Surprisingly, a lot of people have been asking for me to write the grand finale...so here we go.
First off, I'm truly impressed with the feedback from these stories, and eternally grateful. All of you have been very kind and encouraging, which is awesome. I read a lot, and there is no way I could consider myself in the same league as a published author. Apparently though, I'm in the minority...I've been told to write a book countless times, and actually offered a job as a columnist on a website! It paid very little, so it wasn't worth it...but wow, that was certainly a good feeling. Thanks people! If any of you know a publisher....hook me up!
Back to the real reason for my writing....my trip.
Overall, it was incredible. Beyond belief. Many people question the sanity of travelling alone...personally, I couldn't recommend it more. There are so many aspects of it that people completely miss.
When you travel with someone, you have the comfort of dealing with that person. Problem is, you tend to not deal with anyone else, cuz you don't have to. This isn't always the case, but for shy people (like me), it tends to work out that way.
I understand having friends around though, cuz I've travelled like that too. Some of my most memorable experiences travelling were with someone....Jess, for the first 3 weeks of my Europe trip. He might be an ugly bastard, but London/Ibiza/Scotland/Dublin was incomparable. Especially Ibiza and Scotland...we had sooo much fun there. I wouldn't trade that for anything. And I intend to do it again ASAP, no matter where it is...as soon as Bitch decides his education is less important than seeing the world. : )
But...when travelling alone, you don't have that option. You don't have that ready-made friend to conversate with...you don't have that person to help make decisions with. You HAVE to take that upon yourself. Some people would find that a lil bit scary. Like me, since I'm shy, as mentioned above. Getting past that is a big confidence boost, though.
For anyone out there that doesn't believe in themselves fully and completely...go away on your own. Learning to trust yourself, and your decisions, and your judgement...that's how you determine your self-worth. Paying your bills, going to work...yeah, that's part of life. But thinking on your feet, handling the world minute-to-minute, as opposed to month-to-month....that really defines your character. Man, woman, it don't matter. In my opinion, there's only one person can validate how special you are...and that's yourself. I know how cheesy that sounds, but if you don't believe in yourself, no one else will either.
Travelling by myself gave me that confidence I couldn't get anywhere else. I've struggled with self confidence my whole life, believe me.
I know, I know....shut up Tony Robbins. I'll wrap up the trip now. I just wanted to say this stuff to the people that mock me for not taking a girlfriend, friend, or relative along with me. I wouldn't, even if I could. Parts of a trip punctuated by a friend (Denver, NYC) are great, don't get me wrong. But I discovered the most when I was on my own, without any backup.
I thought about ranking my favourite cities, but I don't think I could. Every place had its own unique charm, and comparing them doesn't do any of them justice. You've read my summary of each. If you like mountains, go to Denver (or close to Denver). You like country music? Definitely go to Nashville. You a working class kinda guy/girl? You'll love Chicago and Pittsburgh. You a city boy/girl? Boston and NYC will keep you goin for weeks.
Number of bars on trip - 21 (I left out the Alaskan bar in Sea-Tac, waiting for my Vancouver connection).
Number of free beers bought for me by kind americans - 21 (plus the 10 dollar margaritas Jeanette bought me in NYC...she's cool like that). She's got nice boobs too. Really nice. Why do I say this? Cuz I want her to call me now that she's home, and the nice boob comment will embarrass her enough to encourage a call to edit this blog. : ) Sorry Gargs!
Number of flights - 7 (on 7 different airlines, Southwest was the best)
Marcella, if you read this....thank you! : ) She's the only person I know that understands how I think, travelling-wise. Have fun in Mexico!
Melissa and Jeff, thank you sooo much for putting up with me. It was awesome having you around....NYC was a lil intimidating, and being around other people definitely helped. Plus, I'm probably the most immature adult I know, so clowning with your kids was super fun. : ) Jeanette....sorry bout the eating joke in a previous blog...you know I love you.
Morgan, you made Denver memorable...despite your bulletin questionnaire where you you said none of your vacations were memorable this year!....I still love you. But come on! Show some love!
Completely different blog, coming up.
Seriousness, take 1. Be warned...I love my sister, and this may be more severe than you expected from me.
I'm at home now. I've been in Victoria for most of the past 3 weeks. Why, you ask? Sorry bout the foreshadowing in previous blogs. Well, my sister Jennifer has cancer.
She wouldn't like me announcing this...but ya know what? I don't feel especially overjoyed by tellin everyone either. I feel it needs to be said, though. Her first chemo treatment almost killed her, since she was allergic to the drug they were administering. She had her first successful treatment (a different drug, obviously) on Dec 18th. She still has her lesbian haircut, since this drug doesn't induce hairloss. Too bad. : ) She's 43 years old.. She has a daughter and a son. Chimene (the cutest lil girl ever) 11, and Brandon (the smartest RuneScape kiddo ever) 10.
I'm not sure what to say beyond this. Is my life really important now? My travels? Fuck no. All I want, or need, or desire...that really pales in comparison to what my sister is dealing with.
I wanna say somethin witty, or mood-lightening...but my literary skills are failing me here. I just want my big sister to be my big sister again, ya know?
This sucked all the charisma outta me. I'll get back to ya ASAP.
Thanks for your support. But my sister could use your positive energy now. Please offer whatever you can to her. Prayers, thoughts, anything. It's much appreciated. I'm not religious, but anything that will keep her here with me and her children is what I want right now.
I know I'm not usually this...emotional. Not even bout my mom or my dad. But, my sister is the only person that ever truly understood me, and I don't ever wanna lose that. .Jenner gets me. And I get her.
No matter what they told you, you're not alone.
I'll be right beside you, forever more.
I'm not fucking about here.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
America, final stop
I will sum up the story with a seperate blog entry, at a later date. This part is all about New York City. A seperate conclusion blog is warranted for a trip of this magnitude.
But first, I'd like to add something from the Boston entry that completely slipped my mind, somehow.
After the maid woke me up on the 2nd day, I went and used the internet for a bit. A hostel employee came into the computer area and asked if anyone wanted a free night, in exchange for doing some work. I'm normally allergic to work, so I just ignored him. He couldn't get any volunteers, so he asked me specifically if I'd help. I asked what it involved, and he said I just had to move bout 60 ten pound boxes from the truck outside, into the lobby. Seemed easy enough. So 12 minutes of work later, I was given a refund on my 2nd nights accoms...30 bucks Good deal, eh?
Okay, so onto the day I left Boston.
I got to the airport uneventfully, about 2 hours early. After sitting there for 45 minutes or so, an airline employee asked if anyone with no checked baggage would be willing to take the earlier flight, which was leaving in 10 minutes. Naturally, I volunteered.
So I get on this little plane, and proceed to NYC an hour early. When we arrive on the runway, we are informed there is a taxiway closed, and the plane can't get to it's gate.
How long do you think we were there? If you guessed an hour, you'd be correct.
Total time saved - NONE!
NEW YORK
Get to JFK, which has NINE terminals. Nine. Of course, I get on the AirTrain at terminal 2...so the train has to go to all of the other terminals before it can take me to my destination, the subway.
I called my friend Jeff, who was in NYC at the same time with his wife, 2 daughters, and sister Jeanette. I was staying at the same hotel as them. I arranged to meet up with him later in the day, after some exploring.
The subway was...black. No racism intended here, this is reality. The train started in Queens and headed towards Manhattan, and I was literally the only white guy on the train. It was...not like Vancouver. No big deal though. I've seen enough 50 cent videos, I knew the "lingo". I threw up a "westside" and chilled with my homies. Relax, I'm kidding. I'm really not that ignorant. A "westside" would only be applicable in LA. Duh. Ever seen the video for "White and Nerdy" by Weird Al? Welcome to my world.
Got off the train right beside the WTC site, and walked around. I was hungry first, so I went to burger king, and ordered a chicken sandwich. This is how they prepare them.
1. Cook chicken.
2. Coat interior of bun in mayo.
3. Insert chicken into bun.
4. Roll entire sandwich in mayo. Twice.
5. Serve. Call paramedics, in case of heart attack.
After those 4385 calories, I checked out the WTC area. The site is...well, a construction site. Not a ton to see. There are various places around it that are sorta makeshift memorials for the people lost in the tragedy. I checked them out quickly, then continued to explore.
I walked down to Wall St, and checked out the NYSE. Pretty cool building. Outside looks like a greek temple, I believe. I continued to head south till I hit Battery Park, which is really nice. Great view. You can see the Statue of Liberty there....but barely. She's looking in the wrong direction, so you don't get much out of it. I found out the ferry to the statue is like 22 bucks. And then was told by a kind homeless person the Staten Island ferry was free, and goes right by it. And he wanted a dollar for that info. Shoulda asked for it up front, sucker.
I saved the ferry for another day, and walked northeast towards the brooklyn bridge. It was pretty cool, from the vantage point I had. I certainly wasn't gonna attempt to cross it though (heights, underwear, etc...remember?).
I decided now would be a good time to go check into my hotel, so I ventured there. Did I mention it was in Jersey?
I took the subway to Grand Central station, which was totally awesome. It's huuuuuge. It's funny, I've seen it probably 10 times on TV since I got home, and never would have given it a second thought till after I had actually been there. It's definitely worth checkin out.
It's 5 blocks from grand central to the port authority, so I decided to walk. Part of this walk takes you through a bit of Times Square. My first trip though there, I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Bunch of huge advertisements, and neon...so what? I'd get my Times Square lesson later in the trip.
Got to the Port Authority, which is....massive. Asked for directions to my hotel shuttle....I was given a flyer for public transit, and pointed towards a whole other building. She said 2 words: "Jersey Transit". That was it. She didn't answer any of my other questions. Gooo customer service!
I walked through this big building, across the street to another one, up 4 floors, all the way to the back, and find Jersey Transit. But....no hotel shuttles. Now I'm a little annoyed. I had no calling card, so it was 1 dollar (in quarters) to call long distance from a payphone (Jeff;'s cell is from Washington). Put in a dollar, call Jeff....voicemail. Call the hotel (long distance too, since it's in Jersey...even though it's 2 miles away!) to ask, and the phone cuts out.
I'm now out of quarters.
Go to the store there, ask for change. MAGICALLY, I have to buy something....a 2.25 bottle of water later, I have more quarters. Call hotel back, they tell me where the shuttle leaves from.
Right beside the info booth I originally asked at, in the other building!
Fuck!
I go back, annoyed, and find the shuttle. The shuttle has seats with spongebob squarepants seat covers. A little odd. But, 2 dollars later, I'm in Jersey, a few blocks from my hotel (since Toys R Us, my stop, doesn't translate to spanish very well). Check in, lounge in my room for a bit, call Jeff, and decide where to meet up with him.
The shuttles towards NYC stop right in front of the hotel, so I go out and catch one back. After we get through the lincoln tunnel into NYC, a latino guy and the latino driver start yelling at each other. I have no clue what's going on, since I'm the only non-latino on the bus. Apparently, the kind bus driver takes pity on my situation, and decides to translate everything for me, mid-argument. The passenger would yell, and the driver would repeat what he said in english. Then he'd yell in spanish...and repeat it in english for me.
By the way, the argument was over the fact the guy wanted to be let off 3 blocks before the final (and only) stop, and the driver wouldn't do it cuz he can get a ticket for it. We were stuck in traffic, so this went on for 2 or 3 minutes. I was trying not to laugh, till the passenger kicked the driver! The driver got up, they pushed each other, and the driver pushed him right down the bus stairs, through the door (which opened on impact). I guess he got his wish? The driver apologized, and we continued onto our destination. I tipped him 3 bucks for kickin some ass, and for translating. I'm nice like that.
Have I mentioned that I've only been in NYC for about 7 hours at this point? This is gonna be a loooong entry. We're already about 7000 characters.
I walked thru a lil more of Times Square, and went to the ESPN Zone (Bar 18), to watch some Champions League soccer (sorry Terry...football). 3 games were on at the same time, all on huge screens right beside each other. That entertained me for a while, then I wandered towards where I was supposed to meet Jeff and family. I was still a lil early, so I went to an Irish Bar (Bar 19) for a pint. The staff had fake irish accents, which was pretty amusing. And I saw Little Brazil. Woo.
Evenutally, I meandered up to Fifth and met up with Jeff and Co. We went for dinner at the biggest BBQ place I've ever seen, in Times Square again. Then headed back to the hotel in Jersey.
Jeff and I decide to go get some booze...we saw that the liquor store at the top of the street was closed....oh well, booze is easy to get in the states, right?
Yes....in every state except New Jersey, apparently.
Other liquor store? Closed. At 9pm. Grocery store? No dice. Gas station. Nope. We decided to ask at the gas station, and the guy acted like we were trying to buy heroin. He looked all around, leaned in, and whispered "38th and Bergenline".
Umm...okay. That's a little odd. What the fuck does that mean?
There was a cab in the gas station parking lot, so we decided to ask the cabbie. We told him about the 38th and Bergenline thing we just got from Sketchy McGee inside, and he said he knew where that was. They were streets! Did we wanna go there? Hell yeah we did!
Get into cab, he starts goin. Umm...he's got no meter.
Okay...that's a little odd too.
Get to the place, he says he'll wait. We go inside this little store...it was more than a little odd. 18 packs of beer were cut into 6ers. Literally cut. And taped on one side, so the bottles wouldn't fall out. I grabbed 12 millers lites, Jeff grabs 6 heinekens. Walk to the counter, guy's on the phone. I pull out a 20, and he says "yeah, 20 dollars", and takes it outta my hand. No change, no other acknowledgement (big word, hope it's spelled right, go Blue!), just back to his convo.
Okay, that was really odd.
Cabbie takes us back to the hotel and says "12 dollars".
Where the fuck did he pull that number out of? We were in the cab a total of 4 minutes, there and back!
We didn't argue though...we paid, got back to the hotel, and described the weirdest 10 minutes of our lives to Jeanette and Melissa.
Jersey = odd.
Rest of the night was pretty calm....beer drinking, chillin....sleepy time.
Day 2 begins normally enough. Head to NYC with the Gargaros. No mexican MMA this time. They head off to shop, I decide to head to the Circle Line ferry, for a 3 hour ferry ride all around Manhattan. After walking through Hell's Kitchen (which wasn't scary at all), I arrived at the ferry....5 minutes late for the only sailing of the day. Dammit. Hoof it back all the way to Grand Central, planning to take the train to Connecticut. They were packed, and I had just missed the one I wanted...again. So I took the subway to the Bronx...to check out Yankee Stadium.
Wow, if I thought the Queens-Manhattan subway was noir....welcome to the Bronx. Well, that's not true. There was a puerto rican rapper on the train...he had a mic, and amp, the whole deal. He was entertaining for the first 2 stations. After 11...it was a lil repetitive. He got 5 dollars to "shut the fuck up" just before I got to my stop.
161st St. Yankee Stadium. The heart of the Boogie Down. I'm white, so I'm not sure if I'm actually allowed to call it that. But it makes me laugh dammit, so boogie down it is.
I got off the subway, amid a few stares. I think I heard the words "stupid tourist" used more than once. Anyways, I did a lap around the stadium, which was pretty damn cool, even though I was a lil scared. It didn't take me long to get caught up in exactly what I was looking at. I might hate the Yankees, but this was The House That Ruth Built. The Holy Grail of baseball. Since there was only 1 tour a day (long before I got there), I decided to do what I did at Wrigley...go to a bar across the street, and have a beer.
Then I remembered where I was.
I scurried back to the subway and went back to the "safety" of mid-town manhattan. I even skipped the zoo. I'm actually mad at myself over all of this.
I bowed to my own insecurities and left. I'm sure everyone I came across was just going about their day, completely oblivious to me. I know that the Yankee stadium area isn't the safest area of town, and going there in baseball offseason wasn't exactly brilliant. But 4 million plus people a year go to the bronx zoo, and I fucking live for zoos...it was 2 miles away...so why didn't I go? Cuz I'm a wuss, plain and simple.
Oh well...I didn't go to the San Diego zoo the first time I went to SD. Gave me a reason to go back. Same goes with this zoo.
Anyways, I decided now was the time to take the Staten Island ferry. So I took the subway all the way back to Battery Park, and got on. It was crazy busy...these boats can hold 6000 people! The one I was on probably had 4000 easy, since it was rush hour. I was sitting there, minding my own business, when I heard:
"Is your hair blond or red?"
I ignored it, cuz I had no idea it was directed at me. Till the girl behind me poked me in the back and repeated herself.
I was wearing my hat, so I took it off and showed her my hair is....fuck, I dunno. Light brown, I guess. I bleached my hair white/blond for so long, I was still coming to terms with my natural hair colour for the first time in 10 years (thanks Shannon! Just kidding!)
I asked why she asked that, and she said that cuz of my facial hair and sideburns, she couldn't tell. Fair enough. She was bout 25, cute enough, glasses...and a kid. Bout 3, I'd guess. She said she wanted to dye her hair bright red, like the colour of my jersey (Arizona Cardinals). I asked why, and she said that she'd never seen another puerto rican with that colour hair, and it'd look cool. Umm, okay.
I asked her name (Maria), and she asked mine. I'm not sure why she asked, since she referred to me as "white boy" for the rest of the convo.
Anyways, we babbled for a few minutes, she was alright. Then outta nowhere, she asked for my number. I told her I was from Canada, and it'd be long distance for her. Her response was classic:
"What? Canada? I can't afford calling that shit, white boy! You're cute and all, but my parents don't like me with non puerto ricans anyways".
Her kid was half black. The cornrows gave it away. The kiddo waved at me. I waved back.
We cruised by the Statue of Liberty, super close, which was awesome. We talked a lil more, nothing important. The ferry was close to docking, so she got up and walked towards the exit, without saying anything. After she got about 30 feet away, she turned around and said "Call me if you ever move to Staten Island, white boy!", and proceeded to walk all the way back (leaving her kid there, in her stroller) and gave me her number.
And to think, I coulda been the surrogate babydaddy of a half puerto rican, half black kid. It'd be fun explaining that one to dad.
Anyways, I got offa the ferry, and caught the next one back. When I got back, I walked back up to the WTC site, and met up with Jeff and family, at the 4385 calorie burger king. Another trip to the BBQ joint, some girl shopping, and lotsa goofing around with Olivia and Hailey (Jeff's daughters, 4 years, and 11 months, respectively), and back to the hotel. Another glorious day in NYC.
Day 3 was parade day. For most people. It was pouring rain for most of the night. American Thanksgiving Day in NYC is famous for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. You have to get down there like 3 hours early to get a good view. Starts at 9am. Jeff came by and banged on my door at 7. It was still raining. I did what any good tourist does.
I sent him packing and slept till 11:30.
I woke up, watched the last half hour on TV (It was 2 miles away!) and leisurely went into town around 1. Walked bout 20 blocks and met up with them at a toy store on the edge of central park. It was still raining pretty hard, but nothing insane. Till I got inside the toy store. Then the skies opened up. I was planning on checking out more of Central Park, since I was there...but screw that, the rain was insane. We took the subway back to Grand Central, where Melissa fed the baby in a subway bathroom (guarded by Jeff). Then we went to TGI Fridays (bar 20). It counts cuz I had a 10 dollar frilly margarita FULL of booze. Jeff had one too. And Jeanette paid for it. Thanks dear!
The weather was still shit, so we wandered around for a while, before going back to the BBQ place (again! It was that good!) and had a good dinner. Then I got a real taste of Times Square.
We walked up 42nd, covering all Times Square had to offer. (Except David Blaine...he was doing one of his stunts at the time, hovering above Times Square...I never found him, but Jeff did...dammit) Anyways, the "Square" stretched on forever. Guys came up with stolen watches, trying to sell them to us. Jeff and Jeanette ended up buying them. This is the one-sided transcript of our new friend "Jamal" (His real name is withheld to protect his privacy):
"Keep that shit down! Close the fuckin box, dammit! Pigs everywhere! 100? For both? You killin me! 150! Okay, 130. That's only 100! Not 100, fuck! PUT THAT SHIT BACK IN YO JACKET YO! That's only 105! You aint got no more, huh? What you got, girl? DON'T TAKE THE FUCKIN BOX OUT, JUST YO MONEY! 110? Come on, I know you got more than that. 117? Deal! Hide that shit!"
They're fucking nice watches, too. Hope Ryan liked his.
Right after this happened, a guy carrying a HUGE garbage bag over his shoulder walked up beside us, and opened it up...with like 100 purses in it.
"GET YOUR PURSES HERE!"
And women from everywhere can running. It was mental.
That's Times Square, folks. Glamour, lights, and whatever you need. If it's raining, umbrellas are on sale in 2 minutes. No joke, we witnessed it. Jeff had to buy 2. Like Jeff said, when the sun comes out, they're probably selling sunglasses 2 minutes later. It was hilarious.
Anyways, after we got our fill of the Times Square Swap Meet, we took the subway back to the port authority. I decided to sit down, put my hat on the ground, and sing O Canada. LOUD. I got a dollar and a nickel for my efforts. Too bad they were from Jeff and Jeanette. Guess my song choice sucked. Oh well.
Back to Jersey after that. Me n Jeff tried to take a cab (meterless again) to get food and beer. Unfortunately, the restuarant where we had been before (Pollo Tropical!) was closed. I didn't know Mexican's celebrated Thanksgiving. Anyways, we went back to the shady liquor store, which was full of mexicans. They all stopped talking when we came in, and looked at us in shock. We were ghosts or something, at least to them. We were horribly overcharged again, but too afraid to question it, so we went back to the hotel. 16 dollars this time. Totally random.
Jeff calls a few takeout places, all closed. He gives up and goes potty, so I try. First one I call, Tony's Pizza, answers. The lady manages to call me sweetie, honey, and baby in a 45 second convo. She wants me. Anyways, I order pizza, the other 3 order all sorts of pasta. Damn Italians. They all make fun of me cuz they think the phone lady wants me. Delivery guy shows, and says it's 13 dollars. According to the yellow pages menu, the order should be about 29 bucks. I actually say "ARE YOU SURE?" Like a moron. Jeff elbows me, gives the guy 20, and he leaves. Apparently, phone lady DOES want me, and gives me a discount.
Till the phone rings 20 minutes later.
"Maria" (Why is every woman I talk to in NYC named Maria?) is pissed that we didn't pay enough. We explain the situation, including the 6+ dollar tip to the driver. She mutters "that bastard" and says the difference will come outta her pay, so she's comin to get it. Okay then. I've managed to anger italians. In Jersey. Have you seen the Sopranos? I'm with Italian-canadians. They don't even have big trunks, much less any other real italian qualities. Well, Jeanette does like to eat.
Anyways, we lucked out. Tony called off Vito and the gang. Maria called back and said it was okay, happy thanksgiving, it was all covered.
And I was all ready to get whacked n shit.
Another fun-filled day in the big apple. And North Bergen, NJ.
Last day. Wake up, take cab to the airport with the Gargaros (minus Jeanette, who flew home to Toronto earlier that day). Arrange an exit row seat. Goof around with the kids and Jeff for a couple hours till flying time. Watch "The Devil Wears Prada" and "Just My Luck" on the plane. Resist the urge to upchuck. Lindsay Lohan saves me from that, happily. Survive the 6 hour flight in really good shape. The best "long" flight I've ever had. Say my goodbyes to the Gargaros (thank you soooo much for putting up with me! Melissa, thanks for laughing at my jokes! I'll express more witty gratitude in my next blog, you know what I'm dealin with), and fly home to Vancouver. Cleared customs, and...I was HOME. Honestly, no matter how obessed you are with travelling....nuthin feels like home. Bus(es) to Oliver Twist, welcome home drink, case of beer, home to dad, and bullshitting all night. And the news I've been talking about a bit through the pentalogy.
I'll sum up the trip in a blog when I get home (I'm in Victoria, in case you missed that) on friday/saturday, and describe the 2 weeks since I got home.
Overall....it was...epic. The trip of a lifetime, for your average person.
For me?
Just the beginning. Ya heard?
But first, I'd like to add something from the Boston entry that completely slipped my mind, somehow.
After the maid woke me up on the 2nd day, I went and used the internet for a bit. A hostel employee came into the computer area and asked if anyone wanted a free night, in exchange for doing some work. I'm normally allergic to work, so I just ignored him. He couldn't get any volunteers, so he asked me specifically if I'd help. I asked what it involved, and he said I just had to move bout 60 ten pound boxes from the truck outside, into the lobby. Seemed easy enough. So 12 minutes of work later, I was given a refund on my 2nd nights accoms...30 bucks Good deal, eh?
Okay, so onto the day I left Boston.
I got to the airport uneventfully, about 2 hours early. After sitting there for 45 minutes or so, an airline employee asked if anyone with no checked baggage would be willing to take the earlier flight, which was leaving in 10 minutes. Naturally, I volunteered.
So I get on this little plane, and proceed to NYC an hour early. When we arrive on the runway, we are informed there is a taxiway closed, and the plane can't get to it's gate.
How long do you think we were there? If you guessed an hour, you'd be correct.
Total time saved - NONE!
NEW YORK
Get to JFK, which has NINE terminals. Nine. Of course, I get on the AirTrain at terminal 2...so the train has to go to all of the other terminals before it can take me to my destination, the subway.
I called my friend Jeff, who was in NYC at the same time with his wife, 2 daughters, and sister Jeanette. I was staying at the same hotel as them. I arranged to meet up with him later in the day, after some exploring.
The subway was...black. No racism intended here, this is reality. The train started in Queens and headed towards Manhattan, and I was literally the only white guy on the train. It was...not like Vancouver. No big deal though. I've seen enough 50 cent videos, I knew the "lingo". I threw up a "westside" and chilled with my homies. Relax, I'm kidding. I'm really not that ignorant. A "westside" would only be applicable in LA. Duh. Ever seen the video for "White and Nerdy" by Weird Al? Welcome to my world.
Got off the train right beside the WTC site, and walked around. I was hungry first, so I went to burger king, and ordered a chicken sandwich. This is how they prepare them.
1. Cook chicken.
2. Coat interior of bun in mayo.
3. Insert chicken into bun.
4. Roll entire sandwich in mayo. Twice.
5. Serve. Call paramedics, in case of heart attack.
After those 4385 calories, I checked out the WTC area. The site is...well, a construction site. Not a ton to see. There are various places around it that are sorta makeshift memorials for the people lost in the tragedy. I checked them out quickly, then continued to explore.
I walked down to Wall St, and checked out the NYSE. Pretty cool building. Outside looks like a greek temple, I believe. I continued to head south till I hit Battery Park, which is really nice. Great view. You can see the Statue of Liberty there....but barely. She's looking in the wrong direction, so you don't get much out of it. I found out the ferry to the statue is like 22 bucks. And then was told by a kind homeless person the Staten Island ferry was free, and goes right by it. And he wanted a dollar for that info. Shoulda asked for it up front, sucker.
I saved the ferry for another day, and walked northeast towards the brooklyn bridge. It was pretty cool, from the vantage point I had. I certainly wasn't gonna attempt to cross it though (heights, underwear, etc...remember?).
I decided now would be a good time to go check into my hotel, so I ventured there. Did I mention it was in Jersey?
I took the subway to Grand Central station, which was totally awesome. It's huuuuuge. It's funny, I've seen it probably 10 times on TV since I got home, and never would have given it a second thought till after I had actually been there. It's definitely worth checkin out.
It's 5 blocks from grand central to the port authority, so I decided to walk. Part of this walk takes you through a bit of Times Square. My first trip though there, I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Bunch of huge advertisements, and neon...so what? I'd get my Times Square lesson later in the trip.
Got to the Port Authority, which is....massive. Asked for directions to my hotel shuttle....I was given a flyer for public transit, and pointed towards a whole other building. She said 2 words: "Jersey Transit". That was it. She didn't answer any of my other questions. Gooo customer service!
I walked through this big building, across the street to another one, up 4 floors, all the way to the back, and find Jersey Transit. But....no hotel shuttles. Now I'm a little annoyed. I had no calling card, so it was 1 dollar (in quarters) to call long distance from a payphone (Jeff;'s cell is from Washington). Put in a dollar, call Jeff....voicemail. Call the hotel (long distance too, since it's in Jersey...even though it's 2 miles away!) to ask, and the phone cuts out.
I'm now out of quarters.
Go to the store there, ask for change. MAGICALLY, I have to buy something....a 2.25 bottle of water later, I have more quarters. Call hotel back, they tell me where the shuttle leaves from.
Right beside the info booth I originally asked at, in the other building!
Fuck!
I go back, annoyed, and find the shuttle. The shuttle has seats with spongebob squarepants seat covers. A little odd. But, 2 dollars later, I'm in Jersey, a few blocks from my hotel (since Toys R Us, my stop, doesn't translate to spanish very well). Check in, lounge in my room for a bit, call Jeff, and decide where to meet up with him.
The shuttles towards NYC stop right in front of the hotel, so I go out and catch one back. After we get through the lincoln tunnel into NYC, a latino guy and the latino driver start yelling at each other. I have no clue what's going on, since I'm the only non-latino on the bus. Apparently, the kind bus driver takes pity on my situation, and decides to translate everything for me, mid-argument. The passenger would yell, and the driver would repeat what he said in english. Then he'd yell in spanish...and repeat it in english for me.
By the way, the argument was over the fact the guy wanted to be let off 3 blocks before the final (and only) stop, and the driver wouldn't do it cuz he can get a ticket for it. We were stuck in traffic, so this went on for 2 or 3 minutes. I was trying not to laugh, till the passenger kicked the driver! The driver got up, they pushed each other, and the driver pushed him right down the bus stairs, through the door (which opened on impact). I guess he got his wish? The driver apologized, and we continued onto our destination. I tipped him 3 bucks for kickin some ass, and for translating. I'm nice like that.
Have I mentioned that I've only been in NYC for about 7 hours at this point? This is gonna be a loooong entry. We're already about 7000 characters.
I walked thru a lil more of Times Square, and went to the ESPN Zone (Bar 18), to watch some Champions League soccer (sorry Terry...football). 3 games were on at the same time, all on huge screens right beside each other. That entertained me for a while, then I wandered towards where I was supposed to meet Jeff and family. I was still a lil early, so I went to an Irish Bar (Bar 19) for a pint. The staff had fake irish accents, which was pretty amusing. And I saw Little Brazil. Woo.
Evenutally, I meandered up to Fifth and met up with Jeff and Co. We went for dinner at the biggest BBQ place I've ever seen, in Times Square again. Then headed back to the hotel in Jersey.
Jeff and I decide to go get some booze...we saw that the liquor store at the top of the street was closed....oh well, booze is easy to get in the states, right?
Yes....in every state except New Jersey, apparently.
Other liquor store? Closed. At 9pm. Grocery store? No dice. Gas station. Nope. We decided to ask at the gas station, and the guy acted like we were trying to buy heroin. He looked all around, leaned in, and whispered "38th and Bergenline".
Umm...okay. That's a little odd. What the fuck does that mean?
There was a cab in the gas station parking lot, so we decided to ask the cabbie. We told him about the 38th and Bergenline thing we just got from Sketchy McGee inside, and he said he knew where that was. They were streets! Did we wanna go there? Hell yeah we did!
Get into cab, he starts goin. Umm...he's got no meter.
Okay...that's a little odd too.
Get to the place, he says he'll wait. We go inside this little store...it was more than a little odd. 18 packs of beer were cut into 6ers. Literally cut. And taped on one side, so the bottles wouldn't fall out. I grabbed 12 millers lites, Jeff grabs 6 heinekens. Walk to the counter, guy's on the phone. I pull out a 20, and he says "yeah, 20 dollars", and takes it outta my hand. No change, no other acknowledgement (big word, hope it's spelled right, go Blue!), just back to his convo.
Okay, that was really odd.
Cabbie takes us back to the hotel and says "12 dollars".
Where the fuck did he pull that number out of? We were in the cab a total of 4 minutes, there and back!
We didn't argue though...we paid, got back to the hotel, and described the weirdest 10 minutes of our lives to Jeanette and Melissa.
Jersey = odd.
Rest of the night was pretty calm....beer drinking, chillin....sleepy time.
Day 2 begins normally enough. Head to NYC with the Gargaros. No mexican MMA this time. They head off to shop, I decide to head to the Circle Line ferry, for a 3 hour ferry ride all around Manhattan. After walking through Hell's Kitchen (which wasn't scary at all), I arrived at the ferry....5 minutes late for the only sailing of the day. Dammit. Hoof it back all the way to Grand Central, planning to take the train to Connecticut. They were packed, and I had just missed the one I wanted...again. So I took the subway to the Bronx...to check out Yankee Stadium.
Wow, if I thought the Queens-Manhattan subway was noir....welcome to the Bronx. Well, that's not true. There was a puerto rican rapper on the train...he had a mic, and amp, the whole deal. He was entertaining for the first 2 stations. After 11...it was a lil repetitive. He got 5 dollars to "shut the fuck up" just before I got to my stop.
161st St. Yankee Stadium. The heart of the Boogie Down. I'm white, so I'm not sure if I'm actually allowed to call it that. But it makes me laugh dammit, so boogie down it is.
I got off the subway, amid a few stares. I think I heard the words "stupid tourist" used more than once. Anyways, I did a lap around the stadium, which was pretty damn cool, even though I was a lil scared. It didn't take me long to get caught up in exactly what I was looking at. I might hate the Yankees, but this was The House That Ruth Built. The Holy Grail of baseball. Since there was only 1 tour a day (long before I got there), I decided to do what I did at Wrigley...go to a bar across the street, and have a beer.
Then I remembered where I was.
I scurried back to the subway and went back to the "safety" of mid-town manhattan. I even skipped the zoo. I'm actually mad at myself over all of this.
I bowed to my own insecurities and left. I'm sure everyone I came across was just going about their day, completely oblivious to me. I know that the Yankee stadium area isn't the safest area of town, and going there in baseball offseason wasn't exactly brilliant. But 4 million plus people a year go to the bronx zoo, and I fucking live for zoos...it was 2 miles away...so why didn't I go? Cuz I'm a wuss, plain and simple.
Oh well...I didn't go to the San Diego zoo the first time I went to SD. Gave me a reason to go back. Same goes with this zoo.
Anyways, I decided now was the time to take the Staten Island ferry. So I took the subway all the way back to Battery Park, and got on. It was crazy busy...these boats can hold 6000 people! The one I was on probably had 4000 easy, since it was rush hour. I was sitting there, minding my own business, when I heard:
"Is your hair blond or red?"
I ignored it, cuz I had no idea it was directed at me. Till the girl behind me poked me in the back and repeated herself.
I was wearing my hat, so I took it off and showed her my hair is....fuck, I dunno. Light brown, I guess. I bleached my hair white/blond for so long, I was still coming to terms with my natural hair colour for the first time in 10 years (thanks Shannon! Just kidding!)
I asked why she asked that, and she said that cuz of my facial hair and sideburns, she couldn't tell. Fair enough. She was bout 25, cute enough, glasses...and a kid. Bout 3, I'd guess. She said she wanted to dye her hair bright red, like the colour of my jersey (Arizona Cardinals). I asked why, and she said that she'd never seen another puerto rican with that colour hair, and it'd look cool. Umm, okay.
I asked her name (Maria), and she asked mine. I'm not sure why she asked, since she referred to me as "white boy" for the rest of the convo.
Anyways, we babbled for a few minutes, she was alright. Then outta nowhere, she asked for my number. I told her I was from Canada, and it'd be long distance for her. Her response was classic:
"What? Canada? I can't afford calling that shit, white boy! You're cute and all, but my parents don't like me with non puerto ricans anyways".
Her kid was half black. The cornrows gave it away. The kiddo waved at me. I waved back.
We cruised by the Statue of Liberty, super close, which was awesome. We talked a lil more, nothing important. The ferry was close to docking, so she got up and walked towards the exit, without saying anything. After she got about 30 feet away, she turned around and said "Call me if you ever move to Staten Island, white boy!", and proceeded to walk all the way back (leaving her kid there, in her stroller) and gave me her number.
And to think, I coulda been the surrogate babydaddy of a half puerto rican, half black kid. It'd be fun explaining that one to dad.
Anyways, I got offa the ferry, and caught the next one back. When I got back, I walked back up to the WTC site, and met up with Jeff and family, at the 4385 calorie burger king. Another trip to the BBQ joint, some girl shopping, and lotsa goofing around with Olivia and Hailey (Jeff's daughters, 4 years, and 11 months, respectively), and back to the hotel. Another glorious day in NYC.
Day 3 was parade day. For most people. It was pouring rain for most of the night. American Thanksgiving Day in NYC is famous for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. You have to get down there like 3 hours early to get a good view. Starts at 9am. Jeff came by and banged on my door at 7. It was still raining. I did what any good tourist does.
I sent him packing and slept till 11:30.
I woke up, watched the last half hour on TV (It was 2 miles away!) and leisurely went into town around 1. Walked bout 20 blocks and met up with them at a toy store on the edge of central park. It was still raining pretty hard, but nothing insane. Till I got inside the toy store. Then the skies opened up. I was planning on checking out more of Central Park, since I was there...but screw that, the rain was insane. We took the subway back to Grand Central, where Melissa fed the baby in a subway bathroom (guarded by Jeff). Then we went to TGI Fridays (bar 20). It counts cuz I had a 10 dollar frilly margarita FULL of booze. Jeff had one too. And Jeanette paid for it. Thanks dear!
The weather was still shit, so we wandered around for a while, before going back to the BBQ place (again! It was that good!) and had a good dinner. Then I got a real taste of Times Square.
We walked up 42nd, covering all Times Square had to offer. (Except David Blaine...he was doing one of his stunts at the time, hovering above Times Square...I never found him, but Jeff did...dammit) Anyways, the "Square" stretched on forever. Guys came up with stolen watches, trying to sell them to us. Jeff and Jeanette ended up buying them. This is the one-sided transcript of our new friend "Jamal" (His real name is withheld to protect his privacy):
"Keep that shit down! Close the fuckin box, dammit! Pigs everywhere! 100? For both? You killin me! 150! Okay, 130. That's only 100! Not 100, fuck! PUT THAT SHIT BACK IN YO JACKET YO! That's only 105! You aint got no more, huh? What you got, girl? DON'T TAKE THE FUCKIN BOX OUT, JUST YO MONEY! 110? Come on, I know you got more than that. 117? Deal! Hide that shit!"
They're fucking nice watches, too. Hope Ryan liked his.
Right after this happened, a guy carrying a HUGE garbage bag over his shoulder walked up beside us, and opened it up...with like 100 purses in it.
"GET YOUR PURSES HERE!"
And women from everywhere can running. It was mental.
That's Times Square, folks. Glamour, lights, and whatever you need. If it's raining, umbrellas are on sale in 2 minutes. No joke, we witnessed it. Jeff had to buy 2. Like Jeff said, when the sun comes out, they're probably selling sunglasses 2 minutes later. It was hilarious.
Anyways, after we got our fill of the Times Square Swap Meet, we took the subway back to the port authority. I decided to sit down, put my hat on the ground, and sing O Canada. LOUD. I got a dollar and a nickel for my efforts. Too bad they were from Jeff and Jeanette. Guess my song choice sucked. Oh well.
Back to Jersey after that. Me n Jeff tried to take a cab (meterless again) to get food and beer. Unfortunately, the restuarant where we had been before (Pollo Tropical!) was closed. I didn't know Mexican's celebrated Thanksgiving. Anyways, we went back to the shady liquor store, which was full of mexicans. They all stopped talking when we came in, and looked at us in shock. We were ghosts or something, at least to them. We were horribly overcharged again, but too afraid to question it, so we went back to the hotel. 16 dollars this time. Totally random.
Jeff calls a few takeout places, all closed. He gives up and goes potty, so I try. First one I call, Tony's Pizza, answers. The lady manages to call me sweetie, honey, and baby in a 45 second convo. She wants me. Anyways, I order pizza, the other 3 order all sorts of pasta. Damn Italians. They all make fun of me cuz they think the phone lady wants me. Delivery guy shows, and says it's 13 dollars. According to the yellow pages menu, the order should be about 29 bucks. I actually say "ARE YOU SURE?" Like a moron. Jeff elbows me, gives the guy 20, and he leaves. Apparently, phone lady DOES want me, and gives me a discount.
Till the phone rings 20 minutes later.
"Maria" (Why is every woman I talk to in NYC named Maria?) is pissed that we didn't pay enough. We explain the situation, including the 6+ dollar tip to the driver. She mutters "that bastard" and says the difference will come outta her pay, so she's comin to get it. Okay then. I've managed to anger italians. In Jersey. Have you seen the Sopranos? I'm with Italian-canadians. They don't even have big trunks, much less any other real italian qualities. Well, Jeanette does like to eat.
Anyways, we lucked out. Tony called off Vito and the gang. Maria called back and said it was okay, happy thanksgiving, it was all covered.
And I was all ready to get whacked n shit.
Another fun-filled day in the big apple. And North Bergen, NJ.
Last day. Wake up, take cab to the airport with the Gargaros (minus Jeanette, who flew home to Toronto earlier that day). Arrange an exit row seat. Goof around with the kids and Jeff for a couple hours till flying time. Watch "The Devil Wears Prada" and "Just My Luck" on the plane. Resist the urge to upchuck. Lindsay Lohan saves me from that, happily. Survive the 6 hour flight in really good shape. The best "long" flight I've ever had. Say my goodbyes to the Gargaros (thank you soooo much for putting up with me! Melissa, thanks for laughing at my jokes! I'll express more witty gratitude in my next blog, you know what I'm dealin with), and fly home to Vancouver. Cleared customs, and...I was HOME. Honestly, no matter how obessed you are with travelling....nuthin feels like home. Bus(es) to Oliver Twist, welcome home drink, case of beer, home to dad, and bullshitting all night. And the news I've been talking about a bit through the pentalogy.
I'll sum up the trip in a blog when I get home (I'm in Victoria, in case you missed that) on friday/saturday, and describe the 2 weeks since I got home.
Overall....it was...epic. The trip of a lifetime, for your average person.
For me?
Just the beginning. Ya heard?
Monday, December 11, 2006
America, Part 4
I'm enjoying the first Gin n Tonic (EDIT...2...okay 3 Gin N Tonics...sorry Jen) of my entire life right now. "Enjoying" might be a stretch...but it's pretty much my only option. I'm in Victoria. I'll explain why when my odyssey concludes. By the way, I'm not purposely building to some sorta interesting side story, cuz it's not really one I wanna tell, to be honest. We'll get to that later, when it's applicable and meaningful. Hence the Gin N Tonic.
I would also like to point out how much the spacebar on this computer sucks. So, if there should be a space there.....comfort yourself with the fact that I intended one there too. Don't blame the booze, or the author....got it?
BOSTON
Last time I checked in, I was tired, hungover, and indented. I got off the US Airways flight (not my favourite, if you care), and took public transit to the hostel. Other than a small incident with a transit worker, where she asked if I was "slow" or not (she was right, I asked a retarded question), I made it to my hostel safely. It was 3 hours before checkin, but they were kind enough to accept me (unlike Chicago). I got cleaned up, and claimed my bed. Surprisingly, someone else had claimed this bed as well, despite the specific bed assignment in each room. Since he wasn't there....I moved his shit. Tough poopy, foreigner. Turns out he was little, and Korean. So there!
Anyways, I managed to drag my hungover ass outta the hostel, and explored....a lot. Boston is totally awesome. I was staying in Back Bay, which is the richest area of the city. I coulda taken the T (subway) downtown, but I decided to walk. I covered a lot of ground. First up, Newbury St, which is the snooty, rich shopping area of town. All of these designer boutiques are in brownstones...those are turn-of-the-last-century houses. All connected. They're really super nice, but, to be honest, I have no clue how to explain them. To me, they looked like the area of Leeds my brother Terry lives in....but apparently in Boston, they can rent them out for 2000 a month cuz they're close to Harvard. Go figure.
Anyways, once I got past the area I didn't belong in (since I'm not filthy rich), I arrived in the center of the city, which is a massive, beautiful park. The closest thing to Stanley Park I've ever seen. The squirrels were hilarious, much like Stanley Park. They were willing to climb anything or anyone for food. I spent quite a while observing their hilarity (and resting my feet...the park was 2 miles from the hostel)....then I moved onto the State Capitol....which was hosting a protest. I walked up there, expecting your average tree-hugging protesters...and came across some...well, some weird ass people. Apparently, they were protesting on behalf of gay marraige. And, me, being a retarded tourist,. had managed to end up in the middle of this sexually challenged pack.
Once I realized what was going on, I naturally tried to...well, get the fuck outta there ASAP. Notice how I said "tried". I arrived front and center right as someone important was leaving the Capitol, so as I tried to exit stage left, homo central went right for the Capitol jugular. I managed to fight my way out, but not before getting hit with 2 or 3 signs, and stepping on a tranny or 2. Unfortunately, I'm not kidding.
I realize what kind of territory this opens up to my "friends". Believe me, I debated long and hard (shut up!) about whether to include this part, cuz I'm pretty sure I'll take more heat for this than Jeff (or Kam) did when Sangeeta got pregnant. (YES!) Kul....just kidding. I love jokes 97% of my audience doesn't understand. Leave me alone bastards!
Anyways, in my defense, I will say that a) I was unaware of a homo rally. b) I wasn't a willing participant in the homo rally, despite my proximity. c) I woulda hit one of them, but they all looked like they had pretty deadly purses.
After that thuuuper (say it out loud, you'll get it) experience, I wandered to Government Center, home of the City Hall, the JFK Building, and a bunch of other historical stuff I didn't study for, since I was hungover on the plane ride here. I did check out the Holocaust memorial, which was very memorable and enlightening. No jokes here, it was very interesting to me, and very moving.
I wish I could follow that up with something equally as moving and emotional....unfortunately, this is me we're talking about. I went to the bar across the street to watch the Patriots game (number 15). What, were you expecting anything less?
Watched the Pats wreck the Packers, had a few, and walked the 2.7 miles back. Rough walk, probably shoulda taken the subway...but it was worth it. It was dark by now, so I was a bit sketchy bout my safety...but there was nothing to worry about. Boston is a very walkable, safe city. At least, the areas I covered....which was literally half the city. I was very impressed.
Anyways, got back to the hostel, played on the net a bit, and went to the pizza place around the corner. Dollar slices, and 4 dollar jugs of PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon, Morgan's favourite beer). No , it doesn't count as a bar. It woulda been heaven, except the sound was turned down on the football games, and they were blaring...gospel music. Even PBR couldn't overcome gospel music. It was nails on a chalkboard during a football game.
Back to the hostel. The hostel has outings every night....you sign up, go along with a hostel crowd, and get free cover to wherever they're goin that night. Unfortunately, it was a jazz bar that night. Not my scene. I asked at the front desk where the closest bar was.
Best question of my trip.
She told me bout the bar round the corner, behind the hostel, but said she didn't "recommend it, cuz of the clientele". Sounds good to me.
I described it a bit in a previous blog. When I got there (bar number 16), it was allll locals. Guys that go there every night, and didn't seem like big fans of outsiders. My ID even got denied at the door, depsite it being perfectly legal. I just happened to have my passport on me as well, which didn't sit well with the doorman (aka the owner, Jimmy). But he had to let me in.
I sat there all night, drinking Miller Lites, and watching football with the sound on. At first I was kinda nervous, since it was obvious I wasn't welcome. There were probably 10 people in there, all seated around me, and all talking to each other. I kept quiet for the most part, till I knew the answer to a question the others had posed, and couldn't answer. The first time I did that....well, I farted in church. They all looked at me like I was about to get beaten. But, it passed, and the next time it happened, they actually included me in their discussion. I was told I was either "too stupid to stay, or too smart to belong"...but after that, I was a regular. I was introduced to everyone in the place, and was accepted. It was....awesome.
After that, we watched cartoons all night, and I talked about sports and random shit with the patrons. It was a lot of fun. Jimmy (the owner) still hated me, but that would change the next day.
I went back to hostel, very happy with myself for fitting in somewhere I didn't really belong. And fell asleep soundly, after 17 Miller Lites.
Day 2 began, with a whimper. I woke up at 11, to the cleaning lady banging on the door. I had a shower, and thought I should head towards Fenway Park. Fenway was my only real reason for going to Boston, other than the hockey game. Since the hockey tickets didn't arrrive on time, Fenway was gonna be my shining moment in Beantown sports history. It didn't disappoint.
It was super close to my hostel, maybe a 15 minute walk....I bought a ticket for the tour, and was off (with 140 other tourists) on my adventure. If you don't like baseball, skip this paragraph. If you do...well, it was pretty damn sweet. I got to walk on the field, and touch the green monster. Got to look inside the monster scoreboard. Saw the seat where Ted Williams hit the longest homer in Fenway history (502 feet...and that was 60+ years ago!), and heard some awesome stories. These people HATE the Yankees, by the way. Every story was about the evil Yankees winning...except 2004, the ultimate redemption.
After the tour, I went across the street to Boston Beer Works and had lunch. Bar .number 17, for those counting. It's across the street from Fenway...the Patriot Pilsner is worth a try, for those who care.
After that, headed back to the hostel a bit, then decided to go to...Cheers!
You all know about Cheers...the sitcom, back in the day. It involved a pretty long walk, basically the same as the one the day before. Cheers (the real one, not the replica downtown) isn't far from the homo-lovin state capitol on beacon hill. Again, I could have taken the T, but I felt like walking. Instead of Newbury or Boylston, I walked along the Charles River. MIT and Harvard are on the other side of the river, for those of you that care.
Anyways, after another walk through City Park, I arrived at Cheers. The outside is just like the opening of the show. The inside is....just another pub. Not the same as the show. It was overpriced, and suuuuper busy. I didn't even stay for a beer, so it don't count as a bar visit. Someday, I will find a bar that will yell "TIMMMMM" when I enter. Oh yes, it will happen.
On the way back, I found a happy hour bar (number 18) and had a couple, before going back to the pizza place for dinner. I went back to the hostel, which was sponsoring a trip to an Irish bar. Screw that! I had my very own dive bar around the corner!
Jimmy ID'd me like he'd never met me before, but the patrons were much more hospitable. We watched Monday Night Football, and I won a 20 dollar bet. Then we watched Michael Richard's apology on Letterman. If ya dunno what I'm talkin bout, crawl outta your cave and google it.
Anyways, this bar was split evenly race-wise, and it was super interesting to hear everyones take on it. Mostly, the white people thought it was unforgivable, and his apology sucked. The black people actually almost defended him, and said he probably wasn't being racist, just ignorant, and there was a big difference. I was super surprised. The blacks explained that, when cornered, almost everyone will act primitively, and resort to the easist way to offend someone. In Richard's case, it was the N bomb, since he was being heckled by blacks. If it was Dave Chapelle,and he called a bunch of white people crackers, would anyone have cared?
They made a damn good point. And after I said my piece, Jimmy bought me a beer. Alex, the bartender, did too.
Anyways, the discussion went much deeper than this, but I can say that I left the bar that night as a more enlightened, understanding person. Everyone in there was super cool with me, and I can't wait to go back. It was a volatile discussion, one that could have easily led to hostility or anger. Instead, it was handled with dignity and maturity. I'm not sure why a drunken conversation stuck out as anything more than that...but it was something I had never experienced before...I was impressed.
Believe me, I'm arrogant. That's rare.
I slept soundly that night, after checking craigslist to see how much rent was in this intriguing city.
Brief summary of Boston - Awesome. Simply awesome. The city is designed perfectly for tourists. I couldn't possibly do it justice in a blog entry. It's doesn't feel like a big city, due to the huge number of college/university students...yet it doesn't come across as overly intellectual either. It's got tons of history, plenty of charm, and is totally liveable. I've been to lotsa places, and there's only 3 I could ever picture myself living in for any length of time....Vancouver, Edinburgh, and Boston. It's safe, interesting, and full of charisma. It's half an hour from Providence, and within a couple hours of 3 other states. It's 4 hours to NYC.
You get all that, and the unique charm of the people that reside there. Believe me, I completely underestimated the allure of this city. If you ever get the chance, check it out.
I know, not as funny or witty as my previous entries...but this city really was different than the others on my trip. And to think, I almost skipped it.
I would also like to point out how much the spacebar on this computer sucks. So, if there should be a space there.....comfort yourself with the fact that I intended one there too. Don't blame the booze, or the author....got it?
BOSTON
Last time I checked in, I was tired, hungover, and indented. I got off the US Airways flight (not my favourite, if you care), and took public transit to the hostel. Other than a small incident with a transit worker, where she asked if I was "slow" or not (she was right, I asked a retarded question), I made it to my hostel safely. It was 3 hours before checkin, but they were kind enough to accept me (unlike Chicago). I got cleaned up, and claimed my bed. Surprisingly, someone else had claimed this bed as well, despite the specific bed assignment in each room. Since he wasn't there....I moved his shit. Tough poopy, foreigner. Turns out he was little, and Korean. So there!
Anyways, I managed to drag my hungover ass outta the hostel, and explored....a lot. Boston is totally awesome. I was staying in Back Bay, which is the richest area of the city. I coulda taken the T (subway) downtown, but I decided to walk. I covered a lot of ground. First up, Newbury St, which is the snooty, rich shopping area of town. All of these designer boutiques are in brownstones...those are turn-of-the-last-century houses. All connected. They're really super nice, but, to be honest, I have no clue how to explain them. To me, they looked like the area of Leeds my brother Terry lives in....but apparently in Boston, they can rent them out for 2000 a month cuz they're close to Harvard. Go figure.
Anyways, once I got past the area I didn't belong in (since I'm not filthy rich), I arrived in the center of the city, which is a massive, beautiful park. The closest thing to Stanley Park I've ever seen. The squirrels were hilarious, much like Stanley Park. They were willing to climb anything or anyone for food. I spent quite a while observing their hilarity (and resting my feet...the park was 2 miles from the hostel)....then I moved onto the State Capitol....which was hosting a protest. I walked up there, expecting your average tree-hugging protesters...and came across some...well, some weird ass people. Apparently, they were protesting on behalf of gay marraige. And, me, being a retarded tourist,. had managed to end up in the middle of this sexually challenged pack.
Once I realized what was going on, I naturally tried to...well, get the fuck outta there ASAP. Notice how I said "tried". I arrived front and center right as someone important was leaving the Capitol, so as I tried to exit stage left, homo central went right for the Capitol jugular. I managed to fight my way out, but not before getting hit with 2 or 3 signs, and stepping on a tranny or 2. Unfortunately, I'm not kidding.
I realize what kind of territory this opens up to my "friends". Believe me, I debated long and hard (shut up!) about whether to include this part, cuz I'm pretty sure I'll take more heat for this than Jeff (or Kam) did when Sangeeta got pregnant. (YES!) Kul....just kidding. I love jokes 97% of my audience doesn't understand. Leave me alone bastards!
Anyways, in my defense, I will say that a) I was unaware of a homo rally. b) I wasn't a willing participant in the homo rally, despite my proximity. c) I woulda hit one of them, but they all looked like they had pretty deadly purses.
After that thuuuper (say it out loud, you'll get it) experience, I wandered to Government Center, home of the City Hall, the JFK Building, and a bunch of other historical stuff I didn't study for, since I was hungover on the plane ride here. I did check out the Holocaust memorial, which was very memorable and enlightening. No jokes here, it was very interesting to me, and very moving.
I wish I could follow that up with something equally as moving and emotional....unfortunately, this is me we're talking about. I went to the bar across the street to watch the Patriots game (number 15). What, were you expecting anything less?
Watched the Pats wreck the Packers, had a few, and walked the 2.7 miles back. Rough walk, probably shoulda taken the subway...but it was worth it. It was dark by now, so I was a bit sketchy bout my safety...but there was nothing to worry about. Boston is a very walkable, safe city. At least, the areas I covered....which was literally half the city. I was very impressed.
Anyways, got back to the hostel, played on the net a bit, and went to the pizza place around the corner. Dollar slices, and 4 dollar jugs of PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon, Morgan's favourite beer). No , it doesn't count as a bar. It woulda been heaven, except the sound was turned down on the football games, and they were blaring...gospel music. Even PBR couldn't overcome gospel music. It was nails on a chalkboard during a football game.
Back to the hostel. The hostel has outings every night....you sign up, go along with a hostel crowd, and get free cover to wherever they're goin that night. Unfortunately, it was a jazz bar that night. Not my scene. I asked at the front desk where the closest bar was.
Best question of my trip.
She told me bout the bar round the corner, behind the hostel, but said she didn't "recommend it, cuz of the clientele". Sounds good to me.
I described it a bit in a previous blog. When I got there (bar number 16), it was allll locals. Guys that go there every night, and didn't seem like big fans of outsiders. My ID even got denied at the door, depsite it being perfectly legal. I just happened to have my passport on me as well, which didn't sit well with the doorman (aka the owner, Jimmy). But he had to let me in.
I sat there all night, drinking Miller Lites, and watching football with the sound on. At first I was kinda nervous, since it was obvious I wasn't welcome. There were probably 10 people in there, all seated around me, and all talking to each other. I kept quiet for the most part, till I knew the answer to a question the others had posed, and couldn't answer. The first time I did that....well, I farted in church. They all looked at me like I was about to get beaten. But, it passed, and the next time it happened, they actually included me in their discussion. I was told I was either "too stupid to stay, or too smart to belong"...but after that, I was a regular. I was introduced to everyone in the place, and was accepted. It was....awesome.
After that, we watched cartoons all night, and I talked about sports and random shit with the patrons. It was a lot of fun. Jimmy (the owner) still hated me, but that would change the next day.
I went back to hostel, very happy with myself for fitting in somewhere I didn't really belong. And fell asleep soundly, after 17 Miller Lites.
Day 2 began, with a whimper. I woke up at 11, to the cleaning lady banging on the door. I had a shower, and thought I should head towards Fenway Park. Fenway was my only real reason for going to Boston, other than the hockey game. Since the hockey tickets didn't arrrive on time, Fenway was gonna be my shining moment in Beantown sports history. It didn't disappoint.
It was super close to my hostel, maybe a 15 minute walk....I bought a ticket for the tour, and was off (with 140 other tourists) on my adventure. If you don't like baseball, skip this paragraph. If you do...well, it was pretty damn sweet. I got to walk on the field, and touch the green monster. Got to look inside the monster scoreboard. Saw the seat where Ted Williams hit the longest homer in Fenway history (502 feet...and that was 60+ years ago!), and heard some awesome stories. These people HATE the Yankees, by the way. Every story was about the evil Yankees winning...except 2004, the ultimate redemption.
After the tour, I went across the street to Boston Beer Works and had lunch. Bar .number 17, for those counting. It's across the street from Fenway...the Patriot Pilsner is worth a try, for those who care.
After that, headed back to the hostel a bit, then decided to go to...Cheers!
You all know about Cheers...the sitcom, back in the day. It involved a pretty long walk, basically the same as the one the day before. Cheers (the real one, not the replica downtown) isn't far from the homo-lovin state capitol on beacon hill. Again, I could have taken the T, but I felt like walking. Instead of Newbury or Boylston, I walked along the Charles River. MIT and Harvard are on the other side of the river, for those of you that care.
Anyways, after another walk through City Park, I arrived at Cheers. The outside is just like the opening of the show. The inside is....just another pub. Not the same as the show. It was overpriced, and suuuuper busy. I didn't even stay for a beer, so it don't count as a bar visit. Someday, I will find a bar that will yell "TIMMMMM" when I enter. Oh yes, it will happen.
On the way back, I found a happy hour bar (number 18) and had a couple, before going back to the pizza place for dinner. I went back to the hostel, which was sponsoring a trip to an Irish bar. Screw that! I had my very own dive bar around the corner!
Jimmy ID'd me like he'd never met me before, but the patrons were much more hospitable. We watched Monday Night Football, and I won a 20 dollar bet. Then we watched Michael Richard's apology on Letterman. If ya dunno what I'm talkin bout, crawl outta your cave and google it.
Anyways, this bar was split evenly race-wise, and it was super interesting to hear everyones take on it. Mostly, the white people thought it was unforgivable, and his apology sucked. The black people actually almost defended him, and said he probably wasn't being racist, just ignorant, and there was a big difference. I was super surprised. The blacks explained that, when cornered, almost everyone will act primitively, and resort to the easist way to offend someone. In Richard's case, it was the N bomb, since he was being heckled by blacks. If it was Dave Chapelle,and he called a bunch of white people crackers, would anyone have cared?
They made a damn good point. And after I said my piece, Jimmy bought me a beer. Alex, the bartender, did too.
Anyways, the discussion went much deeper than this, but I can say that I left the bar that night as a more enlightened, understanding person. Everyone in there was super cool with me, and I can't wait to go back. It was a volatile discussion, one that could have easily led to hostility or anger. Instead, it was handled with dignity and maturity. I'm not sure why a drunken conversation stuck out as anything more than that...but it was something I had never experienced before...I was impressed.
Believe me, I'm arrogant. That's rare.
I slept soundly that night, after checking craigslist to see how much rent was in this intriguing city.
Brief summary of Boston - Awesome. Simply awesome. The city is designed perfectly for tourists. I couldn't possibly do it justice in a blog entry. It's doesn't feel like a big city, due to the huge number of college/university students...yet it doesn't come across as overly intellectual either. It's got tons of history, plenty of charm, and is totally liveable. I've been to lotsa places, and there's only 3 I could ever picture myself living in for any length of time....Vancouver, Edinburgh, and Boston. It's safe, interesting, and full of charisma. It's half an hour from Providence, and within a couple hours of 3 other states. It's 4 hours to NYC.
You get all that, and the unique charm of the people that reside there. Believe me, I completely underestimated the allure of this city. If you ever get the chance, check it out.
I know, not as funny or witty as my previous entries...but this city really was different than the others on my trip. And to think, I almost skipped it.
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
America, Part 3
I don't think an introduction is necessary. You all know why you're here. Grab a drink, get comfy. Prepare for entertainment. If you don't find any here...well...tough poopy! You just wasted 5-10 minutes of your life on me! Joke's on you, asshole!
**Change alert** I can't fit Chicago, Pittsburgh, and Boston into 1 entry, without it being too long. You have a short attention span...I know this. I'll cover Chicago and Pittsburgh here, and Boston will be part 4, since it deserves its own entry. NYC will be the grand finale, part 5. So it's no longer a quadrilogy. It's a pentalogy! That's a 5 part series. See, I don't just entertain...I teach, and enlighten. Thank me later.
I would like to start with one small correction to part 1. I forgot to include the ESPN Zone as one of the bars I was in. Since Morgan refuses to let me count Chili's, my beloved ESPN Zone will take it's place in my count. So I'm still at 9, up until my flight to Chicago. Not that any of this matters to you...I prefer accuracy, okay?
Chicago
I get off the flight, and proceed to walk across the biggest fucking airport I've ever seen, O'Hare. I finally get to the subway, which takes me downtown (and takes an hour to get there). My first impression is...this place is dirty. You get to see like 32 suburbs on the trip into town, and well....none were impressive. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it. It was urban decay. It was the hood in Denver, on a massive scale. I didn't see a "stay out whitey" sign in the airport anywhere though....so...
Anyways, I get downtown, and walk to the hostel (my first hostel stay on this trip). Dude at the counter tells me I can't check in till 2. It's 11. Blah. I drop off my bag and walk around. Forever. It's hard to describe the walk....everything around you is HUGE. All skyscrapers, for like 4009 square blocks. It was impossible to gain any perspective, cuz you're literally surrounded by them at all times. I walked to Sears Tower...which was...tall. It was the worlds tallest building until 2004. The top of it was literally in the clouds. My neck hurt from looking up. Yawn. Can you sense my excitement here?
Let's just say I wasn't super impressed so far.
Before you ask, there was no fucking way I was going up to the top of that building. I'm scared of heights. Ironic for someone as tall as me, yes...but still true. Highway overpasses scare me. I didn't have a change of underwear on me at the time, so exposing myself to sheer terror wasn't high on my priority list.
The other thing I noticed was that literally no one was dressed like me. No one wore ball caps, no one was wearing a hoodie. And there were a LOT of people downtown. They weren't all business types either, there were lotsa casual people walking around...they weren't dressed "better" than me....just...different. It was very odd.
Chicago's transit system has a subway which branches off in all directions, but all the lines meet in the middle of town, in what's called "The Loop". All the trains circle through the loop (which is elevated bout 50 feet above ground, as opposed to all the other trains), which basically travels around the outskirts of the downtown core. More than 1 person told me the loop trains are the highlight of the city. I took it...and umm...all I could see were the same buildings I could see from walking on the road below. And it was 50 feet above the ground, so I was almost in need of emergency underwear when it stopped abruptly and the door beside me opened a bit. In between stations. Not pleasant. By the way, save the "you're a big girl" comments...I already know I'm a huge wuss. It's part of my charm.
After a less than enjoyable start to my stay in the Windy City, I decided that getting outta downtown might help, so I went to Wrigley Field. It was pretty damn cool. They weren't offering tours, so I just walked around it a couple of times, and had a beer in the bar across the street from it (bar #10).
By now it was bout 3, so I went back and checked in. The hostel was HUUUGE. Like 500 beds or something. I talked to a couple of Brazillian guys in my hostel room, who told me to never go to Sao Paulo. Thanks for the advice, guys. Rio it is.
There was nothing to do there, so I went exploring some more. My guidebook said that Millennium Park was pretty cool, and it was really close to the hostel, so I went and checked it out, and I'm reeeally glad I did. It was awesome. The park is right on the shore of Lake Michigan, and gives you a chance to escape the monotony of the skyscrapers. Once you get outside of them, they're actually pretty cool looking. 80 floor condo buildings, all over the place...that shit is crazy.
Anyways, the park was big, and really cool. They have this thing that's nicknamed "the bean" in the center of it. I'm not sure what its purpose is, but it's huge, metallic, and reflective. When you walk up to it, you see your reflection on a few sides of it. When you walk underneath it, your reflection is all over the damn place...it's pretty cool. I was gonna come back drunk and check it out, but that never happened.
After all the reflection excitement...I was bored again. So....take a guess what I did?
Bar # 11 baby. Had 3 there, which gave me a crazy buzz for some reason. Probably the Fat Tire. It was about 6, so I decided to go back to the hostel to play on the net. After that, I went to my room to read for a bit...and fell asleep. At 6:30PM. And woke up...at 8AM the next morning! OOPS! Guess the 2 hours of sleep the night before caught up with me there....but 13.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep? Damn...what the fuck was in that beer? GHB? My ass wasn't sore though, so I was good to go.
My flight for Pittsburgh left at noon, so I just decided to go straight to the airport. Not sure why, but it was worth it. Midway this time, the smaller Chicago airport. Got there at 9. And enjoyed my favourite 3 hours of Chicago.
Right next to my gate, there was a bar (#12) open. I didn't expect them to be serving, but apparently they are allowed to start serving booze at 7AM. 7AM! I got there at 9! I was late!
The bartender chicky, April, was super nice, and loved Canada for some reason. She ID'd every single person that came in, even a couple of 60+ year old guys. She told them it was policy, and she had to ID everyone, blah blah. Only problem is....she never ID'd me. And I was the youngest person in there, besides her. I asked her why after an hour or so, and she said:
"You had a hockey jersey on. I knew you were Canadian. Canadians are trustworthy, kind folk. Okay...I fucking forgot. Take a free beer and shut your damn mouth".
Anyways, in the 3 hours I was there, I met like 10 different cool people. The funniest was this guy Jason, a limo driver, who had missed his flight to Dallas, and had 5 hours to kill till the next one, so he was gettin drunk. He was from the north side (a Cubs fan), and everything "sucked". Grey goose vodka, redheads, the bartenders sandwich, rain, tennis...you name it, it sucked. He was hilarious. Anyone who was sitting at tables, he would invite to sit with us at the bar. And then tell them they sucked. Or their shirt did, or their luggage did. A few of them were southsiders (White Sox fans), and friendly arguments would ensue. Apparently, as a Canadian, Jason thought I should mediate these arguments, since Canada sucks, and is full of sissy peacekeepers. Everytime he'd call Canadians sissies, the bartender chicky April would get mad at him, and demand that he buy me a beer. And he did. I got 5 free beers from Jason, and awesome entertainment for 3 hours. Hell, I almost missed my flight. I actually considered it. But alas, it was time to leave.
Brief summary of Chicago - Cool people, definitely opinionated. Downtown isn't much fun. I didn't go to any of the cool museums, so can't comment on that. Wrigley is something any true sports fan should stand in front of, and pay their respects. The bean was awesome. I'd go back, but only for a sporting event, or with some friends. I don't think I scratched the surface in 1 day, but I wasn't overjoyed by the place. Awesome transit system though...the best I've ever come across, other than London. 5 bucks for 24 hours, and you can go anywhere. And Chicago is gigantic....it stretches from Indiana to Wisconsin.
Flight to Pittsburgh ruled. Southwest is the coolest airline there is. Comfy seats, legroom, no assigned seating, and 3 dollar beers. And a hot girl beside me, who thought my odyssey, and my 8 beer adventure at the airport bar, was "cute". Too bad I didn't think the huge ring on her finger was "cute".
Pittsburgh
Ha, Pittsburgh. The lost city. Why do I say that? Cuz I didn't see any of it.
My default myspace pic is downtown Pittsburgh. Surprised? So was I...that was the view I got coming in from the airport. It was awesome...nicer than any downtown I have seen so far. Too bad I didn't take any time to explore it.
Arrived at my hotel at 2:55PM. Checked in, went to my nice, cushy Doubletree room...on the 19th floor. Killer view. Went back down to the lobby and asked the bellhop if he knew where I could watch the UFC PPV later that night. He told me where, gave me a map, and then told me that a hotel shuttle was taking 2 people to that bar (#13) right now, so I jumped in. I figured I'd see where it was, retrace my steps (since it was close to the hotel), check out the downtown core, go to the hockey game, and then come back for the UFC.
Wrong.
As soon as I get on the shuttle, and talk to the driver, the guy in front on me says "You're Canadian!" I had only said about 6 words so far, and none of them were "about" or "eh", so I was sorta shocked. Turns out he's from Buffalo, drinks Blue, and loves the Jays. Eureka! The closest thing to a canadian I had found all trip. Him and his (hot) girlfriend were goin to the pub to watch the Michigan/Ohio State game (which had completely slipped my mind), so I decided to stay and watch a bit and talk with them. For you uninformed canadians, this was the biggest college football game of the year, and would basically decide the national champion. The bar was packed with people, at 3PM, just to watch this game.
7 blues later (on tap in Pittsburgh!), and the game was over. Ohio State won. And my 2 new friends were coming to the hockey game with me.
Get to the game, trade in my ticket and get 3 together from a scalper, and watch the Penguins beat the Rangers 3-1. Malkin had 2 assists, Crosby 1. Killer game. Great fans too, really supportive. Sid the Kid and Malkin jerseys everywhere. Much more like Denver, where they actually understand hockey. No costume parties. I realize the Pens have a shitty lease deal at the Igloo, but it's actually a pretty cool arena.
Game ends, Buffalo guy and hot girl decide they're too drunk and tired to continue, and return to the hotel. Am I too drunk and tired to continue?
What the fuck do you think?
So I venture back to the bar by myself to watch the UFC. When St Pierre knocked out Matt Hughes, I went APESHIT. I was screaming, yelling, the whole deal. Everyone in there probably thought I was retarded, but I didn't care. A Canadian is the 170 pound champ!
I stagger back to my cushy digs at the doubletree. It's 12:55AM. The hotel bar is open for...5 more minutes. I rush in (bar #14), have 1 in there, and they GIVE me 2 to take to my room. For free. I love these people.
I have to get up at 5:30AM to catch my flight to Boston. I seriously consider skipping the flight and taking the train to NYC. Problem is, I'd have 2 days to kill, somewhere. I consider all the options....Philly, Amish country, Atlantic City...all are places I wanna see. Unfortunately, I probably would have had to spend another 400 bucks to make any of these happen, and eat the cost of the Boston plane ticket and hostel room on top of that I think about this till 3:40AM. And decide to go to Boston. Turned out to be a brilliant decision, although I certainly wasn't thinking that in the morning.
Woke up at 5:30. Ugh. Airport shuttle was a blur. Drank 2 gallons of water. Got on flight to Boston. Tried to sleep on the plane...not a happenin. I got a nice indentation on my face from the tray on the seat in front of me though. So now I was tired, hungover, and indented. And I wonder why I can't pick up women.
Brief summary of Pittsburgh - You tell me. I saw fuck all. Hockey game was awesome, bar was very cool. Drive in and out was nice. Other than that, you're on your own. Go to wikipedia or something.
I definitely wanna come back though. Everything I saw and experienced was 100% positive. People were great.
Bar count - 14 (I went to the Pittsburgh Sports Rock twice, didn't count it as 2 though. I'm generous like that)
# of beers kind americans have bought for me so far - 17 (11 in a 24 hour period!)
# of people who couldn't find the birthdate on my ID without me pointing it out - every single american bartender so far.
Stay tuned for part 4, my favourite city on my trip. Boston.
**Change alert** I can't fit Chicago, Pittsburgh, and Boston into 1 entry, without it being too long. You have a short attention span...I know this. I'll cover Chicago and Pittsburgh here, and Boston will be part 4, since it deserves its own entry. NYC will be the grand finale, part 5. So it's no longer a quadrilogy. It's a pentalogy! That's a 5 part series. See, I don't just entertain...I teach, and enlighten. Thank me later.
I would like to start with one small correction to part 1. I forgot to include the ESPN Zone as one of the bars I was in. Since Morgan refuses to let me count Chili's, my beloved ESPN Zone will take it's place in my count. So I'm still at 9, up until my flight to Chicago. Not that any of this matters to you...I prefer accuracy, okay?
Chicago
I get off the flight, and proceed to walk across the biggest fucking airport I've ever seen, O'Hare. I finally get to the subway, which takes me downtown (and takes an hour to get there). My first impression is...this place is dirty. You get to see like 32 suburbs on the trip into town, and well....none were impressive. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it. It was urban decay. It was the hood in Denver, on a massive scale. I didn't see a "stay out whitey" sign in the airport anywhere though....so...
Anyways, I get downtown, and walk to the hostel (my first hostel stay on this trip). Dude at the counter tells me I can't check in till 2. It's 11. Blah. I drop off my bag and walk around. Forever. It's hard to describe the walk....everything around you is HUGE. All skyscrapers, for like 4009 square blocks. It was impossible to gain any perspective, cuz you're literally surrounded by them at all times. I walked to Sears Tower...which was...tall. It was the worlds tallest building until 2004. The top of it was literally in the clouds. My neck hurt from looking up. Yawn. Can you sense my excitement here?
Let's just say I wasn't super impressed so far.
Before you ask, there was no fucking way I was going up to the top of that building. I'm scared of heights. Ironic for someone as tall as me, yes...but still true. Highway overpasses scare me. I didn't have a change of underwear on me at the time, so exposing myself to sheer terror wasn't high on my priority list.
The other thing I noticed was that literally no one was dressed like me. No one wore ball caps, no one was wearing a hoodie. And there were a LOT of people downtown. They weren't all business types either, there were lotsa casual people walking around...they weren't dressed "better" than me....just...different. It was very odd.
Chicago's transit system has a subway which branches off in all directions, but all the lines meet in the middle of town, in what's called "The Loop". All the trains circle through the loop (which is elevated bout 50 feet above ground, as opposed to all the other trains), which basically travels around the outskirts of the downtown core. More than 1 person told me the loop trains are the highlight of the city. I took it...and umm...all I could see were the same buildings I could see from walking on the road below. And it was 50 feet above the ground, so I was almost in need of emergency underwear when it stopped abruptly and the door beside me opened a bit. In between stations. Not pleasant. By the way, save the "you're a big girl" comments...I already know I'm a huge wuss. It's part of my charm.
After a less than enjoyable start to my stay in the Windy City, I decided that getting outta downtown might help, so I went to Wrigley Field. It was pretty damn cool. They weren't offering tours, so I just walked around it a couple of times, and had a beer in the bar across the street from it (bar #10).
By now it was bout 3, so I went back and checked in. The hostel was HUUUGE. Like 500 beds or something. I talked to a couple of Brazillian guys in my hostel room, who told me to never go to Sao Paulo. Thanks for the advice, guys. Rio it is.
There was nothing to do there, so I went exploring some more. My guidebook said that Millennium Park was pretty cool, and it was really close to the hostel, so I went and checked it out, and I'm reeeally glad I did. It was awesome. The park is right on the shore of Lake Michigan, and gives you a chance to escape the monotony of the skyscrapers. Once you get outside of them, they're actually pretty cool looking. 80 floor condo buildings, all over the place...that shit is crazy.
Anyways, the park was big, and really cool. They have this thing that's nicknamed "the bean" in the center of it. I'm not sure what its purpose is, but it's huge, metallic, and reflective. When you walk up to it, you see your reflection on a few sides of it. When you walk underneath it, your reflection is all over the damn place...it's pretty cool. I was gonna come back drunk and check it out, but that never happened.
After all the reflection excitement...I was bored again. So....take a guess what I did?
Bar # 11 baby. Had 3 there, which gave me a crazy buzz for some reason. Probably the Fat Tire. It was about 6, so I decided to go back to the hostel to play on the net. After that, I went to my room to read for a bit...and fell asleep. At 6:30PM. And woke up...at 8AM the next morning! OOPS! Guess the 2 hours of sleep the night before caught up with me there....but 13.5 hours of uninterrupted sleep? Damn...what the fuck was in that beer? GHB? My ass wasn't sore though, so I was good to go.
My flight for Pittsburgh left at noon, so I just decided to go straight to the airport. Not sure why, but it was worth it. Midway this time, the smaller Chicago airport. Got there at 9. And enjoyed my favourite 3 hours of Chicago.
Right next to my gate, there was a bar (#12) open. I didn't expect them to be serving, but apparently they are allowed to start serving booze at 7AM. 7AM! I got there at 9! I was late!
The bartender chicky, April, was super nice, and loved Canada for some reason. She ID'd every single person that came in, even a couple of 60+ year old guys. She told them it was policy, and she had to ID everyone, blah blah. Only problem is....she never ID'd me. And I was the youngest person in there, besides her. I asked her why after an hour or so, and she said:
"You had a hockey jersey on. I knew you were Canadian. Canadians are trustworthy, kind folk. Okay...I fucking forgot. Take a free beer and shut your damn mouth".
Anyways, in the 3 hours I was there, I met like 10 different cool people. The funniest was this guy Jason, a limo driver, who had missed his flight to Dallas, and had 5 hours to kill till the next one, so he was gettin drunk. He was from the north side (a Cubs fan), and everything "sucked". Grey goose vodka, redheads, the bartenders sandwich, rain, tennis...you name it, it sucked. He was hilarious. Anyone who was sitting at tables, he would invite to sit with us at the bar. And then tell them they sucked. Or their shirt did, or their luggage did. A few of them were southsiders (White Sox fans), and friendly arguments would ensue. Apparently, as a Canadian, Jason thought I should mediate these arguments, since Canada sucks, and is full of sissy peacekeepers. Everytime he'd call Canadians sissies, the bartender chicky April would get mad at him, and demand that he buy me a beer. And he did. I got 5 free beers from Jason, and awesome entertainment for 3 hours. Hell, I almost missed my flight. I actually considered it. But alas, it was time to leave.
Brief summary of Chicago - Cool people, definitely opinionated. Downtown isn't much fun. I didn't go to any of the cool museums, so can't comment on that. Wrigley is something any true sports fan should stand in front of, and pay their respects. The bean was awesome. I'd go back, but only for a sporting event, or with some friends. I don't think I scratched the surface in 1 day, but I wasn't overjoyed by the place. Awesome transit system though...the best I've ever come across, other than London. 5 bucks for 24 hours, and you can go anywhere. And Chicago is gigantic....it stretches from Indiana to Wisconsin.
Flight to Pittsburgh ruled. Southwest is the coolest airline there is. Comfy seats, legroom, no assigned seating, and 3 dollar beers. And a hot girl beside me, who thought my odyssey, and my 8 beer adventure at the airport bar, was "cute". Too bad I didn't think the huge ring on her finger was "cute".
Pittsburgh
Ha, Pittsburgh. The lost city. Why do I say that? Cuz I didn't see any of it.
My default myspace pic is downtown Pittsburgh. Surprised? So was I...that was the view I got coming in from the airport. It was awesome...nicer than any downtown I have seen so far. Too bad I didn't take any time to explore it.
Arrived at my hotel at 2:55PM. Checked in, went to my nice, cushy Doubletree room...on the 19th floor. Killer view. Went back down to the lobby and asked the bellhop if he knew where I could watch the UFC PPV later that night. He told me where, gave me a map, and then told me that a hotel shuttle was taking 2 people to that bar (#13) right now, so I jumped in. I figured I'd see where it was, retrace my steps (since it was close to the hotel), check out the downtown core, go to the hockey game, and then come back for the UFC.
Wrong.
As soon as I get on the shuttle, and talk to the driver, the guy in front on me says "You're Canadian!" I had only said about 6 words so far, and none of them were "about" or "eh", so I was sorta shocked. Turns out he's from Buffalo, drinks Blue, and loves the Jays. Eureka! The closest thing to a canadian I had found all trip. Him and his (hot) girlfriend were goin to the pub to watch the Michigan/Ohio State game (which had completely slipped my mind), so I decided to stay and watch a bit and talk with them. For you uninformed canadians, this was the biggest college football game of the year, and would basically decide the national champion. The bar was packed with people, at 3PM, just to watch this game.
7 blues later (on tap in Pittsburgh!), and the game was over. Ohio State won. And my 2 new friends were coming to the hockey game with me.
Get to the game, trade in my ticket and get 3 together from a scalper, and watch the Penguins beat the Rangers 3-1. Malkin had 2 assists, Crosby 1. Killer game. Great fans too, really supportive. Sid the Kid and Malkin jerseys everywhere. Much more like Denver, where they actually understand hockey. No costume parties. I realize the Pens have a shitty lease deal at the Igloo, but it's actually a pretty cool arena.
Game ends, Buffalo guy and hot girl decide they're too drunk and tired to continue, and return to the hotel. Am I too drunk and tired to continue?
What the fuck do you think?
So I venture back to the bar by myself to watch the UFC. When St Pierre knocked out Matt Hughes, I went APESHIT. I was screaming, yelling, the whole deal. Everyone in there probably thought I was retarded, but I didn't care. A Canadian is the 170 pound champ!
I stagger back to my cushy digs at the doubletree. It's 12:55AM. The hotel bar is open for...5 more minutes. I rush in (bar #14), have 1 in there, and they GIVE me 2 to take to my room. For free. I love these people.
I have to get up at 5:30AM to catch my flight to Boston. I seriously consider skipping the flight and taking the train to NYC. Problem is, I'd have 2 days to kill, somewhere. I consider all the options....Philly, Amish country, Atlantic City...all are places I wanna see. Unfortunately, I probably would have had to spend another 400 bucks to make any of these happen, and eat the cost of the Boston plane ticket and hostel room on top of that I think about this till 3:40AM. And decide to go to Boston. Turned out to be a brilliant decision, although I certainly wasn't thinking that in the morning.
Woke up at 5:30. Ugh. Airport shuttle was a blur. Drank 2 gallons of water. Got on flight to Boston. Tried to sleep on the plane...not a happenin. I got a nice indentation on my face from the tray on the seat in front of me though. So now I was tired, hungover, and indented. And I wonder why I can't pick up women.
Brief summary of Pittsburgh - You tell me. I saw fuck all. Hockey game was awesome, bar was very cool. Drive in and out was nice. Other than that, you're on your own. Go to wikipedia or something.
I definitely wanna come back though. Everything I saw and experienced was 100% positive. People were great.
Bar count - 14 (I went to the Pittsburgh Sports Rock twice, didn't count it as 2 though. I'm generous like that)
# of beers kind americans have bought for me so far - 17 (11 in a 24 hour period!)
# of people who couldn't find the birthdate on my ID without me pointing it out - every single american bartender so far.
Stay tuned for part 4, my favourite city on my trip. Boston.
Monday, December 4, 2006
America, Part 2
Hello people. Sorry part 2 took so long. Life issues, ya know. I'm sure you'll hear about them soon enough. Probably not long after I complete my quadrilogy. Big word eh? (It means 4 part series, americans). Oooh...an american joke in the first paragraph. I rule.
If you're new to my...space (get it?), or you dunno what the fuck I'm talkin about, scroll down below this entry to "America, part 1". It should help you catch up.
Anyways, here's part 2 of my epic odyssey thru the US and A, as Borat says. Well, he wouldn't say odyssey, but you get the idea.
Frontier Airlines rules. They have the TV's in every seatback, like Westjet does. But you can pay for PPV movies on it, or just watch DirectTV. I splurged and spent 8 bucks to watch "The Break Up". Shitty movie. But the flight was over before I even got uncomfy in my seat. So, mission accomplished.
NASHVILLE
First thing I did when I got there was call my bank, since they put a hold on a large portion of my last (!) work check, for some reason. I had 12 dollars to my name at that point, and if they wouldn't clear the hold...well...the rest of my trip would have been less entertaining than the shitty movie I saw on the plane. Anyways, after 20 minutes of transfers and delays, I got access to my money. Now that I had 300 bucks in my pocket...2 dollars for public transit with the locals, or 9 bucks for the cushy airport shuttle, that drops me off in front of my hotel?
Do I really need to answer that?
After the shuttle dropped me off, I checked in quickly and went to my room. It was...okay. I was expecting a hotel, where you enter your room from a hallway. Ya know, indoors. This was more like a motel, where you enter your room from...outside. At first I was kinda disappointed I spent 100 bucks a night for this...but when I opened the door again, and saw the Tennessee State Capitol staring back at me, from across the street...it seemed like a wise investment.
I abandoned my "3 block radius" rule, since the downtown core of Nashville is quite small, and easy to navigate. Downhill means you're headed towards downtown. Uphill means away from downtown. I'm horrible with directions, and even I could figure that out.
Anyways, my first stop had to be...a bar. I know this isn't unusual. But in Nashville, the bars are actually the main tourist draws. Down the main strip of downtown (Broadway), there's 4 blocks of "Honky Tonks". They're bars that have live country music, from 11AM - 4AM, everyday. I ducked into the first one I saw, and it was pretty cool. Lotsa memorabilia on the walls, cool layout, and a live country performer right in front of me. At 4PM. On a tuesday.
After I was in there for 2 beers (BTW, that's how I told time on the trip....a hockey game was 5 beers, football game was 6, a restaurant dinner was 3, etc) he started to sing a song called "The Alcohol of Fame". It was the funniest song I have ever heard. It's the soundtrack to my life. Some of the stunning lyrics:
"I have been inducted into the alco-hol of fame,
It took 23 buds before the police came,
Yes, I'm a member of the alco-hol of fame,
These bitches will never look at me the same"
Cuz I made somethin of my name. I got game!
I'm in the f'n alco-hol of fame"
That's the only part I remember. I was laughing so hard, I think I missed half the song. It was fucking awesome. I've been trying to download it since I got home, but I never asked the guy his name, and I can't find it.
The best part? There were 4 people in the bar the time. Me, a 60+ couple, and the bartender chicky. That's it. The other 3 must have thought I was completely retarded...cuz I could NOT stop laughing.
Anyways, these guys make money from tips, and have a big tip jar on the front of the stage. I tipped him 5 bucks, and he stopped in the middle of his song and thanked me, which I thought was pretty cool. Cuz I'm a foreigner, and I crave attention.
That was bar # 6, by the way. The Denver Chilis does count, it's my blog dammit.
I left there, and went....next door. Bar # 7. There were 9 customers this time. The singer there was an old guy, not very entertaining....I just had 1 beer, and sat in the back. I left there after 20 minutes, without tipping, which got me a super loud "THANKS BUDDY" as I walked out. That made me laugh.
After that, I covered pretty much all of downtown, which was pretty cool....but small. I realized right away that 3 days here was going to be a waste of my time. Turns out I was sorta wrong, thankfully. Sorta.
It was bout 6PM by now, and dark, so I figured I'd grab some food downtown and then just chill in my hotel room for the night. I went to a sports bar (#8) across the street from the hockey arena. For some retarded reason, I ordered the fried catfish...which was actually good. I also ordered a beer, and when the waitress brought my food, she brought me...2 budweisers. I was totally confused. And since they were 4.25 US, I wasn't planning on having 2 there. I coulda had them for 2.50 across the street. I kinda stared at them blankly (since I was buzzin from the previous beers from previous bars). The waitress noticed my confusion, came over, and said,
"Honey, if you're wonderin why ya got 2, it's happy hour. 2 for 1 beers, 4 to 7PM".
I had found my new hangout from 4-7PM, obviously.
After discovering my new local, I walked back to the hotel, grabbed a 6er from the deli/beer store attached to the hotel, and proceeded to stay up till 4AM watching a Roseanne marathon on Nick at Nite. Fuck you, after some catfish and a few Miller Lites, that show is hilarious.
Day 2 is kinda boring, and the reason I wish I hadn't spent 3 days in Nashville. I got up at 11AM, checked out every single tourist site in the city (except for the country music hall of fame...I wasn't spending 20 bucks to see Elvis's cadillac....by the way, isn't he the king of rock n roll? Why is his fucking caddy in the CMHF?). There's actually a lot of cool stuff in Nashville, but I'm not a big american history buff, so a lot of it was lost on me.
I went to one more honky tonk (bar #9), which was lame cuz a band was in soundcheck for their evening show, then went back to the happy hour bar. Had a few beers, and "sausage and cheese" off the menu. I got fried sausage, crackers...and a BLOCK of cheese. No joke. It was an appetizer plate my dad serves whenever anyone comes over, except I had to cut my own cheese, pardon the pun. It was damn good...but very odd. Anyways, after that, I gathered more Miller Lite goodness from the deli, and ended up ordering pizza at 3AM. I'm like a fat chick.
Last day was by far my favourite. Cuz there was hockey involved, obviously. And this was definitely the strangest hockey game I've ever been to.
I pretty much spent all day loungin in my hotel, since I had seen everything. This is where I think I messed up a bit, by the way. I could have spent all of day 2 somewhere else, and explored Nashville for all of day 3 before the hockey game...and I wouldn't have missed anything. On day 2, I could have caught a day-trip flight to Birmingham, AL...or taken the bus to Bowling Green, KY. But oh well, hindsight is 20/20. (My first and only cliche...leave me alone).
Anyways, the hockey game made it all worth it. I went to my local pub beforehand (across the street from the arena), and a local sports radio station was broadcasting from there. Apparently they do that before all Predator games. And, to my amazement, it meant that beers were 2 for 1...and appys were too. Well, I managed to consume more sausage than I thought possible (as I typed that, I pictured the 156 homo jokes my idiot friends could have oh so creatively come up with....eat shit and die, compadres), and I waddled across the street to, bar none, the most entertaining hockey game of my life. On the ice, and off.
I arrive 45 minutes before the puck drop. I'm sitting there, minding my own business, reading the big screen, and I see:
"80's night! Wear a costume, win a prize! Grand prize: 1987 Lincoln Town Car!"
I couldn't make this shit up if I tried, folks.
That took a few minutes to sink in. I mean...people, if you ever go to Nashville....you'll see that the locals dress like it's 1987 anyways. Why have an 80's night? And why give away a 19 year old car as a grand prize? Is THIS how you attract people to a hockey game?
Next on the screen:
"If you would like to learn the rules of hockey, or if you see something you don't understand tonight, don't hesitate to go to section 302 or 104 and pick up a copy of the official NHL rulebook! Knowledge is power! GO PREDS!"
Um, wow. I'm in the hockey twilight zone.
Not 5 minutes later, the screen of wisdom actually displayed something that TOPPED all of that, much to my amazement.
"Attention Pred fans! Every thursday in november, when the Preds are playing a western conference foe, concession beers are 2 dollars! GO PREDS!"
I read this, and do the math. It's thursday. It's november. The Predators are playing the Minnesota Wild. Last time I checked, the Wild were in the western conference.
I jump up faster than a white guy on the subway in the bronx (foreshadowing again...wait for part 4 of the quadrilogy), and head for the beer stand. I get 4 beers for 8 dollars. Even cheaper than the bar I was at across the street.
This is officially the greatest arena ever, and the game hasn't even started yet.
I get back to my seat, and there's a guy and his girlfriend sitting behind me. Remember, I'm really early, so no one else is even in my section yet, except for these 2. But they turned out to be awesome. The guy was from Minnesota, and loved hockey. But, as it turns out, he hasn't watched it in a few years...and had no clue what the hell was goin on. He was comic gold though.
I told him I just came from Denver, and saw the Avs play. He said, and I quote:
"Really, oh, that's so awesome....seeing Patrick Roy play must have been epic".
If you read part 1...Patrick Roy was being inducted into the hall of fame the night I was in Denver.. That means he hasn't played in the NHL in 4 years. Plus....EPIC? Are you kidding me? I can't believe he used that word in a sentence. He looked....well, he looked primed to win the Town Car, people. 1987, yo.
I just sorta nodded and smiled....and didn't know what to say.
He did his best to top that though, don't worry. I asked him bout being from Minnesota, and if he was a big Wild fan....he explained that he has lived in Tennessee for 10 years now, but he was a big North Stars fan back in the day, before they moved to Dallas. And it was a shame, cuz Minnesota "had the 2nd longest running NHL franchise, besides Montreal".
Umm.
In reality, the North Stars came into the league in 67...and there were 5 other franchises (and the Habs) that existed much longer than the North Stars. I didn't feel like breaking his little Minnesotan heart though, so I kept that to myself. In the meantime, he continued to spit chewing tobacco into his can behind me, and his girlfriend begged for a hot dog. He declined. I laughed. No, I'm not kidding.
I would like to point out again that all this happened before the game had even started.
So...game time. Nashville jumped out to 3-1 lead at the end of the 1st, and I drank my 4 beer. I become brave at this point, and decided to peel off my hoodie, revealing my canucks jersey. I've had a few, so I don't realize that the canuck hatred isn't quite at the level as it was in Denver. In fact, no one in my section even notices my jersey for the whole intermission. I decide to go for a walk to get more 2 dollar beers, and receive one of the funniest comments of my life.
"HEY MAN! That is the coolest jersey ever! I LOVED THE HARTFORD WHALERS!"
Umm....what?
I'm wearing a vintage jersey....the blue one, with the hockey stick. But...the Whalers? What?
I proceed to stop and laugh so hard I almost pee. Luckily there's a bathroom nearby.
I go back to my seat, give my new hockey-challenged friend a beer, his girlfriend a beer (which she says is nicer than anything her boyfriend has ever given her....I shoulda hit that), and watch the 2nd period. By the end of the 2nd, it's 6-4 Nashville, and already the highest scoring game I've ever witnessed live.
A guy dressed as Richard Simmons wins the 80's contest and the 87 Town Car. Yes, I actually witnessed that.
I stayed put for the 3rd, didn't need anymore 2 dollar beers. (don't wanna stagger back to the hotel drunk in a strange town...plus my flight leaves at 8AM), and watched Minnesota come back to tie it 6-6. The game goes to overtime, and my hometown boy Paul Kariya gets hauled down with 38 seconds left in OT, and gets a penalty shot...and hits the crossbar. Goes to a shootout...and Minnesota wins. 7-6. Fucking incredible game.
Back to hotel. Up till 3AM. More Roseanne. Okay, more Miller Lite too. Wake up at 5:30. To head to Chi-Town.
That's part 2. Sorry it's so long. This is for me, as much as you. If any of this seemed wholly unnecessary or pointless, please tell me.
Part 3 - Chicago/Pittsburgh/Boston....available upon request. That means post comments, and tell me you like what you're reading. If not....well, screw you too. : )
If you're new to my...space (get it?), or you dunno what the fuck I'm talkin about, scroll down below this entry to "America, part 1". It should help you catch up.
Anyways, here's part 2 of my epic odyssey thru the US and A, as Borat says. Well, he wouldn't say odyssey, but you get the idea.
Frontier Airlines rules. They have the TV's in every seatback, like Westjet does. But you can pay for PPV movies on it, or just watch DirectTV. I splurged and spent 8 bucks to watch "The Break Up". Shitty movie. But the flight was over before I even got uncomfy in my seat. So, mission accomplished.
NASHVILLE
First thing I did when I got there was call my bank, since they put a hold on a large portion of my last (!) work check, for some reason. I had 12 dollars to my name at that point, and if they wouldn't clear the hold...well...the rest of my trip would have been less entertaining than the shitty movie I saw on the plane. Anyways, after 20 minutes of transfers and delays, I got access to my money. Now that I had 300 bucks in my pocket...2 dollars for public transit with the locals, or 9 bucks for the cushy airport shuttle, that drops me off in front of my hotel?
Do I really need to answer that?
After the shuttle dropped me off, I checked in quickly and went to my room. It was...okay. I was expecting a hotel, where you enter your room from a hallway. Ya know, indoors. This was more like a motel, where you enter your room from...outside. At first I was kinda disappointed I spent 100 bucks a night for this...but when I opened the door again, and saw the Tennessee State Capitol staring back at me, from across the street...it seemed like a wise investment.
I abandoned my "3 block radius" rule, since the downtown core of Nashville is quite small, and easy to navigate. Downhill means you're headed towards downtown. Uphill means away from downtown. I'm horrible with directions, and even I could figure that out.
Anyways, my first stop had to be...a bar. I know this isn't unusual. But in Nashville, the bars are actually the main tourist draws. Down the main strip of downtown (Broadway), there's 4 blocks of "Honky Tonks". They're bars that have live country music, from 11AM - 4AM, everyday. I ducked into the first one I saw, and it was pretty cool. Lotsa memorabilia on the walls, cool layout, and a live country performer right in front of me. At 4PM. On a tuesday.
After I was in there for 2 beers (BTW, that's how I told time on the trip....a hockey game was 5 beers, football game was 6, a restaurant dinner was 3, etc) he started to sing a song called "The Alcohol of Fame". It was the funniest song I have ever heard. It's the soundtrack to my life. Some of the stunning lyrics:
"I have been inducted into the alco-hol of fame,
It took 23 buds before the police came,
Yes, I'm a member of the alco-hol of fame,
These bitches will never look at me the same"
Cuz I made somethin of my name. I got game!
I'm in the f'n alco-hol of fame"
That's the only part I remember. I was laughing so hard, I think I missed half the song. It was fucking awesome. I've been trying to download it since I got home, but I never asked the guy his name, and I can't find it.
The best part? There were 4 people in the bar the time. Me, a 60+ couple, and the bartender chicky. That's it. The other 3 must have thought I was completely retarded...cuz I could NOT stop laughing.
Anyways, these guys make money from tips, and have a big tip jar on the front of the stage. I tipped him 5 bucks, and he stopped in the middle of his song and thanked me, which I thought was pretty cool. Cuz I'm a foreigner, and I crave attention.
That was bar # 6, by the way. The Denver Chilis does count, it's my blog dammit.
I left there, and went....next door. Bar # 7. There were 9 customers this time. The singer there was an old guy, not very entertaining....I just had 1 beer, and sat in the back. I left there after 20 minutes, without tipping, which got me a super loud "THANKS BUDDY" as I walked out. That made me laugh.
After that, I covered pretty much all of downtown, which was pretty cool....but small. I realized right away that 3 days here was going to be a waste of my time. Turns out I was sorta wrong, thankfully. Sorta.
It was bout 6PM by now, and dark, so I figured I'd grab some food downtown and then just chill in my hotel room for the night. I went to a sports bar (#8) across the street from the hockey arena. For some retarded reason, I ordered the fried catfish...which was actually good. I also ordered a beer, and when the waitress brought my food, she brought me...2 budweisers. I was totally confused. And since they were 4.25 US, I wasn't planning on having 2 there. I coulda had them for 2.50 across the street. I kinda stared at them blankly (since I was buzzin from the previous beers from previous bars). The waitress noticed my confusion, came over, and said,
"Honey, if you're wonderin why ya got 2, it's happy hour. 2 for 1 beers, 4 to 7PM".
I had found my new hangout from 4-7PM, obviously.
After discovering my new local, I walked back to the hotel, grabbed a 6er from the deli/beer store attached to the hotel, and proceeded to stay up till 4AM watching a Roseanne marathon on Nick at Nite. Fuck you, after some catfish and a few Miller Lites, that show is hilarious.
Day 2 is kinda boring, and the reason I wish I hadn't spent 3 days in Nashville. I got up at 11AM, checked out every single tourist site in the city (except for the country music hall of fame...I wasn't spending 20 bucks to see Elvis's cadillac....by the way, isn't he the king of rock n roll? Why is his fucking caddy in the CMHF?). There's actually a lot of cool stuff in Nashville, but I'm not a big american history buff, so a lot of it was lost on me.
I went to one more honky tonk (bar #9), which was lame cuz a band was in soundcheck for their evening show, then went back to the happy hour bar. Had a few beers, and "sausage and cheese" off the menu. I got fried sausage, crackers...and a BLOCK of cheese. No joke. It was an appetizer plate my dad serves whenever anyone comes over, except I had to cut my own cheese, pardon the pun. It was damn good...but very odd. Anyways, after that, I gathered more Miller Lite goodness from the deli, and ended up ordering pizza at 3AM. I'm like a fat chick.
Last day was by far my favourite. Cuz there was hockey involved, obviously. And this was definitely the strangest hockey game I've ever been to.
I pretty much spent all day loungin in my hotel, since I had seen everything. This is where I think I messed up a bit, by the way. I could have spent all of day 2 somewhere else, and explored Nashville for all of day 3 before the hockey game...and I wouldn't have missed anything. On day 2, I could have caught a day-trip flight to Birmingham, AL...or taken the bus to Bowling Green, KY. But oh well, hindsight is 20/20. (My first and only cliche...leave me alone).
Anyways, the hockey game made it all worth it. I went to my local pub beforehand (across the street from the arena), and a local sports radio station was broadcasting from there. Apparently they do that before all Predator games. And, to my amazement, it meant that beers were 2 for 1...and appys were too. Well, I managed to consume more sausage than I thought possible (as I typed that, I pictured the 156 homo jokes my idiot friends could have oh so creatively come up with....eat shit and die, compadres), and I waddled across the street to, bar none, the most entertaining hockey game of my life. On the ice, and off.
I arrive 45 minutes before the puck drop. I'm sitting there, minding my own business, reading the big screen, and I see:
"80's night! Wear a costume, win a prize! Grand prize: 1987 Lincoln Town Car!"
I couldn't make this shit up if I tried, folks.
That took a few minutes to sink in. I mean...people, if you ever go to Nashville....you'll see that the locals dress like it's 1987 anyways. Why have an 80's night? And why give away a 19 year old car as a grand prize? Is THIS how you attract people to a hockey game?
Next on the screen:
"If you would like to learn the rules of hockey, or if you see something you don't understand tonight, don't hesitate to go to section 302 or 104 and pick up a copy of the official NHL rulebook! Knowledge is power! GO PREDS!"
Um, wow. I'm in the hockey twilight zone.
Not 5 minutes later, the screen of wisdom actually displayed something that TOPPED all of that, much to my amazement.
"Attention Pred fans! Every thursday in november, when the Preds are playing a western conference foe, concession beers are 2 dollars! GO PREDS!"
I read this, and do the math. It's thursday. It's november. The Predators are playing the Minnesota Wild. Last time I checked, the Wild were in the western conference.
I jump up faster than a white guy on the subway in the bronx (foreshadowing again...wait for part 4 of the quadrilogy), and head for the beer stand. I get 4 beers for 8 dollars. Even cheaper than the bar I was at across the street.
This is officially the greatest arena ever, and the game hasn't even started yet.
I get back to my seat, and there's a guy and his girlfriend sitting behind me. Remember, I'm really early, so no one else is even in my section yet, except for these 2. But they turned out to be awesome. The guy was from Minnesota, and loved hockey. But, as it turns out, he hasn't watched it in a few years...and had no clue what the hell was goin on. He was comic gold though.
I told him I just came from Denver, and saw the Avs play. He said, and I quote:
"Really, oh, that's so awesome....seeing Patrick Roy play must have been epic".
If you read part 1...Patrick Roy was being inducted into the hall of fame the night I was in Denver.. That means he hasn't played in the NHL in 4 years. Plus....EPIC? Are you kidding me? I can't believe he used that word in a sentence. He looked....well, he looked primed to win the Town Car, people. 1987, yo.
I just sorta nodded and smiled....and didn't know what to say.
He did his best to top that though, don't worry. I asked him bout being from Minnesota, and if he was a big Wild fan....he explained that he has lived in Tennessee for 10 years now, but he was a big North Stars fan back in the day, before they moved to Dallas. And it was a shame, cuz Minnesota "had the 2nd longest running NHL franchise, besides Montreal".
Umm.
In reality, the North Stars came into the league in 67...and there were 5 other franchises (and the Habs) that existed much longer than the North Stars. I didn't feel like breaking his little Minnesotan heart though, so I kept that to myself. In the meantime, he continued to spit chewing tobacco into his can behind me, and his girlfriend begged for a hot dog. He declined. I laughed. No, I'm not kidding.
I would like to point out again that all this happened before the game had even started.
So...game time. Nashville jumped out to 3-1 lead at the end of the 1st, and I drank my 4 beer. I become brave at this point, and decided to peel off my hoodie, revealing my canucks jersey. I've had a few, so I don't realize that the canuck hatred isn't quite at the level as it was in Denver. In fact, no one in my section even notices my jersey for the whole intermission. I decide to go for a walk to get more 2 dollar beers, and receive one of the funniest comments of my life.
"HEY MAN! That is the coolest jersey ever! I LOVED THE HARTFORD WHALERS!"
Umm....what?
I'm wearing a vintage jersey....the blue one, with the hockey stick. But...the Whalers? What?
I proceed to stop and laugh so hard I almost pee. Luckily there's a bathroom nearby.
I go back to my seat, give my new hockey-challenged friend a beer, his girlfriend a beer (which she says is nicer than anything her boyfriend has ever given her....I shoulda hit that), and watch the 2nd period. By the end of the 2nd, it's 6-4 Nashville, and already the highest scoring game I've ever witnessed live.
A guy dressed as Richard Simmons wins the 80's contest and the 87 Town Car. Yes, I actually witnessed that.
I stayed put for the 3rd, didn't need anymore 2 dollar beers. (don't wanna stagger back to the hotel drunk in a strange town...plus my flight leaves at 8AM), and watched Minnesota come back to tie it 6-6. The game goes to overtime, and my hometown boy Paul Kariya gets hauled down with 38 seconds left in OT, and gets a penalty shot...and hits the crossbar. Goes to a shootout...and Minnesota wins. 7-6. Fucking incredible game.
Back to hotel. Up till 3AM. More Roseanne. Okay, more Miller Lite too. Wake up at 5:30. To head to Chi-Town.
That's part 2. Sorry it's so long. This is for me, as much as you. If any of this seemed wholly unnecessary or pointless, please tell me.
Part 3 - Chicago/Pittsburgh/Boston....available upon request. That means post comments, and tell me you like what you're reading. If not....well, screw you too. : )
Monday, November 27, 2006
America, Part 1
Okay, I think I have consumed enough liquor to write part 1 of my epic trek through the land of the free, home of the jack in the box.
GAME ON!
Pre-trip
Twas the night before vacation, and all the thru the bar, the only creature that was stirring, was requesting another ceasaaaaar. It rhymes people, use your damn imagination. Yeah, I went out the night before my trip...with Jamie, Deann, Sonny G, and Drew. Lisa ended up being there too. Twas a good time. Came home, drank more. Bought Morgan a plane ticket from Jackson Hole to Denver, so we could hang out for a couple of days. Well, I didn't really give her much choice (or notice), but it worked out well.
Day 1 - Woke up in the morning, not that hungover, and made my way to the bus station to catch the bus to SeaTac airport. The tone was set for my trip while I was waiting outside the bus station, getting some fresh air. Some guy came out of the station, directly up to me and asked:
"Where's the closest bar?"
I pointed him to the Ivanhoe/Cobalt area across the street, then thought better of it and told him to take the skytrain downtown.
Why is this important?
Cuz I figured that would be me, as soon as I got off every plane/bus/subway/elephant on my trip. Turns out I wasn't far off. Except for the elephant.
The bus was supposed to take 4 hours, 45 minutes. It actually took 6 hours and 30 minutes. In 2 words....it sucked. I hate buses. Oh well, at least I avoided public transit in Seattle. So far so good.
Then I find out my flight to Denver is delayed by 2 hours...and will arrive 10 minutes after the hotel's airport shuttle stops running. Stupid airplanes.
I had 3 hours to kill, so I had a couple drinks in the airport bar (bar # 1), including a bloody mary that was 9.50! No wonder the drink prices weren't on the menu. Bastards.
Board plane to....
Denver
Denver has a massive airport. I finally get out of there, and catch a cab to the hotel. My first question? "Where can I get some beer around here?" Unfortunately, the driver pointed out it was already 1AM, and stores only sell till 1AM. And my hotel's bar closes at 1:30. And the ride takes a half hour. BLAH. Oh well, it was a cool ride. The taxi driver was awesome...he told me lotsa stories bout shitkicking kids that wouldn't pay him, how he was in the army rangers and such. Why is this entertaining? He was 5'1. And I was still scared. Needless to say, I paid my fare.
All 53 dollars of it. Stupid fucking Denver is massive. It was 26 miles to the hotel...and I stayed 9 miles from downtown! If my flight hadn't been delayed, the hotel airport shuttle was....free. Dammit.
To top things off, the bar closed AS I ARRIVED in the hotel. So I went up to my room, watched some TV, and passed out.
Day 2 - Wake up @ 11. Decide to investigate my room, and find...the MINI BAR. Why didn't I look for that the night before, you ask? Cuz I ate a lot of glue as a kid, and don't always use my f'n brain. Good work, fatty. Oh well. Next up, I do what I always do when I wake up somewhere new. I walk 3 blocks in each direction from my hotel, to see what's around. On this walk I found 3 useful things...
1. Liquor store. Open till 11. PM.
2. The hood. Apparently I missed the "Stay out whitey" sign before entering. Oops. Let's just say this cracker wasn't stayin for long.
3. The bus stop, cuz I needed to take the bus downtown sooner or later, since my next 2 nights would be spent down there (Actually, we just took a cab, so this turned out to be pointless...like most of the stuff I do).
Around 1PM, the lobby bar (# 2) opened. I had 2 hours to kill before I had to get on the (free) airport shuttle to go meet Morgan. 4 beers and the 1st half of a college football game later, I was good to go.
Now the rest of day 2 all the way to early day 4 are pretty much like Morgan described in her blog, at this link: http://blog.myspace.com/missmorganelaine
Read it, dammit.
I would like to point out 1 big flaw, and add onto 3 other things.
1. I did NOT dance. I did sing. But I did NOT dance.
Additions -
1. The Ramada hotel bar (bar # 4, bar # 3 was Doubletree hotel sports bar) she's talking about...I ended up staying at THAT hotel the next night. The waitress loved me, and put Coors on special for 2 bucks a bottle, cuz she knew that's what I was drinking the night before. I love denver.
2. I can't even begin to tell you how funny Borat was. It was sooo horribly wrong and politically incorrect (eg. "The running of the Jew"), but it was so beyond hilarious. I've never laughed harder at a movie. GO SEE IT....if you're not easily offended...and if you're not jewish, uzbeki, or scared of testicles.
3. Having Morgan there was awesome....we had a great time. She snores. Yeah, I said it. And if drinking at Chili's counts...that's bar # 5.
*** SIDE NOTE ***
My wacky asian neighbour is shovelling the WHOLE BACK ALLEY. It's 11PM. I'm thinking bout hucking some fortune cookies at him. All the fortunes inside will read:
"Confucius say shoverring bad! terevison good! GO THE FUCK INSIDE JET RI!"
*** SIDE NOTE OVER ***
Day 4 - After Morgan left, I walked across the street to the Ramada, and hung out there all day till the hockey game. The pepsi center is super nice. I just happened to be there the night Patrick Roy got inducted into the hall of fame (and Gargs went to the hall of fame in Toronto that day too, not knowing it was closed becuz of the induction cememony). Anyways, it was super cool to see. The guy sitting beside me with his son didn't know much bout hockey, so I explained the rules, and he bought be 2 beers. Good trade.
I did make the "mistake" of taking off my hoodie in the 2nd period. The guy next to me noticed my canucks jersey, and told the woman next to him. Loud. So pretty much the whole section started to boo me. Pretty badly. It was awesome. I stood up and bowed. They boo'd more. By the way, Edmonton won 2-1, and I was obviously an Oilers fan at that point. For some reason, I wasn't the most popular person in the place.
Next up, went back to the hotel, and drank the 2 dollar beers described above at the hotel bar, cuz Jenni is such a sweet girl. And the only other guy in the place, a salesman from Phoenix stuck in the hotel for a month on a business trip, bought me 2 beers and gave me half his pizza.
Day 5 - Got up in the morning, and took the shuttle to the massive airport. Boarded my flight to Nashville, which will be part 2.
Brief summary of Denver - Great city. Downtown is awesome, and set up very well for tourists. The city is basically flat, which I totally didn't expect. The mountains are far away. I always thought the "mile high air" thing was crap, since I've been to much higher places. It's not. I was totally outta breath walking short distances, especially uphill (shut up bastards, I know I'm fat and out of shape, this was different). Pepsi Center was killer. Denver people love Canadians, and know a lot about it, apparently cuz of the skiing similarities. There was even a Canadian flag in front of the Doubletree (which I saluted both days I was there...I saved the anthem for the NYC subway, ask Jeff).
# of bars so far - 5 (if you count chilis)
# of beers purchased for me by kind americans - 5, plus pizza
That's bout all I got for now.
Don't worry. Part 2 won't be as long. Just so you know, this took 1 hour, 8 minutes, and 2 caesars to write.
GAME ON!
Pre-trip
Twas the night before vacation, and all the thru the bar, the only creature that was stirring, was requesting another ceasaaaaar. It rhymes people, use your damn imagination. Yeah, I went out the night before my trip...with Jamie, Deann, Sonny G, and Drew. Lisa ended up being there too. Twas a good time. Came home, drank more. Bought Morgan a plane ticket from Jackson Hole to Denver, so we could hang out for a couple of days. Well, I didn't really give her much choice (or notice), but it worked out well.
Day 1 - Woke up in the morning, not that hungover, and made my way to the bus station to catch the bus to SeaTac airport. The tone was set for my trip while I was waiting outside the bus station, getting some fresh air. Some guy came out of the station, directly up to me and asked:
"Where's the closest bar?"
I pointed him to the Ivanhoe/Cobalt area across the street, then thought better of it and told him to take the skytrain downtown.
Why is this important?
Cuz I figured that would be me, as soon as I got off every plane/bus/subway/elephant on my trip. Turns out I wasn't far off. Except for the elephant.
The bus was supposed to take 4 hours, 45 minutes. It actually took 6 hours and 30 minutes. In 2 words....it sucked. I hate buses. Oh well, at least I avoided public transit in Seattle. So far so good.
Then I find out my flight to Denver is delayed by 2 hours...and will arrive 10 minutes after the hotel's airport shuttle stops running. Stupid airplanes.
I had 3 hours to kill, so I had a couple drinks in the airport bar (bar # 1), including a bloody mary that was 9.50! No wonder the drink prices weren't on the menu. Bastards.
Board plane to....
Denver
Denver has a massive airport. I finally get out of there, and catch a cab to the hotel. My first question? "Where can I get some beer around here?" Unfortunately, the driver pointed out it was already 1AM, and stores only sell till 1AM. And my hotel's bar closes at 1:30. And the ride takes a half hour. BLAH. Oh well, it was a cool ride. The taxi driver was awesome...he told me lotsa stories bout shitkicking kids that wouldn't pay him, how he was in the army rangers and such. Why is this entertaining? He was 5'1. And I was still scared. Needless to say, I paid my fare.
All 53 dollars of it. Stupid fucking Denver is massive. It was 26 miles to the hotel...and I stayed 9 miles from downtown! If my flight hadn't been delayed, the hotel airport shuttle was....free. Dammit.
To top things off, the bar closed AS I ARRIVED in the hotel. So I went up to my room, watched some TV, and passed out.
Day 2 - Wake up @ 11. Decide to investigate my room, and find...the MINI BAR. Why didn't I look for that the night before, you ask? Cuz I ate a lot of glue as a kid, and don't always use my f'n brain. Good work, fatty. Oh well. Next up, I do what I always do when I wake up somewhere new. I walk 3 blocks in each direction from my hotel, to see what's around. On this walk I found 3 useful things...
1. Liquor store. Open till 11. PM.
2. The hood. Apparently I missed the "Stay out whitey" sign before entering. Oops. Let's just say this cracker wasn't stayin for long.
3. The bus stop, cuz I needed to take the bus downtown sooner or later, since my next 2 nights would be spent down there (Actually, we just took a cab, so this turned out to be pointless...like most of the stuff I do).
Around 1PM, the lobby bar (# 2) opened. I had 2 hours to kill before I had to get on the (free) airport shuttle to go meet Morgan. 4 beers and the 1st half of a college football game later, I was good to go.
Now the rest of day 2 all the way to early day 4 are pretty much like Morgan described in her blog, at this link: http://blog.myspace.com/missmorganelaine
Read it, dammit.
I would like to point out 1 big flaw, and add onto 3 other things.
1. I did NOT dance. I did sing. But I did NOT dance.
Additions -
1. The Ramada hotel bar (bar # 4, bar # 3 was Doubletree hotel sports bar) she's talking about...I ended up staying at THAT hotel the next night. The waitress loved me, and put Coors on special for 2 bucks a bottle, cuz she knew that's what I was drinking the night before. I love denver.
2. I can't even begin to tell you how funny Borat was. It was sooo horribly wrong and politically incorrect (eg. "The running of the Jew"), but it was so beyond hilarious. I've never laughed harder at a movie. GO SEE IT....if you're not easily offended...and if you're not jewish, uzbeki, or scared of testicles.
3. Having Morgan there was awesome....we had a great time. She snores. Yeah, I said it. And if drinking at Chili's counts...that's bar # 5.
*** SIDE NOTE ***
My wacky asian neighbour is shovelling the WHOLE BACK ALLEY. It's 11PM. I'm thinking bout hucking some fortune cookies at him. All the fortunes inside will read:
"Confucius say shoverring bad! terevison good! GO THE FUCK INSIDE JET RI!"
*** SIDE NOTE OVER ***
Day 4 - After Morgan left, I walked across the street to the Ramada, and hung out there all day till the hockey game. The pepsi center is super nice. I just happened to be there the night Patrick Roy got inducted into the hall of fame (and Gargs went to the hall of fame in Toronto that day too, not knowing it was closed becuz of the induction cememony). Anyways, it was super cool to see. The guy sitting beside me with his son didn't know much bout hockey, so I explained the rules, and he bought be 2 beers. Good trade.
I did make the "mistake" of taking off my hoodie in the 2nd period. The guy next to me noticed my canucks jersey, and told the woman next to him. Loud. So pretty much the whole section started to boo me. Pretty badly. It was awesome. I stood up and bowed. They boo'd more. By the way, Edmonton won 2-1, and I was obviously an Oilers fan at that point. For some reason, I wasn't the most popular person in the place.
Next up, went back to the hotel, and drank the 2 dollar beers described above at the hotel bar, cuz Jenni is such a sweet girl. And the only other guy in the place, a salesman from Phoenix stuck in the hotel for a month on a business trip, bought me 2 beers and gave me half his pizza.
Day 5 - Got up in the morning, and took the shuttle to the massive airport. Boarded my flight to Nashville, which will be part 2.
Brief summary of Denver - Great city. Downtown is awesome, and set up very well for tourists. The city is basically flat, which I totally didn't expect. The mountains are far away. I always thought the "mile high air" thing was crap, since I've been to much higher places. It's not. I was totally outta breath walking short distances, especially uphill (shut up bastards, I know I'm fat and out of shape, this was different). Pepsi Center was killer. Denver people love Canadians, and know a lot about it, apparently cuz of the skiing similarities. There was even a Canadian flag in front of the Doubletree (which I saluted both days I was there...I saved the anthem for the NYC subway, ask Jeff).
# of bars so far - 5 (if you count chilis)
# of beers purchased for me by kind americans - 5, plus pizza
That's bout all I got for now.
Don't worry. Part 2 won't be as long. Just so you know, this took 1 hour, 8 minutes, and 2 caesars to write.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Beantown
I'm in Boston.
When in Boston, I highly recommend finding a "dive bar" and seeing how the locals live. Every single person that came in there tonight (except for me) goes there every single night. At first, I thought they'd just ignore me and treat me as an outsider. Boy was I wrong....these people are awesome. We watched football and cartoons all night, but it was hilarious. It's pretty much a running theme for my trip (when I get home, you'll hear all bout it, don't worry).
Anyways....I gotta sleep off these 17 miller lites.
When in Boston, I highly recommend finding a "dive bar" and seeing how the locals live. Every single person that came in there tonight (except for me) goes there every single night. At first, I thought they'd just ignore me and treat me as an outsider. Boy was I wrong....these people are awesome. We watched football and cartoons all night, but it was hilarious. It's pretty much a running theme for my trip (when I get home, you'll hear all bout it, don't worry).
Anyways....I gotta sleep off these 17 miller lites.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Mike = married!
I know I'm a pretty eloquent guy, most of the time. At least on here.
Stop shaking your head, god dammit. Well, my eloquence, that's going out the fucking window, right now. Go beer!
My best friend got married tonight, in case you weren't keeping score.
It all actually turned out awesome. No one fucked anything up, nothing crazy happened. I did my speech (!), and I didn't hear one cricket noise. No tumbleweeds, nothing. (Only Len will get that, but dammit, it's my fucking blog, I can get as specific as I want).
Mikey was incredible. I can't begin to describe all the amounts of cool he was tonight. I've never been more proud to call the kid my best friend. The kid is oozing charisma. I'm sooo proud of him. I'm a cold guy, not much can get to me, but the wedding ceremony was actually reallly...nice. Mike had tears, Shannon was gorgeous...I had the best seat in the house, right behind them. I had to sign the wedding certificate...wow, that was the worst signature of my life....I was shaking so bad from standing in front of 75 people (and the 153 drinks I've had since friday afternoon)....yeah....apparently my name is:
XXXX$^^N @%BB$&$#/.
There's a click in there, somewhere. !XOBILE.
Anyways, after that, we did some boring stuff you don't wanna hear about. Then...speech time. I was (excuse the expression) shitting my pants. I was reeeeallly scared. And hungover. That didn't help.
Well. Mike had to go up before me...and dear god, he was incredible. I don't think I've ever been more nervous, and his jokes were so good, he had me completely forgetting I had to talk, I was laughing so hard.
I could never top that. Really people, I dunno how to explain it...he was awesome. Eventually I got up there...and it really wasn't so bad. I wasn't exactly incredible, but I wasn't horrible. I got it over with.
After that, Mikey kept it up. I've seen him do the "dance moves" to Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" many a time...but at his wedding? HELLS YEAH. He was awesome. I've probably seen him do that 30 times, but I had tears in my eyes, it was so funny. The kid literally has no fear of anything. Anyone that showed up there not knowing Mikey, or what he was all about...he won their hearts, right there. I wish I had that kinda "testicular fortitude". He's the fucking man.
After that, there was a whole lotta drinking, a lot of Dean Vaughn dancing (which was awesome), and Len eventually passing out in a chair outside the bar. : ) Mikey's stepsister Erin and her boyfriend Will gave me a ride home, which I will be eternally grateful for. I doubt they'll ever read this, but if they do..thank you! So much!
Skynard, if you ever read this, that was one of the coolest weekends ever. Money means nothing, I'll remember all of this stupid shit forever. Damian....I hope you're still married. I can never repay you for saturday. Ask Len...it was legendary. What a fucking day. Jeff (not Gargs, I'm gettin there), say hi to Grandma for me. Bal, thanks for watchin my beers...safest guy in the bar. Milo....Brooklyns, ASAP. Cookie-less. Blackwood...give her another chance...after a glass of wine, that's the most charming girl I've ever met. : ) No shit, I wouldn't dance with any woman in there (cuz I can't dance, take your homo shit elsewhere)...if Mag had asked me I probably woulda stepped up. : ) Gargs...your daughter owned that party. Short of Mag, she was the most charming girl in the tent. Melissa, thanks for putting up with me! Ohhhhh Canada..... (had to say it)
Brown people, you fucking rule. Never comin to a white weddin again, right? At least it didn't last 5 days! Kam (salamander ass caterpillar....okay, you get it) , Sang, Kul, Bal, Sharmila. Marty....umm...the rest of you....thank you.
99% of the people there tonight will never read this...but fuck, I'm so damn proud of the fact that we pulled this off...I don't care.
I mighta looked like a drunken penguin....but dammit, I was the most attractive drunken pengiun anyone's ever seen. Mighta been the haircut, mighta been the booze, but I've never had more confidence in myself....justified or not.
Michael Daly married "Tabatha" Shannon Seddon tonight. Check back here in 20 years or so, and I'll tell ya bout the anniversary.
If I'm invited.
Stop shaking your head, god dammit. Well, my eloquence, that's going out the fucking window, right now. Go beer!
My best friend got married tonight, in case you weren't keeping score.
It all actually turned out awesome. No one fucked anything up, nothing crazy happened. I did my speech (!), and I didn't hear one cricket noise. No tumbleweeds, nothing. (Only Len will get that, but dammit, it's my fucking blog, I can get as specific as I want).
Mikey was incredible. I can't begin to describe all the amounts of cool he was tonight. I've never been more proud to call the kid my best friend. The kid is oozing charisma. I'm sooo proud of him. I'm a cold guy, not much can get to me, but the wedding ceremony was actually reallly...nice. Mike had tears, Shannon was gorgeous...I had the best seat in the house, right behind them. I had to sign the wedding certificate...wow, that was the worst signature of my life....I was shaking so bad from standing in front of 75 people (and the 153 drinks I've had since friday afternoon)....yeah....apparently my name is:
XXXX$^^N @%BB$&$#/.
There's a click in there, somewhere. !XOBILE.
Anyways, after that, we did some boring stuff you don't wanna hear about. Then...speech time. I was (excuse the expression) shitting my pants. I was reeeeallly scared. And hungover. That didn't help.
Well. Mike had to go up before me...and dear god, he was incredible. I don't think I've ever been more nervous, and his jokes were so good, he had me completely forgetting I had to talk, I was laughing so hard.
I could never top that. Really people, I dunno how to explain it...he was awesome. Eventually I got up there...and it really wasn't so bad. I wasn't exactly incredible, but I wasn't horrible. I got it over with.
After that, Mikey kept it up. I've seen him do the "dance moves" to Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" many a time...but at his wedding? HELLS YEAH. He was awesome. I've probably seen him do that 30 times, but I had tears in my eyes, it was so funny. The kid literally has no fear of anything. Anyone that showed up there not knowing Mikey, or what he was all about...he won their hearts, right there. I wish I had that kinda "testicular fortitude". He's the fucking man.
After that, there was a whole lotta drinking, a lot of Dean Vaughn dancing (which was awesome), and Len eventually passing out in a chair outside the bar. : ) Mikey's stepsister Erin and her boyfriend Will gave me a ride home, which I will be eternally grateful for. I doubt they'll ever read this, but if they do..thank you! So much!
Skynard, if you ever read this, that was one of the coolest weekends ever. Money means nothing, I'll remember all of this stupid shit forever. Damian....I hope you're still married. I can never repay you for saturday. Ask Len...it was legendary. What a fucking day. Jeff (not Gargs, I'm gettin there), say hi to Grandma for me. Bal, thanks for watchin my beers...safest guy in the bar. Milo....Brooklyns, ASAP. Cookie-less. Blackwood...give her another chance...after a glass of wine, that's the most charming girl I've ever met. : ) No shit, I wouldn't dance with any woman in there (cuz I can't dance, take your homo shit elsewhere)...if Mag had asked me I probably woulda stepped up. : ) Gargs...your daughter owned that party. Short of Mag, she was the most charming girl in the tent. Melissa, thanks for putting up with me! Ohhhhh Canada..... (had to say it)
Brown people, you fucking rule. Never comin to a white weddin again, right? At least it didn't last 5 days! Kam (salamander ass caterpillar....okay, you get it) , Sang, Kul, Bal, Sharmila. Marty....umm...the rest of you....thank you.
99% of the people there tonight will never read this...but fuck, I'm so damn proud of the fact that we pulled this off...I don't care.
I mighta looked like a drunken penguin....but dammit, I was the most attractive drunken pengiun anyone's ever seen. Mighta been the haircut, mighta been the booze, but I've never had more confidence in myself....justified or not.
Michael Daly married "Tabatha" Shannon Seddon tonight. Check back here in 20 years or so, and I'll tell ya bout the anniversary.
If I'm invited.
Update
Hello people. Magically, I'm still alive. I'm not gonna type out a trip story right now, basically cuz I'm not shitfaced. (Yes, I am occasionally not shitfaced). I'm a lot more creative when I'm bombed. And I'm in the Nashville Public Library, which only gives you a half hour of internet time. Since I spent the first 15 minutes trying to print out my Penguins/Rangers tickets for saturday in Steel Town, I only have 15 minutes left to type. You wondering why it took me 15 minutes to print something? Here's what I had to do:
1. Get login/password from woman at desk.
2. Use login/password on computer at front to have a time and computer assigned to me....even though there's no one here.
3. Go to computer, enter 4 things of info, get access to net.
4. Check mail, print tickets. But...they don't print, even though I'm sitting next to a printer.
5. Go ask front desk lady what the dilly is. She says my request was sent to the "printing station" so I have to go to THAT computer and print it.
6. Go to that computer. It requires a card.
7. Go back to lady to ask about this card. She tells me that it costs a dollar, and the machine is ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LIBRARY. Why you ask? I've got no fucking idea. Welcome to the dirty south.
8. Go buy card.
9. Come back to printing station, and FINALLY get my tickets.
10. Type this all out, which used up the rest of my internet time.
For those of you who haven't been informed about my itinerary yet....I went to Denver for 4 days (2 with Morgan). I'm now in Nashville, where I have been for 3 days. Tomorrow, I leave for Chicago, for 1 day. Then Pittsburgh for 1 day, Boston for 2 days, and NYC for 3 days. I'll probably have lotsa time to type in Boston, since my Bruins tickets didn't come in the mail in fucking time.
Anyways, peace out....email me if ya bored.
1. Get login/password from woman at desk.
2. Use login/password on computer at front to have a time and computer assigned to me....even though there's no one here.
3. Go to computer, enter 4 things of info, get access to net.
4. Check mail, print tickets. But...they don't print, even though I'm sitting next to a printer.
5. Go ask front desk lady what the dilly is. She says my request was sent to the "printing station" so I have to go to THAT computer and print it.
6. Go to that computer. It requires a card.
7. Go back to lady to ask about this card. She tells me that it costs a dollar, and the machine is ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LIBRARY. Why you ask? I've got no fucking idea. Welcome to the dirty south.
8. Go buy card.
9. Come back to printing station, and FINALLY get my tickets.
10. Type this all out, which used up the rest of my internet time.
For those of you who haven't been informed about my itinerary yet....I went to Denver for 4 days (2 with Morgan). I'm now in Nashville, where I have been for 3 days. Tomorrow, I leave for Chicago, for 1 day. Then Pittsburgh for 1 day, Boston for 2 days, and NYC for 3 days. I'll probably have lotsa time to type in Boston, since my Bruins tickets didn't come in the mail in fucking time.
Anyways, peace out....email me if ya bored.
Wednesday, November 8, 2006
Freedom
A few of you have asked bout the diary blog. It's just something I wrote to myself last night to try and make sense of all the dumb shit that goes through my head.
Oh yeah, I'm also unemployed now.
Oh yeah, I'm also unemployed now.
Wednesday, November 1, 2006
Note to Self
Saturday, Nov 4th, 10AM - Evanescence/Stone Sour tickets go on sale. Buy them. As close as humanly possible to Amy Lee.
Jan 18th, 6PM. Go to concert. Drool on Amy Lee. Hopefully don't get removed from premises.
Jan 18th, 6PM. Go to concert. Drool on Amy Lee. Hopefully don't get removed from premises.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Trip Styles
What up? Okay, here's the dilly. I thought about it for weeks, planned every waking moment of my day (except when I was at work....honest Bal, I was on the phone all day)...and came up with 32 plans, which all included New Orleans. Then my friend Jeff asked me something I hadn't considered, for some reason:
"Dude, why are you going to New Orleans? I thought you liked cold weather?"
Well, slap my ass and call me susan. My vertically challenged supervisor has a damn good point. I DO like cold weather. I went to Alaska for Christmas, remember? In fact, I despise pretty much anything but cold weather. I did travel around southern europe in the middle of the summer...but I really hated the weather. I'm not the smallest guy. Hell, I'm the size of a small village. Doing long division in my head makes me sweat (yes, I can do long division in my head...I know you're jealous)...anything above 21 degrees celsius (like 70 F to you backwards americans), and I'm uncomfortable.
So, New Orleans is out. Well, the weather was a large consideration, but I also didn't wanna get murdered for my ipod. That might sound kinda prejudiced, but...fuck you, I love my ipod.
So where am I going, you ask? I decided on Denver, Nashville, and Chicago. November 10th - 19th. 3 days in each city, basically. Before you try to tell me that Nashville is in the "south" and it's warm...go look at the november averages. It might not be covered in snow like Denver or Chicago, but it's definitely not warm. So there.
I already got tickets to 2 NHL games....Colorado/Edmonton, and Nashville/Minnesota. That = cool. I was gonna go with the ghetto hostels that I usually stay in, but fuck that, not this time. Every hotel I'm staying in has a bar, and I was smart enough not to book 6AM flights this time, so I can sleep off my hangovers before I move onto a new city.
Other than the trip, what's goin on? Mikey's stag is tomorrow. Paintball is...10 hours and 45 minutes from now. I actually typed out "I can't wait to unload on Daly's face"....wow....that's wrong on so many levels. PAINTBALLS PEOPLE.
After that, it's poker, bars, debauchery, etc. If he doesn't throw up on himself, well...I'll feel cheated.
I'm the best man at the wedding, which means 3 things. First, I have to get my hair cut. That totally sucks. But I can live with it, as long as I can dye it a very light colour. Next, I have to do a speech. In case you didn't know, I have an intense fear of public speaking....so I'm totally freaking about this. Strangers, I could deal with....but I'm gonna know like 80% of the people there. Blah. At least I have a date! Third...no offence to Shannon, cuz I know it's for the best, but...I'm kinda losing my best friend. 20+ years of the stupidest shit imaginable...I'm gonna miss it. I've had 2 years to get used to him actually growing up and being a mature, upstanding guy....but god dammit, it still sucks. Not only that...Danny and Rob are gettin married in the next year...fuck, even Jess will soon. It's pretty surreal. And to think, I was THIS CLOSE to being that guy, 4 years ago. Funny how things work out.
Anyways I'm out....you caterpillar ass, salamander ass muthafuckas. Kam knows what I'm talkin about.
EDIT....I just re-read that. Danny and Rob are getting married soon...but not to each other. Just thought I'd clear that up. If it were up to Danny, that might be a possibility though. If you know Danny....you know what I'm talking bout. Creeeeepy.
"Dude, why are you going to New Orleans? I thought you liked cold weather?"
Well, slap my ass and call me susan. My vertically challenged supervisor has a damn good point. I DO like cold weather. I went to Alaska for Christmas, remember? In fact, I despise pretty much anything but cold weather. I did travel around southern europe in the middle of the summer...but I really hated the weather. I'm not the smallest guy. Hell, I'm the size of a small village. Doing long division in my head makes me sweat (yes, I can do long division in my head...I know you're jealous)...anything above 21 degrees celsius (like 70 F to you backwards americans), and I'm uncomfortable.
So, New Orleans is out. Well, the weather was a large consideration, but I also didn't wanna get murdered for my ipod. That might sound kinda prejudiced, but...fuck you, I love my ipod.
So where am I going, you ask? I decided on Denver, Nashville, and Chicago. November 10th - 19th. 3 days in each city, basically. Before you try to tell me that Nashville is in the "south" and it's warm...go look at the november averages. It might not be covered in snow like Denver or Chicago, but it's definitely not warm. So there.
I already got tickets to 2 NHL games....Colorado/Edmonton, and Nashville/Minnesota. That = cool. I was gonna go with the ghetto hostels that I usually stay in, but fuck that, not this time. Every hotel I'm staying in has a bar, and I was smart enough not to book 6AM flights this time, so I can sleep off my hangovers before I move onto a new city.
Other than the trip, what's goin on? Mikey's stag is tomorrow. Paintball is...10 hours and 45 minutes from now. I actually typed out "I can't wait to unload on Daly's face"....wow....that's wrong on so many levels. PAINTBALLS PEOPLE.
After that, it's poker, bars, debauchery, etc. If he doesn't throw up on himself, well...I'll feel cheated.
I'm the best man at the wedding, which means 3 things. First, I have to get my hair cut. That totally sucks. But I can live with it, as long as I can dye it a very light colour. Next, I have to do a speech. In case you didn't know, I have an intense fear of public speaking....so I'm totally freaking about this. Strangers, I could deal with....but I'm gonna know like 80% of the people there. Blah. At least I have a date! Third...no offence to Shannon, cuz I know it's for the best, but...I'm kinda losing my best friend. 20+ years of the stupidest shit imaginable...I'm gonna miss it. I've had 2 years to get used to him actually growing up and being a mature, upstanding guy....but god dammit, it still sucks. Not only that...Danny and Rob are gettin married in the next year...fuck, even Jess will soon. It's pretty surreal. And to think, I was THIS CLOSE to being that guy, 4 years ago. Funny how things work out.
Anyways I'm out....you caterpillar ass, salamander ass muthafuckas. Kam knows what I'm talkin about.
EDIT....I just re-read that. Danny and Rob are getting married soon...but not to each other. Just thought I'd clear that up. If it were up to Danny, that might be a possibility though. If you know Danny....you know what I'm talking bout. Creeeeepy.
Wednesday, September 6, 2006
Controversy!
Wow people, you amaze me. One pic of Steve Irwin gettin chased by a stingray, and I get the following:
6 comments (of which 5 bascially banished me to hell on the spot), 3 MSN messages (from people that thought it was hilarious, but didn't want the "stigma" of a positive comment attached to them) , and REMOVAL from someones top twentywhatever list.
I just have one thing to say:
Where were all of you when my main pic was making fun of a fucking RETARDED KID for the last month? It's not like I'm new to posting tasteless pictures here. But I do need some consistency people!
Geez.
6 comments (of which 5 bascially banished me to hell on the spot), 3 MSN messages (from people that thought it was hilarious, but didn't want the "stigma" of a positive comment attached to them) , and REMOVAL from someones top twentywhatever list.
I just have one thing to say:
Where were all of you when my main pic was making fun of a fucking RETARDED KID for the last month? It's not like I'm new to posting tasteless pictures here. But I do need some consistency people!
Geez.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
George Bush
The best Dubya description I've ever heard:
Can you take away every single day?
That we have given to another false prophet
Can you give us all a reason not to fall?
Before you take away another broken promise
Show your pretty face, hide the bitter taste
Youre still the rapist of an entire nation
You wanna be the man, you gotta be a man
But you were nothing but a sad insinuation
How can we ever live this down?
Keep your fingers crossed, the truth is at a loss
Big decision for an ordinary coward
The only problem is your fucking rhetoric
Were more in danger then before you took power
Now its just a game, god you'll never change
Youd sell us out if you could only find a buyer
You dont give a shit, as long as idiots
Are in your corner you could set us all on fire
How can we ever live this down?
You never want to be
They only wanted a parody
You want the world to be free
What the hell is free about it?
Now we reached the end, just get it over with
But this is building to an adamant conclusion
Come what ever may, theres gonna be a day
When we have figured out a possible solution
Every thing you've done, is killing everyone
A little smile on a homicidal bastard
You wanna be a man, you gotta have a plan
Another failure is a guaranteed disaster
How can we ever live this down?
You never want to be
They only wanted a parody
You want the world to be free?
What the fuck is free about it?
What the fuck is free about it?
Corey Taylor. Genius.
Can you take away every single day?
That we have given to another false prophet
Can you give us all a reason not to fall?
Before you take away another broken promise
Show your pretty face, hide the bitter taste
Youre still the rapist of an entire nation
You wanna be the man, you gotta be a man
But you were nothing but a sad insinuation
How can we ever live this down?
Keep your fingers crossed, the truth is at a loss
Big decision for an ordinary coward
The only problem is your fucking rhetoric
Were more in danger then before you took power
Now its just a game, god you'll never change
Youd sell us out if you could only find a buyer
You dont give a shit, as long as idiots
Are in your corner you could set us all on fire
How can we ever live this down?
You never want to be
They only wanted a parody
You want the world to be free
What the hell is free about it?
Now we reached the end, just get it over with
But this is building to an adamant conclusion
Come what ever may, theres gonna be a day
When we have figured out a possible solution
Every thing you've done, is killing everyone
A little smile on a homicidal bastard
You wanna be a man, you gotta have a plan
Another failure is a guaranteed disaster
How can we ever live this down?
You never want to be
They only wanted a parody
You want the world to be free?
What the fuck is free about it?
What the fuck is free about it?
Corey Taylor. Genius.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Random Redneck Vacation, V2.0
Okay, I'm back for more. If you have no idea what I'm talking about....read the blog before this, entitled "Random Redneck Vacation, V 1.0".
Where did I leave off? At the bar, with the montananian....montanaites....montanaish....the fucking women from Montana. They were super nice...in other words, they weren't hot. Don't get me wrong, one was cute (she was from Bozeman, MT)...but they were both very...artsy. Indie. The kind of people that make their own clothes, and both are "totally into spirituality". Normally, these are people that I mock, and go out of my way to try to embarrass. But whatever, they were buying my drinks...it's like bribing a dog with treats...doesn't matter who's givin em to me, I just want more. Bartender gave me a free "birthday beer" too, even though my birthday was the day before. I love Montana.
We left the bar, they showed me a few other places in town I hadn't seen, then went to chill down by the river. They met up with another girl there....she was....well, huge. Not really "all you can eat fried chicken" huge....but she definitely...huge. She ironed her clothes in the driveway. That kinda huge. Anyways, they told lunchbox that I was from Canada, and she went off:
"Ohhh my god. My sister lives in Bellingham...she's always tellin me to move up there and meet a canadian guy and get married, cuz Canadians are so nice, and Canada's soooo pretty". And raises her eyebrows at me. Umm....ewww. Why do the fattys always like me?
38 million responses run through my head. "Lard is a prescription drug in Canada...you'd hate it there". Or..."You actually might like Canada. It has a huge asian population. Other than China, it's the only country in the world with more chins than you have". Or my personal favourite: "Have you ever been to Coeur D'Alene? They have all you can eat fried chicken on wednesdays! If you left now, you'll be first in line. Don't forget your wheelbarrow."
I stuck with something much less offensive...or so I thought. I said "good luck with that", and walked in the other direction. Apparently, her 2 friends thought it was hilarious, and totally started baggin on her..."Ouch! You just got shot down hard!", one said. I was gonna throw a harpoon joke in there...but I kept quiet. Anyways, fatty was offended by what I said, so she took off. The other 2 girls thought I was comic gold. So we went back to the bar.
I know what you're thinking....did Tim actually get laid? Sadly, no. One of the chicks had a book club meeting @ 6pm, and had to jet. She was completely shitfaced when she left...I kinda wanted to see that meeting, just to see how her nerdy friends reacted to her drunkenness. But hey, for all I know, book club meetings are drunken nerd orgies. That's something I DIDN'T need to see. Anyways, the other girl (who was the cute one) then decided to tell me bout her BOYFRIEND. Great timing, nerdbomber. I took about 3 minutes to get the hell outta there.
Before I left though, I got to see something absolutely hilarious. I went to the bathroom. There was no men and women signs. Instead, the guys bathroom had a huge sign on it that said "Rock out with your "insert rooster picture" out. Get it? Cock. It actually had a pic of a rooster. On the girls, it said "Rock out with your "insert clam picture" out. An actual clam picture. It was awesome. I love Montana.
So I left after that. Got back to motel...went to gas station, bought more beer. Went to the Mickey D's (across the street....I could actually watch the drive-thru through my motel room window)...came back..and passed out. Woke up at 8PM. Didn't feel like going out. So I drank my 6 pack, watched a "Whose Line is it Anyway" marathon (my alltime favourite show), laughed so hard I farted like 3 times, and passed out at 4AM. Yeah, I farted. Don't hate. By the way, when you're hungry @ like 2:30AM, and everything's closed....nothing is worse than looking up and seeing a Mickey D's drive-thru across the street. Cuz the main restaurant was closed, and I ain't got no car. It was fucking torcher. Assholes. Maybe ditching fatty back at the river was a bad idea. I'm sure she had a VIP card or something. Oh well.
So yeah, I went to bed at 4AM. And woke up at 6AM. To catch the bus home. I decided that it was waaay too inconvenient to go see Morgan. She had her own stuff goin on, and I would have only been able to stay for a day or 2. So I....went home. Get to the bus station (46 feet away), and find out they got a seat for me. Cool. But the bus is 2 hours late. Not cool. I was bout to go back to the motel to sleep for a bit longer, but then I realized...I left the key in my room. I checked out. FUCK. So I hung out at the bus station....wow, fun. Watched some guy freak out cuz the bus was full. He was gonna "sue greyhound", and he didn't care who was in his way, he was getting on that bus, etc. The cop that showed up convinced him otherwise.
So bus shows up...I get on...sitting 2nd row from the front, opposite side from the driver. Dude sits next to me. Not 20 seconds after we sit down....the chick sitting directly behind the driver...she pukes all over the floor in front of her. Twice. Instead of GETTING OFF THE BUS, since we were at a STATION, she pukes on the floor. Guy next to me looks at me and says "Well, aint that an endorsement for every airline in the world. Making a commercial out of the last 20 seconds we just witnessed....everyone in the world would fly instead of taking greyhound".
That was fucking funny.
The guy was from Philly, and was sent to Missoula on a business trip. His company was super cheap, so they flew him into Spokane and made him take the bus to Missoula, and vice versa. We got to talkin bout sports n stuff, he was pretty cool. He actually reminded me of Jeanettes (EX) boyfriend Nick. EX! I'm goin to Vegas! Nick's movin back! That's a whole other story.
Anyways, talked to him till we got to...St Regis. The place where I got kicked outta the gift shop for laughing at their love of trout. Since I wasn't allowed in the gift shop, the bar was off limits, and the restaurant was full, me n Josh (Philly guy) had nothing to do. I went into the store to grab a red bull, and the women behind the counter announces how "f'n tall" I am. And says wow. And asks the other cashier if she's seen someone as tall as me lately. She says no. Wow, that was stimulating. Thanks for pointing out that I'm different from everyone else in there. I was gonna ask her when she didn't comment on the "black guy", or the "guy sniffing the Maxim magazine"...they're different too, ya know. Let's just say, I officially hate St Regis, MT.
Philly boy found redemption though...or so I thought. He spots a...casino! I was STOKED. I was amazed a town that small had a casino, but I had an hour to kill, so we went and checked it out. I have two words for it:
Fucking. Pathetic.
We walked in, and it was 4 video poker machines, and 3 slot machines. That was IT. I think the neon "casino" sign outside was worth more than these machines. They were older than Opal. That's called foreshadowing, people. You'll meet Opal soon.
Obviously, there was no one else in there. But we had time to kill, so we sat down. I lost 15 bucks playing video poker. Fucking Philly guy won 80 bucks on a slot. I knew his name was Josh....but I called him Philly guy. I'm not sure why. Anyways, get this. Worst part of it all? I was diggin through my pockets for change, cuz I'm a video poker addict, and I found...my motel room key. Apparently I didn't leave it in the room....I coulda gone back and slept for another 2 hours, back in Missoula. Dammit. Oh well, now I have a memento of the Brownies Plus Motel. Gnarly. Room 35 is all mine, bitches.
Go to get back on the bus...and some senior citizen couple are in our seats. We were gonna say something, but the guy next to us told us we didn't put anything on our seats, so they weren't "reserved", and were fair game to new passengers. WTF? I didn't realize there was an unwritten code of bus travelling. But apparently, there is. So we go looking for seats. Only ones available were both aisle seats, across from each other, at the back....
Right in front of the bathroom.
That motherfucker smelled like a....well, a bathroom on a bus. I was trying to come up with something more creative, but "bus bathroom" covers it pretty good. It hadn't been cleaned or emptied since the day before. It was due for a cleaning/emptying in Spokane...3 hours away. Me n Philly guy nearly died. We both agreed that it was the only time in our lives that we would volunteer to sit next to a chick who just puked all over herself...cuz it would actually smell better than the can.
Somehow, we survived the trip. I was sittin next to a black dude...I said hi to him, and he looked at me like I had cerebral palsy or something. Not too friendly. But once me n Philly guy got talking bout football, he was all over it. He was from Detroit, and a huge Lions fan. So we all bullshitted bout sports for the 3 hours till Spokane. It went by quick. They both departed there.
When I got back on in Spokane, I claimed a seat up front. I thought I would be by myself, but the last boarding passenger claimed the window seat next to me. At first I thought "oh great, some old broad"...but she turned out to be one of the highlights of my trip.
She was 79 years old, her name was Opal. She lived in Spokane, and was going to Seattle to visit her son, who was a greyhound driver, ironically. At first, she was just a boring old woman...told me all bout her family, etc. Then I told her bout my love of travelling, and she said she loved travelling too, and had been to a lot of places. She told me all bout her Europe travels, and....and then told me bout her first whorehouse experience.
As soon as she said "whorehouse", I nearly fell over laughing. Not something you expect from a 79 year old lady. Turns out she was in San Antonio bout 10 years ago, and her daughter took her to Mexico overnight. Nuevo Laredo. As a joke, she took Opal to a whorehouse. Of course, Opal had no idea what this place was all about. When she finally figured it out, she started quizzing all the women in the place why they would do that to themselves. Problem was, none of them spoke english...so they were all very confused why an old lady was talking to them. One of them guessed she was just an old lesbian, so she kept saying "trescientos pesos, love you". Then she tried to lead Opal to "her room, for azotiana".
In other words...300 pesos for a spanking.
Imagine hearing that from a 79 year old lady. I wasn't the only one laughing....everyone around me was just as amused as I was.
I didn't think she could top that, but she most definitely did.
I was telling her that I would probably miss my bus to Vancouver (since the bus I was on was running 2 hours late), and I would have to wait in Seattle for 5 hours, and catch the 12:30AM bus to Vancouver. Unfortunately, the 12:30 bus doesn't stop in Coquitlam, so I'd have to go all the way downtown, get there at 3:30AM, and wait till the skytrain started running to get home.
She had a brilliant solution. One that she had ACTUALLY USED.
Her son was a driver, so she knew the procedures. Apparently, the bus goes RIGHT BY her house in Spokane. But it's not allowed to stop anywhere but the station, which was a 20 dollar cab ride from her house. Not even for an old lady, just tryin to get home. She also knew that anyone who is caught smoking or drinking on the bus had to be ejected immediately.
So Opal...this 79 year old sweet lady...last year, on her way home from Seattle...got close to her house...walked to the front of the bus....and lit up a cigarette. AND busted a beer outta her purse, and opened it. The driver was obviously a lil shocked, and decided she was an old lady, so he wouldn't kick her off. She started demanding that he stop....cuz if he didn't follow the rules, she would report him. So he stopped, and kicked her offa the bus....right in front of her house.
She suggested that if I didn't wanna go all the way downtown, I should sneak a beer onto the bus, and crack it open near my freeway exit. He'd boot me off, I'd get a cab, and be home in no time.
This woman is my new messiah.
Turns out I didn't need to do that, cuz the bus driver was able to radio ahead and have them hold the 6:20PM bus to Vancouver, till I got there. We got there at 7:20.
I went to get on, and the driver told me I had to go inside and get a ticket. So....I went inside. There was a lineup, like 4 deep. A guy, and 3 latino women, babbling in spanish. Woman behind the counter tells the guy they're sold out, no one is getting tickets going anywhere for that night. The 3 puerto rican princesses decide to discuss this at length, straight out of a J-Lo video. I'm pissed, cuz I just need a piece of fucking paper to get home, so for some reason, I said "Andale!" to them. They weren't amused. So I walked right by them, to the ticket counter, and got my ticket issued. They still weren't amused, but I could care less at that point.
There were only 2 connecting passengers, me and another girl. The rest of the passengers were not amused, cuz we held them up for an hour. But that bus DID stop in Coquitlam, so I didn't have to use Opal's beer trick. I did buy a beer in the gas station in Ellensburg though (before the transfer), just in case. The border guy thought it was a little weird that I was declaring one beer, and nothing else, but he didn't say too much.
I got home at 10:45PM last night. Caught a cab, went to the beer store, came home, and wrote part 1 of my story.
I hope you enjoyed part 2.
If you ever wanna learn something new bout yourself, I highly recommend doing something like I did. Just getting up and going somewhere. No plans, no expectations. I went a long way, to basically nowhere, and back....but it was sooo much fun. I had no choice but to deal with my surroundings. Being shy didn't matter, cuz I wasn't allowed to be. It's a birthday I'll never forget.
Never thought I'd say this, but...thanks America. Can't wait to do it all over again. Maybe I'll make it all the way to Morgan's next time. Or Kaila's? Yakima? Or the whorehouse in Nuevo Laredo?
Sky's the limit.
Where did I leave off? At the bar, with the montananian....montanaites....montanaish....the fucking women from Montana. They were super nice...in other words, they weren't hot. Don't get me wrong, one was cute (she was from Bozeman, MT)...but they were both very...artsy. Indie. The kind of people that make their own clothes, and both are "totally into spirituality". Normally, these are people that I mock, and go out of my way to try to embarrass. But whatever, they were buying my drinks...it's like bribing a dog with treats...doesn't matter who's givin em to me, I just want more. Bartender gave me a free "birthday beer" too, even though my birthday was the day before. I love Montana.
We left the bar, they showed me a few other places in town I hadn't seen, then went to chill down by the river. They met up with another girl there....she was....well, huge. Not really "all you can eat fried chicken" huge....but she definitely...huge. She ironed her clothes in the driveway. That kinda huge. Anyways, they told lunchbox that I was from Canada, and she went off:
"Ohhh my god. My sister lives in Bellingham...she's always tellin me to move up there and meet a canadian guy and get married, cuz Canadians are so nice, and Canada's soooo pretty". And raises her eyebrows at me. Umm....ewww. Why do the fattys always like me?
38 million responses run through my head. "Lard is a prescription drug in Canada...you'd hate it there". Or..."You actually might like Canada. It has a huge asian population. Other than China, it's the only country in the world with more chins than you have". Or my personal favourite: "Have you ever been to Coeur D'Alene? They have all you can eat fried chicken on wednesdays! If you left now, you'll be first in line. Don't forget your wheelbarrow."
I stuck with something much less offensive...or so I thought. I said "good luck with that", and walked in the other direction. Apparently, her 2 friends thought it was hilarious, and totally started baggin on her..."Ouch! You just got shot down hard!", one said. I was gonna throw a harpoon joke in there...but I kept quiet. Anyways, fatty was offended by what I said, so she took off. The other 2 girls thought I was comic gold. So we went back to the bar.
I know what you're thinking....did Tim actually get laid? Sadly, no. One of the chicks had a book club meeting @ 6pm, and had to jet. She was completely shitfaced when she left...I kinda wanted to see that meeting, just to see how her nerdy friends reacted to her drunkenness. But hey, for all I know, book club meetings are drunken nerd orgies. That's something I DIDN'T need to see. Anyways, the other girl (who was the cute one) then decided to tell me bout her BOYFRIEND. Great timing, nerdbomber. I took about 3 minutes to get the hell outta there.
Before I left though, I got to see something absolutely hilarious. I went to the bathroom. There was no men and women signs. Instead, the guys bathroom had a huge sign on it that said "Rock out with your "insert rooster picture" out. Get it? Cock. It actually had a pic of a rooster. On the girls, it said "Rock out with your "insert clam picture" out. An actual clam picture. It was awesome. I love Montana.
So I left after that. Got back to motel...went to gas station, bought more beer. Went to the Mickey D's (across the street....I could actually watch the drive-thru through my motel room window)...came back..and passed out. Woke up at 8PM. Didn't feel like going out. So I drank my 6 pack, watched a "Whose Line is it Anyway" marathon (my alltime favourite show), laughed so hard I farted like 3 times, and passed out at 4AM. Yeah, I farted. Don't hate. By the way, when you're hungry @ like 2:30AM, and everything's closed....nothing is worse than looking up and seeing a Mickey D's drive-thru across the street. Cuz the main restaurant was closed, and I ain't got no car. It was fucking torcher. Assholes. Maybe ditching fatty back at the river was a bad idea. I'm sure she had a VIP card or something. Oh well.
So yeah, I went to bed at 4AM. And woke up at 6AM. To catch the bus home. I decided that it was waaay too inconvenient to go see Morgan. She had her own stuff goin on, and I would have only been able to stay for a day or 2. So I....went home. Get to the bus station (46 feet away), and find out they got a seat for me. Cool. But the bus is 2 hours late. Not cool. I was bout to go back to the motel to sleep for a bit longer, but then I realized...I left the key in my room. I checked out. FUCK. So I hung out at the bus station....wow, fun. Watched some guy freak out cuz the bus was full. He was gonna "sue greyhound", and he didn't care who was in his way, he was getting on that bus, etc. The cop that showed up convinced him otherwise.
So bus shows up...I get on...sitting 2nd row from the front, opposite side from the driver. Dude sits next to me. Not 20 seconds after we sit down....the chick sitting directly behind the driver...she pukes all over the floor in front of her. Twice. Instead of GETTING OFF THE BUS, since we were at a STATION, she pukes on the floor. Guy next to me looks at me and says "Well, aint that an endorsement for every airline in the world. Making a commercial out of the last 20 seconds we just witnessed....everyone in the world would fly instead of taking greyhound".
That was fucking funny.
The guy was from Philly, and was sent to Missoula on a business trip. His company was super cheap, so they flew him into Spokane and made him take the bus to Missoula, and vice versa. We got to talkin bout sports n stuff, he was pretty cool. He actually reminded me of Jeanettes (EX) boyfriend Nick. EX! I'm goin to Vegas! Nick's movin back! That's a whole other story.
Anyways, talked to him till we got to...St Regis. The place where I got kicked outta the gift shop for laughing at their love of trout. Since I wasn't allowed in the gift shop, the bar was off limits, and the restaurant was full, me n Josh (Philly guy) had nothing to do. I went into the store to grab a red bull, and the women behind the counter announces how "f'n tall" I am. And says wow. And asks the other cashier if she's seen someone as tall as me lately. She says no. Wow, that was stimulating. Thanks for pointing out that I'm different from everyone else in there. I was gonna ask her when she didn't comment on the "black guy", or the "guy sniffing the Maxim magazine"...they're different too, ya know. Let's just say, I officially hate St Regis, MT.
Philly boy found redemption though...or so I thought. He spots a...casino! I was STOKED. I was amazed a town that small had a casino, but I had an hour to kill, so we went and checked it out. I have two words for it:
Fucking. Pathetic.
We walked in, and it was 4 video poker machines, and 3 slot machines. That was IT. I think the neon "casino" sign outside was worth more than these machines. They were older than Opal. That's called foreshadowing, people. You'll meet Opal soon.
Obviously, there was no one else in there. But we had time to kill, so we sat down. I lost 15 bucks playing video poker. Fucking Philly guy won 80 bucks on a slot. I knew his name was Josh....but I called him Philly guy. I'm not sure why. Anyways, get this. Worst part of it all? I was diggin through my pockets for change, cuz I'm a video poker addict, and I found...my motel room key. Apparently I didn't leave it in the room....I coulda gone back and slept for another 2 hours, back in Missoula. Dammit. Oh well, now I have a memento of the Brownies Plus Motel. Gnarly. Room 35 is all mine, bitches.
Go to get back on the bus...and some senior citizen couple are in our seats. We were gonna say something, but the guy next to us told us we didn't put anything on our seats, so they weren't "reserved", and were fair game to new passengers. WTF? I didn't realize there was an unwritten code of bus travelling. But apparently, there is. So we go looking for seats. Only ones available were both aisle seats, across from each other, at the back....
Right in front of the bathroom.
That motherfucker smelled like a....well, a bathroom on a bus. I was trying to come up with something more creative, but "bus bathroom" covers it pretty good. It hadn't been cleaned or emptied since the day before. It was due for a cleaning/emptying in Spokane...3 hours away. Me n Philly guy nearly died. We both agreed that it was the only time in our lives that we would volunteer to sit next to a chick who just puked all over herself...cuz it would actually smell better than the can.
Somehow, we survived the trip. I was sittin next to a black dude...I said hi to him, and he looked at me like I had cerebral palsy or something. Not too friendly. But once me n Philly guy got talking bout football, he was all over it. He was from Detroit, and a huge Lions fan. So we all bullshitted bout sports for the 3 hours till Spokane. It went by quick. They both departed there.
When I got back on in Spokane, I claimed a seat up front. I thought I would be by myself, but the last boarding passenger claimed the window seat next to me. At first I thought "oh great, some old broad"...but she turned out to be one of the highlights of my trip.
She was 79 years old, her name was Opal. She lived in Spokane, and was going to Seattle to visit her son, who was a greyhound driver, ironically. At first, she was just a boring old woman...told me all bout her family, etc. Then I told her bout my love of travelling, and she said she loved travelling too, and had been to a lot of places. She told me all bout her Europe travels, and....and then told me bout her first whorehouse experience.
As soon as she said "whorehouse", I nearly fell over laughing. Not something you expect from a 79 year old lady. Turns out she was in San Antonio bout 10 years ago, and her daughter took her to Mexico overnight. Nuevo Laredo. As a joke, she took Opal to a whorehouse. Of course, Opal had no idea what this place was all about. When she finally figured it out, she started quizzing all the women in the place why they would do that to themselves. Problem was, none of them spoke english...so they were all very confused why an old lady was talking to them. One of them guessed she was just an old lesbian, so she kept saying "trescientos pesos, love you". Then she tried to lead Opal to "her room, for azotiana".
In other words...300 pesos for a spanking.
Imagine hearing that from a 79 year old lady. I wasn't the only one laughing....everyone around me was just as amused as I was.
I didn't think she could top that, but she most definitely did.
I was telling her that I would probably miss my bus to Vancouver (since the bus I was on was running 2 hours late), and I would have to wait in Seattle for 5 hours, and catch the 12:30AM bus to Vancouver. Unfortunately, the 12:30 bus doesn't stop in Coquitlam, so I'd have to go all the way downtown, get there at 3:30AM, and wait till the skytrain started running to get home.
She had a brilliant solution. One that she had ACTUALLY USED.
Her son was a driver, so she knew the procedures. Apparently, the bus goes RIGHT BY her house in Spokane. But it's not allowed to stop anywhere but the station, which was a 20 dollar cab ride from her house. Not even for an old lady, just tryin to get home. She also knew that anyone who is caught smoking or drinking on the bus had to be ejected immediately.
So Opal...this 79 year old sweet lady...last year, on her way home from Seattle...got close to her house...walked to the front of the bus....and lit up a cigarette. AND busted a beer outta her purse, and opened it. The driver was obviously a lil shocked, and decided she was an old lady, so he wouldn't kick her off. She started demanding that he stop....cuz if he didn't follow the rules, she would report him. So he stopped, and kicked her offa the bus....right in front of her house.
She suggested that if I didn't wanna go all the way downtown, I should sneak a beer onto the bus, and crack it open near my freeway exit. He'd boot me off, I'd get a cab, and be home in no time.
This woman is my new messiah.
Turns out I didn't need to do that, cuz the bus driver was able to radio ahead and have them hold the 6:20PM bus to Vancouver, till I got there. We got there at 7:20.
I went to get on, and the driver told me I had to go inside and get a ticket. So....I went inside. There was a lineup, like 4 deep. A guy, and 3 latino women, babbling in spanish. Woman behind the counter tells the guy they're sold out, no one is getting tickets going anywhere for that night. The 3 puerto rican princesses decide to discuss this at length, straight out of a J-Lo video. I'm pissed, cuz I just need a piece of fucking paper to get home, so for some reason, I said "Andale!" to them. They weren't amused. So I walked right by them, to the ticket counter, and got my ticket issued. They still weren't amused, but I could care less at that point.
There were only 2 connecting passengers, me and another girl. The rest of the passengers were not amused, cuz we held them up for an hour. But that bus DID stop in Coquitlam, so I didn't have to use Opal's beer trick. I did buy a beer in the gas station in Ellensburg though (before the transfer), just in case. The border guy thought it was a little weird that I was declaring one beer, and nothing else, but he didn't say too much.
I got home at 10:45PM last night. Caught a cab, went to the beer store, came home, and wrote part 1 of my story.
I hope you enjoyed part 2.
If you ever wanna learn something new bout yourself, I highly recommend doing something like I did. Just getting up and going somewhere. No plans, no expectations. I went a long way, to basically nowhere, and back....but it was sooo much fun. I had no choice but to deal with my surroundings. Being shy didn't matter, cuz I wasn't allowed to be. It's a birthday I'll never forget.
Never thought I'd say this, but...thanks America. Can't wait to do it all over again. Maybe I'll make it all the way to Morgan's next time. Or Kaila's? Yakima? Or the whorehouse in Nuevo Laredo?
Sky's the limit.
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