One Hundred Thirty-One
9:22.
We were on the road. Somehow, we were on the road, only missing departure goal by about 20 minutes.
Puck made it just past East St. Louis before his first required pit stop at McDonald’s. I’m pretty sure half of his urge involved hopes of French fries and apple juice, but better safe than sorry. And we skipped on the edibles.
The good thing about six hours on the road is, I had time to finish reading “Intentional Walk”, a quick Cardinals read. And between Puck listening to The Magic Treehouse and Anne of Green Gables, he guzzled an apple juice and giggled when The Bear rolled down the back windows, eliciting thunderous jet-like drag.
We fueled up in Southern Illinois and paused for Puck to have his picture taken as “Superman” in front of the gas station. I’m not even really sure why that was there.
Leisurely left Illinois for Kentucky at 1:18. Puck had collapsed his happy meal box into a smile/frown sign, depending on his opinion of the local scenery. Or a neutral vertical until he had decided in the positive or the negative.
Fortunately the big white clouds began spreading closer together as the afternoon went on. Turning silver as we entered Tennessee.
Another stop for chips at three o’clock at a no-name fuel station where they sold college ball caps for six dollars.
We found the Brentwood Hilton – the same place we stayed when Esther and Jude were married three years ago – and left for dinner. The receptionist asked Puck if he wanted a gummy treat shaped like a green fish…
“Thank you!”
“Oh,” she said. “I like you already.”
And Puck was pretty astonished by all the “free shampoos”.
The Pharmacy.
That’s where everyone else was already waiting for dinner. Huge burgers with sweet potato fries and ice cream sodas. Puck and I split a grilled cheese. And actually, for a place that specialized in burgers, it was probably the best grilled cheese I had ever had.
We were introduced to a white-bearded man from Curly’s and Lulu’s church. An also-avid Cards fan…
“You know St. Louis has the classiest fans in baseball,” he said.
My thoughts exactly.
“You know how they’ll give standing ovations for returned players there?”
Did I.
“They don’t do that at other places.”
I liked this guy.
Puck was having trouble sitting still at a table of adults in the warm sunshine of a Saturday evening. So once we finished off the trencher, I took him on a walk around the old neighborhood in gold sun and green trees which apparently used to be a pretty bad part of town.
When we walked back through the lobby, Puck greeted the receptionist in return…
“We already… already rented our room,” he called back to her over his shoulder. “We just got back from dinner.”
Night at the Museum 2 – that’s what they had playing on the hotel’s free movie channel. Probably a good way to wind down a day that can somehow make a six year-old feel tired even if he sat for most of it. The Bear pulled out the hide-a-bed for Puck…
“Dad! You have to blow it up!”
