Smile Politely

Don’t go swimming, not under any circumstances, in Indianapolis

Okay, just to break things up a little bit we’re gonna do one of those cool movie deals where they start at the end and then tell you what happened. Usually in the movies they have a reason for doing this. The only reason I have is that it seems sort of fun. So, as you can imagine, this will probably work out swimmingly. Let’s get it on.


Sunday is a strange drinking night. You have to work on Monday, but it’s still technically a weekend and the demon inside really wants to tear it up one last time before getting back to business. Here’s something that doesn’t make that easier. Beats by Otter is back and it’s at Cowboy Monkey on Sunday nights starting at 10 p.m. It’s swell to see my buddy, Matthis, spinning around town again and it’s pretty chill, so even I can have a little fun and still make it to work the next day no worse for wear.

Fortunately, I had Monday off, so I didn’t have to dial it down in any way. It’s was sort of a long weekend and I could really use a day to dick around.


It was a lovely thing getting the fellas out of the kennel on Sunday afternoon. Yes, it was only one night, but it’s still tough for me to leave the dogs behind. I know it’s probably all fun for them like that movie, Hotel for Dogs, but in my mind I assume it’s like that creepier movie, Hostel for Dogs. Either way, they seemed super happy and apparently saved all their pee and poop until they got back home.

I did manage to get a quick nap before I picked them up. It was one of those “twitchy death naps” though and I’m not sure how rested I am. It was a short two-hour drive back from Indianapolis, but I can never sleep much after I drive. I assume this is because I try so hard not to fall asleep when I’m driving that I can never quite convince myself that I’m not doing it any more.

It was a nice day though. I got up early and walked around Indianapolis. It seemed quite a bit nicer to me than when there wasn’t a bunch of people around. There are some pretty sweet old buildings around the downtown mixed in with all the newer ones. I saw a place called The Wild Beaver Saloon, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the kind of place I thought it was, so I wasn’t all that upset I didn’t check it out the night before.

I also walked by an old Italian place that probably looked pretty much the way it did in 1955. They had one of those nice big signs with a crap ton of neon all over it and some tables on the street. There was also a fair amount of neon in the windows so much so that they had essentially created a menu with the lights. There must have been a pretty big sale back then on the neon. I say that because of this picture.

Fine, I get advertising anniversaries and birthday parties, but who the hell makes such a big deal out of bowling parties, especially when you aren’t a bowling alley. It also just seems so permanent. It’s the chicken/egg thing. Were they getting a bunch of bowling parties and wanted to encourage more of them? Were they not getting enough and thought this might help? Was there a bigger sale on neon than even I imagined? I guess it works though because I really want to eat there now.

I also walked by the place we went to the night before. It seems a lot different in the daylight.


We had a lovely dinner at the Capitol Grille. You know that shit is fancy when they put an “e” on the end of grill. I always hate it when people say some food was “to die for.” Your country and your family are to die for; food is to eat and enjoy. That being said, I wouldn’t necessarily die for their lobster macaroni and cheese, but there is a good chance I would kill someone for it. It was exactly what they said it would be, macaroni and cheese with lobster, but that simple title really doesn’t do it justice.

After the meal we sneaked off to a place called Nicky Blaines. It’s a sweet little cigar bar down in a basement, way down in a basement. I’m not sure I would have know it was there or what it was had we not had a swell guide. We walked in a plain door on the street, down the stairs, and arrived in a swanky little club. Actually, I didn’t know exactly what it was when we arrived because it was so dark it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust. When they did, it was awesome.

There was more leather than a masochist mixer. The crowd looked a little rough in places and appeared they had just arrived from some sort of time warp. It didn’t take long to realize they weren’t real scary, just hipster scary. I got a big assed glass of Glenmorangie and began smoking cigars and cigarettes as if I was going to the death chamber right afterwards. I’ve adjusted to the smoking ban now, but I have to tell you, it felt pretty sweet to get back in the saddle again.


We arrived in Indianapolis for quick little overnight getaway to celebrate my sister-in-law’s birthday. We were going to have some dinner and just hang out. The hotel had a pool though, so we went there first. It was a fancy place; fancy enough to have very odd pool rules. The first one on the list said that persons who have diarrhea or have had diarrhea in the past few weeks were forbidden to swim. Well, let me tell you, that sign posed more questions than it answered.

I mean, I get not being able to swim if you currently have this problem, but that two-week window is really limiting. It’s just that I drink a lot of beer and eat a lot of spicy food and … they might as well have put up a sign that said, “Coulter can’t swim, ever.”

Buona Sera, Senorina, kiss me goodnight.

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