INDIANAPOLIS — I trail Larry the Cable Guy into a packed elevator just beyond the crush of Radio Row. His bevy of handlers have afforded me the length of the ride to grill the comedian before he beelines to a pig roast somewhere in the lower bowels of the JW Marriott.
Here you are at Radio Row, Larry. What’s your take on this madness?
I want to go home. … This is too busy. I’m a small-town guy. This is too much. Warren Sapp keeps bugging me, wants autographs for his kids. Madonna keeps banging on my doggone dressing room. I’m like, ‘Madonna, honest to God, I will get a picture with you, but I have got to finish these interviews with NFL Network.’ She doesn’t understand guys and football.
You’re painting her as a bit of a stalker.
A lot of people don’t know. 1984. We met in Atlanta, Georgia. Went out. Had a little romantic evening. Not a lot went on, maybe a little swap of the lips, but that was it. That’s all that happened.
She’s still clinging to this.
I think it’s some kind of a strange, redneck fantasy that she pretends not to know that has overtaken her life.
You’re heading to this pig roast. Tell me, what makes a good tailgate?
I mean, come on. Unbelievable food. Let me say this. If you’re going to tailgate properly, you need to wear sweatpants — or pajama jeans. I would say pajama jeans, because they’ll stretch as you eat. See, you don’t feel like you’re getting fatter, ’cause a lot of times when you’re tailgating, you’re like, ‘Oh, God, I can’t eat another bite,’ because you got to unsnap your britches. But if you wear pajama jeans, you don’t have to, allowing you to bring more food into your digestive tract.
One more thing. Cut the sleeves off of that cool shirt, and, boy, you’ve got a nicer shirt.
With that, Cable Guy’s handlers whisk him away down a hallway into the void, and I return to the makeshift office to Google “pajama jeans” and rethink a quarter-century’s worth of Madonna lyrics.
— Marc Sessler