When in Spokane, do as the Spokanites. Words to live by! And by the way, that’s pronounced “SPO-kin-ites” and Barbara and I were both there to enjoy all the city and the area has to offer, last weekend. Well, not exactly all. We only had one full day and two nights, so we went after the highlights. It was much fun, and great to be back out there.

What was a bit odd was that it hadn’t been so long for me that it felt nostalgic. It just felt like I was still living there. I’m a huge fan of driving around towns and places I haven’t been for a long time, to check them out again and feel those waves of nostalgia wash over me. Driving down Liberty Lake Road, or having dinner at Hay J’s Bistro, felt like I’d never left. I think I might have even felt a little cheated that it all seemed like yesterday, but I had a great time nonetheless.

Barbara has been staying at the Davenport Hotel in downtown Spokane, on this commute to her job, so when I landed on Friday afternoon I went straight there and got a key to the room. That allowed me a chance to catch up on some correspondence before we met for dinner, and what a fun dinner it ended up being. Our friend Patti and her boyfriend Sheldon (whom I had not yet met) joined us at Hay J’s for what can only be a spectacular meal. They don’t serve any other kind. It hadn’t changed a bit, and the conversation was as great as the meal. After that, Patti invited us over to her house so we could see her kids and her awesome cat Emma. All of that was good, but when Emma got a little nervous and flashed one of those front paws, complete with “outdoor cat claws,” Barb’s forehead was on the receiving end of a little quarter-inch slice. Much Neosporin and many Band-Aids later, she’s fine. There will be no litigation against Emma.

Before we got to dinner, we had some time to kill so we stopped in at Barlow’s, another of our favorite restaurants but a much more casual “comfort food” type of spot. We were going to just have a glass of wine in the bar, but we spotted our favorite server, Lori, and she insisted we take a table in her section, saying “This is so weird. I was just thinking about you two the other day. I wondered where you were.” It was fun to catch up, and once again it felt like I’d never left.

On Saturday, our only plan was to tour around downtown before heading over to Coeur d’Alene for dinner at Cedar’s Floating Restaurant. That name sounds like it must be a gimmick eatery, but the cuisine is actually fabulous.

We also suffered a bit of a delay before getting out of the hotel, when Barbara had to resubmit some school work for the class she teaches at St. Mary’s University, in Minneapolis. That took a few more hours than she’d anticipated, but once she was done we got to venture outside on a nice cool day. That’s a good thing, because according to Barb and everyone else we spoke to, it’s been raining in Spokane for as long as anyone can remember. Seriously, at least a couple of weeks, and on that particular Saturday, just as we left the Davenport to walk around downtown and the riverfront, the clouds parted and blue sky could be seen. I’ll take all the credit.

As we walked toward Riverfront Park, we noticed signs explaining a wide variety of renovation projects the city is undertaking. As Barbara said, “Ya gotta give Spokane credit. They keep doing things to make it better. They never give up.”

And quick, Riverfront Park is the former site of what great event? We’ve had this question on the test before…  It’s the site of Expo ’74, the only World’s Fair I’ve ever attended, and that was simply due to the good fortune of being able to spend a few weeks that summer with my dad’s minor league team, the Spokane Indians. And back then, we lived in the Davenport when the team was in town. So there’s that.

On the way to the river, we passed the historic carousel and Barb wanted to take a phone shot of it for her sister, Kitty, who had a great time there, with us, when she was in Spokane for Thanksgiving one year. Then Barbara said, “Wanna ride it again?” and I kind of shook my head no, but I could see she really did, so we sprinted for the ticket booth and found two horses who looked “our speed”.

It’s campy fun, and always worth doing. It’s been in operation for more than 100 years, and it’s a huge investment of two entire dollars to ride it.

After that thrill ride, we strolled around the park and crossed over the Spokane Falls a number of times, soaking it all in one more from various vantage points. At this time of year, the Falls are near their low point. In the spring, when all the snow in the mountains melts and finds its way to the Spokane River, the Falls are ripping and roaring so violently people travel from far and wide to see the spectacle. It can actually be a little scary and intimidating in April or May, to be on a suspension bridge just about 10 feet above all that powerful water. You’d have no chance if you fell in, so my advice is that you don’t do that.

We were also getting quite hungry, and our reservation for Cedars wasn’t until 7:00, so we made up our minds to have a light lunch. At first, we were going to go to Twig’s, one of our go-to spots in Spokane, but we called an audible. I stopped, looked around, and yelled, “2-80. 2-80. Omaha!” and off we went, with a screen pass instead of the run I’d called. None of that happened. We simply changed our minds and decided to have lunch at Clinkerdagger, a really nice restaurant overlooking the Falls on the north side of the river. It’s quaint, it’s cozy, the views are amazing, and my combo plate of a half Caesar Salad and a half French Dip was spot on.

It’s a fun place, with great food and a friendly staff. And how did I learn about Clinkerdagger in the first place, back before we even moved to Washington? From Jerry Foss, esteemed photographer for National Dragster magazine, who read about our impending move way back then and told me to check the place out. Well played, sir.

After lunch, more strolling, more Falls views, and more fun. It was great to be back in Spokane, and for me it was a chance to be a tourist again. The first time I’d been able to do that since National Dragster editor Phil Burgess and his wife, Marie, were there about a year and a half ago. The Falls were ripping quite a bit more then, than they were last weekend.

We took our time, took a few more selfie’s, and finally headed back to the hotel, but not before taking one last long look. I really don’t know when I’ll be back, but you gotta give Spokane credit. They don’t give up.

Barbara had actually left her rental car at Itron after our dinner and cat attack on Friday night, so the plan was for us to head straight for Coeur d’Alene, with the hope of having some time to walk around the charming downtown area there before dinner. And then we’d swing back past her office to pick up her rental after we ate. Best laid plans, and all.

Instead, we were a little late getting there in terms of the downtown stuff, because Cedar’s floats on the other side of the lake from there, but we were early in terms of our reservation. It was about 6:15. We figured we could have a floating glass of wine in the floating bar if they couldn’t seat us early in the floating restaurant.

It was funny, because the receptionist said it would be at least 20 minutes and that they had no tables by the windows available. It was funny peculiar, not funny haha, because we had no more than taken our first sips at the bar when the restaurant manager came in and said, “I can seat you at a window now.” Hey, whatever works. We floated right on over there.

So a restaurant that floats seems like a gimmick. I mean, remember fine dining rule No. 126: Never eat at a restaurant that revolves on the top floor of a hotel. The revolving part is a gimmick to get you to eat lousy food. Well, by that rule, a floating restaurant might be included. And a floating restaurant that features a salad bar? Steer clear, right? Maybe, but not in the case of Cedar’s. The salad bar is awesome, and the menu is filled with fantastic fresh dishes from the Great Northwest and beyond. My steak was officially considered perfect. And their Ranch dressing, at the salad bar? Oh my. When a Ranch is so good it causes me to tell the server, “If you brought me a plate of yard clippings and twigs, I could eat it with this Ranch” it’s very good. And that’s coming from a Ranch aficionado.

On Sunday, Barbara actually followed me to the airport in the morning, in her rental that we did indeed pick up after our floating dinner. Did I mention that Cedar’s actually floats on Coeur d’Alene Lake? It does! Seriously. And it has a salad bar!

She wanted to get rid of the giant SUV she’d gotten when she arrived a week before, so we both dropped off our cars and Avis gave her a Subaru Outback for this week. She’s probably off-roading in it right now. It felt like the airport was kind of busy, in a way a guy who travels as much as I do can sense upon arrival, so I gave my wife a kiss goodbye and went to check my bag.

The TSA line at Spokane is usually not too bad. After all, there are almost never more than two or three jets leaving within any 30-minute span of time, so how many folks can even be there? And, there’s a TSA Pre-Check line too, so you usually fly right through. The times you don’t are when the don’t have the Pre-Check line open and have only one TSA agent manning the desk. Like on Sunday. Right when I got there.

I was no more than 20th in line, but it was moving at a snail’s pace. Snails move very slowly. When I finally got to the front, the woman said “Pre Check is going to open in about 10 minutes if you want to wait” but I could see no benefit in that. The entire process, which usually takes just a minute or two, took close to 25 minutes this time. I barely had time for a massage, a pedicure, and an autograph session before getting on my private jet. I didn’t write that sentence, it just appeared. I did barely have time to log onto the interwebs to check my mail before boarding the little Delta jet that would fly me in the wrong direction for 45 minutes. I did write that because it’s true. I had to fly west for 45 minutes to get to Seattle, where I had a two-hour layover. Then, back in the air going eastward, flying directly back over Spokane on the way. In the great words of the band Supertramp, I took the long way home.

Oh, but I wasn’t done traveling! No sir, not at all.

On Tuesday, I had a 9:00 a.m. flight to Detroit, but I’d never leave the DTW airport. I had a 5:00 appointment with “the authorities” who I assume were Customs people, to be fingerprinted and approved for my Global Entry “trusted traveler” number. Such a thing is extremely helpful when traveling abroad, and with our December trip to London coming up, I needed to get it. I just had to fly to Detroit to do it, because every other airport I checked was booked out until next spring.

Barbara had also flown to DTW to get her number, last year, and she said the line was two hours long, despite the whole process of having appointments. So, I spent some time in the Sky Club and then headed over to the other terminal to get in line. And when I found the office, there was nobody waiting at all. They took me in at 3:00 and at 3:15 I was walking out, having had my photo taken and all my fingerprints scanned. Bam. Done deal. Apparently, I’m trustworthy.

I hoped to get on an earlier flight, not the 8:50 one I was on, but I’d just missed the 3:30 flight and the 5:30 was overbooked. I killed some more time in the Sky Club, and munched on the new food offerings they have, then went for a walk. That’s easy to do, at DTW. If you walk the length of the main terminal up and back, that’s well more than a mile. Throw in a stroll through the tunnel of lights to get over to the smaller concourse, and you’ve had a nice hike. Yet, I still had another hour until we boarded the plane. So I went back to the Sky Club for a glass of wine and some cheese and crackers.

As I turned a corner, I saw a handsome and well-dressed guy coming toward me. I knew I recognized him, but I only had a split second to connect all the memory dots before he walked by. As he did, I said, “Fred?”

He looked up and said, “Yes” with an inquisitive look on his face. I simply put out my hand and said, “Bob Wilber.” The handshake quickly turned into a hug.

Fred Fried (pronounced “Freed”) and I worked together way back in the dark ages. When I was hired as a Project Director for DelWilber+Associates, my brother’s sports marketing agency, I joined a small group of young go-getters who were right out of college. Not long after I joined, Fred was hired. Not long after Fred was hired, he and I were great friends. We were both smart, had similar likes and dislikes, and we could crack each other up with just a look. We were also both big fans of Washington D.C.’s number one morning deejay, a hilarious guy who went by the name of The Greaseman. We could do his bits all day.

The work entailed long hours in the office, and travel to far away places on a weekly basis. It was mentally taxing, and physically draining, despite the fact it was all “desk work” not physical labor. About a year later, when Fred and I went to lunch and he broke the news he was leaving to take a job with ProServ, a huge agency that represented a lot of athletes, I was crushed. It felt like breaking up with a girlfriend. It was never the same after he left, but for him it’s a good thing he did. When he left ProServ his career was on a steep upward trajectory, and he started and sold a few businesses himself. He’s still at it, but as he said, “I can only play so much golf, so I keep doing it but at my pace.”

Plus, when we were at DW+A together, one of our colleagues was Bridgit Corbin, who was young and smart and dedicated, intent upon making her own mark in the world. Fred and Bridgit were both soon married, but later in life they found themselves single again, each with children, and they began dating. They’ve been married for quite a while now, and no two people could be a better match.

I hadn’t seen Fred since the day he left DW+A in the mid ’80s. We found a quiet corner in the Club and spent 40 minutes talking nonstop, catching up on everything. Had I not gone back to the Club, and if I had not been turning that corner at exactly the right time, Fred Fried and I would not know, right now, that we were both even there at the same time. What a stroke of enormous luck. And what a truly great guy!

So that’s my past week, since the last blog. And tomorrow I head to Las Vegas to see my NHRA peeps and the Hujabre family. Can’t wait to get there.

On the book front, we’ll soon be moving into the next phase of pre-production, layout, and approvals. I’m going to take on this part of the process with all the determination I used for the writing. I can’t wait to see it come to life.

So, I’m off to the races after a wild week of “When in Spokane, do as the Spokanites” followed by a day-long journey to Detroit and back and the great food fortune of seeing Fred.

What will next week bring? We’ll see.

Bob Wilber, at your service as a former Spokanite.