The Great Bypass - 2017

EVEN IN THE TRANQUILITY OF SHELDON, things get under my skin. Like this commercial. Some cell phone commercial, I don't even know which one, but it's these four people that are clearly on some kind of work trip on a train. They're all dressed business casual, emphasis on the "casual": these people clearly don't work in some kind of stuffy office. Two are white, one is black, one is brown. Two are male and two are female. One of the males has the close-cropped beard that's trendy among a certain class of men. They are all in their late twenties or early thirties. The thing about the phone, I guess, is that's supposed to be better than the other phones at finding stuff: the four laughing and smiling people search up Indian food and the phone spits out like twenty places for Indian food in their destination city.

I couldn't even tell you what gets me about the commercial. It's not offensive or anything. It's on all the time, but then again a lot of commercials are on all the time.  I think it's this whole idea that the phone company thinks it's so clever, what with all these young professionals looking for Indian food on a commuter train. This is the standard work environment, they are saying, with their racial and gender balance, and if your job isn't like that, you're probably a little backward. How many people even go on train trips for their job, much less with three other people, people that they are so comfortable around, that they just joke around with while the train runs? I'm not much of a business traveler, but when I do see business people traveling, they're not usually happy to be traveling, they're not usually in groups of four, and they damn sure aren't sitting on the train just laughing it up and looking for Indian food. They're either trying to get some sleep, talking on their phone, or flailing around at their laptop. Makes me wonder if the cell phone company is aware of anyone that works outside of Silicon fucking Valley.

Sometimes I overthink things.

I can't very well tell Dad to turn off his TV, so I decide to head out for a while. Head over to the Dairy Dandy and get some ice cream with the kids.

"Good idea," Dad says. "You can play a round of mini-golf at Putt-a-Round."

"Yeah," I say, "I'm gonna show the kids how to get there, and then they can go by themselves every day, if they want. I'm just a little worried about them crossing Old Highway 60 on their own."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Dad says. "It's not like it was before. Not since they built the bypass."

It's hot outside, very but not quite brutally hot, and Niko and Orlando aren't too thrilled about the idea of a walk, but they do like the idea of ice cream and mini-golf.

"Why do we have to walk, though?" they say.

"I want you to know how to get there by yourselves," I tell them.

It's a Sunday and Sheldon is very quiet. Not many cars go by us as we make our way to the Dairy Dandy. Sheldon tends to empty out on the weekends during the summer--everyone heads up to Lake Okoboji. The hot afternoon sun shines off the pavement we walk on, and the kids complain every 30 seconds or so, but I have a junior high schoolteacher's ability to ignore complaints.

"It's only eight blocks, guys. When I was your age I walked eight blocks all the time," I tell them. I'm a great old guy.

"Where are we going again?" Orlando asks.

"The Dairy Dandy," I say. "Best ice cream in the world."

"I can't believe an ice cream place has a mini-golf course. That's an unusual combination," Niko says.

I smile. "Yeah, I guess it is," I say. "The mini-golf place used to be out by where Pizza Ranch is now, when it was still the country."

"Why'd they move it?" Orlando asks.

"It went broke," I answer. "Then the guy who owned the Dairy Dandy decided to buy it and put it by his store. He moved all the holes back into town. I guess he thought people might like to play mini-golf and eat ice cream at the same time."

"Pretty good idea," Niko says. "Do you know the owner?"

"Well, I know the guy who owned it then. His name is Dan Patterson. He sold it a couple of years ago. I don't know who bought it." I don't mention that Dan Patterson, apart from being known as the Dairy Dandy owner, is also known as one of Sheldon's more prominent and rambunctious drunks. I know I have had more than one alcohol-fueled conversation with him--most of those at his insistence.

"Why do you think he sold it?" Orlando asks.

"Well, he's Grandpa Ron's age. I'm sure he probably wanted to retire," I say.

Ten minutes later we get to Old Highway 60 and I see what Dad was talking about. My worries about Niko and Orlando crossing by themselves were completely unfounded. This road is far less busy than the residential street I live on in Iowa City; there are no cars in either direction as far as I can see.

We cross Old 60 and order ice cream cones and sit on a picnic table in shade, trying without success to eat all the ice cream before it starts melting down the cone and onto our fingers. It's a little better in the shade, but the heat is still unrelenting.

To be continued...