Last night I was at my friend Jen's house, having dinner, when my phone rang. It was Amy.

Amy was, up until last year, a lead anchor for the CBS affiliate in Peoria, Ill. We met back in 1997, when we both were covering a Holocaust memorial, and immediately bonded over shoes. I will admit to you that up until meeting Amy I had a bias against broadcast reporters. I was a newspaper reporter, after all, and the assumption was all TV reporters were fluffy airheads. But then I met Amy, and her coworkers, and began dating one of the sports anchors at her station, and forever changed was my opinion of my television sisters and brothers.

Plus? They could drink me under a table.

For one very awesome year in my twenties, my life centered around my friends in Peoria - all of whom were involved in the news business in some shape or form. I'd brought Amy and her crew into the circle of friends I had at the Peoria Journal Star and everyone ended up becoming great friends. We worked odd hours, drank too much, sang too much karaoke ... it was a good time. But in 1999 I knew it had to end. I missed home, I was going nowhere quickly at the paper and for as much fun as it was to live as if there was no growing up to do, I knew Peoria was not the place for me. I needed something bigger, more challenging. A lifetime covering breaking stories in the collar counties of Peoria just didn't seem appealing to me.

I left and my life changed pretty dramatically, but exactly in the fashion I'd hoped it would. What never seemed to change, though, was the connection I had with the friends I'd made down there, and while I remain closer to some than others (Hi Dave Moll! I will write you back tonight I promise.), there isn't a one of them who wouldn't have my back for me in a moment if I needed them.

One of those people is Omar - not to be confused with another journalist friend named Omar - and that man lets nothing escape his notice. He will harangue and harass until you submit to his will. It's just his way, though I'm sort of convinced he's still got me on notice for the day he spent with me back in '98, when Joe Carlson broke my heart, and Omar and Dave sat with me in shifts for 24 hours while I cried and chain-smoked. Last week Omar sent me a message on Facebook, asking me if I was planning on going to Peoria for some Guild event, which of course I was not.

I've still got friends, and family, down there, but it's been five years since I've visited, a decade since I've been a presence there, and crashing a party my old coworkers are throwing isn't my idea of a good way to spend a Sunday. Especially with gas prices being what they are.

"So I'm at a Journal Star party right now," Amy said. "What's this I hear that you're coming down here on Sunday and why didn't you tell me?!"

Oh shit.

"Karen McDonald told me you're coming down here ..."

"But wait, Amy ..." I tried to stop her.

"... and I said 'I would know if E Shea is coming down here' and she also told me that you are getting remarried and ..."

"Amy, well ..." Stopping her from talking is nearly impossible. Believe you me.

"... I told her that I would know if E Shea was getting remarried and OH MY GOD ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED TO SCOTT?"

She actually named my ex-boyfriend, Shannon, for reasons that are unclear to me, since I dated that guy for two seconds back in 2000 and Amy has actually hung out with Scott.

So apparently Omar told people I was going down there Sunday, and people whom I've not even thought of in ten years are telling my friends things about my whereabouts that I should have and now I'm in huge trouble.

And I'm heading down to Peoria on Sunday.

Posted by Erin at 08:36 AM | filed under: Random Stupidity