the Overdue Return to the District

         I could write a book on procrastination...and about putting things off and getting things done in very very bad timelines, but then I would probably never finish because I would procrastinate the manuscript! OK! Well...cannot wallow, so time to move on.

So two months ago, I was telling you about my adventures in DC and I was hoping that the time would go by better because there wouldn't be all that white fluffy stuff on the ground. SOOOOOO what happened? I didn't get to tell you about all the luscious food I devoured and I didn't get to tell you about all the gorgeous museums I took in, so I'm trying again...I shall try again and forgive me when I get completely off base and don't finish my stories because that's not very fair to all of you. So here we go...let's rewind back to October...to a little place known as Washington, DC.  I would not recommend reading this on an empty stomach because I am about to take you to enjoy some scrumptious food. 

       So...mom and I are headed to eat some lunch at one of my favorite pizzeria's in Washington, DC. Matchbox! I heard about this place by word of mouth, and I ate here for the first time back during the apocalyptical snowstorm. I was frozen inside and out the last time I ate here, so I ordered their Fire and Smoke pizza in hopes of thawing out my frozen insides. Well, it was sooooo good that I am ordering it again right now even though I'm not trying to escape from winter's terrible hand. 

The Fire and Smoke pizza carries it's name to the finish line. Indeed it does produce fire on your palette and the smoke comes out of your nose and ears...yes, don't think about that part...just think about what's actually on this PIZZA.

Matchbox makes their dough FRESH every single morning, so the dough you devour is never old. Always fresh and always baked in their ongoing wood fire oven which delivers the favorite smoky, crispied crust. If you didn’t think that a crust could be delicious blistered and burnt, well, think again because this dough leaves an impression on your mouth that is extremely hard to forget. On top of this outrageous crust is fire roasted red peppers, blistered to perfection, spanish onions cooked just until they are sweet and tender, the devilishly delicious chipotle pepper tomato sauce which lends to much of the spiciness of this dish, garlic puree for even more of a punch in the mouth, smoked gouda for a balancing act, and a spread of shredded basil for a pop of freshness. Is your mouth watering yet? Yes, I’m drooling...and I’m not even eating it anymore. Do NOT attempt to eat this pizza without some water! I’m serious! Do not attempt because it lives up to the spicy and the smokey. My taste buds are having an absolute war as they taste. Survival mode in me is freaking out and asking why on earth, I am torturing my poor mouth with all of this heat, but they are also reveling in the flavors. They have just embarked on a magical mystery tour, and they are in no desire to return despite the crazy crazy heat. But then again...what’s that saying: ‘If you cannot stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” Yes, darling, I can stand the heat, so I will be staying in this kitchen. 

      Now, if you don’t want something as spicy and as challenging as the fire and smoke pizza, there are other options for the fainthearted, so don’t worry. There are other things than the spicy madness. They have a wide range of pizzas, steaks, soups, salads, and seafood...so you can have your pick. I have decided to reward myself and have something extra special cool for dessert to counterbalance my spicy adventure. A GIANT icecream sandwich! Yes, you heard right. They took something that a child would eat, turned it gourmet, put it on the menu and now it’s one of the dessert bestsellers. And it’s not your little tiny chocolate chip cookies, it’s mega chocolate chips cookies sandwiching coffee gelato. Yes, coffee gelato! Do you realize what I just said??? Two cookies are sandwiching coffee gelato!! Can anyone say I’m in HEAVEN??? Yes, I am...and now its drizzled with chocolate ganache and creme anglaise...wow. My magical mystery tour is headed for the finish line, and it's definitely been a winner.

Now that mother and I have stuffed ourselves, it’s time to walk some of this off, and I cannot think of a better place to walk and wander than in a museum. DC is stuffed full of museums for everything in the known world, but today I want to visit the Air and Space Museum. I have yet to venture into this vast behemoth housing some of the most famous planes and spacecrafts in our nation’s history, and today might as well be the day to check them all out. We head towards the national mall where most of the museums of DC are housed and I snap pictures of the Capitol building to my far left. Yes, I’m a tourist, but aren’t we all at some point in our lives?

Inside the museum, I run around like a little kid snapping photos of Amelia Earhart’s plane, Howard Hughes’ plane and also the Spirit of Saint Louis which Charles Lindbergh made famous for flying across the Atlantic...aww gotta love aviation records. It's clear that this museum is a bigger hit with the boys than it is the girls by the exclamations of the teenage males pointing and gawking at the shiny planes. There are some girls here who are enjoying, there are also the mothers who are here trying to push their children towards "recreational learning," and I do see the tired teachers herding groups of children who want to go in every direction, but the one they are supposed to go in. 

There's a fantastic exhibit on the Wright Brothers who had the first successful flight in Kittyhawk, NC - one up for NC! Born and raised...just throwing that in there. There's also a great exhibit on planes from WWII which really brings the entire airforce operations in perspective. The other side of the museum is dedicated to space. I end up enthralled with a documentary about the first mission to the moon, and then I wander around awestruck at the massive crafts in front of me. I so badly want to jump in one and go to space to see that last frontier that God created. I long to somehow become a part of that creation, but space is not on my appointment books today...maybe one day.

We've run out of time here, but there's another DC adventure just around the corner...

Welcome to the District...again (no snow included this time)

Thursday October 21, 2010

Washington, D.C.

This time was going to be different. After all this was October. October and February are two completely different dragons. October radiates with red, orange, yellow, and every shade of gorgeous golden hues. February, on the other, hand is just white. White, white, white. When you're in a city like Washington, D.C., and everything is white, something is up, freakishly up. Eight months ago, I went to Washington, D.C. to visit friends, soak up the culture, devour the food, and plunge through the museums, but none of that exactly happened. Instead the snow apocalypse happened. Yes, apocalypse - no exaggeration. I mean I would consider 24inches of snow an apocalypse, wouldn't you? When you look out your hotel window and all you see is abandoned white streets...I would call that apocalyptical. I felt like an apocalypse had happened. There were the lone men wandering down the streets with their dogs, but that felt like something  out of a horror movie complete with the gray overcast sky.

Needless to say all of my D.C. plans got canceled. I ended up staring out of my window gazing at the vastness of a overpopulated city. Did I check the weather and come prepared with snow boots, gloves, and a toboggan? Umm no...because I'm outrageously intelligent and didn't think about the weather.

But that is allllllll behind me. That and the 12 times I spun out driving home back in february in my tiny mercedes-benz. Did you know that a C350 is not made to drive in the snow? Go figure! Who would have ever thought it? After that I was ready to sell it, buy a hummer and move to Miami, I was so traumatized by snow. The idea of snow repulsed me.

But that's in the past...the PAST I tell you! And now I'm going back to redeem the District in my mind.

Driving back up to DC, the scene is very different. The autumn season has taken over the scenery and the leaves are not drooping with snow, but are radiate in their various colors.

I already have a good feeling about this trip. This trip has special significance anyways. Museums, restaurants, and history will be a part of this quick weekend getaway, but that's not the real purpose for this trip. The real purpose of this trip has something to do with bells and the color white. White...again!
No, but this is not terrifying like snow. This is a wedding dress. My friend is getting married! and it's time to look for the dress.  Although perhaps a wedding dress could be considered terrifying. This is the once and a lifetime opportunity to buy the fanciest dress you'll ever wear to the most important party you'll ever go to. No, that's not terrifying at all...

But first things first, mom and I have some restaurants and a few museums to check out. Our hotel sits on 14th street only a few blocks from the White House. Location is everything in DC, and in a city, you want to be able to walk everywhere. I deliver Pepper to the hotel concierge, drop my bags, and head to grab some lunch.

More later...

Traffic Nightmare...

Panic. 

Absolutely panic is flooding me right now.

And you would be feeling the exact same things if you were experiencing now. The throbbing of my heart travels through my body and my blood courses through my veins rapidly. Racing to my palms and feeling me with even more dread. 

I’m feeling very sick.

Oh my gosh, how is this possible? I prepare for anything and everything, and yet this is one of those unpredictable things that cannot be helped. Even in my agony I know this is not the worst possible position to be in. I mean in this chess game, there are worse positions to be in.

For miles ahead of me on I-40, there are cars and cars and cars ahead of me. And all of them are at a complete stop. We are not moving 15mph, we are moving perhaps 1mph, if you can deem that with the verb moving. I mean seriously. This is my absolute worst nightmare. Traffic jams...

Traffic jams on the day that you are supposed to catch an international flight are even worse. 

Yes, those traffic jams cut deeper and make you even sicker.

It’s 4:00 and I need to be at the airport by 5:10 to catch my 6:10 flight to Newark, New Jersey. Thankfully, there is an hour cutoff point for domestic flights. If this were my international flight, I would be turning around and going straight home. There would be no point in going. I have one hour before I absolutely must be at the airport, but I have a 20 minute drive with no traffic and right now there is miles of traffic. This is my official worse nightmare. 

If I miss this flight, I miss Rosh Hashanah - the entire reason I’m going to Israel. I’m flying there with my brother to celebrate the Jewish New Year with our Israeli friends. We have celebrated here in the US and we’ve wanted to celebrate in Israel, but have never had the chance. Now, is our chance, and I can see it slipping, I can see the holiday slipping from my tiny fingers...

You see, our flight to Newark is the last one leaving today from our local airport, and so if we miss it, we miss the flight that is leaving at 11pm tonight to Tel Aviv. We could take the flight to Tel Aviv tomorrow, but then we wouldn’t arrive until Wednesday afternoon.  Wednesday is Rosh Hashanah and we need to be in a Kibbutz in the very north of Israel by then celebrating, eating apples, drinking red wine and telling everyone how excited we are about the New Year not trying to argue out way through security...

But I do believe that is what is going to happen...oh my goodness.

Traffic. Traffic is standing in the way of my Middle Eastern dream.

St. Louis, Nashville, and farewell...bittersweet my dear.

Well, good morning, St. Louis. It is very nice to see you in the daylight after having only glimpsed you through my bleary and weary eyes at midnight last night. Forgive me, for not giving much of a look but after my drive all I longed for was my nice, comfy, pillowy down-feathered bed complete with four extra pillows.

So, this morning it’s time for some appreciation. And today also has some significance because sadly it is the last day of our epic coast-to-coast road trip...Tomorrow morning, we jet back to NC just in time for Saturday night dinner with the rest of the family. 

This morning deserves some reverence....

Ok enough! Time for the sights. We are in St. Louis, so we must check out the Arch...the gateway to the West. After my trip, I do actually question this because this doesn’t really feel “West.” I mean as far as I’m concerned as soon as I crossed back into this state, I was East again. Very, very East...

The Arch is just as big, if not bigger than you imagine. Walking up to it, I have to stop and be very touristy and stare up. If I were in New York City, people would be pushing past me like crazy, but thankfully in this city, people are much kinder and allow me to stare UP. The closer we get, the more overwhelmed I become at this object’s vastness. I mean: WOW! The optical illusion question throws my mom. 

“Is it higher or wider, mom?” I turn back and ask her.

“Higher! No, wait, wider!!! Yes, wider...well, actually wait...Higher. It’s higher. Actually I don’t know and...doesn’t really matter???” She looks at me like my question is pointless and then points out at the people sleeping under the arch. There are quite a few people sleeping under the trees away from the boiling hot sun. WHEW is it hot here. It’s only 11am and it is piping hot here. Oh, and to answer the question - it is the same width as it is height. So, Momma, when you read this: the height and width are the same. Thank you architects for giving us a topic for conversation this morning. 

We approach and begin snapping as many pictures as we possibly can; however, from this proximity, there is no way to get the whole arch in - it is just tooooo big! So, I attempt to be artistic and turn this way and that way and try to take in every angle that I possibly can. If a traveler dares, he can take an elevator to the top center of the arch. I really, really want to, but the line is jutting out of the underground entrance and up the ramp. Today a line is going to prevent me, but one day I shall return and venture toward the top. We are driving to Nashville later today to meet friends for dinner, so we must be very wise with our time. So after looking longingly up, we turn and head back to the hotel to grab our bags and head to the Little Italy area to have lunch. Little Italy thrives with culture and personality and overruns with countless Italian (of course) restaurants. I came over here to eat one thing and one thing only: toasted ravioli. Ravioli is one thing, but toasting it is another...Imagine taking that beautiful light pocket of pasta goodness filled with all kinds of yummy cheeses and then dropping it into some hot oil. Yes, picture it. Now Imagine dunking that toasted pocket into some marinara sauce!! Heavenly. But now let me tell you about something even more heavenly.

Allow me to introduce you to my little friend, Ted Drewes! He comes by special recommendation from Bobby Flay - yes, the Bobby Flay. Infamous for frozen yogurt, Ted Drewes dominates the St. Louis area with its  creamy deliciousness. The place only offers walk-up service in it's tiny red and white shack. But these people know their stuff.  From their base of vanilla flavor custard, you pick and add almost in flavor your heart or palette for that matter can imagine. They take you flavors, throw them in the blender and give it a whirl and out comes their signature concretes. Bobby recommends a combination of oreo, caramel, and heath bar. Being he hails as a world class chef, I take his recommendation and try this fabulous concoction! And yes, heavenly!  Creamy, sweet, crunchy, the combination just melts in the mouth - literally. Remember how hot I mentioned it was earlier? Yes, well the heat doesn't exactly work well with cold custard. Immediately upon receiving my cup, I notice the sun begins to immediately work its magic and the concrete becomes a mudslide and then it becomes a river. I am racing the sun for custard. No one wants warm custard! We want cold custard! Me against the sun!

Nashville calls us again. We are ending our trip just where we began it. We have now made a complete loop, from north to south. We crossed the desert and we journeyed back through the mountains and what a glorious journey it has been. Tonight in Nashville, we decide to do something extra special - line dancing. We are throwing on some boots and buttoning up some plaid and planning to go out and do the lines. Step by step we are going to dance our trip away. Wild Horse Saloon is considered one of downtown Nashville's top tourist attractions. And yes, I am opposed to touristy things, but there is a time and a place and tonight just so happens to be that night. If you ever visit Nashville, you must pull on the boots, and do a step or two. The Wild Horse Saloon pumps with energy!  The house band just covers country songs, but when they shut off, the dj turns on some tunes and a young lady jumps up on stage and begins telling everyone which way to go. We learn how to do the catfish, and by the tenth time, I think I have it down. Our Nashvegas friends meet us, and Debbie actually dances with me. Everyone else is chicken. 

Of course, it is terrible for me to call them chicken after everything we have been through together. We've crossed the USA for goodness sakes! That is no small fete! I have no right to call anyone chicken!

But who cares about name calling...I'm dancing, and having a dang good time!

The Long and Flat Road through Kansas

Denver is blissful. I wake up feeling blissful. My previous evening's wanderings left me appreciating the city's open vibe. But this morning, a daunting feeling looms over my head. I know what it is. I do. I'm just trying not to think about it. I'm thinking that if I ignore it, it'll go away....maybe just maybe go away.
Of course there is no way to make a 13 hour drive go away. I am not a magician, and as far as I am aware none of my companions are magicians, so the 845 mile drive is inevitable. You might be wondering where on earth we are going that's 845 miles away? Well, actually there are plenty of places being we are close to being in the center of the vast United States, but today we are driving to St. Louis, Missouri. Think about that. Go get a map, find Denver and trace through half of Colorado, all of Kansas, and all of Missouri, and you've got our journey. Not your average day trip, but we are on a mission.

Before we leave however, we decide to head downtown to the Rockmount Ranch Wear because you really cannot leave Denver without visiting this mecca of the snap button cowboy shirts and their epic cowboy hats. Rockmount shirts have been worn by several celebrities including but limited to Elvis, Green Day, Heath Ledger, Miley Cyrus, William Shatner, Henry Kissinger, Ronald Reagan, Jake Gyllenhaal, Hugh Grant, Tom Hanks...yeah you get the picture right?? They were the first ones to put snap buttons on their cowboy shirts and they were credited for having the oldest CEO in history before he died in 2007. Jack Weil is infamous in the business world. This store takes its shirts and its hats seriously. 

Everything screams western when you walk in. Everywhere you look is western regalia, pictures of celebs, boots, hats, cows. It's the ultimate western experience. Today just so happens to be my lucky day. They are having a sale on their shirts! Yes, indeed they are. Three racks have a colorful arrangement of $10 shirts. This is too good. I pick a red and white checked shirt and a pink and blue with ruffles. I feel like a true cowgirl now! Jennifer gets a proper hat and we gallop out feeling very westernized. Mom and Jean feel the need to keep the Eastern spirit alive. So nothing for them. Daughters always seem to outbuy mothers.

So now that drive. How do you deal with a drive that's 13 hours long? You just get in the car, put on an epic playlist and start going. You don't think about the hours ahead. You think about the current moment. You think about the fact that you'll aim to stop every 3 hours for food, gas, or a leg stretch. You think about the drive in segments. Definitely not as a whole. It's like the lesson your English teacher gives you in high school when you have to write your end of the year research paper: "How do you eat an elephant? One piece at a time!"

You have to think of this in segments, not a total mission.

After Denver the landscape flattens almost like sometime took an iron to it and pressed out every wrinkle. Hills are oblivious. Mountains? are you kidding???? 

The road seems endless.

The landscape? flat as far as the eye can see.

We cross the Kansas border and are shocked by the teeny size of their sign! Their sign looks like a midget compared to the others. (sorry Kansas, but its true!!!!) It's a tiny little nothing!!! Seriously, Kansas, you would think you can put a little more inches on your sign considering you've got endless landscape!! I would love to tell you that the journey was fascinating. I would love to tell you that I was overwhelmed by the endless cornfields. But after a while...it gets old. Don't get me wrong, you can see the beauty of God here. You can see His handiwork in the colors, the shape of the land, the fertile ground that produces the bulk of our nations corn supply. But still....still. I like a little drama for the eyes. I like my mountains, my greenery, my overwhelming landscapes. That is not what you come to Kansas for. I keep thinking of Clark Kent. I mean maybe we could go on a superman hunt. Maybe?? Nah..there's the whole time schedule thing so that won't work. 

We cross into Missouri after driving through the giant city of Kansas City. The Yankees are in town and we pass their baseball game to our right. Now we could stop for that!! 

Or not...

Darkness falls on our journey...Sleepiness begins taking over and continually we switch drivers. I have the pleasure of driving us into St. Louis. 

It's midnight. All any of us can think about is sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. Yes, God. That's what we need. Lots of sleep. Even though you are in the car all day, driving zaps you...somehow, someway it does...

Diggin' Denver

So our time in Utah has come to end. After our cutesy stint in Moab, it's time for us to head to the big city. And by big city, I mean the mile high city of Denver, Colorado. After tiny Moab, Denver is going to seem like a behemoth, but there's nothing like a change of scene to shake up your world, so off we head to see what Colorado has to offer as a state. I have never had the pleasure of gracing it with my presence before, so I'm thinking that it is going to be quite interesting. Or at least I'm really hoping. We drive north from Moab to hit the I-70 which will take us to the heartland of the city. On the way, a little thing known as the Rocky Mountains happens to be standing in our way. Thankfully very brave men with lots and lots of dynamite came through years ago and blasted tunnels for us to make our way through, or we would have to be digging out pick axes, rope, and God knows what else to get over these gargantuan mountains. Happily, we have exchanged our very red palettes for a larger variety of blues, grays, greens, and brows. No longer are our eyeballs dominated by that outrageous red. Now, I didn't mind the red, but poor mom was ready for a bit of life again. The desert atmosphere was actually making her sad, or so she says. Most likely, she was simply missing my father and brother and used her accuse of disliking the desert to hurry us on our way.
(You're swell, mom ; )


One little thing though as we plow through Colorado, - it's raining buckets. Giant, giant buckets of rain are being dumped on our car as we head in toward Grand Junction. The rain is pounding and the wind is whipping, and our scenic road trip is becoming a very slow process through this mess. FANTASTIC!


Now I love rain, but just not when I'm driving. Rain is so soothing and gorgeous when I'm sitting in my library, reading a novel, sipping a cup of hot tea, not when I'm trying to drive 75mph down the interstate. No, that is when rain is just not acceptable. 
We decide to pull off in Grand Junction to take a break in hopes of the rain passing by the time we get back on the road. Jennifer nearly has a heart attack in the back seat when she finds out there is a chick-fil-a only minutes from us. The word has been spoken. We are stopping at chick-fil-a for our lunch break because southern-raised Jennifer misses her chicken sandwiches and sweet tea when she's in LA. I don't blame her. I mean sweet tea is a staple in my life. It is a necessity just like toothpaste, hot sauce, and coffee. You have to have it in your life. 
It all actually turns out to work perfectly because after we eat and pick up a few things at Target, the storm has finally passed, and we can cruise on into Denver with no rain to slow us down.

The drive through the mountains is breath-taking. Literally, we are driving through the mountains, under them, over them. I am having every relationship possible with them and their scenic views. My only complaint is all of the truckers on the road. I know they have to earn a living, but I wish, they would earn their living and stay on their side of the road at the same time. The winding roads whip and change direction over every bend and the trucks aren't exactly keeping with the flow of traffic. They are idiotically trying to BEAT the flow of traffic. Ummm excuse me, but that's my job, not yours. You are in a giant death machine whipping through the Rocky Mountains, and you are trying to outrun motorcycles, SUV's and sports cars...please, instill some sense in your brain! I nearly have a panic attack when we take a sharp right curb and the driver swerves completely into my lane. GREAT! A giant truck is on my left and a giant mountain is on my left. You might as well reduce me to an ant because I don't stand a chance if the two decide to have a little rendezvous. 

Thanks be to God, we made it to Denver in one piece which I assume you gathered by the fact that I am actually writing this right now. Such an intelligent reader...Anyways, our first stop in this lovely city is Savory Spice Shop which was made famous on the Food network when the owner was given her own show to show the world all the bazillion things that anyone can do with a grain of salt. It's amazing what that little seasoning will do. They should change the saying "Add Spice to Your Life" to "Add a Grain of Salt to Your Life." Seriously.
I'm not kidding. They have every kind of flavored salt imaginable. Black salts, Fleur Salts, smoky salts, PINK salts! Yes, there is such a thing as pink salt, there are also truffle flavored salts. Not the chocolate truffle, but the really expensive mushroom looking truffle that cost something like $80 an ounce. Yes, that is ridiculous. Yes, I tasted it, and it was fabulously outstanding. And no, I didn't buy any. Should have but didn't. I enjoy truffle. I mean how can you not?? When something is that expensive, you are almost obligated to like it. It's like that outrageously expensive bottle of champagne your friend buys you for your birthday. Even if you are not a champagne drinker, you have to enjoy every sip from that bottle. It is your obligation to humanity. Truffles have an odd smokiness to them, or at leasts that's what my oversensitive buds pick up. I make it a game to try all the different salts because I want to see if all these salts can really taste different. (They can! Shocker, I'm telling you.) 
Besides salts, this spice shop sells, welllll about everything. And yes, I mean EVERYTHING in the spice/seasoning world. A culinary heaven for anyone who enjoys stepping foot in their kitchen. They have anything and everything from grilling spices, to maple-flavored sugar, to Indian curry spices, to Amaretto Extract (although, I don't know why you wouldn't just buy the real thing), to steak mixes, chicken mixes, cinnamons, nutmegs, etc. Seriously if you've dreamed of it in the spice world it's here. 
Mom goes a bit crazy and begins gathering up everything. Apparently, we have a lot of cooking to do when we get home. I pick out some cheddar seasonings to season my popcorn! Oh this section makes me very happy. I can put all kinds of flavored cheddars on my popcorn. LOVE IT!! I mean who wants that boring white stuff, right??

After we leave momma's heaven, we head to my heaven on earth. The Tattered Cover Book Store!
I warned you about my dorkiness. Well, here it is exemplified! Walking in through the double doors, my heart skips a beat. I'm home! I suck in that old musty smell that only old books can give off, and begin wandering because I really don't know what else to do but wander in here. The Tattered Cover is Denver's equivalent to Portland's Powell's and Seattle's Elliott Bay Bookstore, but the TC isn't as humungous. Which is nice because in Portland, I felt like I was lost in a five story Costco building.  Bookstores give off character. They reflect their city. This one gives off a relaxed feeling, a nature's lover oasis in the city. Coloradoians definitely care about their outdoors and no wonder, it's jaw dropping out of every window. Many of the featured books cover hiking, biking, skiing, wildlife. The history section has a wonderful history of the cowboys and the Indians. Excitedly, I locate a discount hardcover special edition of Anne of Green Gables that I decide to buy to commemorate my little stint in here. Now whenever, I look at it's jade colored cover, it'll remind me of this glorious three-story wood beamed, rustic bookstore. Do you get the picture yet?
Just checking.
It's now time to eat, and we head to the Wazee Supper Club to order pizza. Jean has been craving pizza, and the locals suggested we come here for a low key atmosphere. Walking in, I immediately love this place because I know this isn't something that tourists would know about, this is the locals joint. Who wants to go to all the touristy spots when you can eat where the natives dine? We order massive pizzas and all share the same opinion on loving Denver, Colorado. Everyone here just seems extremely laid back. This has been one of the friendliest towns we've been in the past two weeks. Everyone has a suggestion, everyone has an idea for you. I like that. I love ideas.
The final idea for the night is for us to stroll down 16th St - a pedestrian only street with shops, restaurants, and street performers, and PIANOS! Yes, there are pianos for the taking on the streets which blows my mind for some random reason. They carry their own tune with outrageous artwork across their fronts, sides, and backs.  Gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous! Above us, a clock tower is lit up with red and blue lights, people are merrily singing and painting and playing chess along the street. I feel very grand right now. As far as I'm concerned, this city is all right in my books, and definitely makes it on my return list. 

I will be back because I am really diggin' Denver.

Let's Put Moab on the MAP!!!!

So let's be honest...besides mormonism, what is Utah known for? I mean yeah, throw in Salt Lake City, and yeah that's about it. Utah is one of those states that will draw blanks, and I don't mean that in a mean way. It's just one of those things...sorry, Utah. 

You're beautiful!

Just thought I would throw that out there. 

Because Utah really is beautiful. We enter Utah via Monument Valley which is already a grand start. Like I said in my previous post, Monument Valley is exceptionally beautiful. Rocks have never drawn so much attention as these. They shoot up out of the desert all by their little lonesome. They wave at you to continue on your merry little way and that's the end of them. 

I don't want the rocks to end, but like all good things they slowly fade to nonexistence along our journey. Besides we've got somewhere fun to be tonight (or so I've been told). Actually, I'm not going to lie, I am a little bit skeptical. By suggestion from a dear friend, I have chosen to spend this night in Moab, Utah. According to google maps, there isn't much there, sooooo YAY!

But, I have on very good authority that Moab is adorable. (Abi, you had better be right!)

Originally I had planned to drive over to Telluride, Colorado, but apparently there is a festival going on there this week (what a shocker!), and there aren't any hotel rooms left under $600. Yes, $600, and being it would have been simply a 12 hour stopover until we headed on to Denver, I couldn't justify spending that much for one night under these circumstances. There is a time and place to drop $600, and this was not it. 

So, I mulled over maps and ransacked guidebooks for memorable places to stay in this area, and Abi walks up and points to the map and says to stay in Moab. 

Moab?

Yes, Moab!

Ok...

Moab actually has one significant tourist attraction, it is immediately south of Arches National Park. Why not check this place out? It's known for the Delicate Arch, a narrow arch that doesn't look like it should be standing, but it does stand on its two sides miraculously. 

I want to visit the park being we are so close, so we speed up along the interstate to make it before dusk.

The drive is predominantly red rocks and desert like surroundings, but slowly gives over to more greenery as we venture farther north. We draw closer to Moab, and my anticipation is building. Will it live up to my expectations? Will it be as lovely as everyone says? 

Oh! I hope so!

Drawing closer, I notice sidewalk and lamp posts popping up with tiny little shops and restaurants behind them. Slowly the foot traffic picks up, and I am amazed to see how many people are actually hanging out here. Moab has a "cutesy" feel to it. It reminds me of a village. This place could take the name of village and own it. It has the people, and it has the restaurant, shops, and the gorgeous little decor. I'm loving Moab, and we haven't even gotten even out of the car yet. 

Later, we will come back and soak in your marvelous cutesy ways. 

But first! the national park. It's time for a bit of fresh air. 

It's after six, so the gatehouse is closed, but a little sign on the window reads:

Welcome to Arches National Park, enjoy your visit. 

Or something along those lines. 

Anyways the park welcomed us and beckoned us to carry on up the orangey-red mountain. My heart skips a beat as we turn the curb and climb up, up, up. I have a thing for national parks. I adore them. The US has a treasure trove of them that more people need to look into. Arches isn't as popular as other ones, but already the views are worth driving out her to the middle of nowhere.

We carry on and stop at the first view point known as Park Avenue. The giant rocks that line the right side of vista reminded the finders of the buildings that lined Park Avenue in NYC. Under no conditions do I find any resemblance to NYC. This place makes me forget places like NYC. But nature like art is all up to the person interpreting it. It will forever be interpreted in its own unique way by whomever is viewing it at that moment. No two people will ever see the same tree, mountain, butterfly, or painting in the exact same way. Art is individually interpreted. 

I jump out and run toward the rocks. After taking the necessary shots, I spy a sign that leads to a trail into the valley. Of course, I take it.  Who cares if the trails are primitive! I'm heading out! I make my way into the valley, but am caught short when my mom calls and says that they are not up for a hike.

Oh...

Yeah, I can't just leave them, so I climb back up the trail and head towards my compadres to admire the towering rocks on the right and the giant valley beneath me. The sun is making its way down casting a heavenly glow over the valley. It's breathtaking and totally worth any drive from any distance. It's absolute worth it. 

But we have to make it to Delicate Arch and that does require some hiking for the viewing. 

Jumping back into the car, we continue through the bright red valley which is glowing even more thanks to the sunset.

The path leading up to the arch is steep and treacherous. I pass a nine year old boy who is complaining to is grandpa that he cannot make it up. Talk about extreme bonding with your dearest. I'm sure the boy didn't realize what kind of vacation he was signing up for when he agreed to spend the week with grandma and grandpa. 

The four of us arrive at the top and we take in the splendor and the wonder of the arch. Mom is huffing, but is thankful for my constant prodding her to the top. 

"Yes," she breathes. It's worth it. The valley and the arch all burn in differing shades or red and orange. Those two colors dominate the eyes. Every shade imaginable is present somewhere in your peripheral vision. So quickly I get lost in the view.

Someone says that they are hungry.

Oh yeah...we haven't eaten in a long while. I suppose that is something that we need to fit in within all this gorgeous nature. It's time to head back to Moab! 

I spy a brewery on the way into town and I make a mental note to ask the concierge at the hotel about it.

He gives it two thumbs up, and tells us that not only do that brew all of their own beers in house, but they also make their own sodas, and all their food fresh.

Moab is getting better by the second. We drive back down the one street taking in all the tourists even though the town doesn't feel like a tourist's trap. That's always the best combo. Loads of people, but a low key, real, authentic feel. The brewery is packed which is always a good sign. Of course, this is one of a handful of restaurants, so it isn't like these people have many choices but they still opted to come here.

The food is phenomenal. I have fresh fish and a mound of chips buried in vinegar, salt, and pepper. Everything tastes extremely fresh and delicious. Including the homemade blackberry soda. After our long day of driving and soaking in monumental and archal (that's not a word) views. My eyes have been over exposed. My feet have been overworked. Now it's time for the four of us to gobble up our yummy food, drink our cool beverages, and talk about how wonderful this area is. 

Not bad Utah. 

I guess it's time to put Moab on the map!

The Euros take over and a Monumental Valley

Apparently, and this is by a very good source, the Grand Canyon is the center of the universe. Or at least it would seem so by my observations over the past 12 hours. (Yes, I count yours truly as very good source.) For dinner last night, my little group decided to indulge at the Yippee-Ei-O! Steakhouse in Tusayan. Yes, that's Yippee with two e's. Right next to the south rim entrance to the grandest of canyons, Tusayan, Arizona couldn't really own the title of a city. You could call it a village, but there aren't many residents around, and I tend to associate people with villages, so let's call it a one-road town...or something like that. This one road town boasts a McDonalds, Subway, Wendys, a few chain hotels, a Mexican restaurant, and an internet cafe. Yes, you know a town has made it on the map if it has an internet cafe! Besides a few restaurants, there isn't much here. Yet, this one-road town gets more variety of internationals than many major cities near my home in NC. Sitting in the restaurant, which was complete with cowboys and cowgirls as waitresses, we witnessed several of the world's continents represented in this themed steakhouse. Spaniards, French, South Africans, Dutch, Japanese, Germans, Slovakians, Swedish, Bulgarians - all walked by our table. Slovakians? Yes, you know the country that broke off from Czechoslovakia and became simply Slovakia and left the other country as just the Czech Republic. You know?? Right?? Well, whatever, I'm a dork.

But, like I said, there were many different people, and you must remember that besides the giant hole in the ground a few miles north of me, there is really nothing else here. Amazing that it only took a hole to suck this many different types of people into this steakhouse. Of course, hole-seekers like all other people need to eat.

 

If you are wondering how I figured out all of these represented nationals (you didn't really think I could pick a Slovakian out of a line up did you? ), you must remember that I have Debbie Wallace with me. Without fail, she said hello to every person that walked by our table regardless of their hurried pace. 

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

She beamed over and over again. Some people simply ignored her which might have had something to do with a small language barrier, but that's just a guess. Some, however, were flattered by my dearest mother's keen interest in them. They smiled and smiled and told her where they had traveled from and then moseyed over to their waiting dead cow. This restaurant specializes in dead things. (What else does a steakhouse specialize in?) But this one had many of the animals mounted on the wall. The menu boasted rattlesnake if you were up for it, (I was not) and of course lots and lots of different kinds of steaks with beans, corn, baked potatoes and hot rolls. It was the all-American cowboy meal, and yet, we were the only Americans in there, (or so it seemed). Our surrounding guests kept us entertained, and the nationality guessing game ensued at our table. Needless to say, it was a lovely night and left us all saying Yippee...Ok, sorry, but I had to say it.

Now, this morning in the hotel lobby, the people-watching continues. Add in more fellas from England, and Ireland, and I'm close to constructing the entire European map in my head. At breakfast, I'm trying think of all the ways I know to say "excuse me," so that I can get a glass of juice or a cup of coffee. The decor sells the southwest, but the crowd sells something more like New York or Los Angeles. 

More and more people come in and out, in and out. I must give the Europeans this - it's 8 in the morning and the men and women are still dressed spectacularly. They are on vacation in the piping hot desert, and they still manage to do their hair and get all fixed up. I wish I could say the same for myself, but I usually resort to ponytails and jean shorts when I'm in the middle of nowhere. Oh well...I could try...but...yeah never mind. I'm on vacation and on vacation mode I shall stay. 

We are driving up to Utah today, and we have an epic journey before us. Yes, most of the journey is desertland, but, in the midst of this land lies Monument Valley.  My goodness, my mind goes blank when I attempt to think of words to describe Monument Valley. It's monumental? yes. It's vast. It's grand. It takes your sweet breath away. Glorious blue sky meets mammoth rocks jutting up into its atmosphere. Riding along the ever-ending road from Arizona into Utah, you have no idea what to expect from the long continuous road. Fortress-like rocks just appear in the vast land. With no rhyme, reason, or measure. 

They just appear, each with a unique shape. Some give off a dusty red color while others stick to the traditional dusty color of the desert. The palette out here sticks to only a small color range on the ground: brown, red, deep brown, deeper red, a bit of dried green here or there. The azure sky pops against the brown and actually gives the eye a shock. White actually adds a bit to the range with the fluffy clouds that float overhead. Never would I think white would actually add to a surreal painting, but this time it does. Each rock has its own personality. One reminds me of a bear, another a finger, another a fort, another a fish. I desire nothing more than to go and scale them, each and every one, and become a part of their shape, but I don't. I refrain and decide to simply enjoy the views from my car's windows. Crossing into Utah, we do get out to take our state sign picture. It's become "our thing" on this trip. 

 

Many things have become our thing on this trip...signs, outrageously breath-taking views, deep colors, serenity, wonder, beauty, God's marvelous creation, memories, and people. Lots and lots of different people. 

But what is a beautiful world without the marvelous people that feel it?

hmmm enough reflection. It's time to get elevated in Utah. 

and by Grand, you mean??

After a night in Vegas, I feel like my eyes and my brain need to be purged...No seriously. Outrageously addicting, Vegas is similar to your favorite 10 layer chocolate cake. Staring at it, all you can think about doing is digging in, but once you start the sugar begins to kick in and the sick feeling begins gnawing at your stomach, and you must step away. That's Vegas. It's delicious. But only so much. You have to step away, or you will lose yourself, your mind, and everything in between. So of course, I pick the one thing that always without fail helps me to purge my mind. I pick nature. Nature, my go-to for a brain cleanse. Without fail, nature always brings my mind back down to a better perspective. Being out and staring at God's creation always without fail helps me to settle my mind and help me get my thoughts and bearings straight. But this morning, I didn't just pick any natural spot. I picked the Grand Canyon of all places. But of course, one needs a whopper to get over Vegas. You really cannot find something bigger than the Grand Canyon. I mean without stating the obvious it's grand. So we pile into the car once again on this road trip across America and head to the the nation's giant hole. Sadly waving goodbye to the glorious Vegas strip, I'm already thinking about what I'm going to do the next time I'm here. That's the danger of Las Vegas, it makes you want to come back even when it makes you crazy while you're there. It's almost like that person that drives you absolutely insane when you're with them, but as soon as they are away from them, you instantly crave their presence...yeah those are those unhealthy relationships...that's Vegas. So time for the biggest cleanse of all.

Several of my friends have been to the Grand Canyon, and they gave me a giant warning when I told them I was coming here.

"Don't get your hopes up! It's just a big hole." They warned me because they know how zealous I get and I suppose they didn't want me to be let down. Fair enough.

But in my mind I kept wondering...how on earth can the GRAND Canyon be disappointing? After all it's the Grand Canyon. The idea of this was beyond me, I really didn't think it was possible.

Pulling into the parking lot that afternoon after our day of driving, I am immediately struck by the amount of foreigners. More people are speaking French, German, and Spanish around me than I've encountered on this entire trip. If it weren't for the giant skies above me, the vast expanse of trees and fields beyond me, I would think I were in Europe somewhere. 

Ahh...hold that thought! I just stepped out of an SUV, and I parked next to two, so there's no way I'm in Europe...all good...we are still in the USA. 

I am amazed to feel my heart thumping as I walk along the trail toward the hole. I mean it's odd to me that I'm slightly nervous...I'm terrified that I'm going to be disappointed. Growing up, I always wanted to see the Grand Canyon, but now that I'm actually here, I'm worried...so so worried that it's going to be less than I expected. I'm so worried that it's going to be like one of those great letdowns that I'll never get over and then my whole fantasy of travel and expectations will be ruined!!!!!

Ok I'm being dramatic, but seriously, my friends's warnings have me a little worried. Mom and Jean are yakking with each other a few feet behind me; therefore, they have no idea of my racing mind. I keep my fears from Jennifer who is walking next to me, for fear of voicing them might make them real. We follow the fence together towards the entrance. A dirt path takes us closer. Jennifer gasps. I look up. Through the trees, I can make out valleys and jets of rocks. My pace quickens even more as do my feet. My feet pull me closer and closer to the tree line, for beyond them, I know. Beyond them is the very canyon that I have been yearning to see. The Canyon that is about to make or break my day. 

I hurry toward the edge and I peer out over the vast expanse that is the southern rim of the Grand Canyon. My eyes fixate on the rocks that range from purple to red to orange to grey to black in the variant angles of the sunlight. The dancing sun changes everything about these rocks. The sun sets the color palette. The sun dictates the hue. At first, I'm without words. The only thing that actually pops into my mind is the unrealistic look of the canyon. Yes, that word is unrealistic. The Grand Canyon doesn't look real. Yes, I am standing on the edge. Yes, I can feel the sun beating down on me. I can feel when a cloud passes and casts a shadow. I can feel the cool breeze. I can smell the trees, the dirt. I can many foreign voices of the tourists and I can hear the many, many snapping cameras, but still this place doesn't seem or feel real. It's too perfect. It's too beautiful to be real. Perfection is only possible if something is out of line, out of order, out os synch with reality, for true perfection is uniqueness, and this is exactly what I feel here. I have never seen anything like this. Yes, I've seen similar things. I've seen things in southern Arizona, in Washington, in Oregon, in Western North Carolina that remind me of this place, but nothing...nothing like this. This has its own special feel. The Grand Canyon was labeled Grand for a reason. Most likely the men couldn't think of a better name. I mean why not name it after the Indian tribe or the Spanish explorers that haunted these lands centuries ago? Because calling it Balboa's Canyon, or Apache Canyon, or Cortez's Canyon just wouldn't have done this place justice. The name would have felt small. Only the Grand Canyon suffices. 

And right about now, you are thinking...it's a giant hole in the ground. 

Maybe...but it's a magical hole in the ground. And I don't mean spells and enchantment magical. I mean it's magical in the sense that it actually has the power to wow you with no special effects, no editing, no exaggerations. It wows by just being. It wows by simply being the giant canyon that God shaped with a tiny river at the bottom of it. That's what is so magical about the Grand Canyon. It captures your heart by simply letting you walk around its rim and soak up its beauty. 

That's how we spend our evening. We meander around the edge, taking picture after picture and commenting about God's beautiful creation. His touch of color, His perfect shaping. We gaze at every turn because each bend in the trail brings another jaw-dropping view. 

It doesn't get old and I'm sad when it's time for us to go...I am generally saddened because despite all the warnings, I wasn't disappointed. On the contrary, I was wowed! I was amazed! I was taken back. And above all things, my brain and eyes were fully cleansed from the previous night. I stood on the edge and took a deep, deep breath. Clean air, and a magical view...what more could a girl want?

The Random Nights of Vegas

What happens in Vegas is supposed to stay in Vegas, correct? However, a little bit of the Vegas story always leaks out. Maybe an exaggeration or maybe a shrug...something about Vegas always gets out. Of course, everyone has their own expectations about Vegas. Lots and lots of alcohol, strippers, gambling, spontaneous weddings, and all-nighters usually come to mind when I think of Las Vegas. 

That’s not quite what happened during my stay, but I did see many, many things, and I did meet a lot of very random people. I think the best word to describe Vegas is random. Because above all things Vegas is random. The people are random, the places are random, the restaurants are random, the hotels are outrageously random. You cannot predict what’s going to happen to you when you step out of your hotel room. All bet’s are off; no predictions can be made. Another thing about Vegas is that you always end up in random places. You might set off for one direction and end up in a completely different one. 

I am now going to break the number 1 rule in Las Vegas, and I am going to tell you exactly (well maybe not completely, but we’ll see) what happened to me in sin city. 

Here goes, and don’t judge me on the following post. This was a completely different world for me. I was out of my element. I felt like a guppy thrown into a shark-infested ocean. The trick is to learn to swim and to swim quick. 

Pre adventure, we wander around MGM and discover the most hilarious asian lady playing blackjack. She bangs the table every time she loses, wins, or ties with the dealer. If she wins, she does a dance and starts singing oldies songs. She looks at me and tells me that I need to wish her better luck. She loses. She grabs her bag and throws 2 grand on the table, and tells the dealer to keep going. She loses again and throws another 2 grand on the table. Clearly my presence is not helping her at all, so I leave and decide to stare at the lions lying around like the lazy beasts that they are while a trainer jumps in and feeds them. Heck, if I would go and stick food down a lion’s throat, for all I know, he might decide he wants to eat me and put me down his throat.

We decide to go clean up and get ready for our night out because Vegas is a night town. You can go out during the day, but the night is when all the action happens, but first things first, we all need to look semi swanky to go out in this outrageous town.

1. Mandalay Place at Mandalay Bay Hotel

Now gussied up, we begin our night by first filling our stomachs. Burger Bar by Chef Hubert Keller seems like a tasty choice. The house favorite is a buffalo burger with spinach, grilled onions, and cheese on a ciabatta. So I decide to try this $20 burger and see how it goes. I’ve never paid $20 for a burger in my entire life. I’ve paid it for a steak, for a salmon, but never for a burger, but why not it’s Las Vegas. The sides range from skinny fires, sweet potato fries, zucchini fries, to onion rings. The zucchini fries are my personal favorite with their zangy center and crispy outside. The buffalo burger is very tender and literally almost melts in my mouth, the spinach and the ciabatta are a nice combination, and we all swap our plates to try everyone’s different burger combos. Now that we are relatively full, we decide to attempt the Vegas Nightlife.

1. Bellagio Hotel

You cannot visit Las Vegas without going to the Bellagio and checking out their water show. It’s absolutely spectacular. The water shoots up and sways from side to side in rhythm to the song that’s playing throughout the air. yes, it’s water shooting up and down, but it’s downright gorgeous. I loved every second of it. Part of me wanted to sit and watch it over and over again, but there’s too much to do in Vegas. You cannot just sit and watch water in Vegas, you have to go and explore Vegas. So here goes.

1. Hard Rock Hotel and Casino

I decided that since I was in Vegas, I had to at least play cards...just a little bit. I play all the time at home, so why not play for real. It’s part of the growing up experience, right? You go, you play a little, you learn a little, you lose a lot. Hard Rock is Jennifer’s favorite casino, so we decide to lose our money there. I coined it as the casino for the “cool people” because the clientele here is definitely different from the clientele from the previous places. Everyone is dressed very sleek. The men are in suits and the ladies are in form fitting dressings. The first thing, I see when I walk in the giant doors is a go-go dancer on top of a poker table. Yes, that was a first for me. I usually don’t frequent places with go-go dancers, so I was a tad shocked at first, but like I said earlier, it’s Vegas, so you have to learn and adjust quickly, or you will get run over by the person behind you. I continue walking around the casino as if a go-go dancer is a part of my everyday life and Jennifer and I pick a table where we are going to play blackjack and everyone else is going to watch since they don’t know how nor desire to play. I decided how much I was willing to lose before I even sat down at the table instead of sitting down, starting, and ending up losing who knows how much. We get our chips and the game begins. The guy on the far end of the table is doing really well and has actually won quite a bit. He clearly knows what he’s doing and is actually playing two different hands. I whisper to the dealer that it is my first time ever doing this and she smiles and tells me not to worry that she will help me out. 

I win my first hand.

An outrageous prideful feeling rushes through my body. I mean seriously, there is something very satisfying about winning a hand and watching the chips that you won being put in your pile. You crave more instantly. I lose, I win, I lose, I win, I win, I lose, lose, lose, lose,lose. Yeah, I definitely starting losing more than I was winning, but I didn’t care. I simply loved being there. I loved tapping the table when I wanted the dealer to hit me with another card, I loved throwing my chips down for a bet, and I especially loved when I won a few chips. I quickly understood why it was so addicting. You really don’t won’t to stop once you start. But of course, I had to stop because I ran out of chips. A large part of me wanted to throw more money down, get more chips, and keep playing, but I knew better. I knew I had to walk away now because we were done yet.

1. Cab

Cabs drivers are crazy. Literally. They have outrageous personalities, outrageous comments, and outrageous reasons for being in Vegas. A guy from New Orleans picks us up and starts speaking in such a deep voice and saying such random things that Katelin and I burst out laughing in the back seat. He gives everyone weird looks and gives very weird reasons for living in Vegas. I’m very happy when we pay him and depart. Our next cab drivers tells us about people throwing up in his cab and having a hazmat team coming out and cleaning it up. We pick his brain for stories of his most random encounters and he tells of the most outrageous things his customers have done. Another cab driver complains of his ex wife causing him to move out here, and how he cannot stand his current wife’s family. Cabs are too small. Next time we are getting a limo with a privacy window...we don’t need a conversation with anymore crazy people.

1. Nine Fine Irishmen - New York, New York Casino

This is a true authentic irish pub complete with a live Irish band and tap dancers. The interior takes guests over to Ireland despite the fact they are in a hotel that is a replica of New York City. The place is jammed pack with people, dancing and singing along to the Irish band. Mom and Jean find a table in the back corner and make themselves comfortable. Katelin, Jennifer and I decide to socialize. We meet a very nice and very sane young gentleman from France who is over here visiting his sister. We have a lovely conversation with him or at least attempt to above the raucous of the crowd around us. We actually are quite close to the stage and the little irish dancer is only three feet away from me, so it is amazing that we can hear him say anything at all. Katelin goes off to find someone else so talk to while I go check on my mom. That’s of course when all the craziness ensues. An irishman with a spiked jet black mohawk and piercings all over his face and ears has found my two elderlies and is chatting them up. I walk up and smile and try to figure out what is going on. He looks at me and with dread I realize he has formed an attachment. 

Oh dear God. 

He begins telling me how beautiful I am. How nice I am. How he wants to be my friend and who knows where everything could lead. Apparently he is a poet and beings trying to tell me of his poetry before I cut him off telling him I have to find my friends who I left with the French guy.

“The French! No! NO! You cannot go with a French Man! They are women!” - He bursts out.

I stare at him shocked and then quickly run away to find the sane people. Katelin has discovered 5 men visiting from Switzerland, and of course, our accents are adorable to them. I stand and talk to them for a little bit before we are interrupted by an elderly lady who might make the 4’11” mark (although it is debatable) who is dressed all in green. She darts and dances around better than any of the younger people in this pub. Immediately all conversation stops and cameras start flashing. To my horror, the crazy irish guy shows up beside me. “There you are, beautiful!” He exclaims. 

Oh No! Not cool. I attempt to distract him by introducing him to the Swiss guys.

He turns to me, “They’re liars! They aren’t from Switzerland!”

I look at him as if he’s crazy. 

Well...he is crazy.

“Beautiful, you don’t want to mess with them.”

No, more like I don’t want to mess with you, I think to myself. He continues on about his poetry and I nod as I watch the band who is way more interesting than this lunatic. The frenchman comes and says his goodbyes in the french style with two kisses on the cheek and leaves with his sister. Why can’t other people be as sane as that guy?

I go find mom and Jean who have moved to lovely outdoor table to get some fresh air. Anything to get away from the crazy mohawked irishman. 

Jennifer and Katelin come out and join us, and the five of us are enjoying ourselves when next thing I know here comes you know who.

And this time he’s got all of his friends. Apparently they are an irish band too. Oh that’s just fabulous! They all want to sit and chat with us. The crazy guy who actually goes by the name of Adam wants to continue to recite his poetry, but I tell him in America no one can recite poetry to a lady unless they first recite it to their grandmother, and I point to Jean. He looks at me bewildered, and I not. The only way he can continue is if he first recites everything to Jean who I know doesn’t want to hear a word this crazy guy has to say. Finally, Jennifer steps in and tells him and all his soggy bottom boy look-a-likes to go away and leave us to enjoy our evening on the strip. 

He looks at Jennifer and starts accusing her of hating him and then starts rattling off disputes between the English and the Irish. How the heck that came into the picture I have yet figured out. I mean what England has to do with him reciting poetry to me and Jennifer telling him to go away has yet to be determined. His friends tell him that he has to go now because he is getting too loud. He looks at me one final time and tells me that he thinks I’m beautiful and who knows where it could have lead. He gives me his name and tells me to look up his poetry. I sadly don’t make him any promises. He then looks at Jennifer and reminds her that she hates him.

She just shakes her head. 

They disappear inside and we are finally left to ourselves. It’s now 2am, but the music is still going inside.

1. The next morning in my hotel room.

I can only handle one night in Vegas. My personality requires order. Chaos is fun for certain moments. It’s entertaining when its needed, but in everyday living, I need the order and stability that Vegas lacks. I need sense, and I need reason. Vegas provides neither of these. So as I sit and reminisce over my outing in Vegas, the only word that can come to mind is random because Vegas is just a random place. And another about Vegas...what happens there is meant to stay there for a reason...