Called around and got a hold of a few high school buddies of mine – guys I haven’t seen in a long, long time. A bar named Plump’s Last Shot was suggested, and we all met up in Broad Ripple – slightly off the beaten path.
As I understand it, the bar is named after Bobby Plump, the guy who sank the final foul shot for the Milan Indians in the 1954 (the team that inspired the movie Hooisers.
My friend Nikolai and his wife, Marla. Nik and I used to spend many an evening hanging out at the Waffle House on 86th and Ditch. Because… well, because that was all we had to do. We used to be on a first-name basis with the wait staff there, swear to god. It got to the point where we’d help the waitresses prep their tickets and their silverware in exchange for free food and coffee. Ahh, to be sixteen and in Indianapolis again.
My friend Craig, who now owns a home not far from where we both grew up. Out of everyone here tonight, Craig and I go back the farthest. The two of us used to split a pack of Camels early on in my smoking careeer, and he was the one who first taught me how to exhale. I have more stories than I can recount here – just suffice it to say that he and I got into a lot of mischief. Think eggs and spraypaint. Think molotov cocktails made out of tiny bottles of vodka. Good times.
Kevin and I got into a similar amount of trouble – however, I don’t think we got caught as often. Again, I have a ton of stories… many of which I don’t think I’ll share on here. At least, just yet. In the meanwhile try to imagine two kids who, on a whim, decided to drive from Indianapolis to Kalamazoo, Michigan so that they could have a cup of coffee. Imagine a long ass drive out in a car filled with caffeine, Marlboro Reds, psuedo-ephedrine and a lot of heavy metal. Imagine the worst cup of coffee you’ve ever had at a Bob Evans in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Imagine driving back down to Indianapolis the next day, nodding off at the wheel, and doing a 360 only to wake up to see oncoming traffic honking and swerving around you.
Yeah. I’m the guy who fell asleep at the wheel, on the way back.
The four of us spent the night catching up, talking about what we were up to with our lives. A lot of reminiscing, a lot of laughing and joking around. In many respects, we were all different people, meeting one another for the first time after many, many years. And in many respects, we were the same kids, the same senses of humor, the same laughter.
It was really good seeing everyone again. On a certain level, it felt like picking up where we had left off. During my week in Indianapolis, I saw a lot more of the city than I’ve seen in a good long while – old streets and neighborhoods that I used to travel frequently.
Talking with Nik, Craig and Kevin tonight was like visiting a part of me I had forgotten for a long time. I was reminded of who I was, so many years ago – a wreckless, stubborn, bored, goofy kid with too much time on his hands and too much heavy metal in his ears.
These were the guys who saw me wearing a jean jacket with Queensrÿche airbrushed on the back and still said “Yeah, I want to hang out with THAT guy.”
You can’t buy friendship like that. 
