RICHMOND, Va. — I’m sitting in an Arby’s restaurant 30 miles outside of Richmond — essentially in the middle of nowhere.
But it’s not just any Arby’s, mind you. It’s (dramatic pause required here) the world’s largest Arby’s!
Look, there’s a ton of super-impressive stuff in this state. You can’t turn around without bumping into something that Washington, Jefferson or Madison didn’t bump into first.
So why am I here? Let me begin at the beginning.
o o o
I like college hoops. I like the tourney when these little “I didn’t even know they had a team” schools make a run.
We were deep into the tourney — down to 16 teams — and I note something marginally strange. Two of the teams are from Richmond, Va.
Huh?
No offense to Richmond, but I’m not thinking Jefferson and Washington were draining threes back in the day. They’ve got history, but not that kind of history.
One of the two teams from this ’burb is called something like VCU. No, I don’t know.
Monticello, I know. But VCU?
I’m intrigued. I look at my calendar. I’m very busy. Mow the lawn, Texas hold ’em, do the laundry, Texas hold ’em, buy bananas, Texas hold ’em.
I yell over to my administrative assistant, “Cancel all my appointments. I’m heading to Richmond!”
OK, one slight problem. I don’t have an administrative assistant. Who cares. I’m on my way.
o o o
I stop in Chicago on my way to the East Coast because, well, you have to stop someplace. I’ve got about an hour until my connecting flight departs, so I head to Billy Goats Tavern. You know the “Saturday Night Live” skit, right? “Cheezborger, cheezborger, cheezborger, no Pepsi … Coke!” Yeah, that place.
I need beef. I eat my cheezborger and hop onto my connecting flight.
o o o
I land in Richmond and head downtown. I want to “feel” it. There’s a bunch of people running around with the same VCU shirt: “Ram This.” What is that about? And … what … is … VCU?
I don’t know these people. They ain’t Gators. But I’ll admit, they’ve got it all goin’ on. Or so they think. The “other” Richmond team has already folded like a cheap calzone, but this spunky VCU team? They win.
The town is going crazy. Not “let’s burn the entire city down like they do in Detroit” crazy, but they’re into it.
o o o
It’s almost too much for me. These crazy cats — Rams, actually — are new to this winning stuff. Must feel like a first kiss.
Pucker up.
I need to chill. And I need beef. I begin to drive aimlessly out of town. I’m into deep woods now and come to an abandoned old mill. But instead of them curing tobacco, there’s a wedding going on.
And where there’s a wedding, there’s beef. I’ve seen “Wedding Crashers.” I move in quickly.
I head straight for tenderloin. I find it. But then, I’m found. And I’m out.
Later, I would realize that I actually knew someone at the wedding. My nephew Seth was getting married. What are the odds? About 200,000 to 1, I figure, which are the same odds the Vegas boys gave VCU to win this tourney.
Too late to go back. I head to Arby’s. That’s where this story began. Remember? I soak up the atmosphere. This place really is big. Plus, it has more beef.
o o o
I’m back now. I’m satisfied with East Coast weddings, rich history and large Arby’s. But where’s the beef? I think VCU has it all.
Lou Brancaccio is The Columbian’s editor. Reach him at 360-735-4505 or lou.brancaccio@columbian.com.
