The Redneck Bar Mitzvah

The first time I flew in an airplane I was a senior in college headed to a job interview. Looking back, it was one of the worst flights I’ve ever been on. The pilot went through a series of severe thunderstorms before we landed, causing our plane to repeatedly dip and drop hundreds of feet. Ignorance is bliss I suppose, because I thought this was normal until the guy next to me looked up from his barf bag and asked me if I knew Jesus Christ as my personal Savior. 

At the time, I had no sophistication about things outside of my little world in Alabama.  When I started my first job, I went to the little town of Norwich, New York for sales training. During the first meal at the hotel restaurant I saw something I had never seen before. Set out before me was an array of fruits and vegetables on a long table protected by clear plexiglass.  Flummoxed, I asked my sales manager what this unusual setup was. 

“That is called a salad bar,” he replied.  And then he added, “And you can even go back more than once.” 

I’m sure this guy thought they had hired Jethro Bodine. But, I had never seen anything like this.  If it wasn’t 50 cent beer night at a campus bar, or 19 cent burrito night at Taco Bell, Joe The College Student college student didn’t know. And didn’t care. Obviously, at the time I had very little awareness of the ways of the adult world. 

That changed quickly.  A job that required business travel meant that soon I learned the nuances of staying in hotels and eating at restaurants that didn’t serve their food wrapped in waxed paper. Late check ins, tipping, what forks to use at a meal, the fastest way to get your rental car, and the all-important when does happy hour begin - I became an adult traveler. 

But I never forgot how uncomfortable I felt because I didn’t know basic travel information. I vowed to spare my children this kind of embarrassment. 

A plan evolved. When each of my boys turned 13, I decided to take them on a weekend trip to show them a world they had not yet seen.  It would be a rite of passage - kind of a  Redneck Bar Mitzvah. 

Chicago was the only place to go. As Sinatra said, “it’s my kind of town.”  I love it.  A big city with midwestern sensibilities. I had been there many times and knew my way  around. There was a non stop flight, and one of my customers had box seats for the Cubs he was willing to share.  Perfect!

My first son, Matt and I made the trip that summer. Beginning with the plane ride, I was entertained watching him experience big time travel. I didn’t realize how much he loved the flight until I developed one of his rolls of film. He had taken about a dozen photos of the wing and the clouds beyond.   

Throughout the entire weekend I was quick to impart travel tips to him, the first of which was predictable: how to go to, and operate the airplane restroom.  I guess the lure of peeing at 15,000 feet was irresistible. All 3 boys shared this experience, making it the first part of the Redneck Bar Mitzvah ceremony. 

Upon landing we made our way to a taxi stand, and took a cab into town. Matt’s head was on a swivel.  Within about 25 minutes we reached the Marriott on Michigan Avenue - thank you frequent flier points. 

Our first stop after check in was the Billy Goat Tavern - a nearby underground dive that was the inspiration for the famous SNL “Cheezburgah” skit. All three boys eagerly ate those greasy, wonderful burgers - and it became another part of the Redneck Bar Mitzvah.  

We easily burnt off those calories by spending the rest of our afternoon exploring Michigan Avenue. 

A  nice evening meal at Harry Carray’s and a good night’s sleep had us ready for the Cubs game.  The next morning we hopped an “L” train packed with fellow riders outfitted in all things Cubbie.  Soon the train stopped at Clark and Addison Street - a hallowed address if you are a Chicago Cubs fan. For the uninitiated, on  that intersection sits Wrigley Field, one of the great shrines in all of baseball. 

Our seats were ridiculously good.  I could prop my feet on the roof of the visitor’s dugout. Matt was in awe. We had been to a Braves game in the old Fulton County Stadium, but comparing that place to Wrigley is like comparing Vulcan to the Statue of Liberty. Wrigley is a beautiful, iconic place.  From the ivy covered walls, to the hand operated scoreboard, to the rooftop fans across the street, it’s so baseballey.  We gleefully soaked in nine innings of America’s pastime, snarfing peanuts and Cokes while keeping our head on a swivel for foul balls. We felt like we were in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. “Suh-wing battah!”

Predictibly, my middle son Jeff had no interest in going to a baseball game.  But a visit to Chicago’s amazing  Museum of Natural History was a fitting substitute.  There was only one problem:  I decided to walk back to our hotel.  There were soldiers on the Battan Death March that complained less than Jeff did.  I made up for it by taking him to Second City later that night.  This  world famous Improv group has produced some of Saturday Night Live’s biggest stars. (In fact, we learned that a member of the troupe, Adam McKay, had just been “called up” to SNL.  Although he never appeared much on camera, he became the  head writer.)  After watching the show, we were both convinced we could perform improv comedy on stage.  

My youngest son Brad especially enjoyed the high rise Marriott hotel that  overlooked Michigan Avenue. That’s because  he brought along a laser pointer and used it to harass people walking the streets late at night.  Most of the people looked down, looked up and waved at us.  Boy, times  have changed. If that happened today, a SWAT team would’ve beat down our door and I would’ve been lead out of the room in cuffs with a towel covering my face. 

All three boys wanted fell

in love with the deep dish pizza from Pizzeria Uno.  Like father, like sons. As we never finished the pie, it always made for an excellent breakfast the next morning. The Redneck Bat Mitzvah was now complete. 

Today’s children are much more worldly when about so many things.  I was 21 before I ever flew - my 10 year old granddaughter has already been on a plane.  She’s been to Disney - twice!  At the age of 10, I was lucky to go to the State Fair and ride the Tilt- A- Whirl. 

Children also have access to so much information. But the internet can never replace intimate time between a parent and a child.  If you look closely, around the age of 13 you can see the signs of separation.  Your children and grandchildren are taking the first steps on the path to adulthood. Things will change forever.  And that’s another reason why the Redneck Bar Mtizvah was important to me. It gave me one last chance to make memories with my boys when they were still boys. 

Shaloam ya’ll.