Today, May 30, concluded my journey of the Cleveland metro area, notably downtown Cleveland which is where most my time was spent. I had a mental agenda of Starbucks (done), some breakfast (done), and finally a venture to this Superior Deli joint that homeboy in the airport was talking about in Philly on our way to Akron.
It was certainly a struggle to get the day started given the comfort of the bed I was sleeping on. But I could not stay in my room all morning and do nothing. I mean come on, I am in freakin' Cleveland, Ohio folks and it is time to get the day crackin'!!! Great stay though at the Hyatt Regency on Superior St. between 3rd and 6th - a retail value $550 room for $54 before tax on HotWire and I think I conclude that I shot and scored on this one. Nonetheless, it was time to get a move on it and head over to PJ's luncheonette as recommended by the ladies in the lobby working the hotel checkout.
Not that the experience of PJ's was that memorable - average potatoes, toast, and Western omelette, nothing special or anything; however, reading the Cleveland Plain Dealer while waiting for a good thirty minutes or more for my food due to the eight-deep crowd of pretty-boy Yankee fans getting their order in before mine was quite an experience. The reading of the Saturday issue sort of brought me full circle with regard to life in Cleveland these days with all the economic cuts and my observations of the lack of young people compared to San Francisco and the Bay Area. Check out these stats - 1 in 7 people in Ohio are on food stamps and in order to qualify you have to be at 130% of the poverty level or lower. There has been a 16% increase in folks applying apparently. In addition, the Ohio state government is deciding to make cuts on programs related to education and job training that would have supposedly helped to keep young people in Ohio and stop the "brain drain." In all my time in Ohio, whether driving on the roads or hanging out in general I noticed that there was not nearly the amount of 20 and 30 something folks like SF and it was interesting that the paper noted something to help prove my visual observation.
After a Starbucks run and getting the Chevy Cobalt out of the parking garage, it was time to walk with destiny and see what this Superior Deli was all about. I'm driving and driving, fully knowing it is a little ways outside of downtown and there it is on the right hand side just past the 90-W on-ramp to Toledo. Nothing fancy, slab of a building, not much of anything really around other than some old brick buildings and an Apple Cart food stand a few blocks down. But the moderate population of cars told me to park, leave the coffee in the car, and get prepped. So I head on in and start hearing the Eastern-European accented voices and people saying "corn beef with," and I am thinking "follow the locals." I got a little nervous - with what, mustard, swiss, onions? Shit, I don't know and I am in no mood nor place of comfort here to start looking like a California tourist jack-off. These people are hustling to make a dollar, and then I notice that the folks standing in line are getting it for takeout. But I am staring at the counter thinking "I want the fat ugly woman with a pink shirt, awful-fitting jeans, and a short hair-do with a hunchback to be my server. So being the sweetheart I am, I politely ask her if I should order with the cashier if I want to sit at the counter and she says, "No, you can order here but we close at 1:30." Meanwhile, it is 1:28 and I am thinking this brod is slying telling me to get back in line, order, and take the sandwich back downtown or something. I say, "oh, I can get it to go if you're closing," but to my delight she says, "No, don't worry about it. We got people in here who just sat down as well - you want some water?" Awesome, and she asked if I was ready and though she assumed corn beef sandwich, I went with the Reuben and subsequently asked for a side of onion rings. She gave that look of "I don't know," but she yelled over to the dudes in the kitchen and got the go-ahead. "It'll be a few minutes, okay."
That reuben came out boy and with the first bite it was greasy culinary heaven - just freakin' phenomenal like Jordan at the buzzer, Montana to Rice, Stephen Jackson draining 30 footers unconciously. And then I just started laughing at the unintentional comedy of this joint - my waitress pissed off at whoever she was talking with on the phone with a disgusted and annoyed look. Meanwhile, I notice she has a wedding ring and I am thinking "what man can handle this woman and her personality." Then there was the 28-30 year old cohort of hers who looked 44 and most likely had very few "peak years" when it came to levels of fitness. She was the sassiest of sassy. She was just laying into one of the regulars who went behind the counter looking for a steak knife - here is a tidbit of the conversation.
"What you doin'?"
"Looking for the knives."
(Annoyed) - "They're right there in front of you."
"Where are the steak knives."
"Steak knives - right next to the regular knives." (total smart-ass remark). "You know, if you didn't scare your waitress away she would have got your steak knife for you."
I think she said this in a bit of a playful way, but her accent was just so sharp-tongue like and it was all part of the experience. Then of course there was the dude cutting corn beef and laying the mustard on the bread. "Dining room is closed, tell the people coming in the dining room is closed," in his Eastern European descent/fourth generation Cleveland or mid-west native tongue. Can't describe it properly without impersonating probably but I could not help but just drink and eat it all in. Such a hilarious cultural experience - the sassiness, the accents, the ripping into one another and busting of each others balls. I thought I was in a Seinfeld episode of some kind or something.
So if you're going to Cleveland, sit at the counter at Superior Deli and Restaurant. Your heart and digestive system may have to put in a little overtime, but it is worth the unintentional comedy alone and the taste is delicious. Off to the land of the automobile, Bob Seger, Motown, Thomas "Hitman" Hearns, and oh yes "Detroit Red" himself Malcolm X. And of course so much more. Detroit here we come. Time to put on some Springsteen and Seger and hit the road.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Youngstown
This was a journey that I was really looking forward to, so upon my departure from the good 'ol Doubletree in Cleveland with my coffee in hand I hit the road toward Ohio state highway 422-E toward Youngstown and all the small towns in between. On my journey though I was again dumbfounded at the amount of green foliage there was in Ohio and though it was rural, quiet, slow-moving, I was moved to just drive through this part of the country with Springsteen on as I drove through towns like Auburn Corners, Parkman, Southington, etc...When "The River" played on my CD I just about lost it and belted the tune out at full tilt. Rural Ohio does not inspire the same music as home does and something about Springsteen just fits this driving scene of being out in the country going toward an incredibly hard-hit part of the United States. Blue collar America and hard times equates to the Boss my friends.
Upon arrival, my eyes pretty much sealed up what I have read on Wikipedia and essays about Youngstown - rough times, older buildings with the majority needing renovation and the smell of rubber wafting from one of the mills operating in town (or at least it smelled like rubber). I just said, "wow, wow, wow." I made sure to park my car in a lot with other cars and did not want to leave it anywhere given the luggage in the trunk. Being in a town with 25% of folks below the poverty level, high crime rates, economic hardship, and no signs of good times in the future I just wanted ot make sure my stuff was cool. And what do you know, the guy who was working the lot said his dad lived on Geary Blvd. in San Francisco. He saw my CA license, asked where I lived in CA - and there you go, connection made. I don't remember asking him about the cross street, but he was a nice guy and I felt okay about him taking care of the car. I was starving and asked for a spot to get a sandwich - which I never did find - and he recommended a "awesome burrito place in the food court down that direction," but there was no way I could eat a burrito in Youngstown, Ohio. I love Mexican food, but in Ohio? I am thinking that this is Youngstown, where is the soul food, Polish sausages, Jew Deli - not burritos. Unfortunately I did not find anything in the downtown area and I was so starved I settled for a Spicy Italian Combo at the Subway up the street from the Ohio Historicl Society's Youngstown Center of Indstry and Labor. Not what I would have thought this, but when you got no choice in the heat of being starved you just got to settle. Good news though, I grabbed a copy of the weekly Youngstown State newspaper and a copy of Friday, May 29th issue of the daily Youngstown Vindicator. Good bedroom and bathroom reading my friends - looking forward to it.
The Center of Industry and Labor was an interesting one in that I was the only person in this facility who was not working or making copies of pages out of books on the 2nd store mini-library (an older gentleman and his wife were making copies of pages out of a book revolved around the town and the history of labor and industry in the area). The museum was great though in providing the background of the Mahoning Valley and its boom and subsequent bust. The plethora of iron ore, the backbreaking labor, the injuries and deaths due to the searing heat of the steel-making process, the labor unions, the riots, the immigrant population topping out at over 70% during the boom times - Hungarian, German, Irish, Polish, Slovakian - blacks moving from the south during World War one due to the labor shortages. Youngstown always thought that they'd be living like the 1940s and 50s would continue forever apparently and when the economy turned it hit them like a ton of bricks. In the 1970s, the town tried to buy the mills in the area from US Steel and run them themselves. The courts did not allow it though, and you got the sense from the videos in the musem that perhaps the men who so proudly did not want to stop working really did not understand the cost and effort it takes to actually run the business and turn a profit from a business point of view rather than just working at the plant itself. Maybe I don't give some of the folks credit, but when steel production declined Youngstown's lack of affordable and cheap transportation bit them in the behind. This land-locked region had no water transportation like some of its competitors but it did not matter when steel demand was hot. Now it was unprofitable, and the leaders of the steel industry closed up shops over time and the community bled a slow demise. Youngstown went from a high of 168,000 in 1950 to a current estimated population of 73,000. Driving outside downtown though surprised me in that the town itself seemed to have some decent homes and a good amount of them appeared taken care of and all. A reasonable number of homes had lawns cut and though the roads could have been a bit better with fewer potholes and random gravel, it didn't seem all that bad. But this was a Friday at like 4-5 o'clock and I could definitely say that there were a lot of people not working during this time. A lot of slow-movers, unattractive buildings that need a little cleanup, and a plethora of empty buildings and plants all around.
The drive back was in order so I could make the Yankees-Indians game. The road back took me to I-480 and I-80 because I just had less room to dilly dally and what did I see to my right? What is that? Holy crap, it is a monster GM plant. Lordstown GM plant - home of the Pontiac G5 and the Chevy Cobalt and soon to be home of the Chevrolet Cruze. Massive, just massive. My jaw dropped. But life keeps moving forward though as well as my drive, and Jacobs Field here we come!!!!
Upon arrival, my eyes pretty much sealed up what I have read on Wikipedia and essays about Youngstown - rough times, older buildings with the majority needing renovation and the smell of rubber wafting from one of the mills operating in town (or at least it smelled like rubber). I just said, "wow, wow, wow." I made sure to park my car in a lot with other cars and did not want to leave it anywhere given the luggage in the trunk. Being in a town with 25% of folks below the poverty level, high crime rates, economic hardship, and no signs of good times in the future I just wanted ot make sure my stuff was cool. And what do you know, the guy who was working the lot said his dad lived on Geary Blvd. in San Francisco. He saw my CA license, asked where I lived in CA - and there you go, connection made. I don't remember asking him about the cross street, but he was a nice guy and I felt okay about him taking care of the car. I was starving and asked for a spot to get a sandwich - which I never did find - and he recommended a "awesome burrito place in the food court down that direction," but there was no way I could eat a burrito in Youngstown, Ohio. I love Mexican food, but in Ohio? I am thinking that this is Youngstown, where is the soul food, Polish sausages, Jew Deli - not burritos. Unfortunately I did not find anything in the downtown area and I was so starved I settled for a Spicy Italian Combo at the Subway up the street from the Ohio Historicl Society's Youngstown Center of Indstry and Labor. Not what I would have thought this, but when you got no choice in the heat of being starved you just got to settle. Good news though, I grabbed a copy of the weekly Youngstown State newspaper and a copy of Friday, May 29th issue of the daily Youngstown Vindicator. Good bedroom and bathroom reading my friends - looking forward to it.
The Center of Industry and Labor was an interesting one in that I was the only person in this facility who was not working or making copies of pages out of books on the 2nd store mini-library (an older gentleman and his wife were making copies of pages out of a book revolved around the town and the history of labor and industry in the area). The museum was great though in providing the background of the Mahoning Valley and its boom and subsequent bust. The plethora of iron ore, the backbreaking labor, the injuries and deaths due to the searing heat of the steel-making process, the labor unions, the riots, the immigrant population topping out at over 70% during the boom times - Hungarian, German, Irish, Polish, Slovakian - blacks moving from the south during World War one due to the labor shortages. Youngstown always thought that they'd be living like the 1940s and 50s would continue forever apparently and when the economy turned it hit them like a ton of bricks. In the 1970s, the town tried to buy the mills in the area from US Steel and run them themselves. The courts did not allow it though, and you got the sense from the videos in the musem that perhaps the men who so proudly did not want to stop working really did not understand the cost and effort it takes to actually run the business and turn a profit from a business point of view rather than just working at the plant itself. Maybe I don't give some of the folks credit, but when steel production declined Youngstown's lack of affordable and cheap transportation bit them in the behind. This land-locked region had no water transportation like some of its competitors but it did not matter when steel demand was hot. Now it was unprofitable, and the leaders of the steel industry closed up shops over time and the community bled a slow demise. Youngstown went from a high of 168,000 in 1950 to a current estimated population of 73,000. Driving outside downtown though surprised me in that the town itself seemed to have some decent homes and a good amount of them appeared taken care of and all. A reasonable number of homes had lawns cut and though the roads could have been a bit better with fewer potholes and random gravel, it didn't seem all that bad. But this was a Friday at like 4-5 o'clock and I could definitely say that there were a lot of people not working during this time. A lot of slow-movers, unattractive buildings that need a little cleanup, and a plethora of empty buildings and plants all around.
The drive back was in order so I could make the Yankees-Indians game. The road back took me to I-480 and I-80 because I just had less room to dilly dally and what did I see to my right? What is that? Holy crap, it is a monster GM plant. Lordstown GM plant - home of the Pontiac G5 and the Chevy Cobalt and soon to be home of the Chevrolet Cruze. Massive, just massive. My jaw dropped. But life keeps moving forward though as well as my drive, and Jacobs Field here we come!!!!
Thursday, May 28, 2009
A long, arduous day - day one, Rust Belt USA
Nothing like starting your day by waking up at 2:45 a.m. to pack so you can make a 4:10 taxi in order to get to BART for the 4:39 SFO train ride; however, life could certainly be worse. First of all, I could have been running "late" this morning. Of course who's the smart guy that decided to go to bed at 11:00 without packing and wake up a little early in order to get some rest? Yeah, that was me - I thought three hours and forty-five minutes of sleep was going to really do me some good. Think again Beveridge....
But I made it to the airport on time and was able to get an aisle seat on the first leg of my flight in addition to the second. Being 6'4" and flying cross-country is no fun task when US Airways tries to stick you in the middle - and Lord knows who I would have had sitting beside me. We've all had that wide-shouldered 275 lb guy or the obese woman with her ass rubbing up against yours for the duration of the flight. With the aisle seat, you only risk one-sided mayhem - and that aisle is the life saver if you are exposed to a wide-body.
Lucky for me, as I munched down on a Pete's Coffee and a Roast Beef and Cheese sandwich and six thirty in the morning (Breakfast of Champions, I know) I had a lovely woman sit next to me named Saana - pronounced like "sauna," - a Scottish-born woman who spent some formative years in Hawaii and Virginia with a Finnish name. She told me her connecting flight was to Norfolk for she lived in Virginia Beach. I first spoke with her briefly in the terminal, asking her if the PA had called my zone number - which they had - and at that moment I could see that her ticket seat appeared to be next to mine. I did not say anything at the time but to my slight but pleasant surprise, she sat next to me on the flight. Immediately I was in the zone, making dumb jokes about whatever nonsense and making her smile and laugh. She truly had a gorgeous smile and laugh, which for me are two prime things when it comes to my attraction to the ladies. So while I am in the zone for a good 45 minutes or so, I unpleasantly heard Saana mention the dreaded word "husband" (though she had no ring on - hmmm......) as in her husband. And I instantaneously went from "on fire" to "fuck!!" Of course, I should have known better I guess - did she look good for her age? Absolutely. Very wholesome looking, almost a young Jane Seymour type is how I can describe it. How old was she? Well lets just say that we were still in the thick in Vietnam - though toward the end of US involvement. I'll give the reader a few hints before I spew off the answer - the A's won the World Series, Roe v. Wade ruling became reality, and the Yom Kippur War started. Stumped - 1973. Another 35 and over lady - I can't stay away from them!! It is a vicious addiction that I absolutely enjoy thoroughly.
But Saana was fantastic, and since she is going to be spending time working in the SF area we exchanged emails and will hopefully meet up for a drink or perhaps dinner. It's always great to meet a new friend. And I got to give it to her, she is a hard-working lady employed at one of the great American companies - General Electric - and trying to make a good living. Respect.
But this is the part of the day that I wish could have gone much more smoothly. With a mental goal in mind of getting to Cleveland by 7:00-7:15 to sit down at a downtown bar, order food and a beer and enjoy the Cavs-Magic game with the locals, certain events had to happen: 1) Flight from Philly to SFO on time (check), 2) Flight from Philly to Akron relatively on-time - BUST!!! 4:25 departure turned to 5:26 and then 5:56. This one hour and twenty two minute flight was going to have me land in Akron/Canton at 7:18 and I had a 50 minute drive ahead of me to Cleveland. And of course I had to pick up my one checked bag, get the car at Enterprise, and hope to God that the rain that was suppose to drop in Akron in the afternoon let up now that it was evening time.
Being the observant person that I am, however, I happen to notice that our plane is a dinky looking piece of garbage. If you have ever seen the movie Major League, just think of the plane the Indians ride in during the thunderstorms - "I think I need of them bags," Willie Mays Hayes says to Ricky Vaughn while Dorn sports eye covers. I stepped onto this plane and immediately had to duck for it was made for the 6'0" and under - nothing like a cheap US Airways flight from SFO to Philly to Akron freakin' Ohio. What the hell Beveridge, next time get a flight more than two days before departure so you can get a good price on a direct flight you moron rather than flying to the Eastern seaboard and back. You live and you learn. And oh wait, did I mention that once we sat down around 6:05 or so that we were sitting in runway traffic for 70 minutes? Awesome - there goes my plans of watching the whole Cavs game with the local faithful.
But if there is any good out of such situations it is the conversations you have with people. I spoke with two gentlemen during the Akron flight - one white gentleman who suggested two things - "Go to Hockeytown in Detroit and Superior Deli on Superior Street in Cleveland - corn beef sandwiches like this (a good two to three inches worth stacked!!)." We talked basketball a bit, but focused a great deal on hockey - "What's great is that your two hours from Columbus (Blue Jackets), two hours from Buffalo (Sabres), two hours from the Penguins (Pittsburgh), and two hours fifteen from Detroit (Red Wings)." He was great, very informative. A nice Ohio gentleman hanging with a few business colleagues, one of whom bought a round of smoothies and wanted to make sure everyone was getting a brain-freeze. Though the smoothies looked awesome, the business colleagues did not budge and get a second round when he made the offer. The other gentleman was a brother who rocked two cowboy hats and a leather jacket. He had the slight "soul glo" thing going and was happy to be getting home after a week in Vegas with his daughter's boyfriend and his family - a Hungarian kid who's family had a penchant for expensive vodka. "Let me tell you," he said. "I woke up Tuesday morning.....mmm mmm mmm. Man I was hurtin'. Toast to this, toast to that....lets have a toast..." He was a quiet man, very kind and much more annoyed than I was that we sat in the plane for well over an hour. But he closed his eyes, calmed down, fell asleep, and we all made it home in one piece. Even the kid sitting to my right with the Richard Pryor shirt could finally let his hands off the armrests due to his high levels of anxiety.
So we get to Akron-Canton airport and I get my car - none other than a Chevy Cobalt. Nothing spells rental like a Chevy, but I am happy and I find the game on AM 1100 since it has just started. I debated hitting up an Akron bar, but decided against it and just listened to the game as I rolled up I-77N to get to Cleveland by the lake. But eventually I turned the game off awhile to observe the terrain - lush green all around, much more than I ever would have expected even if it was in the middle of seemingly nowhere Ohio. Trees and green just continuosly, until arrival to the Cleveland suburban areas. Cleveland mind you is only about 45-50 miles from the airport, and with little traffic I arrived in abour an hour or a bit less. I tried to manage my speed on the road as the vast majority of locals did unlike my fellow Californians (and myself included at times). Last thing I need is some Ohio state trooper pulling me over and noticing a CA license as he prepares to hand me a ticket. I could only imagine what homeboy would have said if that happened - "perhaps in California you drive like that, but out here in the great state of Ohio we obey the law and that includes you California boys visiting our state" - or something of the sort. Granted I don't think the Ohio folk are hicks or nothing, but they certainly seem to drive with a bit more caution and respect than us California folk.
Heading into Cleveland I decided to say "screw the map" and just find my cross-street as I arrived into downtown. Upon arrival, a few things stuck out - Jacobs Field (or Progressive Field as it is called now if you want to be a dick about it - who wants to be named after an insurance company, honestly?), the Q - or Quicken Loans Arena, home of the seemingly soon-to-be loser of the Eastern Conference Finals - , and the massive "Witness" billboard. Witness? That's correct, we are all witnesses and this town shows LeBron some serious love. In the ad, his arms are spread wide as LeBron looks toward the sky in a God-like black and white pose. Truly a stunning picture and ad campaign by Nike, and I mean that with all honesty. It is pretty breath-taking to be in Cleveland seeing this ad of a man that continues to mesmorize me everytime I watch him.
After fooling around and having fun getting lost in downtown Cleveland, I arrive at the lovely Doubletree hotel on Lakeside Ave. near 12th past the Browns Stadium, a simply designed but beautiful football stadium right on good 'ol Lake Erie. Luckily there was no snow affect due to the lake on this day - my weather sensitive California ass would have froze at 35-40 degrees let alone in the teens or twenties with snow. But I was dying for some grub and more importantly I wanted to see the Cavs-Magic game. So I hit up the Harry Buffalo, the closest restaurant to the Q. If I wasn't getting in the arena, I was going to hang with the locals and watch some ball. So I sat down, got my menu and a 22 oz Budweiser ($4 on tap - awesome!!). You notice a lot of things when sitting solo in a bar while 95% of people are with a crew of folks. In this case, it didn't seem that the folks in Cleveland wanted to initially speak with me. I tried to be nice and start up random conversation with a couple Indian (as in India) folks but truly I got the vibe that my talking to them did not attract them all that much. They were friendly, but it was that sort of "I'll talk to you a little bit to be friendly but I am really not comfortble about it" vibe. You win some, you lose some. Everyone stayed with their crew, not a lot of inter-group interaction until a couple high-fives occured across tables as the Cavs were closing the game out.
The other thing though was the plethora of women rocking Cavs gear. Now I would expect dudes to do so - almost a given. But the ladies in Cleveland girls in little LeBron t-shirt T's of all colors and styles - Mark Price era blue and orange, modern crimson with gold. The old-school colors I saw with the blue and orange screamed of Craig Ehlo, Larry Nance, Brad Daugherty, Mark Price, and of course who could forget Danny Ferry - honestly, come on. Best bald white NBA player ever (okay, I'll shut up now). But you saw so many fake-tanned 40 year old brods and twenty-something gals rocking their best jeans, shoes, and LeBron t-shirt jerseys. Hysterical and a bit of culture shock considering this does not happen in San Francisco nor the Bay Area all that often - Giant games consist of $250 jeans, leather jackets, and top-brand shirts, shoes, and accessories. T-shirt jersey sightings are fewer and further between back home. And these Cleveland girls were all business - they were into the game, pissed when LeBron jacked up twenty footers or when Dwight Howard complained (again and again) about an obvious foul call. I was waiting for them to talk about Anderson Varajeo's stats versus teams south of the Mason-Dixon line after the month of January during games between Wednesday and Saturday.
Though I secretly was hoping that the Cavs would lose and that perhaps some Cleveland fan or two would tell me a sob story about how Cleveland can never produce a winner and how all great players leave the "mistake by the Lake," no dice. Not on this night at least - Cavs 112, Magic 102. And let me tell you, the whole town thought that it was GAME 7 OF THE NBA FINALS THEY JUST WON!!! I shit you not, here it is Game 5 of the semi-finals....the semi-finals people!!...and the Cavs fans are going nuts, slapping high fives outside the arena after the game, hooting and hollering at the bar at the top of their lungs with glee written all over them. I mean honestly, overkill. I know the Browns have not won since '64, Indians since '48, and the Cavs never, but come on!!! Shit, I know the economy has been in shambles since the 1960s and the weather is miserable eight months a year, the mosquitos won't leave you alone after a rain-storm or during a humid day, your wives and girlfriends have a tendency to be over-weight and/or look 5-10 years older than their biological age due to stress, job loss, environment, lack of vegetables or fitness, too much meat, beer and potatoes or whatever may have you - but come on!!!! I was in shock - SHOCK. Never would happen in Boston, New York, L.A., or the Bay Area. It would have been, "one at a time, lets get 'em in Game 6," some high-fives for a good victory, perhaps we would have mentioned that the Magic fans are hideous and Florida shouldn't be allowed any professional sports teams. But in no way would this kind of reaction fly in Philly.
Entertained? Yes. Exhausted? Absolutely. I arrived back at the hotel, ready to crash and start a new day. Day two will be a Starbucks coffee, perhaps a little breakfast, maybe read the local Cleveland Plain-Dealer, but most definitely an adventure to Youngstown, Ohio - the heart of the Mahoning Valley and a centerpiece of U.S. labor and industry. Some of my friends and even myself included ask why the heck I'd look forward to such an excursion - this is not Hawaii or Paris or New York City were talking about here I realize. But I find it special to see a different side of this great country. Being in the Bay Area of California, we are so far away from the centers of heavy industry, union labor strife, steel mills, and life of the everyday blue collar families. Not that California is a complete bubble or anything, but I've read all my life about the boom and bust of the Rust Belt, seeing how populations jumped with the rise of heavy industry in the 1850s through the 1950s and the subsequent bust as the United States went into post-industrialization during the 1960s and thereafter. This old but significant piece of the United States and its history has seen its time pass slowly the last 55-60 years, but it still fascinates me to this day to read about the auto and steel industry and how the demise of these industries and heavy industry in general has affected cities and towns across the Rust Belt portion of the United States. I just want to see with my own eyes what I've read about time and time again in books, newspapers, and magazine articles and I feel pretty lucky to be able to check out a important part of United States history. Similar to what Sean Connery says in the Rock, "Forget Maui," tomorrow starts with Youngstown.
But I made it to the airport on time and was able to get an aisle seat on the first leg of my flight in addition to the second. Being 6'4" and flying cross-country is no fun task when US Airways tries to stick you in the middle - and Lord knows who I would have had sitting beside me. We've all had that wide-shouldered 275 lb guy or the obese woman with her ass rubbing up against yours for the duration of the flight. With the aisle seat, you only risk one-sided mayhem - and that aisle is the life saver if you are exposed to a wide-body.
Lucky for me, as I munched down on a Pete's Coffee and a Roast Beef and Cheese sandwich and six thirty in the morning (Breakfast of Champions, I know) I had a lovely woman sit next to me named Saana - pronounced like "sauna," - a Scottish-born woman who spent some formative years in Hawaii and Virginia with a Finnish name. She told me her connecting flight was to Norfolk for she lived in Virginia Beach. I first spoke with her briefly in the terminal, asking her if the PA had called my zone number - which they had - and at that moment I could see that her ticket seat appeared to be next to mine. I did not say anything at the time but to my slight but pleasant surprise, she sat next to me on the flight. Immediately I was in the zone, making dumb jokes about whatever nonsense and making her smile and laugh. She truly had a gorgeous smile and laugh, which for me are two prime things when it comes to my attraction to the ladies. So while I am in the zone for a good 45 minutes or so, I unpleasantly heard Saana mention the dreaded word "husband" (though she had no ring on - hmmm......) as in her husband. And I instantaneously went from "on fire" to "fuck!!" Of course, I should have known better I guess - did she look good for her age? Absolutely. Very wholesome looking, almost a young Jane Seymour type is how I can describe it. How old was she? Well lets just say that we were still in the thick in Vietnam - though toward the end of US involvement. I'll give the reader a few hints before I spew off the answer - the A's won the World Series, Roe v. Wade ruling became reality, and the Yom Kippur War started. Stumped - 1973. Another 35 and over lady - I can't stay away from them!! It is a vicious addiction that I absolutely enjoy thoroughly.
But Saana was fantastic, and since she is going to be spending time working in the SF area we exchanged emails and will hopefully meet up for a drink or perhaps dinner. It's always great to meet a new friend. And I got to give it to her, she is a hard-working lady employed at one of the great American companies - General Electric - and trying to make a good living. Respect.
But this is the part of the day that I wish could have gone much more smoothly. With a mental goal in mind of getting to Cleveland by 7:00-7:15 to sit down at a downtown bar, order food and a beer and enjoy the Cavs-Magic game with the locals, certain events had to happen: 1) Flight from Philly to SFO on time (check), 2) Flight from Philly to Akron relatively on-time - BUST!!! 4:25 departure turned to 5:26 and then 5:56. This one hour and twenty two minute flight was going to have me land in Akron/Canton at 7:18 and I had a 50 minute drive ahead of me to Cleveland. And of course I had to pick up my one checked bag, get the car at Enterprise, and hope to God that the rain that was suppose to drop in Akron in the afternoon let up now that it was evening time.
Being the observant person that I am, however, I happen to notice that our plane is a dinky looking piece of garbage. If you have ever seen the movie Major League, just think of the plane the Indians ride in during the thunderstorms - "I think I need of them bags," Willie Mays Hayes says to Ricky Vaughn while Dorn sports eye covers. I stepped onto this plane and immediately had to duck for it was made for the 6'0" and under - nothing like a cheap US Airways flight from SFO to Philly to Akron freakin' Ohio. What the hell Beveridge, next time get a flight more than two days before departure so you can get a good price on a direct flight you moron rather than flying to the Eastern seaboard and back. You live and you learn. And oh wait, did I mention that once we sat down around 6:05 or so that we were sitting in runway traffic for 70 minutes? Awesome - there goes my plans of watching the whole Cavs game with the local faithful.
But if there is any good out of such situations it is the conversations you have with people. I spoke with two gentlemen during the Akron flight - one white gentleman who suggested two things - "Go to Hockeytown in Detroit and Superior Deli on Superior Street in Cleveland - corn beef sandwiches like this (a good two to three inches worth stacked!!)." We talked basketball a bit, but focused a great deal on hockey - "What's great is that your two hours from Columbus (Blue Jackets), two hours from Buffalo (Sabres), two hours from the Penguins (Pittsburgh), and two hours fifteen from Detroit (Red Wings)." He was great, very informative. A nice Ohio gentleman hanging with a few business colleagues, one of whom bought a round of smoothies and wanted to make sure everyone was getting a brain-freeze. Though the smoothies looked awesome, the business colleagues did not budge and get a second round when he made the offer. The other gentleman was a brother who rocked two cowboy hats and a leather jacket. He had the slight "soul glo" thing going and was happy to be getting home after a week in Vegas with his daughter's boyfriend and his family - a Hungarian kid who's family had a penchant for expensive vodka. "Let me tell you," he said. "I woke up Tuesday morning.....mmm mmm mmm. Man I was hurtin'. Toast to this, toast to that....lets have a toast..." He was a quiet man, very kind and much more annoyed than I was that we sat in the plane for well over an hour. But he closed his eyes, calmed down, fell asleep, and we all made it home in one piece. Even the kid sitting to my right with the Richard Pryor shirt could finally let his hands off the armrests due to his high levels of anxiety.
So we get to Akron-Canton airport and I get my car - none other than a Chevy Cobalt. Nothing spells rental like a Chevy, but I am happy and I find the game on AM 1100 since it has just started. I debated hitting up an Akron bar, but decided against it and just listened to the game as I rolled up I-77N to get to Cleveland by the lake. But eventually I turned the game off awhile to observe the terrain - lush green all around, much more than I ever would have expected even if it was in the middle of seemingly nowhere Ohio. Trees and green just continuosly, until arrival to the Cleveland suburban areas. Cleveland mind you is only about 45-50 miles from the airport, and with little traffic I arrived in abour an hour or a bit less. I tried to manage my speed on the road as the vast majority of locals did unlike my fellow Californians (and myself included at times). Last thing I need is some Ohio state trooper pulling me over and noticing a CA license as he prepares to hand me a ticket. I could only imagine what homeboy would have said if that happened - "perhaps in California you drive like that, but out here in the great state of Ohio we obey the law and that includes you California boys visiting our state" - or something of the sort. Granted I don't think the Ohio folk are hicks or nothing, but they certainly seem to drive with a bit more caution and respect than us California folk.
Heading into Cleveland I decided to say "screw the map" and just find my cross-street as I arrived into downtown. Upon arrival, a few things stuck out - Jacobs Field (or Progressive Field as it is called now if you want to be a dick about it - who wants to be named after an insurance company, honestly?), the Q - or Quicken Loans Arena, home of the seemingly soon-to-be loser of the Eastern Conference Finals - , and the massive "Witness" billboard. Witness? That's correct, we are all witnesses and this town shows LeBron some serious love. In the ad, his arms are spread wide as LeBron looks toward the sky in a God-like black and white pose. Truly a stunning picture and ad campaign by Nike, and I mean that with all honesty. It is pretty breath-taking to be in Cleveland seeing this ad of a man that continues to mesmorize me everytime I watch him.
After fooling around and having fun getting lost in downtown Cleveland, I arrive at the lovely Doubletree hotel on Lakeside Ave. near 12th past the Browns Stadium, a simply designed but beautiful football stadium right on good 'ol Lake Erie. Luckily there was no snow affect due to the lake on this day - my weather sensitive California ass would have froze at 35-40 degrees let alone in the teens or twenties with snow. But I was dying for some grub and more importantly I wanted to see the Cavs-Magic game. So I hit up the Harry Buffalo, the closest restaurant to the Q. If I wasn't getting in the arena, I was going to hang with the locals and watch some ball. So I sat down, got my menu and a 22 oz Budweiser ($4 on tap - awesome!!). You notice a lot of things when sitting solo in a bar while 95% of people are with a crew of folks. In this case, it didn't seem that the folks in Cleveland wanted to initially speak with me. I tried to be nice and start up random conversation with a couple Indian (as in India) folks but truly I got the vibe that my talking to them did not attract them all that much. They were friendly, but it was that sort of "I'll talk to you a little bit to be friendly but I am really not comfortble about it" vibe. You win some, you lose some. Everyone stayed with their crew, not a lot of inter-group interaction until a couple high-fives occured across tables as the Cavs were closing the game out.
The other thing though was the plethora of women rocking Cavs gear. Now I would expect dudes to do so - almost a given. But the ladies in Cleveland girls in little LeBron t-shirt T's of all colors and styles - Mark Price era blue and orange, modern crimson with gold. The old-school colors I saw with the blue and orange screamed of Craig Ehlo, Larry Nance, Brad Daugherty, Mark Price, and of course who could forget Danny Ferry - honestly, come on. Best bald white NBA player ever (okay, I'll shut up now). But you saw so many fake-tanned 40 year old brods and twenty-something gals rocking their best jeans, shoes, and LeBron t-shirt jerseys. Hysterical and a bit of culture shock considering this does not happen in San Francisco nor the Bay Area all that often - Giant games consist of $250 jeans, leather jackets, and top-brand shirts, shoes, and accessories. T-shirt jersey sightings are fewer and further between back home. And these Cleveland girls were all business - they were into the game, pissed when LeBron jacked up twenty footers or when Dwight Howard complained (again and again) about an obvious foul call. I was waiting for them to talk about Anderson Varajeo's stats versus teams south of the Mason-Dixon line after the month of January during games between Wednesday and Saturday.
Though I secretly was hoping that the Cavs would lose and that perhaps some Cleveland fan or two would tell me a sob story about how Cleveland can never produce a winner and how all great players leave the "mistake by the Lake," no dice. Not on this night at least - Cavs 112, Magic 102. And let me tell you, the whole town thought that it was GAME 7 OF THE NBA FINALS THEY JUST WON!!! I shit you not, here it is Game 5 of the semi-finals....the semi-finals people!!...and the Cavs fans are going nuts, slapping high fives outside the arena after the game, hooting and hollering at the bar at the top of their lungs with glee written all over them. I mean honestly, overkill. I know the Browns have not won since '64, Indians since '48, and the Cavs never, but come on!!! Shit, I know the economy has been in shambles since the 1960s and the weather is miserable eight months a year, the mosquitos won't leave you alone after a rain-storm or during a humid day, your wives and girlfriends have a tendency to be over-weight and/or look 5-10 years older than their biological age due to stress, job loss, environment, lack of vegetables or fitness, too much meat, beer and potatoes or whatever may have you - but come on!!!! I was in shock - SHOCK. Never would happen in Boston, New York, L.A., or the Bay Area. It would have been, "one at a time, lets get 'em in Game 6," some high-fives for a good victory, perhaps we would have mentioned that the Magic fans are hideous and Florida shouldn't be allowed any professional sports teams. But in no way would this kind of reaction fly in Philly.
Entertained? Yes. Exhausted? Absolutely. I arrived back at the hotel, ready to crash and start a new day. Day two will be a Starbucks coffee, perhaps a little breakfast, maybe read the local Cleveland Plain-Dealer, but most definitely an adventure to Youngstown, Ohio - the heart of the Mahoning Valley and a centerpiece of U.S. labor and industry. Some of my friends and even myself included ask why the heck I'd look forward to such an excursion - this is not Hawaii or Paris or New York City were talking about here I realize. But I find it special to see a different side of this great country. Being in the Bay Area of California, we are so far away from the centers of heavy industry, union labor strife, steel mills, and life of the everyday blue collar families. Not that California is a complete bubble or anything, but I've read all my life about the boom and bust of the Rust Belt, seeing how populations jumped with the rise of heavy industry in the 1850s through the 1950s and the subsequent bust as the United States went into post-industrialization during the 1960s and thereafter. This old but significant piece of the United States and its history has seen its time pass slowly the last 55-60 years, but it still fascinates me to this day to read about the auto and steel industry and how the demise of these industries and heavy industry in general has affected cities and towns across the Rust Belt portion of the United States. I just want to see with my own eyes what I've read about time and time again in books, newspapers, and magazine articles and I feel pretty lucky to be able to check out a important part of United States history. Similar to what Sean Connery says in the Rock, "Forget Maui," tomorrow starts with Youngstown.
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