June 2, 2005
John and Jill went to the Brewpub to fetch a pail of ale
By John King
INtake columnist

Brushes with celebrities aren't my forte, but so far I've met Ted Nugent, Sammy Terry and now Jill Brooks, nearby INtake columnist.

I read with great interest Jill's recent column touting the merits of getting fired. I thought I was the only one who had such good fortune in the private sector.

Ms. Brooks wrote my life. I felt like an 18-year-old girl hearing Alanis Morissette's "Jagged Little Pill" for the first time. I had to contact her.

Maybe we would become best friends, talk about boys and have slumber parties. That would be, like, so awesome.

We agreed to meet at the Broad Ripple Brew Pub, a fine arbitrary location involving beer. I arrived early and hid my car, a vehicle so craptastic that women mustn't see.

I wondered what would come of our meeting, so I brought both writing materials and my iPod. If inspiration struck, we could write, and I would impress her with my ability to carry blank paper. If the alcohol failed, or if she had a voice like Fran Drescher, I had headphones.

Finding Jill was difficult. Because of her local celebrity status, paparazzi follow her everywhere, so she alters her appearance to blend in with most Hoosiers. By this I mean she wears a fat suit and prefers sports bars to anything frou frou.

Once we met up, she unzipped her fat suit, stepped out and immediately ordered wine, meat and cheese -- indeed, a cosmopolitan Hoosier -- the kind of woman who will boldly order wine where most people order beer.

I complimented her in the presence of the waiter.

She then regaled me with tales of her current beau, a big shot New York City lawyer who is my age but actually has a job. I regaled her with personal tales of woe, for I am the king of pain. We hit it off splendidly.

We talked about her fears of marriage, my fears of involuntary celibacy, and our mutual fears of creating material so bad that our editors would not only fire us, but also have us shot. Clearly, we had common ground, until talk turned to the check.

Because I am unemployed and single, she took pity on me and picked up the tab. My efforts to seem like a loser were successful; I got free beer. Friends, let this be known: pity drinks taste fine. Ms. Brooks then suggested that we continue our magical evening elsewhere by walking on the Monon. I was agreeable. Hand-in-hand, we skipped across the parking lot.

We hoofed the Monon, talking about places we've lived, dreams we've had and how they say that the road ain't no place to start a family.

Then, with darkness approaching, Ms. Brooks announced that she had internally turned wine into water, so to speak. We headed back and parted ways.

Our meeting was brief and our parting abrupt, leaving me clamoring for more. Alas, I'm left only with memories of the time I got free beer from Jill Brooks.