scenes from an Italian disc golf shop

#25 Traveling with my sister (Kaitlyn) to the attic of Scotti's Italian Eatery to purchase our very own, one-size fits all disc golf frisbees from none other than Scotti himself


Kaitlyn was visiting for Easter. I had just returned to my JCU apartment from a long day at my internship site and realized how beautiful of an afternoon it was in Cleveland (a rare occasion). I asked Kaitlyn if she wanted to go play a round of frisbee golf before dinner and she said "absolutely, but we don't have any frisbees!" I told her not to worry and that we would figure something out (little did she know that I was planning on swinging by a Italian restaurant near the disc golf course that my friend, Mark, told me sells discs). So we hopped into a friend of mine Augustus' car (keep this car in mind for a future tribute) and felt just about every pot hole on our journey north towards the lake. Once I knew we were getting close, I asked my sister to look out for a restaurant called Scotti's. We whizzed by its tiny parking lot, but we both spotted it almost immediately (at this point, Kaitlyn knows that we are trying to purchase some frisbees, but understandably believes that this Italian restaurant is not the right place and knows full well about my "strong" navigation skills). I decide to park in their lot. Kaitlyn notices a sign above the rear door of the Scotti's restaurant that reads: DISC GOLF GIFT SHOP. She cannot believe it, but wait it gets better. I turn the door knob but it is locked! I start to worry that maybe it is closed or no longer in business. We decide to enter through the front of the restaurant and ask one of the employees about the disc golf store in the rear. She tells us that she will be right back, as she  presumably went to ask the owner/manager about letting us in. While she is gone, Kaitlyn and I are tempted by the succulent aromas that are permeating off of each guest's plate in this quaint, family-owned Italian eatery.  The woman returns from the back of the restaurant and slowly walks towards us. I dread the news that she probably bears. I ask, "is it open?" and begin to turn towards the front turn before she answers. I do a double take, as she beckons us to follow her. I look at Kaitlyn and realize that we may get the opportunity to buy some discs after all. Walking through their kitchen and dish room, this woman eventually leads us to a narrow stairwell on the other side of that aforementioned locked rear door (it was like the other side of the Narnian wardrobe :) We walked slowly up this queaky flight of stairs and met, amidst hundreds of fluorescent flat discs, a middle-aged man who seemed surprised by our early evening visit. As he began asking us about our disc preferences and experiences and gave us a hint as to how many disc golfers he knew, we knew that he was a true disc golf connoisseur. Neither of us were looking to spend too much on frisbees, but we were hoping to leave with one or two discs. He was able to convince us--for a reasonable price--to purchase two all-purpose, mid-range discs (one blue Roc & one white with a VW label). As I handed him the money, I asked him his name and he replied, "Oh, I am Scotti." I retorted, "You're Scott?!?" I couldn't believe we had met the non-descript owner in the attic of his Italian restaurant. As Kaitlyn and I descended down the stairwell and departed the restaurant the same way we entered, we began smiling to ourselves. We realized how crazy and awesome this experience had been. Who would have thought frisbees and Italian cuisine would ever go together? I guess, Scotti does.