Who Doesn't Love Baywatch?

Well here it is, the end of May, and I’m happy to report the sun is finally shinning in Indianapolis. Birds are chirping, flowers are blooming, graduation and wedding announcements are flooding my mailbox, and I’ve even used the bbq a few times. This grand right of passage can only indicate one thing: Spring is upon us, and I for one, couldn’t be more thrilled. So over the past couple weeks, as well as the weeks leading us to summer, I plan to maximize my Spring-time activities and milk this baby for all she’s worth.

One of the great Spring inventions is the patio bar. Growing up in Southern California, the patio bar was….the bar. Or the restaurant. There was no transition from everyday eatery to Spring-time hangout. However, living in Indy, I find myself compelled to take advantage of this gift from God and join the day drinkers for a round of Heinekens. At 10 am.

An aspect of going out, whether it be for day drinking or a night on the town, that is often overlooked, is the always dreaded, when do you want to leave conversation with your buddies. Assuredly, in a group of 5 dudes, there’s always that one guy that wants to bounce early, as well as that guy that wants to close the bar down. Then, the 3 that could go either way. This is a simple bell-shaped curve and is observed world-wide by bar-goers alike. To avoid this scenario, the key is finding your Partying Tolerance Equal, or PTE. Again, observed by party people around the globe. This person is a lot like a spouse in that communication is important and compromise always comes into play. I’ve gone through a few PTE’s in my day but have settled in nicely with my buddy Trader.

Speaking of rights of passage, my college roommate is getting married this weekend and I couldn’t be happier for the guy. They are both doctors, making them both equally way more smart and determined than I’ll ever be. While I haven’t met the future Mrs. (or is it Mrs.-Dr. Fro….always confusing) Fro, I have seen her picture and he is clearly marrying up. And while I won’t make the wedding, I did pony up for a weekend of beer, cookies, paintball, and poker in the woods of Northern Minnesota. This was 3 days that I will never forget, and the images that are emblazed upon my brain will be nearly impossible to erase. In a nutshell, going to bed at 6 am and waking up at 9; consuming nothing but cookies and keg beer for 3 days straight; getting blasted in the seeds during a 2 hour paintball session (by friendly fire, no less); and finally, our involvement with a bachelorette party at a nearby dive bar that resulted in a shoeless dance-off, crying, a near brawl with locals, another dance-off, and finally, getting blasted in the coins again, this time by an unidentified object (my money’s on you, Krebs). Congrats, Fro, and thank you, fellas, for the killer weekend. After 3 more treatments, I’m told I’ll regain full use of my special region and it will no longer hurt when I use the restroom.

I recently attended my step-brother’s high school graduation in small-town Southern Minnesota. This also allowed me the opportunity to meet the German foreign exchange student, Simon, who has been staying with my parents for some 6 months now, which in turn, allowed me to watch my parents interact with his parents. Hilarity quickly ensued. Keep in mind, Simon’s parents had been to America one time. The locale? New York City. My parents live in a town of less then a 1000 and there are defiantly more deer then people. To say these poor folks were culture shocked would be wildly inappropriate and the understatement of the decade. At one point, Simon’s mother asked me why honey comes in a plastic container that looks like a bear. My response, “Good question, and I have no earthly clue.” I then began to string together a wild fable of “honey hunters” from the ‘30’s and that through extensive market research found that people found bears friendly and a trusted resource when it came to honey. This horrible and unfunny story ended with me apologizing and singing what few words I knew of German sensation Nena’s smash hit, 99 Red Balloons. Then I asked if she liked David Hasselhoff. Then I told her I was attacked by a German Sheppard as a young child. Needless to say, I didn’t see much of Mrs. Kaiser after that stellar exchange. Simon and Aaron, congratulations on graduation, and good luck moving forward; it was fun meeting all the kids at Fillmore Central. And Aaron, when you asked what I was doing this Summer and I just looked at you and walked away…this was because Summer’s no longer exist in my world. Enjoy your time of, guys. You’ll soon be a working chump like the rest of us.

How is it that it’s nearly impossible to swallow a stick of Dentyne, but I can eat a taco in two bites?

Also, when did it become standard practice to clap when the airplane lands? Are we surprised the plane landed and we want to show our appreciation to the pilot? I don’t clap when the bartender brings me another drink. I don’t do the wave when the kid at the grocery store bags my cereal. What is this?

Another airport thought: take off the freaking sunglasses when walking through the terminal. You’re not Brad Pitt and even if you were, wearing sunglasses only draws attention to the fact that you’re a giant d-bag. Thank you.

And finally, Spring signifies the time when people start making Summer plans. These plans include concerts, family reunions, and vacation People start scouring Orbitz and Kayak for all the latest travel destination trends and hot deals, only to find that either a Caribbean cruise or a week in Hawaii seem to be the standards once again. And although I don’t get a high school Summer vacation like the kids at Fillmore Central, in the next few months I’ll find myself in a wedding in Oregon, a work junket in Napa, Chicago, Southern California, Cincinnati, Vegas, and the East Coast to reconnect with my West Coast hating brethren. A message to those whom I’ll be visiting: Please, no cookies, kegs, paintballs, or poker. No honey from a plastic bear, German pop songs, or clapping upon my arrival. And lastly, watch the nads….things are still a little ginger. I guess this is growing up!