To the Army
Peter left for Boot Camp today. But we didn't want him to leave without a proper sendoff so, last night, a group of ten guys drove down to Indy to take Peter out to dinner. I got directions from Yahoo, but they turned out to be very, very wrong. We in Josh's car got to Indy first and, after a little backtracking and guessing, got to the restaurant. The other guys all got a little more lost, but eventually we all met Peter and Mark the Shark at Texas Roadhouse. I had called ahead, but they don't reserve tables even for groups of 12 so I was worried they wouldn't have a table for all of us, but miraculously they did. Two tables right next to each other opened up just as we arrived.
Dinner was good. Texas Roadhouse is one of the few restaurants that just makes we want to come back the next day because it was so good. We spent most of the meal throwing peanut shells at Peter to simulate his future and he ranted most of the night about a SNL sketch with Natalie Portman rapping. We all got to say goodbye to Peter; we probably won't see him until, at least, the summer, if not longer. I kinda wish we had had more time to just sit and talk but everybody had stuff to do so we had to hurry back.
"Hurrying back" really didn't work out like we had hoped. Since we had gotten lost on the way there, we didn't really know how to get back to I-69. We knew Taylor was North and East of where we were so we decided to just head in that direction. We drove a few towns and eventually ended up in someplace called Frankton, where we broke out the road atlas, tired of our manly guesswork and found that the road we were on would, in fact, take us back to I-69. Our little detour added about 30 minutes to the drive, but we made it back to Taylor in time for everyone to get to their meetings and games. But more importantly, we got back safely with a full load of rolls we talked the waitress into giving us. By now, I'd bet more than half a dozen are already gone. Maybe it's time to go get one while they last...
Dinner was good. Texas Roadhouse is one of the few restaurants that just makes we want to come back the next day because it was so good. We spent most of the meal throwing peanut shells at Peter to simulate his future and he ranted most of the night about a SNL sketch with Natalie Portman rapping. We all got to say goodbye to Peter; we probably won't see him until, at least, the summer, if not longer. I kinda wish we had had more time to just sit and talk but everybody had stuff to do so we had to hurry back.
"Hurrying back" really didn't work out like we had hoped. Since we had gotten lost on the way there, we didn't really know how to get back to I-69. We knew Taylor was North and East of where we were so we decided to just head in that direction. We drove a few towns and eventually ended up in someplace called Frankton, where we broke out the road atlas, tired of our manly guesswork and found that the road we were on would, in fact, take us back to I-69. Our little detour added about 30 minutes to the drive, but we made it back to Taylor in time for everyone to get to their meetings and games. But more importantly, we got back safely with a full load of rolls we talked the waitress into giving us. By now, I'd bet more than half a dozen are already gone. Maybe it's time to go get one while they last...