Herkie the Dog's World Musings
Destination Danville
Well, I'm flirting dangerously with having two entries in two months, so I better get my butt in gear! And with Thanksgiving and Paul's wedding rapidly approaching, there won't be much time to do a whole lot of blogging.
Danville, Illinois is located on the Illinois-Indiana border. It's about 30 minutes east of Champaign, home of the University of Illinois. It's also the home to four or five new hotels...and one really old hotel on the same side of the road as an old jail. There really isn't a whole lot of anything around these two cities. The drive down seems a heck of a lot longer than it really is. Unfortunately, it's a pretty long drive in it's own right. Only something like a Michigan-Illinois would bring us down to these parts.
The game itself, while the reason for being here, really wasn't the biggest highlight of the trip. Sure, the idea of someone masquerading as an Indian chief dancing on the football field at halftime while the crowd chants "Chieeeeeef!" sounds like a lot of politically incorrect fun, but it wasn't really until we hit the bar just off campus where the trip became something to remember.
A number of firsts, at least in my life, occurred in this bar. One was seeing the scar along the breast of a woman I'd never seen before. Now, before you start wondering, I should mention that the woman was the bartender who was wearing, well, bar clothes: a low cut outfit guaranteed to elicit large tips from the mostly male clientele drinking beers and watching college football games and Major League Baseball playoffs. And every man at the bar knew exactly what you were talking about when the question, "Do you think it's a scar or a hickey?" was raised.
I also met my first UTEP fan. Honestly, I didn't know UTEP fans existed, but one thing a few beers and a shot of tequila will do is get the guy sitting next to us to go on and on about the UTEP football team. It's the team that plays in the Sun Bowl, and it gets so hot that they only play at night. But they have the greatest tailgates there since they start in the morning and go all the way to game time. Obviously, this person needed to learn more about the Michigan State Spartan experience.
And honestly, it was the first time that I'd ever really gotten hit on at the bar. Thanks to my wonderful brother-in-law, it was also the first time I had to deal with such a thing by myself. I'd always suspected that the only woman who would hit on me at a bar would have to be very drunk. Sure enough, I faced the challenge of dealing with a pretty lit up female. I sat there, trying desperately to figure out how to gracefully remove myself from this situation while simultaneously trying to call attention to the wedding ring on my finger when I was rescued by her friends, one of which may have been her own husband.
By this time, we'd had enough fun. More accurately, the Wisconsin-Purdue had ended, so it was time to head back to the hotel in Danville. Yet we decided that the trip needed one last experience, one that could only be provided by a rundown, redneck bar in the Redwood Inn.
The best way to describe this place is to think of a 1970's era hotel connected to the Boar's Nest from "The Dukes of Hazzard" or any bar scene from the movie "Roadhouse." The place didn't have a sign out front, only a banner that had the words "Redwood Inn" in big red letters. Underneath the banner was a second, much larger one declaring "Bar Open." Just the kind of place to finish off the night.
We were told that the bar was holding a private party. Declaring ourselves private, we allowed ourselves to join in and opened the flimsy wooden door...and walked in on a whole lot of nothing. There were no more than 7 people in the bar, including the bartender who didn't even look old enough to drink himself. Karaoke was going on in the front of the bar, with the "emcee" desperately trying to get people to be even remotely interested in playing along. Four very rural looking people were shooting pool towards the back of the bar. None seemed to be remotely interested or even aware of the fact that we were crashing their private party.
Ordering jack and cokes, we sat back and took in the atmosphere. A place like this just couldn't exist back at home. It can only exist in an area miles away from civilization proper. At any moment, you half expected the Dukes to come walking in. We didn't get that, but we did get a potential domestic situation walk in and sit at the bar next to us. An argument like this could only occur between a guy wearing a John Deere hat and a girl with big hair. It only served to complete the picture of this redneck bar in the middle of nowhere.
We decided it was well past time to leave here and head back to the civilization of a new Holiday Inn with tons of Michigan fans running about. Hard to believe that less than a 1/2 mile would be all that was needed to separate the new from the very rundown. But that unique mix is what gives this area it's charm and certainly provides reason to come back.
Not.
Danville, Illinois is located on the Illinois-Indiana border. It's about 30 minutes east of Champaign, home of the University of Illinois. It's also the home to four or five new hotels...and one really old hotel on the same side of the road as an old jail. There really isn't a whole lot of anything around these two cities. The drive down seems a heck of a lot longer than it really is. Unfortunately, it's a pretty long drive in it's own right. Only something like a Michigan-Illinois would bring us down to these parts.
The game itself, while the reason for being here, really wasn't the biggest highlight of the trip. Sure, the idea of someone masquerading as an Indian chief dancing on the football field at halftime while the crowd chants "Chieeeeeef!" sounds like a lot of politically incorrect fun, but it wasn't really until we hit the bar just off campus where the trip became something to remember.
A number of firsts, at least in my life, occurred in this bar. One was seeing the scar along the breast of a woman I'd never seen before. Now, before you start wondering, I should mention that the woman was the bartender who was wearing, well, bar clothes: a low cut outfit guaranteed to elicit large tips from the mostly male clientele drinking beers and watching college football games and Major League Baseball playoffs. And every man at the bar knew exactly what you were talking about when the question, "Do you think it's a scar or a hickey?" was raised.
I also met my first UTEP fan. Honestly, I didn't know UTEP fans existed, but one thing a few beers and a shot of tequila will do is get the guy sitting next to us to go on and on about the UTEP football team. It's the team that plays in the Sun Bowl, and it gets so hot that they only play at night. But they have the greatest tailgates there since they start in the morning and go all the way to game time. Obviously, this person needed to learn more about the Michigan State Spartan experience.
And honestly, it was the first time that I'd ever really gotten hit on at the bar. Thanks to my wonderful brother-in-law, it was also the first time I had to deal with such a thing by myself. I'd always suspected that the only woman who would hit on me at a bar would have to be very drunk. Sure enough, I faced the challenge of dealing with a pretty lit up female. I sat there, trying desperately to figure out how to gracefully remove myself from this situation while simultaneously trying to call attention to the wedding ring on my finger when I was rescued by her friends, one of which may have been her own husband.
By this time, we'd had enough fun. More accurately, the Wisconsin-Purdue had ended, so it was time to head back to the hotel in Danville. Yet we decided that the trip needed one last experience, one that could only be provided by a rundown, redneck bar in the Redwood Inn.
The best way to describe this place is to think of a 1970's era hotel connected to the Boar's Nest from "The Dukes of Hazzard" or any bar scene from the movie "Roadhouse." The place didn't have a sign out front, only a banner that had the words "Redwood Inn" in big red letters. Underneath the banner was a second, much larger one declaring "Bar Open." Just the kind of place to finish off the night.
We were told that the bar was holding a private party. Declaring ourselves private, we allowed ourselves to join in and opened the flimsy wooden door...and walked in on a whole lot of nothing. There were no more than 7 people in the bar, including the bartender who didn't even look old enough to drink himself. Karaoke was going on in the front of the bar, with the "emcee" desperately trying to get people to be even remotely interested in playing along. Four very rural looking people were shooting pool towards the back of the bar. None seemed to be remotely interested or even aware of the fact that we were crashing their private party.
Ordering jack and cokes, we sat back and took in the atmosphere. A place like this just couldn't exist back at home. It can only exist in an area miles away from civilization proper. At any moment, you half expected the Dukes to come walking in. We didn't get that, but we did get a potential domestic situation walk in and sit at the bar next to us. An argument like this could only occur between a guy wearing a John Deere hat and a girl with big hair. It only served to complete the picture of this redneck bar in the middle of nowhere.
We decided it was well past time to leave here and head back to the civilization of a new Holiday Inn with tons of Michigan fans running about. Hard to believe that less than a 1/2 mile would be all that was needed to separate the new from the very rundown. But that unique mix is what gives this area it's charm and certainly provides reason to come back.
Not.
posted by Jon at
9:09 PM
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