't built like a sapling. Being six-foot-three, 180 pounds with stick figure arms & legs is scaring only to those who think you have an eating disorder.

So radio has been an adventure and I'm sure when I leave the business I'll miss a lot of it. Then again, I'm sure there is plenty I'll be happy to put behind me...for a long, long time.