The Marriott shuttle we had almost missed drove its very important flight crew passengers to the Courtyard Indianapolis Airport hotel and then took us down the street to the Fairfield Inn & Suites.
The lobby had a trendy little sitting area off to one side and a front desk with a rad goldfish cracker dispenser. When we checked in, the night clerk told us they’d upgraded our room. Nice but unnecessary, since we really just needed to crash. I was too tired by that time to worry about the details, though.
Our unnecessarily nice room had the same type of bold-patterned decor as the lobby. Beyond the coffee shelf, couch, and desk was what you’re really looking for after a long day of travel stuff: a comfortable bed.
In the morning (the actual morning, not our 2am check-in time, which only counts as “morning” on a technicality), we got our receipt and realized they charged us extra for the unrequested upgrade. Phillip was able to get it all sorted out with the goldfish desk. So it wasn’t a big deal in an otherwise good stay. I only bring it up to say this is why I double check everything.
Breakfast with Champions
Apparently, flight crews stay at the Courtyard; Little Leaguers stay at the Fairfield. Across the lobby from the goldfish desk was the breakfast buffet, and a few tables overflowing with 12-year-old boys in light blue baseball uniforms.
A couple of them ended up joining our table. They were in town for a tournament. We asked one of the boys what his goal was for the game that day, while he picked at the waffle his mom had stopped by to cut for him. He matter-of-factly answered, “hit three home runs.” His friend said the same. Gotta love big dreamers.
Squaring Up
While I finished getting ready, Phillip took the shuttle back to the airport to pick up our rental car. We managed to get loaded up and checked out with an hour or so to kill. Which is basically how we ended up in Fountain Square. It looked interesting, was on the way, and it happened to be the day of the annual Fountain Square Music Festival.
Neighborhoods have their own circadian rhythms. This one felt like it was still yawning and stretching and blinking in the sunlight. With the exception of a couple restaurants, most of the square was closed when we were there. The historic theater stood quiet with a lone employee hosing off the front sidewalk. The festival hadn’t started yet, and a handful of people were hanging banners and setting up. The place would probably be hopping in a couple of hours.
In the meantime, we had a pleasant walk among the historic buildings with vintagey signs and street art sprinkled in, listening to one of the bands warming up over the rhythmic splash of the fountain before getting back in the car and heading for Anderson.
– More info –
Fountain Square:
Our Indiana (Heartlandiana) trip
