Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Diamond Jo Casio in Norhtwood, IA
I am officially in Iowa. Technically, I have been in Iowa since about 4 PM yesterday. But, even though I spent the night, I hate counting a state as ‘visited’ if all I did was work or spend a night in a hotel. It just doesn’t seem right to me. And, since I am the one counting, if it doesn’t seem right, it isn’t.
But, today we finished work early and got to do
something. By work, I mean that I am here in Mason City, Iowa on business. My company has taken over servicing a chain of restaurants from another distributor. My company is buying
the residual inventory, and I, and an associate from another location with my company are here in town to inspect and certify that inventory. Fun stuff.
As it turned out, we got done way early today and had time to find something to see or do. There are no major tourist attractions, like Mt. Rushmore or Alcatraz or The Statue of Liberty, nearby. But, as it turned out there is Diamond Jo Casino in Northwood, IA, just 30 minutes away. So my partner, Greg and I made the trip. I was not super crazy about it; not because I don’t enjoy it; I do. But, because I didn’t want to lose a bunch of money. These business trips usually cost me enough when I buy things for the kids and such. But, I didn’t want to just stay at the hotel and waste an opportunity. So off we went. I ended up not losing anything. I actually broke even. We gambled for about 2 hours.
Diamond Jo is a mid sized casino. Like all of them anymore, it is heavy on slot machines. This suited Greg, as he likes the slots.
I used to, but my luck is just horrible. I routinely cycle through a twenty like it was ashes in the wind. I try to make most of my play at video poker. I am usually able to hold my own. I will likely never hit the Royal Flush, but even if I drop twenty, it usually takes me a while.
Greg says he usually loses. With slots as his game, it’s no wonder. But, I understand exactly why he does it, and it’s not he does it
with the intent of bringing home the grocery money. It’s entertainment, that occasionally pays off. Today was one of those days, and he walked out with $300 more than he took in. Hard to complain about that. We played separately most of the time we were there, so when I found him he said that he was looking for me, hoping I would tell him it was time to go. So, I did. I’m always happy to see a winner.
Greg got $300 and I got to cross Iowa off my list. 41 down and 9 to go.
But, today we finished work early and got to do
something. By work, I mean that I am here in Mason City, Iowa on business. My company has taken over servicing a chain of restaurants from another distributor. My company is buying
the residual inventory, and I, and an associate from another location with my company are here in town to inspect and certify that inventory. Fun stuff.
As it turned out, we got done way early today and had time to find something to see or do. There are no major tourist attractions, like Mt. Rushmore or Alcatraz or The Statue of Liberty, nearby. But, as it turned out there is Diamond Jo Casino in Northwood, IA, just 30 minutes away. So my partner, Greg and I made the trip. I was not super crazy about it; not because I don’t enjoy it; I do. But, because I didn’t want to lose a bunch of money. These business trips usually cost me enough when I buy things for the kids and such. But, I didn’t want to just stay at the hotel and waste an opportunity. So off we went. I ended up not losing anything. I actually broke even. We gambled for about 2 hours.
Diamond Jo is a mid sized casino. Like all of them anymore, it is heavy on slot machines. This suited Greg, as he likes the slots.
I used to, but my luck is just horrible. I routinely cycle through a twenty like it was ashes in the wind. I try to make most of my play at video poker. I am usually able to hold my own. I will likely never hit the Royal Flush, but even if I drop twenty, it usually takes me a while.
Greg says he usually loses. With slots as his game, it’s no wonder. But, I understand exactly why he does it, and it’s not he does it
with the intent of bringing home the grocery money. It’s entertainment, that occasionally pays off. Today was one of those days, and he walked out with $300 more than he took in. Hard to complain about that. We played separately most of the time we were there, so when I found him he said that he was looking for me, hoping I would tell him it was time to go. So, I did. I’m always happy to see a winner.
Greg got $300 and I got to cross Iowa off my list. 41 down and 9 to go.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Clear Lake water tower
We had another incredibly light day here in
Mason City. We were out by 11 AM, and could have been out 45 minutes earlier. Greg made the comment that this felt like stealing from the company. He didn’t say like he was bragging; it was like this is wrong. I agree. Maybe tomorrow will be more work. It is their last day of selection, so we should know at some point what is left.
When we talked this morning it sounded like 2 trucks tomorrow. Hector from corporate transportation called me and asked. I repeated what I had heard. But, this afternoon I got a call from Mike from corporate, and he said that Laura, the concept rep on site says that it would be three trucks tomorrow and two on Friday. I told them; to go with that. She has access to their inventory numbers, not me. A bit aggravating to be put in the middle. If it is three trucks, that will likely still not be a full day of work. We can easily extend that if we start to stage product for Friday, but that is not my call.
Oh well, enough whining. As we were out so early today, I had an idea of what to do. As luck would have it I was watching a show on TV and a segment about the Curse of Buddy Holly came on. The segment was a bit of a stretch if you ask me; but then I heard the announce mention that their last concert was at The Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa. I thought“Clear Lake, IA? Didn’t I see a sign for that yesterday?” I was sure I saw a highway sign when we came back from the casino yesterday. So I immediately Googled Buddy Holly and confirmed that fate had put me at ground zero of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and The Big Bopper’s last days.
Mason City. We were out by 11 AM, and could have been out 45 minutes earlier. Greg made the comment that this felt like stealing from the company. He didn’t say like he was bragging; it was like this is wrong. I agree. Maybe tomorrow will be more work. It is their last day of selection, so we should know at some point what is left.
When we talked this morning it sounded like 2 trucks tomorrow. Hector from corporate transportation called me and asked. I repeated what I had heard. But, this afternoon I got a call from Mike from corporate, and he said that Laura, the concept rep on site says that it would be three trucks tomorrow and two on Friday. I told them; to go with that. She has access to their inventory numbers, not me. A bit aggravating to be put in the middle. If it is three trucks, that will likely still not be a full day of work. We can easily extend that if we start to stage product for Friday, but that is not my call.
Oh well, enough whining. As we were out so early today, I had an idea of what to do. As luck would have it I was watching a show on TV and a segment about the Curse of Buddy Holly came on. The segment was a bit of a stretch if you ask me; but then I heard the announce mention that their last concert was at The Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake, Iowa. I thought“Clear Lake, IA? Didn’t I see a sign for that yesterday?” I was sure I saw a highway sign when we came back from the casino yesterday. So I immediately Googled Buddy Holly and confirmed that fate had put me at ground zero of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and The Big Bopper’s last days.
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The Surf Ballroom
On February 2, 1959 Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, J.P.Richardson, Dion and the Belmonts performed at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lakes part of The Winter
Dance Tour. The Winter Dance Tour was a three week tour that was to hit twenty four cities in the mid-west. Winter in that part of the US can be brutal, and the entertainers were getting from place to place in an old unheated bus. The bus was constantly breaking down, and by the time they finished the concert at the Surf Ballroom, Buddy Holly had decided that he did not want to travel 380 miles to the next city. So he chartered a single engine plane at the Mason City airport. The same airport that I flew into and will fly out of later this week. The passengers were supposed to be Tommy Allsup, Waylon Jennings, and Buddy Holly. Allsup and Jennings were part of the reformed Crickets. Allsup and Jennings gave up their seats to Richie Valens and The Big Bopper. The plane took off in a snowstorm at night. The pilot was not instrument rated and flew the plane into the ground about 5 minutes after take off.
So, armed with this information I found out the locations of the crash site, the Surf Ballroom, and a place to eat in Clear Lake. I had an idea that we would be out early again today, and as I already mentioned that happened. Greg, of course had heard about the crash, but like me didn’t know we were close to where it happened. He was game, although I think it was not his first choice.
We went back to the hotel, I got my GPS and we were on our way about 30 minutes later. I had already programmed the addresses of the places we would be going, and we arrived at the Starboard Market less than 15 minutes later. We had a nice lunch, and could see Clear Lake from where we parked. Greg liked the looks of the lake, so we wandered down there. It was nice and peaceful. We met a retired gentleman who was weeding a city flower bed. He told us that he volunteered to do it. He also pointed us towards the Surf Ballroom, and we were on our way.
When we got there, I told Greg the whole crash story, adding a few details that the movies either missed or glossed over. I’m not an
expert, but I had just read up on it. He took a few pictures of the club, as did I. The Surf, as it is known locally, is still in business. Martina McBride and Kevin Costner were scheduled to perform in May. Seeing living history is pretty cool. Greg thought so, too.
Dance Tour. The Winter Dance Tour was a three week tour that was to hit twenty four cities in the mid-west. Winter in that part of the US can be brutal, and the entertainers were getting from place to place in an old unheated bus. The bus was constantly breaking down, and by the time they finished the concert at the Surf Ballroom, Buddy Holly had decided that he did not want to travel 380 miles to the next city. So he chartered a single engine plane at the Mason City airport. The same airport that I flew into and will fly out of later this week. The passengers were supposed to be Tommy Allsup, Waylon Jennings, and Buddy Holly. Allsup and Jennings were part of the reformed Crickets. Allsup and Jennings gave up their seats to Richie Valens and The Big Bopper. The plane took off in a snowstorm at night. The pilot was not instrument rated and flew the plane into the ground about 5 minutes after take off.
So, armed with this information I found out the locations of the crash site, the Surf Ballroom, and a place to eat in Clear Lake. I had an idea that we would be out early again today, and as I already mentioned that happened. Greg, of course had heard about the crash, but like me didn’t know we were close to where it happened. He was game, although I think it was not his first choice.
We went back to the hotel, I got my GPS and we were on our way about 30 minutes later. I had already programmed the addresses of the places we would be going, and we arrived at the Starboard Market less than 15 minutes later. We had a nice lunch, and could see Clear Lake from where we parked. Greg liked the looks of the lake, so we wandered down there. It was nice and peaceful. We met a retired gentleman who was weeding a city flower bed. He told us that he volunteered to do it. He also pointed us towards the Surf Ballroom, and we were on our way.
When we got there, I told Greg the whole crash story, adding a few details that the movies either missed or glossed over. I’m not an
expert, but I had just read up on it. He took a few pictures of the club, as did I. The Surf, as it is known locally, is still in business. Martina McBride and Kevin Costner were scheduled to perform in May. Seeing living history is pretty cool. Greg thought so, too.
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Buddy Holly sign that marks the trail to the crash site
I reprogrammed the GPS and we were soon on our way to the crash site. The guy in town had mentioned that the crash site was ‘way out in the country’. ‘Way out’ is kind of a subjective term. I knew that it was about 10 minutes away. We drove out of town and turned on to a dirt road. That surprised Greg. He didn’t think there were any dirt roads in the area. New Jersey boy. Greg is actually from Virginia, but said that even there, the rural roads were paved. About five minutes later, I pulled over in front of the Buddy Holly glasses that mark the path to the crash site.
Roger Peterson, the 21 year old pilot, had not crashed into a road. The plane hit in a farmer’s field. It wasn’t a nose in kind of thing. The pilot was misreading his instruments, and thought he was climbing when he was really descending. So he hit the ground, at a down angle. When the plane hit, is skidded over 500 feet, hit a barbed wire fence, and tipped up. Everyone was killed on impact, as they were traveling at about 170 MPH.
When I pulled over Greg thought that the GPS was telling us to turn around. Like it had figured out that his was the wrong way. He was a bit leery to be on a dirt road. He thought we were on our way back to the hotel. But, he was interested in the history, so I told him about the actual crash. We both got our pictures with the Buddy Holly glasses, and then we actually did head back to the hotel.
That was our adventure for the day. Tomorrow I doubt we will see anything more of the area. But, then again, we are supposed to be here to work, and all of this has been a bonus.
Roger Peterson, the 21 year old pilot, had not crashed into a road. The plane hit in a farmer’s field. It wasn’t a nose in kind of thing. The pilot was misreading his instruments, and thought he was climbing when he was really descending. So he hit the ground, at a down angle. When the plane hit, is skidded over 500 feet, hit a barbed wire fence, and tipped up. Everyone was killed on impact, as they were traveling at about 170 MPH.
When I pulled over Greg thought that the GPS was telling us to turn around. Like it had figured out that his was the wrong way. He was a bit leery to be on a dirt road. He thought we were on our way back to the hotel. But, he was interested in the history, so I told him about the actual crash. We both got our pictures with the Buddy Holly glasses, and then we actually did head back to the hotel.
That was our adventure for the day. Tomorrow I doubt we will see anything more of the area. But, then again, we are supposed to be here to work, and all of this has been a bonus.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Machaela and Me
We put in a full day today, getting three trailers out the door, as planned. Then we were on our own. We were pretty sure that we would be done early tomorrow; early enough for Greg to get out of town in time to enjoy his weekend. Saturday is Cinco de Mayo and there were a number of things going on back in Jersey. So this would be our last dinner together. I suggested that the company owed us a steak. Greg agreed.
We went back to the hotel and decided to have a beer before we went to dinner. I was a little concerned that once we got comfortable we would give up on the steak and just eat dinner, for the third time, at Buffalo Wild Wings. But, that didn’t happen. Greg was as tired of their food as I was.
What we were not tired of was BWW’s beer. The Blue Moons that I had been having had been going down easy. Today was no exception. What was exceptional was our waitress, Machaela. She was fun and spent a lot of time flirting with both Greg and I. Greg even friended her on Facebook. I noticed this my whole trip, that the waitresses were more personable. My cynical side tells me that these ladies are use to mining the business travelers for tips and know that a little extra attention pays off when the tip is added. We fly home and leave the money with them. But, as this is also the heartland, I am not jaded enough to think that maybe the people here are just a little more friendly. Regardless, we had a good time drinking our beer.
We left and walked back across the highway. I had tweaked my hip, trying to jump across the ditch that now had water in it from the nightly rains. The beer had made it feel better, so I was now concerned about dinner. We had asked Machaela about steakhouses in town and she did hesitate; Northwestern Steakhouse was the place to go. Both Greg and I had researched restaurants and noticed that this same place was rated number one in all of Mason City. Most everyone had great things to say about the steak. I found it on my TomTom, which also gave me a phone number. Isn’t technology something? Both Greg and I had checked out restaurants online, and we had both heard about the Northwestern. One thing I remembered was that a wait was not uncommon. So I called. Sure enough they were backed up. But they could get us seated in an hour. Greg was fine with that, so I signed us up.
What to do? We both had the same idea; more beer with Machaela. This time we brought friends. Greg had struck up a conversation, over a cigarette, with a couple of other business travelers, Gino and Tom. They were happy to head over and have a beer, while they waited for the rest of their people to catch up for dinner. We had a good time again, but I was forced to drink two more Blue Moons. It was terrible.
We bid Machaela good-bye and followed TomTom across town. We would never have found it based on Machaela’s directions. We checked in and they seated us instantly. The place was small, crowded, and had a great atmosphere. We read the story of the place on the menu. It had been around since 1920 and in this building for about 60 years. The steaks are cooked in olive oil; Greek style. That would be because the owners are Greek. I was anxious to taste what all these people had raved about
Both Tripadvisor and Machaela said to get the spaghetti with our steak. Spaghetti with steak? But, when in Rome, I suppose. So we
both ordered steaks with spaghetti. They weren’t wrong. The spaghetti was served sans marinara. Instead it was topped with the drippings from the steaks plus parmesan cheese. It was delicious. If I ever get back to Mason City, I’m having another order. I might have liked it better than the steak. That would be saying something, because the steak was damn good, too. I had almost wished it wasn’t, so I could tell Charity (at work) that she was wrong about the quality of her home-state Iowa beef. But, I can’t. That was a good piece of meat.
We went back to the hotel. I checked my work e-mail and then decided to take my nightly walk. The three tall beers I had through out the night were still with me and I my hip was not bothering me. I put in about three miles, came back and worked on the computer until I decided to go to bed. It was then that the trouble started.
My hip started to ache. I didn’t have anything at all. The pain wasn’t terrible, but I could not get comfortable. For the past few nights I had slept like a normal person with the sheet and comforter. But, I don’t do that at home. I like to get all tied up in a single blanket. So I
fought to get comfortable with both the sheet and blanket and my hip. In my mind it was all my hip. I was annoyed with the sheet and comforter, but I wasn’t really thinking it was an issue. I has slept fine the last few nights. But I tossed and turned until about 2 AM. Then I got up took a hot shower. Then I came back, kicked the sheet and comforter off the bed and used the rough decorative blanket. I was asleep in a few minutes.
Friday, May 4, 2012
We were starting early today, so I got less than four hours of sleep. I thought I would be like the walking dead, but I was fine. I was a little tired all day, but I functioned well. I had figured we would be done by noon, but it ended up being 2 PM when we all said our good byes.
We had lunch at Ruby Tuesday’s and then it was back to the hotel. Greg was going home. When it was evident Thursday that we would finish up today, Greg called MegaTravel and changed his flights. He needed to be at the airport at 4 PM, so we killed the last hour back at the hotel. I drove Greg to the hotel and then I was officially on my own.
I decided I wanted to see the Buddy Holly crash site, so I went back there and walked the 1/3 mile up the fence line to the memorial. I
got a few pictures and then headed back. The skies were starting to look inhospitable, and I didn’t need to make the papers. The last thing I needed was to be part of the Buddy Holly curse I had heard on TV.
Dinner at ItalianGarden and another walk and that was it for my Friday. I was starting to really look forward to Saturday and my day in Iowa.
We went back to the hotel and decided to have a beer before we went to dinner. I was a little concerned that once we got comfortable we would give up on the steak and just eat dinner, for the third time, at Buffalo Wild Wings. But, that didn’t happen. Greg was as tired of their food as I was.
What we were not tired of was BWW’s beer. The Blue Moons that I had been having had been going down easy. Today was no exception. What was exceptional was our waitress, Machaela. She was fun and spent a lot of time flirting with both Greg and I. Greg even friended her on Facebook. I noticed this my whole trip, that the waitresses were more personable. My cynical side tells me that these ladies are use to mining the business travelers for tips and know that a little extra attention pays off when the tip is added. We fly home and leave the money with them. But, as this is also the heartland, I am not jaded enough to think that maybe the people here are just a little more friendly. Regardless, we had a good time drinking our beer.
We left and walked back across the highway. I had tweaked my hip, trying to jump across the ditch that now had water in it from the nightly rains. The beer had made it feel better, so I was now concerned about dinner. We had asked Machaela about steakhouses in town and she did hesitate; Northwestern Steakhouse was the place to go. Both Greg and I had researched restaurants and noticed that this same place was rated number one in all of Mason City. Most everyone had great things to say about the steak. I found it on my TomTom, which also gave me a phone number. Isn’t technology something? Both Greg and I had checked out restaurants online, and we had both heard about the Northwestern. One thing I remembered was that a wait was not uncommon. So I called. Sure enough they were backed up. But they could get us seated in an hour. Greg was fine with that, so I signed us up.
What to do? We both had the same idea; more beer with Machaela. This time we brought friends. Greg had struck up a conversation, over a cigarette, with a couple of other business travelers, Gino and Tom. They were happy to head over and have a beer, while they waited for the rest of their people to catch up for dinner. We had a good time again, but I was forced to drink two more Blue Moons. It was terrible.
We bid Machaela good-bye and followed TomTom across town. We would never have found it based on Machaela’s directions. We checked in and they seated us instantly. The place was small, crowded, and had a great atmosphere. We read the story of the place on the menu. It had been around since 1920 and in this building for about 60 years. The steaks are cooked in olive oil; Greek style. That would be because the owners are Greek. I was anxious to taste what all these people had raved about
Both Tripadvisor and Machaela said to get the spaghetti with our steak. Spaghetti with steak? But, when in Rome, I suppose. So we
both ordered steaks with spaghetti. They weren’t wrong. The spaghetti was served sans marinara. Instead it was topped with the drippings from the steaks plus parmesan cheese. It was delicious. If I ever get back to Mason City, I’m having another order. I might have liked it better than the steak. That would be saying something, because the steak was damn good, too. I had almost wished it wasn’t, so I could tell Charity (at work) that she was wrong about the quality of her home-state Iowa beef. But, I can’t. That was a good piece of meat.
We went back to the hotel. I checked my work e-mail and then decided to take my nightly walk. The three tall beers I had through out the night were still with me and I my hip was not bothering me. I put in about three miles, came back and worked on the computer until I decided to go to bed. It was then that the trouble started.
My hip started to ache. I didn’t have anything at all. The pain wasn’t terrible, but I could not get comfortable. For the past few nights I had slept like a normal person with the sheet and comforter. But, I don’t do that at home. I like to get all tied up in a single blanket. So I
fought to get comfortable with both the sheet and blanket and my hip. In my mind it was all my hip. I was annoyed with the sheet and comforter, but I wasn’t really thinking it was an issue. I has slept fine the last few nights. But I tossed and turned until about 2 AM. Then I got up took a hot shower. Then I came back, kicked the sheet and comforter off the bed and used the rough decorative blanket. I was asleep in a few minutes.
Friday, May 4, 2012
We were starting early today, so I got less than four hours of sleep. I thought I would be like the walking dead, but I was fine. I was a little tired all day, but I functioned well. I had figured we would be done by noon, but it ended up being 2 PM when we all said our good byes.
We had lunch at Ruby Tuesday’s and then it was back to the hotel. Greg was going home. When it was evident Thursday that we would finish up today, Greg called MegaTravel and changed his flights. He needed to be at the airport at 4 PM, so we killed the last hour back at the hotel. I drove Greg to the hotel and then I was officially on my own.
I decided I wanted to see the Buddy Holly crash site, so I went back there and walked the 1/3 mile up the fence line to the memorial. I
got a few pictures and then headed back. The skies were starting to look inhospitable, and I didn’t need to make the papers. The last thing I needed was to be part of the Buddy Holly curse I had heard on TV.
Dinner at ItalianGarden and another walk and that was it for my Friday. I was starting to really look forward to Saturday and my day in Iowa.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
The Field of Dreams
My plan was to be up at 8 AM and on the road by 9 AM. I had been looking forward to this day since I heard I was going to Iowa. I had told myself that when it was time to check Iowa off of my state list, I wanted to do it by visiting The Field of Dreams in Dyersville. The biggest obstacle was distance. It is a 2 hr 40 minute drive from Mason City to Dyersville. But, I had all day. My second plan was to visit closest Hooters to Dyersville. That was in Davenport, which was farther south and west. Plan B was to head to Winterset and see John Wayne’s birthplace. They have a nice museum there. But, that would add an hour drive to my already 8 hour round trip. So I figured I would make that decision later.
I was on the road at about 9:10. But, I was a bit worried. When I got up an hour earlier and glanced out the window I saw fog,
drizzle, and a lot of gray. It had rained almost every night in Mason City, and during the day in spurts, as well. I figured if Dyersville got this kind of rain the field would be in no condition to play on. On the other hand, being over 250 miles away meant there was a very real chance that conditions were different.
I gave almost no thought to not going. I really wanted to do this. The movie Field of Dreams brought back lots of fond memories of
baseball when I was young. My dad teaching me to play, playing catch with him, watching The Game of the Week each Saturday, and asking him if there was such a thing as a triple play, two minutes before the Braves and Mets were involved with one on TV. I remember watch Pride of the Yankees with him and asking him about Dizzy Dean and Babe Ruth, even though both were before his time. I had
to try. I would not have forgiven myself if I did not at least drive down.
I passed the time be listening to my iPod. I resolved to listen to Mike Rosen on the way down, and my audiobook on the way back. It worked well, shortening the drive. The weather began to cooperate as well. The drizzle was gone just a few miles out of town. The fog was gone after the first hour. About an hour later I began to see an occasional patch of blue. By the time I pulled into the near empty parking lot of The Field of Dreams, the sun was shining, and it was down to just partly cloudy and about 70 degrees. In other words, near perfect.
I got out of my car and took a deep breath. It was clean and refreshing. I opened my trunk and took out my glove, bat, and two baseballs. I am sure I forgot to mention that I brought these from home. Like, I said, this was no accident that I was here, and I was going to be prepared. I was not about to chance that I could borrow from anyone.
I walked the short distance to the diamond and greeted the older couple that was one the field. Neither of them had any equipment, so I chimed right in and asked if he had brought his glove. The 60ish man with a full white beard, thin, but athletic build, answered he had not. I offered mine, and he only paused for an instant before accepting my invitation to take some infield.
I am sure that the same pull that brought him to the middle of nowhere Iowa to make The Field of Dreams pilgrimage was not going to
let him pass up the opportunity to actual workout on the field. I was stiff, sore, and had not hit a baseball in anger in 15 years. I stretched for a few minutes and then got to it. My first attempt was a weak pop up, and I missed my second. Then I found my stride. I hit about 10-15 balls to him, before his itch had been scratched. He and his wife thanked me, and were on their way. I did not get his name.
A minute of so after I had pulled into the parking lot, a young couple pulled in and parked near me. He as heavy set (like, I’m not), but looked like he probably played when he was in his teens. I put his age in the mid to late twenties. She was 8 months pregnant (I asked) and would not be playing. I again asked if he brought a glove and again offered mine, when he said he did not. He eagerly agreed. The pull of The Field of Dreams not only called people to it, but brought out camaraderie and good will to those that appeared.
It was a repeat with the other man. I hit 15-20 balls to him, all of which he fielded well. I didn’t hit anything too sharp. Mostly because, I didn’t have the confidence to direct anything hard, and partly because we were just having fun. And, it was. This was why I had drive nearly 200 miles.
I asked if he would like to switch and he agreed. I knew my hip was going to limit me, and he did a good job of hitting them to me. I fielded about 10 -12 balls before he hit a dying fly to my left. I dug in and went after it. I was to the point where, pre-hip replacement, I would have dived and gotten it. Even in my current condition, if I had hit the ground I would have gotten it, but like yesterday when I tried to jump the water in the ditch, my hip complained and threatened me with a hospital stay. So I pulled up, but my hip told me I had reached my limit.
It had not escaped my attention that a familiar looking man had boarded a riding lawn mower and was cutting the outfield grass. When I
say familiar, I don’t mean that I knew him, but I had seen his picture on the Field of Dreams website. It was Don Lansing. I had turned on to Lansing Rd to reach this place. That should clue you in that Mr. Lansing owned (or at least, did) The Field of Dreams.
I went out to retrieve my ball, and turned in his genera direction. He turned off his tractor and I greeted him. Mr. Lansing, me, and the couple I had been enjoying the field with had a nice visit for about fifteen minutes. Mr. Lansing told us stories about making the movie and answered every question that we could come up with. I could probably write 1000 words telling about the things that he told us, but I think I will save that for another blog. I will link it here, once I get it done.
Anyway, Mr. Lansing was a really nice guy and genuinely enjoyed talking with us, even though we were interrupting his work. It was icing on the cake, and he even let us take his picture. He seemed embarrassed to be in his work cloths, but that struck me as exactly the way he should be depicted.
With that done, we said our good byes. A family with a bunch of elementary school age boys and one girl took over the infield and were having a good time. I made my way over to the souvenir shack and spent $110. It was so worth it.
I was on the road at about 9:10. But, I was a bit worried. When I got up an hour earlier and glanced out the window I saw fog,
drizzle, and a lot of gray. It had rained almost every night in Mason City, and during the day in spurts, as well. I figured if Dyersville got this kind of rain the field would be in no condition to play on. On the other hand, being over 250 miles away meant there was a very real chance that conditions were different.
I gave almost no thought to not going. I really wanted to do this. The movie Field of Dreams brought back lots of fond memories of
baseball when I was young. My dad teaching me to play, playing catch with him, watching The Game of the Week each Saturday, and asking him if there was such a thing as a triple play, two minutes before the Braves and Mets were involved with one on TV. I remember watch Pride of the Yankees with him and asking him about Dizzy Dean and Babe Ruth, even though both were before his time. I had
to try. I would not have forgiven myself if I did not at least drive down.
I passed the time be listening to my iPod. I resolved to listen to Mike Rosen on the way down, and my audiobook on the way back. It worked well, shortening the drive. The weather began to cooperate as well. The drizzle was gone just a few miles out of town. The fog was gone after the first hour. About an hour later I began to see an occasional patch of blue. By the time I pulled into the near empty parking lot of The Field of Dreams, the sun was shining, and it was down to just partly cloudy and about 70 degrees. In other words, near perfect.
I got out of my car and took a deep breath. It was clean and refreshing. I opened my trunk and took out my glove, bat, and two baseballs. I am sure I forgot to mention that I brought these from home. Like, I said, this was no accident that I was here, and I was going to be prepared. I was not about to chance that I could borrow from anyone.
I walked the short distance to the diamond and greeted the older couple that was one the field. Neither of them had any equipment, so I chimed right in and asked if he had brought his glove. The 60ish man with a full white beard, thin, but athletic build, answered he had not. I offered mine, and he only paused for an instant before accepting my invitation to take some infield.
I am sure that the same pull that brought him to the middle of nowhere Iowa to make The Field of Dreams pilgrimage was not going to
let him pass up the opportunity to actual workout on the field. I was stiff, sore, and had not hit a baseball in anger in 15 years. I stretched for a few minutes and then got to it. My first attempt was a weak pop up, and I missed my second. Then I found my stride. I hit about 10-15 balls to him, before his itch had been scratched. He and his wife thanked me, and were on their way. I did not get his name.
A minute of so after I had pulled into the parking lot, a young couple pulled in and parked near me. He as heavy set (like, I’m not), but looked like he probably played when he was in his teens. I put his age in the mid to late twenties. She was 8 months pregnant (I asked) and would not be playing. I again asked if he brought a glove and again offered mine, when he said he did not. He eagerly agreed. The pull of The Field of Dreams not only called people to it, but brought out camaraderie and good will to those that appeared.
It was a repeat with the other man. I hit 15-20 balls to him, all of which he fielded well. I didn’t hit anything too sharp. Mostly because, I didn’t have the confidence to direct anything hard, and partly because we were just having fun. And, it was. This was why I had drive nearly 200 miles.
I asked if he would like to switch and he agreed. I knew my hip was going to limit me, and he did a good job of hitting them to me. I fielded about 10 -12 balls before he hit a dying fly to my left. I dug in and went after it. I was to the point where, pre-hip replacement, I would have dived and gotten it. Even in my current condition, if I had hit the ground I would have gotten it, but like yesterday when I tried to jump the water in the ditch, my hip complained and threatened me with a hospital stay. So I pulled up, but my hip told me I had reached my limit.
It had not escaped my attention that a familiar looking man had boarded a riding lawn mower and was cutting the outfield grass. When I
say familiar, I don’t mean that I knew him, but I had seen his picture on the Field of Dreams website. It was Don Lansing. I had turned on to Lansing Rd to reach this place. That should clue you in that Mr. Lansing owned (or at least, did) The Field of Dreams.
I went out to retrieve my ball, and turned in his genera direction. He turned off his tractor and I greeted him. Mr. Lansing, me, and the couple I had been enjoying the field with had a nice visit for about fifteen minutes. Mr. Lansing told us stories about making the movie and answered every question that we could come up with. I could probably write 1000 words telling about the things that he told us, but I think I will save that for another blog. I will link it here, once I get it done.
Anyway, Mr. Lansing was a really nice guy and genuinely enjoyed talking with us, even though we were interrupting his work. It was icing on the cake, and he even let us take his picture. He seemed embarrassed to be in his work cloths, but that struck me as exactly the way he should be depicted.
With that done, we said our good byes. A family with a bunch of elementary school age boys and one girl took over the infield and were having a good time. I made my way over to the souvenir shack and spent $110. It was so worth it.
C
Hooters of Davenport. Ellie is 2nd from the left
With my pilgrimage complete and plenty of memories to log, I now how had the decision on what to do next. I had planned to arrive at about 11:45 AM and spend an hour here. And wonder of wonders, I am exactly on schedule. I had a decent breakfast before I left, so while I could eat, I’m not terribly hungry. My secondary goal for the day was to visit a Hooters restaurant. I know it’s a bit shallow and superficial, but I enjoy it and I actually have a lot of respect for these girls. Most are either college students or single mothers. They are smart enough to know that they can make the most dollars per hour by working at Hooters, and enjoying the large tips that come from guys like me enjoying the attention we get.
So, now that I have explained this again, I still have a decision to make. There are two Hooters with in driving distance. The closest one is in Davenport. The other one is in West Des Moines.Davenport was south and east of Dyersville, taking me farther away from Mason
City.West Des Moines is west and south of Dyersville. After accounting for the speed limits on the highways, it ends up being a wash as to which one will be a shorter distance. Davenport is on the Mississippi River.West Des Moines is about 40 minutes from Somerset, home of John Wayne’s birthplace. But doing the John Wayne museum will add at least 1 ½ hours. Even though I want to visit Somerset, I decided to go to Davenport.
Around 1 ½ hours later I pulled into the Hooter’s parking lot and was quickly seated by a very cute (is there any other kind) Hooter’s girl. My Hooter’s girl was Ellie. She was tall with straight brown hair, and started by asking what I wanted to drink and then told me they had Pepsi products. I almost laughed. I had my heart all set on a beer, and I asked “Can’t I have a beer?” I’m sure she was thinking “Oh, Goody. Another one.” I ordered a Blue Moon, my new favorite beer, and Ellie had it for me pretty quickly.
I ordered a burger and fries and I as it was slow Ellie made a point of visiting with me for awhile. She is a Political Science major, but she isn’t sure how she is going to make a living with that. I got the impression she might be changing majors. She is just past 21, and still lives at home, in Moline. I told her all about my Hooters visits and how that got started. When she found out I try to get a picture at each restaurant she rounded up a group of girls, and got the GM, Gina Sheedy, to take the picture. Gina is a former Hooters girl, and now runs this restaurant. I got to visit with her for awhile. She lived in Denverfor awhile, and was disappointed to learn that the Blake Street Hooters had closed down. I had a really good time, reinforcing why I stop at Hooters when I can. My bill came to $19 and change. I left a $20 tip.
Gina gave me directions to the river and made that my next stop. I ended up at Isle of Capri and gambled away $60 in what seemed like 60 seconds. I had taken as short walk on the bike path that followed the river. I had hoped for some sort of San Antonio/OKC style River Walk, and maybe they have one. But, I didn’t find it. So, I just gave up and decided it was time to head home. Four hours later, I was back at my hotel. Thanks to my iPod it actually went pretty quick. Subway for dinner and then I went to bed around 11. It had been a full day.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
My flight leaves at 7 AM, so I wanted to be at the airport shortly after 6 AM. Hertz is closed on Sundays, so I had to drop off the keys and my rental agreement in their drop box, but that actually went really quick. With only five people on this flight, check in was more thorough, but was still pretty quick.
I was dead tired and I actually got a little sleep on the plane. I got a sandwich when we touched down in Minneapolis and soon it was time to go home. I was still tired, and I slept some on this final leg as well. After retrieving my luggage, getting the shuttle to my car, and driving home, I arrived at about 1 PM. The rest of the day was spent mowing the grass and puttering around the yard.
That was it. It had been a tiring trip, mostly because of my sleep habits, and I was in bed my 10:30 PM. Margo was very jealous when I told her of all the things I did. Now she wants to go, too. I would have no trouble retracing some of this, and maybe doing Winterset next time. Maybe we could fly to Minneapolis, visit the Mall of America, and then take a trip to Iowa. Maybe we could figure out a way to add
North Dakota. 2016 is open. Sounds like a plan.
So, now that I have explained this again, I still have a decision to make. There are two Hooters with in driving distance. The closest one is in Davenport. The other one is in West Des Moines.Davenport was south and east of Dyersville, taking me farther away from Mason
City.West Des Moines is west and south of Dyersville. After accounting for the speed limits on the highways, it ends up being a wash as to which one will be a shorter distance. Davenport is on the Mississippi River.West Des Moines is about 40 minutes from Somerset, home of John Wayne’s birthplace. But doing the John Wayne museum will add at least 1 ½ hours. Even though I want to visit Somerset, I decided to go to Davenport.
Around 1 ½ hours later I pulled into the Hooter’s parking lot and was quickly seated by a very cute (is there any other kind) Hooter’s girl. My Hooter’s girl was Ellie. She was tall with straight brown hair, and started by asking what I wanted to drink and then told me they had Pepsi products. I almost laughed. I had my heart all set on a beer, and I asked “Can’t I have a beer?” I’m sure she was thinking “Oh, Goody. Another one.” I ordered a Blue Moon, my new favorite beer, and Ellie had it for me pretty quickly.
I ordered a burger and fries and I as it was slow Ellie made a point of visiting with me for awhile. She is a Political Science major, but she isn’t sure how she is going to make a living with that. I got the impression she might be changing majors. She is just past 21, and still lives at home, in Moline. I told her all about my Hooters visits and how that got started. When she found out I try to get a picture at each restaurant she rounded up a group of girls, and got the GM, Gina Sheedy, to take the picture. Gina is a former Hooters girl, and now runs this restaurant. I got to visit with her for awhile. She lived in Denverfor awhile, and was disappointed to learn that the Blake Street Hooters had closed down. I had a really good time, reinforcing why I stop at Hooters when I can. My bill came to $19 and change. I left a $20 tip.
Gina gave me directions to the river and made that my next stop. I ended up at Isle of Capri and gambled away $60 in what seemed like 60 seconds. I had taken as short walk on the bike path that followed the river. I had hoped for some sort of San Antonio/OKC style River Walk, and maybe they have one. But, I didn’t find it. So, I just gave up and decided it was time to head home. Four hours later, I was back at my hotel. Thanks to my iPod it actually went pretty quick. Subway for dinner and then I went to bed around 11. It had been a full day.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
My flight leaves at 7 AM, so I wanted to be at the airport shortly after 6 AM. Hertz is closed on Sundays, so I had to drop off the keys and my rental agreement in their drop box, but that actually went really quick. With only five people on this flight, check in was more thorough, but was still pretty quick.
I was dead tired and I actually got a little sleep on the plane. I got a sandwich when we touched down in Minneapolis and soon it was time to go home. I was still tired, and I slept some on this final leg as well. After retrieving my luggage, getting the shuttle to my car, and driving home, I arrived at about 1 PM. The rest of the day was spent mowing the grass and puttering around the yard.
That was it. It had been a tiring trip, mostly because of my sleep habits, and I was in bed my 10:30 PM. Margo was very jealous when I told her of all the things I did. Now she wants to go, too. I would have no trouble retracing some of this, and maybe doing Winterset next time. Maybe we could fly to Minneapolis, visit the Mall of America, and then take a trip to Iowa. Maybe we could figure out a way to add
North Dakota. 2016 is open. Sounds like a plan.