Weekend Part II

Michigan Paul texted me that he and some buds are gonna be in TN this coming weekend and they have an extra bed if I’m interested. Interested? Hell yeah I’m interested! But work is still too busy for me to take off for a few days so I had to pass, regretfully. Those bastards will be toying with temps near 80 degrees while we’re hunkering deeper into our jackets. Screw it, let’s hit the Sunday wrap-up.
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The plan was to hit the Pot Belly Pub for one last hurrah as our season (in conjunction with the temperatures) begins it’s slow and painful decline. Rally point was bandied about during the week, with Rex’s abode finally getting the nod. As the week had progressed, though, the attendee list began to dwindle, and come Sunday morning, it was just the Three Amigos; Rex, Matt and yours truly.

We started the festivities in the usual manner, with a frosty or two (or even three, for one of us – not me, though!), and discussed which route we would take (we’ve gotten lost before). It was during this time that Matt tossed out what was to be the #2 line of the day; “I’ve been to the Pot Belly three times, and I’ve come home five different ways.”

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Time was getting on, and the Pats’ kickoff time was approaching, so we finally agreed on a route and were off. We made the trek without issue and pulled into our destination to find a smattering of other bikes already lined up and waiting.

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Strolling inside, there was a decent headcount at the bar, to the point where not a single seat was available. Not a problem, we’ve been sitting a while, we can now stand for a while. The Mayor was holding office down the bar aways and we exchanged hugs, handshakes, and hello’s. And who is this fine looking gentleman sitting beside him? Why, this is Chuck, the owner of this fine establishment. Chuck was a hell of a nice guy and we all got along great. So great, that he wound up buying us a round. Well, we’d just grabbed a round ourselves, but not to worry, they’ve got things covered. And get this; instead of using chips or shot glasses to signify an owed-drink, they were using little skeleton tokens (in the spirit of the season, ya know?). Sweet! These things are cool, we’re not going to redeem them, we’re going to keep them. “Nope” says Slacka (the bar manager), she says if we like them, we can run down to Walmart and get a whole bag for 99 cents, but don’t take hers. Ok, we won’t.

Whoops.

Now as it turned out, there was an annual meat feast going on today at the PBP. One of their regulars (Ka-Bang) and his wife (Judy) do this every year, where they prepare venison meatballs and kebobs for anyone and everyone that would like to show up. Anyone else that would like to contribute something, can, and let me tell you; there was a table set up with food like you wouldn’t believe. There’s multiple crock pots with meatballs, pans and pans of kebobs all made up and ready for the grill, baked ziti, double-baked mashed potatoes, pasta salad, stuffed jalapeno peppers, baked beans, desserts, etc, etc, etc. And they wouldn’t even accept a dime for it!
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Here is the esteemed Ka-Bang…

As mentioned, he and his wife Judy do this every year. We asked if we could toss them a few bucks for the food and he said no, they do this for the enjoyment of the PBP patrons. We then said how about setting up a jar for folks to toss contributions into, and while they (the Mayor was now involved in the conversation) said they didn’t want money for themselves, it might not be a bad idea to accept donations and then give them to the local food pantry. Talk about an upstanding group! So next year, that will be a part of the plan. Hell, I think part of the plan is for us to mark it in our calendars and bring something down, too!

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Now even though Ka-Bang wouldn’t accept any money for the food, we figured he’d be hard-pressed to turn down a beer, so; Chris! (the bartender), Buy That Man A Beer! Ok, ok, he’s not ready for one yet. Well Ka-Bang, you just let us know when, ok? What’s that? Oh, ok; not ready for a beer yet, but always ready for a shot of Goldschlager? In fact, upon closer inspection, I saw the shot glass sitting on the bar in front of his seat. Turns out this man has a system, and anytime you want to buy him a shot, just get Chris’s attention and point at Ka-Bang’s shot glass. Chris will bring the Goldschlager over and pour him one. Well hell, that works for us! Chris! Buy That Man A Shot! (AND, when you’re ready for a beer, Ka-Bang, you let us know!)

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Right about this point, it was Feast Time! Everyone grabbed a plate and dug in. The place got sorta quiet as everyone took turns going up for firsts, seconds, thirds, etc. Myself, I’m not much of a venison person but I gave the meatballs a try and they weren’t half bad. (As an aside, we also discussed the topic of hunting with Ka-Bang and he only bow-hunts, and always hunts for food-only, letting nothing go to waste, which I thought was pretty cool.)

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His wife Judy was a riot; at one point she walked by me and happened to kick my knee by mistake. When I (teasingly) yelled at her, she made me forget about that pain…by coming back and kicking me in my other knee. Tough crowd!

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We also got to meet Mike, the non-Jap (his words) that’s half Japanese. I dunno, I don’t get it either, but I did get that he was one funny bastard. In fact, everyone here is funny. Everyone here is friendly, going out of their way to say hello to strangers they don’t even know. Impressive behavior for a full-fledged biker bar. Hell, they even want us to go there on Thanksgiving morning and get tanked with them. Between the drink specials they have that day, and the offers to make up booths for us to crash in if we get too crocked, we figured our best move was to not show up, LOL. (It sounds a lot like what goes on at Lewis’ each year. I don’t go to Lewis’ anymore, and that’s only one town over! Although…maybe I should give it some consideration…it’s been a long time…)

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And while all this fun and frivolity is going on, the Pats are taking their sweet time in eking out a tough victory. All eyes were focused on the TV screens as regulation time expired. Curses and encouragement were shouted out as momentum shifted back and forth in OT, but then all was right in the world as Gostkowski’s kick sailed between the uprights, giving Patriots’ Nation a sweet victory. Yeah!! Now it’s time to celebrate!

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The beers were flowing, the bellies were full, and the laughter was everywhere. At some point in the afternoon, Matt tossed out what was to be the #1 line of the day; someone commented that he (Matt) was pretty cool and he replied “Man, I’m SO cool that if I get any cooler, I’m going to have to hibernate.”

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Jeezus, what a fun place the PBP is. We’d planned this as our last one for the season, but we always have so much fun there, we gotta hit it again before the snows set in.

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The sun hadn’t bothered to slow its progression across the sky and (all too) soon it was time to break for closer-to-home. We said our goodbyes amid many handshakes and backslaps, raised the kickstands and broke for more familiar territory. The Eagle Brook Saloon wound up being said “more familiar territory”, and we finished off the day with a few more rounds of frosties.

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Another successful day, another successful PBP run. We agreed that yes, today was to have been “the last one before the season ends”, but we also agreed that we still need to get down there “one last time before the season ends”. And with any luck, it’ll happen. And while that may wind up being “the last one of the season”, if they keep showing us such a terrible time, it may not be.

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Ride Hard, Take Chances