North Jersey Newspaper October 20, 2002 byline Bill Ervolino Hoosier hospitality is a hoot How does a New Jersey boy get to Indiana? First he drives his dog to his parents' house on Long Island. (Distance: 48 miles. Time: 2½ hours. Traffic incidents along the way involving cursing and obscene gestures: 3) " Hi, Dad! Bye, dog!" Then the boy from New Jersey hops into the car he has hired to take him from Long Island to LaGuardia, because there are no flights from Islip to Indianapolis, even though They're both in the middle of nowhere, and they both begin with an I. Cost: "That will be $78." "What do you mean $78? I thought it was $65." " That includes the tip," the driver says. "Oh." ( Does that also include dinner and a show?) For reasons of national security, the boy from New Jersey then sits in the airport terminal for another 2½ hours, staring at the ceiling, all by himself, because no one else on his flight was stupid enough to arrive 2½ hours early. Starving to death, he then gets on the plane, where a flight attendant gives him a Coke and a 5-ounce bag of Snaps. "Are these nuts?" asks the boy from New Jersey, who was expecting, at the very least, a sandwich, some pie, and a big chunk of cheese. "Nope, Snyders Snaps are pretzels," says the flight attendant. "Oh," says the boy from New Jersey. " I don't suppose you have any Snyder's Steaks back there? With a big pile of potatoes?" " NO." Less than two hours later, the boy from New Jersey arrives in Indianapolis, where he discovers at the baggage-claim area that his duffle bag is unzipped. Having zipped it himself in New York, he finds this odd, until he realizes that the zipper is kaput. "I'm afraid that happened when they loaded the bag in New York," an airline employee says "Is there anything I can do?" "You don't have a steak lying around, do you?" " NO." The boy from New Jersey then waddles outside with his enormous, unzippable duffel bag, trailing underwear and assorted debris behind him like a short, bald, Italian bag lady. "Sir, you dropped this," a man says, handing the boy from New Jersey a t-shirt. It has been so long since anyone has treated the boy from New Jersey like a human being that he isn't sure what to say. "Uh.....thank you?" "You're welcome, Have a nice evening." Outside, the boy from New Jersey catches the Hertz bus to the car rental area. The woman who drives the bus actually gets out of her seat to help him with his bag. Assuming she is a thief, he pulls the bag away from her and insists he knows karate, which is a partial lie because he did got to high school with a guy named Sylvester Carotti. At the Hertz lot he waddles over to a window in a tiny building and hands over his paperwork. "Good evening," the woman says from behind the window. "Nice to see you." "Thank you," he says with a strange look on his face, because she really seems to mean it. He then asks if there is a bathroom nearby. "There a bathroom in that building over there," she says pointing to a dark building about 20 feet away. She then smiles and, WITHOUT EVEN BEING ASKED, leaves her little building, unlocks the door to the larger building, turns on all the lights, and points to the end of the hall. Confused the boy from New Jersey looks around and asks "What country is this?" Later, after handing him the keys to his car, the woman gives him a map. "If you need directions," she adds "the man at the gate will be happy to assist you." The boy from New Jersey pulls up to the gate and asks for directions. Another car pulls up behind him. Minutes go by. The man at the gate is actually DRAWING a map for the boy from New Jersey, and inexplicably, the driver BEHIND the boy from New Jersey never beeps or curses. After checking into his hotel, the boy from New Jersey drives into the heart of the city, parks in an underground lot, has dinner, walks around, and buys a new suitcase. THREE HOURS LATER, he picks up his car, gives the parking attendant his ticket, and is told he owes ONE DOLLAR. "Are you KIDDING me?" he scream at the attendant. "Too much?" the attendant nervously replies. The boy from New Jersey, who is used to paying $39 an hour to park in New York, chuckle, hands over his dollar, and says "Thanks. You have a nice evening." And, for the first time in 20 years, he actually means it. Bill Ervolino's e-mail address is [email protected] Keith W Brown Indianapolis IN