Weekend Recap: Cincinnati/Louisville Visit

Sorry I've been MIA. I know both of you were hoping to read about my trip last week. It was my fourth trip in six weeks, so I was finally a little wiped out and I've been sick a few days now. But I'm feeling better now, thank you very much, so here are some details:

Thursday, Oct. 2 -- Landed in Dayton and once again my midsize car-rental reservation was "upgraded" to a Jeep Liberty. I felt like a sissy, but the vehicle would come in handy later.

Drove down to Cincinnati and prepped for my speech at my college alma mater, the University of Cincinnati. I spoke to about 40 people, most of them students. I began my presentation at about 6:30 p.m., and talked about what I do, new media, covering the conventions and of course my arrest at the RNC. I also showed some video clips from both conventions and took questions throughout. It lasted two hours before things broke up into a short hello period, and I was out the door a little after 9 p.m.

One thing I was pleased to have gotten off my chest was an apology nearly 15 years in the making. When I got an internship right after college, my first project required me to solicit area businesses for gift donations for a promotion we were having. I got more than I needed, so guess who's pocket the UC-UK football tickets and Lexington hotel rooms went in?

My boys and me probably would have gotten away with it if one of them would have cleaned up after throwing up in his room. He told me he threw up as our three-car caravan was pulled over on the side of Interstate 75 on a Sunday morning ... with two of our guys ... throwing up. There may have been some drinking involved.

Anyway, word got back to my unofficial UC mentor, Jon C. Hughes. And the next time I called him for advice or a request for him to put a good word in somewhere, he called me out for that. I felt terrible, and until last Thursday, hadn't seen him since. So in front of this crowd of young, impressionable minds, I came forth with a sincere apology, and he politely claimed he didn't remember it, but was thankful nonetheless.

Hughes also was the one responsible for me using my middle initial in my byline the last 15 years. When you have monosyllabic first and last names, as he and I both do, he said you're more likely to be remembered if you break up your boring name with that middle initial. Consequently, some have thought of me as arrogant, while others have called me by a variety of names: JP, John P, JPW, JP Wise, P Wise and sometimes even, just P.

Anyway, I was going to stick around and watch the VP debate with the group, but instead I had to hit The Avenue Lounge to talk logistics about my photography show the next night.

Of course after meeting with the bar's very cool owner, Richard, I met up with old dude Chad (pictured here in 2007) in Covington for a couple pops.

Friday, Oct. 3 -- I spent much of the day setting up at The Avenue. I should have taken a picture of the wall before and after. When I got there in the morning, that huge "The Pad" sign was on the brick wall. The Pad is the name of the strip club that once called The Avenue's location home years ago. It is obviously no longer a strip club.

But by mid-afternoon, I had eight 20x24 frames hanged on the wall where that sign was, and of course I had a bunch of other matted prints available for sale.

The event was a good one. Good friends showed up, the bar was crowded and I sold a fair amount of pieces. Even rifle-toting Local12 reporter and all-around nice guy Rich Jaffe attended, despite having been bitten by a raccoon just hours earlier. Rich, handy with a gun from his years of being an avid hunter, gave me a slick confirmation when I asked if he killed the raccoon, which minutes earlier had attacked the Jaffes' dog. "Oh, yeah, I killed it," he said proudly, his left hand wrapped in gauze.

Also showing up were good friends Guy and Amanda van Rooyen. While I was content to hang with friends on the outside patio, Amanda said to me, "For someone who's as people-friendly as you are, you're terrible at sales." She's right. And as a result, she's asked me to promise to let her do some marketing and planning -- perhaps some selling -- next time I have a show. Stay tuned for my upcoming holiday sales drive. Perhaps Amanda will force you to buy something.

It was also good to connect with a bunch of gals from my UC days, just a week before Homecoming. I wish I could go back this weekend, as those wacky Tri-Delts seem to have some fun stuff lined up. My hair hasn't receded too terribly and I don't have a gut, so maybe I should still think about a last-minute flight. Perhaps I could rock the shelf haircut, my soccer sweatshirt and some pegged jeans and use awful lines on Kim Roberts, among others.

Saturday, Oct. 4 -- The first half of this day sucked. I spent several hours breaking everything down, re-wrapping the framed pieces and re-packing them in the boxes. Then, I drove them over to the van Rooyens' house, where they will remain until my next show in that area. Thanks, Guy and Amanda! And thanks also to Dollar Rent-A-Car for the upgrade. That Liberty was helpful in allowing me to transport those larger boxes.

I finally checked out of my hotel and got on the road to Louisville at about 4:30 p.m. I was headed to John Boel's house to watch the OSU-Wisconsin game. I'm a Bucks guy and he's a Wisconsin native and die-hard Badgers fan.

I stopped and picked up one of those 5-liter mini kegs of Coors Light. Emphasis on the word "mini," as we killed that thing I think before the game even started.

A handful of old friends showed up, Boel grilled some brats and there was way too much beer available. Mike D. showed up with a sixer of Rhinelander for $1.99. "As soon as I walked into the store, I saw a sign for a 12-pack of Rhinelander for $3.99," said Mike D., who as long as I've known him has been adept at finding great beer bargains. When I relayed his quote to my friend Pat the next day, he said, "Why didn't he buy the whole 12-pack?" Good question.

After Boel's gathering, I rolled back to St. Matthews and met up with some friends at Brendan's, where things continued to get ugly.

Sunday, Oct. 5 -- If you're 38 and you have to play flag football early on a Sunday morning, make sure you wake enough with enough time to re-hydrate, drive to the location and stretch. I did none of these things. After rolling out of bed at 10:45 a.m., getting in the Liberty 10 minutes later and arriving for the 11 a.m. game at about 11:15 a.m., I was rushed into the starting lineup because of my combination of speed and athleticism.

But about five minutes in, something happened to my lower left back and I wasn't quite the same player. Instead of being quietly mediocre, I was a glaring non-factor. A little while after the back injury, the inside of my upper left leg -- not my groin or quad or hammy; I have no idea what muscle this was -- started to get pretty sore. And this was before my one touch of the game where I caught a pass and gained about 20 yards when I thought I'd run for about 80 actually.

OK, so I'm out of shape and that game sucked, but the rest of the day was outstanding. My boy Pat and me rolled down to the very well-known St. James Court Art Show in old Louisville, then up to Wick's for the world's best pizza and a few beers. The most gorgeous friend I have, Alli, came up to say hello for an hour or two with her girlfriend Kaci, and before I knew it, it was, well, later, and I was once again overserved.

Monday, Oct. 6 -- Drove to Dayton to fly back home and by the time I got to the airport, it was clear I was going to be sick for a few days. Traveling is great, for sure, but I'd hate to do it for a living. I'd been in airports and on airplanes more weekends than not the last 40 days, and I'd finally picked up enough germs to slow me down.

So I've spent much of this week pounding chicken soup and orange juice, and looking forward to catching up on sleep this weekend. And once I recover, you can bet your ass I'm putting the running shoes back on, because being old and out of shape sucks.