Frankie C’s Excellent Super Bowl Adventure: Day 9
By Frankie C
Cold Hard Football Facts Bon Vivant
For Day 8 of Frankie's C's Excellent Super Bowl Adventure click here.
I think this is the latest I’ve woken up this trip. I’m still smarting from the Super Bowl result. I think I might be all Super Bowled out. I mean, I’m glad to be not on my way to work but I’m worn out. It’s one thing to go out on a Friday or Saturday night and tie one on. It’s another thing entirely to tie one on every day for a week and a half. I like to think I know how to party but I’m plum tuckered out. You’re all welcome, faithful readers.
The room is awake. Bill’s father, Kerry and I are all sitting around rehashing the game. Bill shows up. We’re going to go to breakfast. Bill’s dad asks if he’s going to wash his face. I second the motion, telling him to wash that stupid grin off his face.
We all hit up Osterio Pronto again. I have an omelet, and a stack of bacon, and a bowl of fruit, and 17 cups of coffee. I’m starting to feel my blood flowing again. I’ll need a serious detox period when I get home. I’m already dreading it.
Bill and lil’ Bill head off to pick up some Giants gear. Kerry and I return to the room to work, and mock them behind their back. I’m kidding. We only mocked Little Bill. We both like Bill Sr.
The Bills take off for home. Kerry and I aren’t leaving until tomorrow. The work is going slow today. Kerry and I hit the bar to see if we can get the juices flowing. 2 beers later and I feel like Shakespeare.
I just finished the day 8 blog. Kerry’s still got a mountain of work to do. I take a shower and squeeze out the last bit of awesome I have. I literally have to roll the end of the tube up to get any at all. You’re welcome, Indianapolis.
I buzz around the hotel while Kerry works. I split time between the bar and the curb. Smoking and Drinking, the fuel that runs the Frankie C engine. I know, pathetic.
Kerry’s had enough work for awhile. We decide to head up to the famous St. Elmo’s steakhouse
for a drink.
St. Elmo’s is famous their shrimp cocktail covered in horseradish laden cocktail sauce. We can’t sit at the bar and not have some. We place the order.
We get the shrimp. The service at St. Elmo’s might be having an off-day. C’est le vie. We dig into the shrimp. Kerry beats me to the punch and tries it first. He immediately stands up from his stool, tears streaming from his eyes. I’m terrified. I’ve seen this kid eat things that would make a billy-goat puke. I try the shrimp. I don’t even taste it before the tears start flowing. I can’t sit still. It’s not like my mouth is on fire. It’s like my whole HEAD is on fire. The horseradish is sneaky. It attacks the nasal cavity first. I don’t remember snorting habenero peppers. I drink an entire beer, hoping to put the fire out.
After the initial pain subsides, the shrimp cocktail turns out to be a winner, it’s just fantastic. Kerry and I decide to make a full meal of it. Kerry gets the prime rib and I go with the bone-in ribeye.
The steaks come out. They are awesome. Kerry’s prime rib looks like it weighs about 15 pounds. That’s not an exaggeration. My ribeye is less imposing but it’s thick and perfectly cooked. I race through it.
We’re joined at the bar by the lovely Kara. She starts chatting me up. I’m telling any guys out there that Indy is the place to be. I’m serious. The girls are beautiful and friendly. I’m not used to this. Kara is from the greater Indy area and was cheering for the Giants. I don’t hold it against her. Kerry and I launch our cheesy shtick at her like a cruise missile. She’s helpless to defend it.
We bid our new friend Kara goodbye and head back to the hotel. We intend to drive the entire thousand miles back to God’s country tomorrow, so we're wrapping it up early.
One last stop at the sports bar in the hotel High Velocity. Kerry tries to chat up a couple girls at the bar. We’re fresh out of cool. We wrap it up.
Two middle aged men throw in the towel. The rest of this trip will consist of watching the miles fly by the passenger window of Kerry’s truck so I’ll spare you the read.
Folks, I consider myself the luckiest guy in the world. I’m blessed with a terrific family and some of the best friends a guy could ask for. My best friend, Kerry, has a website and allows me to write to you guys every year at the Super Bowl. This was the best one yet. We saw the country. We visited the hall of fame. We partied in Indy like we owned the place. We hung with local celebs and failed to make eye contact with national ones. (save something for next year). I was pleased to share all this with you guys. Thanks so much for reading. You guys are the best.
Do yourself a favor between now and next Super Bowl. Unleash some awesome all your own.
With Love, Frankie C.