We’ve dropped out of Missouri and landed in Arkansas. The weather has definitely gotten warmer since the prairie days and I’m starting to crave a pair of shorts. After a morning in the car, we arrived on the river city of Little Rock. From our hotel we strolled to the River Market, enjoyed a fresh meal on the patio of Boscos, and then headed back for some R&R before Thursday’s big day.

We noticed a curious thing upon arriving back to the hotel. The downstairs restaurant, and watering hole, was preparing for a big party to celebrate the American Idol season finale. I’ll admit that I’ve never watched an episode of American Idol, nor could I tell you what season is currently wrapping. Nothing against the show, really, I’m just one of those weirdos who doesn’t watch much TV (yes, I fail miserably in television pop culture trivia). But after seeing the fervor and genuine delight of the restaurant hostess (she was even sporting a Kris Allen t-shirt), I figured if there was a time to watch the show then this would be it. Albeit, from the restaurant patio looking in.

I sat in the nice, late evening breeze of Arkansas listening to the musical hub bub from the restaurant inside. Katie joined me and we sat discussing the various complexities of modern life while occasional smokers stepped out to our domain to take a few drags, give us a few looks, and then rejoin their fellow Idol fans. I had finished my beverage and decided to find the waitress to have one more. As fate would have it, I walked into the crowded restaurant right as the fateful winner of American Idol was about to be announced. The waitress held her hands clasped up to her chin. She repeated over and over, “Please be Kris! Please be Kris!” before losing all patience, throwing her hands down, and exclaiming, “I just can’t watch!” I took this opportunity to get her attention and asked, “Uhm, excuse my ignorance, but which one of them is Kris?” She quickly looked at me and said, “The short one!”

“The short one” is from nearby Conway, Arkansas, as we would soon discover. This was a moment when, Kris Allen, a man born and raised in Arkansas, could be crowned number one in the world of voice and song. I sat looking around the restaurant as people watched, eyes unblinking in the blue glow of the television. The potential for a moment of glory lay heavy upon them all. The kind waitress gave me another beverage and then we both turned back to the television. Few moments later, the announcer revealed the name of the winner and the restaurant went absolutely mad with joy and happiness.

I ducked and swerved to miss from being hit by poppers and streamers as people hooted and hollered. The waitress pumped her fist in the air as people began reaching for their cell phones to share the results with friends and family. I made it outside and told Katie to come experience the revelries. We found a new seat, surrounded by streamers and the subtle smell of black powder, and watched the people’s cheerful chatter. I may not have learned much new about American Idol, but it made me feel good to see so many people get a burst of happiness and inspiration - if at least for a night.