RevSpork

Youth is wasted on the young

I guess the inevitable question is: how can you never go home again when your home moved every couple of months? 

Technically, I was born on Long Island and lived a good chunk of my childhood there, but in fact I never had much of an opportunity to call any place "home."  From kindergarten through seventh grade I attended no fewer than six schools.  Three years in a row (5th, 6th, and 7th grades), I attended two schools - in three states - for various reasons.  Life happens. 

Tori and I are flying out this morning to Kansas City, where I spent a chunk of my childhood.  We're headed there because my wife is a fantastic person - she surprised me for my 40th birthday with tickets to see the Chiefs - my NFL football team from childhood - play.  I had never seen them play outside of a TV screen, so this will be an exciting time for me.  It also offers the opportunity to drop by the old neighborhood (technically, I had five "old neighborhoods" within the metropolitan area, but I resided in this particular neighborhood longer than the others, about three years) and grab some good barbeque.

What's really strange is where we'll be staying for the next three nights - the Hyatt Regency Crown Center, once the Hyatt Regency, site of the horrific walkway collapse nearly thirty years ago.  My mother, an X-ray technician, was one of hundreds of hospital employees who worked five straight double shifts witnessing what tons of concrete and steel can inflict on a human body.  It's obviously all fixed now, so I'm not worried about a repeat, but it's odd staying at a place that caused so much pain and suffering. 

As for walking through my old haunts, that will be strange.  I packed my Flip camera with me, so I might record some stuff.  We shall see. 

A quick review of the Twin Cities

Sometimes (in fact, probably more than sometimes) I think the best thing about Chicago is getting the hell away from it every once in a while.  Tori and I enjoyed just that opportunity last weekend, and we did it in style, if you define "in style" as "nine hours on an increasingly stinky Amtrak train."  By the time we arrived in Saint Paul, the style in the car could melt lead.  Other than that odor, the vacation was a blast. 

On that note, allow me the opportunity to bestow some Vacation Awards.

BEST RESTAURANT: As good as Mickey's Diner was (and it was good), I'll go with The Good Earth in suburban Edina.  The service was fantastic, and the food... wow.  Like Chicago's Uncommon Ground, the Good Earth's menu changes with the seasons, and they are heavy with the local ingredients.  Tori, for example, enjoyed a cornmeal-encrusted walleye that was incredibly tender and tasty.  I enjoyed a coconut curried chicken with rice and a sweet mango chutney that combined well with the spicy curry and the basil.  Dessert was the best: I dug into an amazing strawberry shortcake which included a flaky corn-based biscuit instead of sponge cake, and the vanilla ice cream was pure white and creamy. 

BEST DRINK: the lemonade at the Good Earth.  I prefer a tart lemonade, and this fit the bill.  There was no sugar added to the lemonade; it was instead sweetened with apples.  The result was amazing; I may try this out for my own lemonade this summer.

MOST OVERRATED LANDMARK: The Mall of America was three hours of pure boredom.  I had been looking forward to visiting the Capital of Cheezy Capitalism, but it's basically four regular-sized shopping malls shoved together with a theme park in the middle.  If you're going to offer me the largest mall in the nation, give me an interesting shopping experience, not the same one, only longer.  When you've seen one shopping mall, you've seen them all, and the M of A is no exception.

BEST BREAKFAST: Although my cousin-in-law's boyfriend's pancakes were really good, the Denver omelet I ate at Mickey's Dining Car in Saint Paul was the fluffiest, most buttery I'd ever tasted. 

BEST VIEW: If I count the trip to and from the Twin Cities area, I'd go with the view from Amtrak's observation car as we rode along the Mississippi River at sunset.  If not, the view of the Mississippi River (including Saint Anthony Falls) from the top floor of the Guthrie Theater fits the bill nicely. 

MONUMENT MOST LIKELY TO EARN MY MOTHER'S UTTER CONTEMPT: The Mary Tyler Moore statue in downtown Minneapolis.  Mom never liked her, probably because of her (Mary's) eternal perkiness.

MONUMENTS MOST LIKELY TO MAKE MY DAD SMILE: The statues of various Peanuts characters strewn throughout St. Paul.

MOST EXPENSIVE PLEASURE, AS DESCRIBED BY MY WIFE: The ten-dollar cup of coffee she drank at Coffee & Tea Ltd. made from Kopi Luwak beans.  Yes, those beans.  You coffee addicts know what I'm talking about: that $420/pound coffee processed from the rear end of a nocturnal mammal.  She drank it and apparently liked it.  I took a tiny sip and really, really wanted to spit it out.  Apparently weasel poop coffee is an acquired taste. 

COOLEST BOOKSTORE: Wild Rumpus Books in Minneapolis is not only the coolest bookstore in the Twin Cities, but possibly the coolest children's bookstore in the country.  Why the hosannas, do you ask?  Not only does it boast two bookstore cats, but also three bookstore chicks, a couple bookstore ferrets...a bookstore menagerie.  Finally, the restroom has a little secret inside if you turn out the light and look into the mirror.

BEST HOSTS: My cousin-in-law Eri and her boyfriend Jared were fantastic.  They put up with Tori and me for four days straight, and that makes them very, very cool in our books.   

All in all, going to the Twin Cities was a wonderful experience.  In so many ways, they make Chicago look like Scuzville.  Minneapolis and St. Paul boast gorgeous parks and lakes, the people are genial in the extreme (Minneapolis alone includes a whopping 205,000 certified nice people, compared to New York's 9981, Los Angeles's 7804, and Chicago's 22), and their baseball team might actually make the playoffs.  I'm sure the cities up there are not as idyllic during the winter months, but during the warm months, it's hard to beat. 

Quick overview on my North Carolina trip

This is what I did on my fall "vacation" last week, in case you were nosy:

• Imagine a cool, sunny October afternoon in the Carolinas.  Imagine soaking in a hot tub in a backyard, watching leaves fall and dragonflies zip past you.  Imagine doing this for a half-hour, then laying down in a hammock for another half-hour.  While I occupied this little time-space of heaven, I could think of only one thing: Sex?  Sex is for the young.  Let the little whippersnappers fumble with condoms and diaphragms, clumsily doing the nasty while thoughts of unintended pregnancy, STDs, and what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here lurk about in their brains. This hour on Saturday afternoon, my friends, was pure pleasure.  
• My wife, in-laws, and I spent Friday in Asheville, a little gem of a city in western North Carolina.  If Charlotte doesn't strike you as a genuine Southern city, Asheville is even less of one.  It's as if aliens pulled a town in northern California out by the roots and transported it 2000 miles to a little nook among the Smoky Mountains.  Hippies and buskers abound everywhere (the town hosts a huge drum circle every Friday), the tiny shops are fantastic, and the entire downtown is practically an giant Art Deco museum.  If God told me to move to the South, I'd move here.  
• I spent more time during this trip in South Carolina than during previous in-law trips.  Tori, my father-in-law, and his wife spent a little time at a Confederate monument in Rock Hill.  These monuments are light-years away from the Civil War monuments and gravesites up north.  Northerners know about the Civil War, but we're pretty laid-back about it.  South Carolina, on the other hand, seems to define itself by the Civil War, and to them, war event that occurred nearly 150 years might as well had ended last month.  Monuments were erected to the "cause of Southern freedom," slaves are depicted as loving, loyal defenders of the Confederacy, and the sites themselves are meticulously maintained by local historical societies.  It's a world entirely alien to a first-time tourist who has never lived south of Kansas City.  
• No matter what my wife says, I didn't pet my sister-in-law's dogs one bit.  I kicked them all around the house when they approached, and not once did I scritch around their ears and rub their bellies.  Any statements to the contrary are pure libel, and will be answered by lawsuits ASAP.

Finally, I can't end this little blog entry without thanking my wife's family, who have adopted me as their own over the last few years.  And to my sis- and bro-in-law, don't be surprised if you go into the backyard one night and find your hot tub missing.

Phoenix in July

Hurrah!  I'm going on vacation!  In Phoenix.  Next week.  In...July.

Can you imagine a worse time to go to Phoenix?  (besides August.)  Not really.  I'm beginning to suspect, however, that Phoenix is accommodating itself for my somewhat cooler needs.  The city is going through - of all things - a cool snap.  The city went two weeks in June without breaking one hundred degrees, and according to weather.gov, it's not going to be much hotter the week I'm there - the hottest high temperature expected is 108, which might sound like burning hell to you, but for Phoenix, it's a cool breeze.  And yes, it's a dry heat, and yes, it matters (Now if it were 120, of course it would be beyond my tolerance.  That's too freaking hot.)  But I've spent summers in Phoenix before, and I should be able to hack it. 

For a quarter of a century, my mother has called this hell home.  I'm no longer sure why she decided upon this place, and I only know she (and her sister; they've lived together for twenty years) wants out.  However, the real estate bust reduced the value of their home to about $67.12, so they're not escaping Arizona for a while.

I have my reasons for flying out to Phoenix in the middle of the summer.  I haven't seen my mother (or any of my family) since my wedding nearly three years ago.  I had no Fourth of July plans, and the technical school where I work is closed next week, so I figured, what the hey.  Finally, I have no idea when my gig will end (possibly within the next month), so I wanted to go out there while I still had a job and could afford it. 

I don't know whether I'll blog during my week off or not.  My mother does have internet access, so if they're at work, I might have a go.  If not, see you in a week.

Shoulder pain and fun in DC

Maybe I should've packed less. I'm not one of those folks who pack for every single possibility. However, my bag must've done something to my shoulder, because ever since I jammed it into the overhead compartment en route to DC, I've suffered from near-chronic shoulder pain. Advil ain't doing shit, nor is Aleve. Or Thermacare. So I'll probably go see a doctor later in the week if my shoulder continues to give me grief. And yes, it hurts a little bit to type.

Other than that, Tori and I had a great time in our nation's capital. It was Tori's first time there, and my first in eighteen years, when I went there as part of a National Honor Society field trip and smuggled rum and coke in my carry-on bag. (Long story, but loads of fun.)

Our hosts, Anh and Craig, treated us well. We ate out, chatted, bitched about life, and did a little shopping around. Since we only spent a total of two days there, we didn't get to see as much of the capital as we would have liked, but we did watch over the Senate debating some amendments to a bill that we had no idea what it was about. I'm sure it was very important. We also saw most of the Air & Space Museum, which was pretty awesome. Again, it hurts to type, so I'm not going to go too far into what we saw. And yes, even Tori had to admit that Hillary Clinton does have a wide butt.

That's it for my shoulder. Have a good night. Oh, before I forget: airport security stopped me at O'Hare to take a closer look at my hairbrush.

A few days off

The Fiancée and I will be up in Milwaukee for a family reunion over the next few days.  I'm sure you'll all do well without me, but in case you miss me too much, just go to my archive and relive the experience all over again.  Ah... Willy Wonka... spiny salmon... pro-ana freaks... how can you not want to relive it all over again?

Anyway, ta-ta.  I'll be back on Tuesday.

Weekend with the "in-laws"

My apologies for not updating my blog lately, but I worked a couple of close shifts, then spent the weekend with relatives of the Girlfriend up in Milwaukee. For those who have never been to Milwaukee, let me dispel a few myths:

1. The city does not smell like stale beer. All the breweries moved out eons ago.

2. Their downtown, although not as picturesque as Chicago's, is not a decomposing, rotting mess of ghettoes and crack houses. Those areas are now being replaced with high-end lofts. Imagine, your very own upper-class crack house!

3. Milwaukee does not hold a monopoly of horrible sports teams. Chicago and Milwaukee split the title every other year as part of a sports "Sister City" program.

Milwaukee also boasts a nicer lakefront than Chicago's, plus really cool relatives. I enjoyed the hospitality, the BBQ, and the conversation, as well as an audio tape of a four-year old Girlfriend attempting to sing "Jingle Bells." The sound of her warbling "an' Joka ga 'way-aaa!" was definitely worth the cost of a personal day from work.

I'm going to miss Amtrak when the Republicans destroy it. Although I think transcontinental passenger train service is gone for good, I think Amtrak as a regional passenger service would be perfect. I've taken Amtrak from Portland to Seattle, Portland to Eugene, and now Chicago to Milwaukee, and I have to say the it beats the hell out of taking a puddle jumper or a bus for short runs. When you take the train, you don't have to worry about traffic jams or smelly, crazy people. You can use your cell phone to your heart's content. You don't have sit next to an extremely loud propeller while fighting off Buddy Holly tunes inside your head. Amtrak is a smooth, quiet ride, with comfortable seats and a lot of legroom. I can see why someone would prefer not to take two or three days going from, say, New York to Phoenix on a train, but I can't understand the problem with taking a train from New York to Boston. I think what will kill Amtrak is not just political pressure, but a failure on its own part to promote itself as a cheaper alternative to planes for those short hops.

Overall, I enjoyed my weekend with the Girlfriend's aunt, uncle, cousin, and especially their cat, Vernia. They made traveling to Wisconsin worth it.

Viva Los Weirdos

Now that you have read about my excursions to a gay hamburger joint and my adventures with sex toys in an airport, I thought I should devote the last chapter of my trip to the most mundane chunk of it - Las Vegas.  What a bizarre city.

Vacation Weather Review

We left Chicago in the middle of the biggest snowstorm to hit the city in four years.  Ten inches hits the ground.  Ten days later, we returned...and there's no snow on the ground.  Not a flake.

We flew to Phoenix and Las Vegas, two of the driest cities in the country.  We got rained on in both cities. 

The temperature in Phoenix hit 70 for the first time since before we arrived - on our last day there.  We arrived in Chicago at 1am that night - and it's five degrees above zero.  I actually gasped when the frigid wind hit me as we exited the airport.  We took a taxi home; the driver informed us it was 62 the previous Wednesday.  I think back; we were in Vegas that day.  The high?  57.  *SOB*

Should I sue God?  Cuz this is so wrong.

Not so good vibrations

I may be an odd person, but I don't ask odd things to happen to me.  I firmly believe I'm odd mostly because the weird in the universe have an attraction to yours truly.  My latest bout with weirdness came about simply because I'm a nice guy who wanted his girlfriend to enjoy more of Las Vegas than just the roulette tables.