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SATURDAY. After what had been a rough Friday night for practically everyone:

-Continental’s tour de force performance on the streets of Miami Beach followed by a close, personal conversation with Senor Porcelain;

-Gilby getting his t-shirt and his key stolen at the pool, leading to the vice cop security guard busting out door down at 5:30 am;

-My losing out on the hot tubs sweepstakes when I couldn’t get into my room to change into shorts because Continental had my key;

Saturday was shaping up to be an epic closing to our run in Miami. At the very least, there was no shortage of classic stories.

Early afternoon, we headed down to the beach, which from the Lowe’s is just a card swipe at the back gate away. Seriously. Now, when they tell you a beach is topless, the generic response is, “Yeah, but the only people who walk around topless are the ones who have no business doing so.” Not true in Miami Beach. It was a veritable cornucopia of eye candy that might have caused Cliff Glypha, in his younger days before he settled down and got married, to self-destruct like the robot girl in “Small Wonder”.

Continental had the idea that we should take photos, and send them back to Glypha in Omaha. So he took my camera and began snapping away, with terrible results. We got a bunch of photos that are roughly as clear as the Zapruder Film and as out of focus as the famous footage of Sasquatch.

Dick called Glypha. “Guess what, we were just at a topless beach.”

Glypha was sad. “I was at a garage sale.” Hearing this, I was sad too. But it didn’t last long. There was still one more night of Miami Beach!!

By 3:30, it was time to get in The Bull and head for the gallery to set-up the party. If you haven’t been following this three-part saga, Omaha is hosting this conference next year and as a result, we get to throw the closing reception this year. Our idea: a backyard barbecue. With the giant grill delivered, all we had to do was pickup the food we’d ordered from Publix and go set up tables and the like. I took Continental to the store with me because I needed his vegetarian expertise in picking out veggie burgers. As for the beef burgers…

“I have an order to pick up for Dick Herculanum. 30 pounds of hamburger.”

“In patties? Oh yes, we’ve been laughing and wondering all day who ordered that.”

In Miami, 30 pounds of hamburger is such a rare occurrence the grocery store employees laugh about it. In Nebraska, they ask you if you’re sure 30 pounds is enough.

When we got to the gallery with the food just before 6, Gilby asked me for my opinion on the propane tank.

“Feels pretty light, doesn’t it?”

Yes, yes it does. And people are arriving in one hour? Dude. Where can we buy a propane tank in Little Havana?

Home Depot. 10 miles down the road. So Gilby and I punched it into the Hertz NeverLost system and took off. And promptly got lost. Well, “lost” implies we didn’t know where we were, so that’s not exactly true. We knew where we were; the Hertz NeverLost just didn’t know where the Home Depot was. Eventually we determined the NeverLost was smoking crack and was unable to get us to the Home Depot we’d asked it to. So we gave it another try, and asked it to get us to the Home Depot 8 miles further down the road.

Again, no dice. What the f*$#, NeverLost? Gilby and I decided to drive around the block of big boxes just in case. Just as we were ready to give up, I spotted an orange building, through the trees, two blocks back from the road. Home Depot! You know it! And there was even a gate-enclosed shelf of propane tanks outside! Now we just had to convince them to sell one to us. Should be easy, right?

“Excuse me, we need to buy a propane tank.”

“Home and Gardens.”

Curt response, but good information.

“Excuse me, we need to buy a propane tank.”

“You need to do that in the store.”

Fair enough.

“Excuse me, we need to buy a propane tank.”

“Tell the cashier you want to buy one, and we’ll get it for you out in front of the store.”

Makes sense. So we waited in line at the checkout. 6:55 — first busses would be arriving in 20 minutes. And wouldn’t you know it, the guys in front of us in line were buying an air compressor with no valid UPC on it. Price check. Hilarious. After ten minutes of patient waiting, it was go time.

“We need to buy a propane tank.”

“I don’t…well…not today.”

“What do you mean ‘not today’?”

(Cashier turns to adjacent cashier and converses in Spanish)

“Yeah, not today, maybe tomorrow.”

“What does that even mean? Not today, maybe tomorrow?”

Gilby talked me off The Cliff Of Violence and into a more palatable Bowl Of Anger Salad. Not today, maybe tomorrow? Good fricking Lord.

So now what? There was a gas station down the road…maybe they have propane tanks. They do? Sweet. $60? I don’t care. I will pay you cash. I just need to be not here. Thank you.

7:10. First busses arriving in five minutes, and we’re 20 minutes away. We got back at 7:25 thanks to some skilled driving and fortuitous green light action, and were shocked to see no one at the gallery yet. As Dick told us, “The busses are stuck in traffic.” First time I’d been glad to hear that since we arrived!

And so I began grilling burgers, brats, hot dogs and veggie burgers. Our contact at National had told us to plan for 150 people, and just to be safe, we’d planned for 200. What we hadn’t planned on was

a) People taking both a burger AND a brat and/or hot dog;

b) 250 people showing up

We’d have run out of food anyway with 100 more people coming than we’d been asked to plan for, so there’s no sense hashing out bullet point “A”. Why did we get a record crowd? Nebraska’s reputation for partying. Some of what I heard as I talked to people:

“I wasn’t going to go but when I saw Nebraska was throwing a party, I couldn’t miss it.”

“I’ve been to every one of these, almost 20 years, and this is most fun I’ve ever had.”

“I can’t believe you’re working this yourselves! Most chapters would have catered it.”

“You have the worst job, standing over this hot grill all night.”

The last quote, particularly, struck me as odd. Its the best job in the place, because I get to say Hi and chat with everyone that comes through the line. In any event, Gilby and I did not stop to eat, and our hard work didn’t go unrecognized. Later that night at the pool, National board member, radio talk show host, HOW Magazine cover star and #1 Design Heroine of Cliff Glypha — none other than Debbie M. — ordered pizza for us. You bet.

Shortly after I started grilling, Dick Herculanum made a presentation to Continental Frutiger. Four years ago in Austin, TX, we’d come across a sequin-encrusted Texas State Flag vest in a gift shop at the airport. Continental tried it on and posed for a photo, and its been a running gag ever since. Actually, the running gag part started in September of 2004, when <a href=”http://www.polyfro.com/2004/09/mailbag-09-03.html”>Dick spotted someone at the Republican National Convention wearing the vest</a>.

Ever since then, its taken on a life of its own. When Cliff Glypha got upset that we were going to Pittsburgh and he wasn’t the next summer, he Photoshopped Dick and I into the vest and flanked us on either side of Continental in the photo, Three Amigos style. Since then, I’ve been looking for the vest online, on eBay, everywhere. I decided to buy it at any cost if I ever found it again, because the comedic value was just too good.

In February, I found it. And for just $39.99, too! So I bought it, and its been hanging in my closet ever since. Well, we gifted it to Continental last week in Miami, and let me tell you, he was stunned. “Is this MY vest? Sweet!” Of course, the photo album of all of his friends wearing the vest at a party in his office while he was out of town was cool too, but the vest was the real deal.

After the part
y, everyone got on the busses and went back to the hotel. Out at the pool, I finally got a chance to catch up with an old friend from Jacksonville who I’d first met two years ago in Pittsburgh, become better acquainted with in San Francisco last year, and became re-acquainted with this year. Read into that what you will, I will neither confirm nor deny anything. Ever. You bet.

Around 4 am, she asked if I wanted to go get some food at Jerry’s Deli, a 24-hour restaurant a block-and-a-half away. I said “Sure”, and when she invited Gliby and TK along, I figured, well, anyway. Turns out she was either just getting rid of them, or changed her mind real quick. “Lets go to the beach.” OK, I can do that.

Remember how I wrote yesterday that “You can never accuse me of not taking care of my bros”? Well, sometimes I have to take care of myself. It happens.

And you bet.

—

SUNDAY.