Jenni

It was rainy again when we woke up Tuesday morning, so we headed out with umbrellas. We walked to St Pancras station to buy travel cards, then took the tube to Harrod’s.

The store was as ridiculous as I’d hoped. We took the escalators all the way up to the top floor and went to the souvenirs shop. We were there for a long time, picking out things for people back home. They had especially great products related to the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. From there we went to wander around the food and wine shops, and saw things like a 1,500-pound ham, the Veuve Cliquot bar, and 10,000-euro bottles of champagne, for which you got a bottle to drink yourself, and one to be aged in a cave for up to 100 years, which you would leave to someone in your will. Awesome.

We consulted the map and headed off in a direction we thought would lead us to Buckingham Palace, but we realized several blocks later in front of the Victoria and Albert Museum that we were going the wrong way. It started to rain hard, so we went into the tube station and rode to Hyde Park Corner. That tube station led us to a series of underpass tunnels that seemed to maybe be leading to the palace, but instead kept ending up in a park bordered by uncrossable streets. We finally figured out how to cross, and headed down a few blocks to find food. I saw something that looked like my idea of a traditional British pub called Rose and Crown, so we went inside.

Their menu had vegetarian fish and chips made with haloumi! I was beyond thrilled about that. Matt decided on a pie. We got beers and placed our food order at the bar, and hung out at our table. I was happy to sit… many many days of intense walking plus cold and rain was wearing me out.

After lunch, we walked to Buckingham Palace. From the restaurant, it was just a matter of cutting through a park to get there. There was a crowd out front, and a bunch of construction on the mall leading up to it because of the Jubilee celebration and the Olympics.

We walked down the mall, and noticed that we could see the London Eye from the park. The Admiralty Arch was at the far end:

From there we went to Trafalgar Square, which had a giant Olympic countdown clock.

It would have been nice if the weather was better, but at least it had stopped raining.

We then headed over to the Savoy hotel. It was around 4:30pm, and everyone seemed to be getting out of work. The streets were crowded. We found our way to the back entrance of the hotel, and were pointed upstairs to the lobby. Of course we were very underdressed for the bar and were carrying a Harrods bag, but that didn’t matter much. The place was too big a part of cocktail history to miss.

We ordered a Champs Elysses and a Hanky Panky. (I was amused that Matt had to say that. It was invented by Ada Coleman, the head bartender at the Savoy before Harry Craddock, the only female head bartender there to date!)

Matt wanted to visit a famous menswear store called Baracuta, so we walked over there and found it in a little shopping area. It was raining again, and my pants were soaking halfway up my legs. I was cold, too, and not the slightest bit thrilled about it. We found the shop, and the guy who worked there was fantastic. We got talking about the Caribbean, and he told us we had to visit Antigua because they have 365 beaches. That sounded good to us, as we had already booked a cruise that’s stopping there.

Matt picked out a jacket, and was better prepared for the London weather. I was not. We finally found a Gap, so we stopped in there to shop. I found jeans and a light jacket that I really liked. I was so happy to have warmer clothes that I didn’t even care that it cost three times what it would have at home. We walked back to the tube and rode to Angel station (the one nearest our hotel).

We stopped at the Tesco by our hotel, because I needed scissors to cut off the bottoms of my jeans (they’re always way too long for me, and looked funny rolled). They didn’t have scissors, but we did pick up cider and gin and tonics in a can to bring back with us. Back at the hotel, I borrowed a pair of scissors, did my ‘mending’, had a gin and tonic, and then we were then set to go out for the evening.

We walked back to Angel and rode down to the Putney Bridge stop. (It seemed like it was a ways out of town, definitely more like commuter rail.) We followed bunch of people to the bridge and crossed the Thames, then walked down a few blocks to the Half Moon. Davina and the Vagabonds from Minneapolis just happened to be playing there that night.

We paid 10 pounds cover and got the last table on the floor, front and center. Matt went to get us beer, and later I went to order food at the bar. (I kind of like that system in the UK… you don’t have to wait for a server, and you pay up front.) Our dinner was awesome, and so was Davina’s set.

We decided to leave during intermission, so we could visit other places in London before the tube stopped running. We went to say hi to Davina, and got a hug from her for being there. We walked back to the station and rode to Green Park to find an old tiki bar called Mahiki. We knew it was only open for about another hour, but figured we could stop in. It was conveniently right there by the station, too, but when we got there they had velvet ropes, and the place was obviously fancy. They were charging 10 pounds cover, too, which seemed stupid for such a short visit. We decided to go elsewhere instead.

It was late, so after some debate about how to get around after tube-closing, we decided on the pub we’d seen walking back from the Bar With No Name the night before. It looked like a friendly neighborhood place. So we rode to Angel, walked over there, and it was exactly what I wanted… a quiet pub with good beer and entertaining people-watching. I kind of wish we’d just headed there in the first place, because closing time was going to be happening soon.

I got Camden Ink – an awesome stout – and Matt got the pale ale. When the place closed, we walked over to a different Tesco near our hotel. We picked up three packs of Go Ahead, some scones to have for breakfast, and a selection of England’s finest canned cocktails. (Seriously, they were good! I liked the gin and grapefruit.) We headed to the self checkout and watched the drama unfolding at the entrance, where the store owners were yelling at the people trying to come in, since they were also trying to close. We walked back to the hotel and had G&Ts in bed while listening to Matt’s favorite punk show on BBC radio.

We got up at 8:30, ate our scones, and were again thankful for having hotel room coffee for once. Then we headed over to St Pancras to visit the official Olympic souvenir shop, because we hadn’t really seen much in the way of Olympic stuff elsewhere. (We knew we’d be at the station again the next day, but weren’t sure what time the shop opened.) We picked up a few things, then crossed to the Kings Cross station side and got on the tube to Arsenal. (It was on my favorite line, the one that ends at Cockfosters. If you can say that without giggling, you’re more of an adult than we are.)

One thing I’d really come to appreciate in London (beyond hotel room coffee, gin and tonics in cans, people walking quickly, not speaking French, and good beer): they remind you which way to look for cars at intersections. It’s easy to forget.

We walked the few blocks to the Emirates, and Matt joined the squad:

The stadium was really impressive. One of the things I really loved was that they had banners on poles circling the plaza that featured photos of fans with little bios about their dedication. I wish we did that here.

At the far end, we found the statue of Thierry Henry. I LOVE HIM.

We circled the rest of the building, then went to the gift shop and bought a bunch of stuff. Matt was really excited to be there. (While we were there, we learned that the British pronounce Adidas like the Germans – i.e. the correct way. Apparently that’s only an American thing.)

We stopped back at the hotel to drop off our purchases, had a snack of Go Ahead and cider, then went back to the tube. We rode to Bank, then transferred to the DLR (Docklands Light Railway) to go to Greenwich. The ride on that train is really interesting… it’s mostly aboveground, and goes through the financial district, around the docks, and across the Thames. Halfway there, a big school group got on, and we knew exactly where they were going… with us.

We all piled off the train at Greenwich, and wandered out into a seriously adorable little part of London. I loved it a lot. We stopped at a souvenir shop, then consulted the map to find our way to Greenwich Park. Because we’re nerds, we really wanted to see the place where time begins.

The park was in the midst of a huge Olympic construction project, because that’s where they’re hosting the equestrian events. We checked out the arena they’re building, then climbed up the hill to the observatory. The entrance sign has the official time and measuring standards:

We didn’t want to pay admission to the museum, and of course the Prime Meridian line is within the museum’s courtyard. We could see through the fence where people were getting their picture taken.

However, you can go into the courtyard there, which gives you access to the gift shop. The Prime Meridian happens to pass through the building and out into the courtyard, so we just visited it there instead.

We picked up some souvenirs, then went back outside. We realized that there was an excellent view of the Olympic facilities from the hill.

We headed back down the hill and into town to find lunch. We chose one of the two really cute-looking pubs there and got a table near the bar. The place was called the Spanish Galleon, and it was a Shepherd Neame brewery. I ordered a beer called the Bishop’s Finger, just because of the name. Plus it was delicious.

Matt got fish and chips, and I had a vegetable sandwich. There was something about being in that style of pub again in London that made me really happy. It was just so stereotypical and awesome.

After lunch, we went to see the Cutty Sark. You know what Matt loves? Going on boats!

The whole museum was only very recently redone, and it’s really great. You tour the decks of the ship first, and learn the history of the tea trade.

They have a huge collection of figureheads in the museum. Is that the Burger King?

The view of the underside of the ship is fantastic.

We hit up the gift shop, then walked down to the pier to get on the water taxi. It has several stops along the Thames; we mostly just wanted to ride and get the view from the river.

The boat was a little cold, but worth it. Since we didn’t have a ton of time in London, it was a great way to see some things.

The Gherkin… Barcelona has basically the same building, too. Their nickname for it means poop, apparently. Oh, Catalunyans.

The traitors’ gate entrance is awesome:

The Globe Theatre:

We got off the boat at the London Eye. The line was crazy (is the line ever not crazy?) so we decided against riding it. Matt, who isn’t thrilled about heights, was totally ok with that.

We took some pictures, then crossed the Thames.

This particular area was packed with tourists despite the crappy weather, so there was the usual entertainment.

Big Ben, which hadn’t yet officially been renamed:

We saw Westminster Abbey and 10 Downing Street. At that point I was really damn tired of walking again, so we went to the tube. I was looking forward to a break, but of course it was packed (it was around 5pm). At least we could stand instead of walking, I guess.

Our destination was the Whisky Exchange at Vinopolis, which is quite possible the largest liquor store in the universe. It’s big enough to be marked on the tourist map, at least. We were primarily in search of their pour-your-own items, because they would be totally unique. It was basically a museum of whiskey, though. On the way there, we passed a movie set where they were filming a scene with a horse-drawn carriage. The neighborhood looked very appropriate for it.

We picked out a collection of mini bottles of scotch and a bottle of the Havana Club Seleccion de Maestros to smuggle home, then got an employee’s help for the pour-your-own (which is more like they-pour-for-you). He got us samples from all the barrels, and my tongue was numb by the end of the tasting. The guy who was helping us was hilarious, too, and had seemed to know basically everything about scotch. We got talking about smoky scotch, so he poured us Ardbeg Corryvreckan as well.

We decided on the Arras blended, Craigallechie single malt, and a rum from Trinidad. He handed us an unlabeled bottle and told us to remember what it was so he could mark them properly. Try repeating “Craigallechie” to yourself several times after a scotch tasting. It’s awesome.

Since the labels are made custom there, he said we could put any date on them we wanted. We went with our wedding date, of course. He wrapped everything up in masterful fashion so it would survive the trip home, which it did:

We took our two Vinopolis bags and rode back to the hotel to drop them off and relax for a bit. I had grapefruit and gin in a can (Snoop Dogg would be proud), and Matt had a Pimm’s cup (can). We walked to dinner at a place nearby called the Delhi Grill, which specialized in Indian street food. From there, we took the tube to Liverpool Street, in search of a cocktail bar called the Mayor of Scaredy Cat Town. It’s in the basement of a place called the Breakfast Club, and you enter it via a refrigerator door. (You also have to give them the secret phrase when you arrive.)

It took us a while to find it, and when we got there the upstairs place was full. I told them the password, and the girl there said the wait would be pretty long, since it’s a small place. She offered us a spot upstairs, but we decided to take our chances elsewhere. We headed off looking for one place, and only realized we were going in the wrong direction after walking several blocks. Matt mentioned that his friend had recommended a place he thought was nearby, so we managed to find its location on our map with very spotty wifi.

We walked past a huge office building that appeared to be empty, and the neighborhood was becoming less and less busy. (His friend said it was in a weird part of town, so that seemed ok.) We walked past a trainyard and some construction, and finally spotted a bar a few blocks away. We crossed the street toward it, thinking it was just a local pub that would work well for our needs. When we got there, though, we noticed that the place we were looking for was actually downstairs. We said hi to the doorman, and he pointed the way. We walked into a speakeasy-style place called Worship Street Whistle Stop (it was decorated with old furniture and barrels) that served the most creative and strange cocktails we’d ever seen. Nice work, recommender!

We ordered drinks at the bar, then found a two-person table nearby where we could read the whole menu. They were doing things like UV-aged whiskey, irradiation, cheese culture in booze, and something that was effectively made with dirt. It was all very entertaining. We had a couple of drinks there, and Matt tried the dirt cocktail.

After an hour or so the place started to empty, and we knew the tube would be closing up, so we walked back to the station and rode to the hotel. We cracked open our cider and got to packing up our stuff again, because it was already time to leave London. How could our time there have gone so quickly?

We got up at 8, packed up our remaining stuff, and headed on foot to St Pancras. Not only were we carrying the same heavy backpacks, Matt now had a Harrod’s bag full of booze, and I had all the other souvenirs crammed into a reusable bag I’d tied closed for safety. It seemed like a very long walk to the train station.

We already had our tickets, so we headed to security. They put the bags through scanners but didn’t seem to care about the contents. Then we passed through French passport control (which was sort of confusing since we were going to Belgium again) and ended up in a big waiting area with several restaurants around it. It was a much larger terminal than the one in Brussels.

We went to Caffe Nero and got cappuccinos and pastries for breakfast, and also grabbed sandwiches to take on the train for lunch. We grabbed seats in the lobby, and were very excited to find out that St Pancras had free wifi. NOBODY has free unprotected wifi in Europe. Right as we finished eating, they announced our train. We went up the escalator to the platform and found our car, which happened to be the same one as before. We just had way more stuff to cram onto the overhead racks.

Once we got far enough out of London that we knew the Chunnel had to be close, we kept an eye out for it. The problem with the UK side is that there are many, many regular train tunnels, so you end up getting excited about being in the Chunnel, then suddenly emerging into the light again. Finally we got outside Dover, saw the white cliffs, and were in the real thing. We had our sandwiches and G&Ts in a can to celebrate. (Just so you know, this is a picture of Bally in the Chunnel. It’s hard to tell it’s not just dark out.)

I was reading a book on my Kindle that kept making me cry. I wanted to stop reading it, but then I knew I’d have to just delay the crying til later. So yeah, I was sitting around crying on the Eurostar.

We arrived at Brussels Midi around 2pm. The shops were all closed and the station was nearly empty, because it was a bank holiday there. Even the parking ramp was deserted, which thankfully made it really easy to find the President there. He was waiting with all of our luggage intact!

Matt set the course for Paris, and we got on our way. I was sleepy most of the way, so we stopped halfway for beverages and snacks. We marveled at all of France’s famous farms again, and made it to our hotel exit shortly after 5. The Mercure Ponte de Pantin parking involved navigating a narrow driveway into a parking garage with tiny spots, so at that point I wasn’t at all thrilled with our gigantic Citroen. Getting into the last spot in the lot involved about a 40-point turn, but I made it!

Though we were only staying two nights, we had to unload absolutely everything from the car so we could reorganize our luggage for the return trip. We hauled it all in in their tiny elevator, checked in, and went to our room. It smelled like smoke when we got there, but we opened the windows and it aired out right away.

We were tired, so we decided to go find dinner somewhere, then pick up beers and bring them back so we could do the big packing/reorganizing project. We were tired, and figured we wouldn’t have time to see any of Paris before dark anyway. After hanging out in the room for a bit, we suddenly realized we didn’t have Bally. I knew we had just left him sitting on the dashboard in the car, but that still didn’t hold back a slight feeling of panic. We both went down to get him from the car in the garage. BALLY IS VERY IMPORTANT. Hey, we don’t have kids or pets, right?

We also knew hardly anything about the layout of Paris or the landmarks, so we looked at the metro map and picked a stop with a name we knew that was also on our same metro line for convenience. We walked the couple of blocks to the Hoche stop and rode to Bastille. The station exited right out onto the Opera plaza, and there were people everywhere. Walking right out onto the street in the middle of Paris was pretty exciting, I admit.

We headed in the direction of a bunch of restaurants and started looking at menus. A few blocks away, we found a place called the Iguana Cafe that looked alright. The downstairs was packed, but the guy at the bar said we could go sit upstairs. It was empty so we had little hope of getting a server, but shortly after we grabbed a table, other people started coming up. A server showed up with menus, we ordered food and drinks, and all was good.

While we were waiting for our dinner, Matt was watching people out on the street from the upper level. We were across the street from a bread and pastry shop. Suddenly his face lit up, and he excitedly told me that he just saw a man walking down the street carrying five baguettes under his arm. That was the most Paris thing we could possibly imagine. So funny.

I had four-cheese tagliatelle and a mojito, and Matt got steak frites and a Moscow mule. Matt declared himself an expert on Paris after seeing the baguette guy, so he started regaling me with facts. We were pleasantly surprised at the decent service we got; after other encounters with French-speakers, we were absolutely convinced that everyone in Paris would be a huge asshole. We were glad to be (mostly) proven wrong.

We were revitalized after dinner, so we decided to walk the few blocks down Ave de Henry IV to the Seine and see what the view was like. We got there and were initially confused, then realized we were at the portion of the river on either side of Ile St-Louis. We saw the very top of Notre Dame poking up over the buildings, so we walked down one side of the river in that direction.

Paris was gorgeous. I don’t know why that should seem surprising at all. I guess I’d heard the ‘romantic Paris’ stuff so often I figured it was a bunch of crap, but it’s totally true. It felt like place you’d be sad to be single in, though!

We crossed a bridge over to the backside of Notre Dame, looked at the gardens, then went around front. We weren’t really planning to do any touristy stuff that evening in Paris, but it was there, and it was really impressive.

Entry was free, so we went inside. They were just beginning some kind of strange projected mass on a screen in front, and the church was quiet and very dark. That added to the atmosphere, and also meant the windows were well-lit from the outside at sunset.

We crossed back to the north side of the river, walked a few blocks, and ended up at the Hotel de Ville. There were a ton of basketball hoops set up outside it, so we had to go check that out. It turned out that the French basketball association was having some kind of kids’ event, and there was a big billboard with Tony Parker and other basketball players there. We vowed to bring Bally back there the next day to take his picture.

I was really glad we’d gotten to see some of Paris, because it made me a lot more excited about the rest of it!

We took the metro back to the hotel and got to our repacking project. It was a lot of work, but we got all the souvenirs stashed away safely, and the weight of the suitcases seemed like it would work out after everything else was added.

We sampled a few of our scotches from London, and headed to bed shortly after midnight.

We got up Friday morning, got a cappuccino at the hotel breakfast bar, and walked to the metro station. This time there were a million vendors set up along the sidewalk, much like the markets we saw all over Rome.

The metro drops off across the street from the Arc de Triomphe, so we took the pedestrian tunnel over to the plaza. There was a huge line for tickets, and we weren’t even sure what that was for. We followed everyone else outside so we could just take pictures. (I think the tickets are so you could go up to the top. I didn’t even know that was possible! It was kind of London-y and overcast in Paris, so we didn’t feel like we missed much.)

We could see the Eiffel Tower in the distance! Once again, I was shocked at how big it was.

We headed down the Champs Elysees, taking way too much pleasure in doing super-touristy things. It just seemed extra-funny in Paris. We stopped into a patisserie and bought pain au chocolate, then kept walking.

Back out on the Champs Elysees, I noticed a guy who appeared to drop something very near us, then go scrambling to pick it up. When I looked to see what it was, there was nothing on the ground, and yet he suddenly he had a ring in his hand. He tried to get our attention to point it out. I knew it was some kind of scam, so we kept walking. (I figured it was the typical ‘distract them while someone else picks their pocket’ routine.) It was so obvious, though, I wasn’t sure how he could possibly get away with it.

The President had made Matt an even bigger fan of Citroen, so we stopped into their multi-level museum/shop and checked out the cars. Matt bought a model of the President so we could take our awesome car home with us.

We walked down a few more blocks, then cut over to the river to find the Batobus stop. It’s the water taxi that stops at several points along the Seine. That worked pretty well in London on a short trip, so it seemed ideal in Paris as well.

The boat arrived in ten minutes or so, and we all piled aboard. We were planning on riding down to the Eiffel Tower, the last stop.

The Eiffel Tower was even more gigantic up close! We went upstairs from the boat launch and immediately noticed the massive lines underneath. We hadn’t really planned on going up in the tower if it was really busy, but had no idea it would be that busy. As we wandered around underneath, though, we soon figured out why: only one of the elevators in each tower was running, so it was doubling the wait times.

After taking a bunch of photos there, we went back down to the Batobus and boarded one for the Musee d’Orsay. We didn’t really have anything in particular to see there, we just knew it was famous, and we figured we could probably find some lunch over there too. At the top of the ramp from the dock, we saw another guy pulling the exact same ring scam in front of us! We ignored him as well and kept going, but I couldn’t stop laughing about it.

The museum also had a massive line out front. We walked around it and headed into the neighborhood to look for restaurants. It was lunchtime, so everything was pretty busy. We found a place with a patio that looked decent, so we tried to get the server’s attention. We thought she was going to seat us, and then she didn’t, and seemed bothered that I was standing there looking at the map. Matt said she was being really snooty, so we decided look elsewhere.

We walked a few more blocks, and I’m glad we did, because then we found Le Square. We got a table on the sidewalk, and ordered their lunch deal that included an appetizer and entree. They had Leffe on the menu, too, which was awesome. (Though if you pronounce it the correct way, like the Belgians do, a French speaker will correct you. Haha.) I had goat cheese on toast and a raviolo, and Matt had serrano ham on toast and beef tartare with frites.

Our lunch was excellent, so we were very pleased we’d found that place. We headed back in the general direction of the river, passing the National Assembly building along the way.

Back near the Batobus stop, we noticed that the British couple in front of us was talking to a woman about a gold ring. She had apparently given it to them, and was asking for money for it. They were laughing and refusing to pay or give the ring back, because they were obviously wise to it. (Here’s more about how it works… it’s not really as shady as it looks.)

We got back on the Batobus to ride back over to the stop near Notre Dame, so we could take Bally to the Hotel de Ville.

I love the walkways all along the river in Paris. There were so many couples sitting alongside the river, and people having lunch. That’s really awesome.

We got off the Batobus and walked over to the Hotel de Ville to see it during the day.

Bally got his photo taken with Tony Parker this time.

From there, we went over to find the Pompidou Center.

The plaza surrounding it was crowded with locals, tourists, and buskers. It was really interesting, and I loved the modern art fountain.

From there, we went to see the Louvre!

It’s too bad it was overcast again, but at least it wasn’t raining.

After wandering around the Louvre for a while, we went to find the Ritz. It’s another of the super-famous cocktail bars where Hemingway used to hang out. It took us a while to find it, and it was clear just from the outside that we would never be well-dressed enough to be in there. But we played the tourist card and went in anyway.

We got a table and they brought us snacks and a menu. The cocktails were all 30 EUROS. There isn’t a drink in the world worth 30 euros, but apparently that’s the price you pay at the Ritz. I got a sidecar, and Matt got a French 75. We sat there laughing about how ridiculous it was to pay 30 euros for a drink. And I took a picture of Bally on the table. What were the French going to do, disapprove? They do that anyway.

We stopped to use the fancy restrooms in the hotel before leaving, and the women’s room had a MAID. Like, wearing a French maid uniform. God, that was uncomfortable. There was also a porter turning the revolving door, because obviously people couldn’t do that themselves. Rich people are hilarious.

We walked over to the metro stop by the Opera, the one that’s known for being the scene of the Phantom of the Opera.

We rode to Goncourt, and it didn’t take us too long to find our destination: Baron Samedi. We conveniently arrived right at happy hour, though I wasn’t sure at first they were open because we were the first ones there.

One of the bartenders spoke a tiny bit of English, and the other none at all, but that didn’t matter. We ordered from the menu board and got a table. They had Ti Punch!

Matt was in heaven. They were playing the Dirtbombs, and the bar reminded us of Triple Rock in Minneapolis. For some reason, I’ll never forget that the co-ed bathroom door said ‘Mixte’ on it. A few people came in after us, and they ordered a round of beers, and a round of Ti Punch. Baron Samedi is the kind of bar I’d like to own someday.

Matt got another Ti Punch, and I went with a Kronenburg lest I not remember my name anymore. After that round we needed to find some food, so we set off wandering again. We found a place that reminded us of the Sultans of Kebap, but they didn’t have anything vegetarian (which is really unusual for that kind of place). We walked some more and settled on a restaurant called L’Autre Cafe. I had a salad with grilled cheese toasts and vegetables, and Matt had confit de canard. We had Pernod Ricard to start, and then I had a Leffe while Matt had wine.

After dinner, we stopped at a market on the way back to the Metro and picked up our last hotel-room beers.

We rode back to Hoche, and went to the hotel to finish packing.

We got up bright and early Saturday morning, at 6:20am. We quickly showered, packed our final things, and checked out of the hotel. We programmed CDG into the GPS, but apparently recent changes hadn’t been programmed into it, and it sent us in circles looking for the highway entrance. We finally figured it out ourselves, and were on our way.

I was stressed out about having to find a gas station near the airport to fill the car, knowing that the card readers in the gas pumps don’t usually work with magnetic strip cards (everything in Europe uses the chip), and I wasn’t sure if they’d be open yet. We found one right inside the entrance to the airport grounds, though, and I was able to go inside and pay with a credit card. We found our way to the rental car dropoff, which involves circling around the airport twice (intentionally!), and left the President at Citer.

We walked to the terminal and went to the check-in machine. Instead of our boarding passes, it presented us with an assistance slip, which meant we had to go wait in a very long line at the check-in counter. When we finally got there, the lady was nice and there seemed to be no issue, so I’m not sure what was up. She balked at us wanting to check three bags for free, but I told her I’d just contacted Delta to confirm that as an elite member and Amex cardholder, we were entitled to check two bags apiece for free. She agreed that that was true, and took the backpack. (I didn’t really even have to check it, but since we could I didn’t want to carry it around.)

There were long lines at passport control, too, and we suspected it was just due to Europeans’ intense love of queuing. From there we took the tram to our terminal, and went through security there. That part was quick, at least.

We headed right to the duty free shop to finish up our souvenir shopping. At the liquor store, we got another bottle of Havana Club and a weird bottle of super-concentrated Chartreuse Elixir Vegetal, which came in a little wooden case. We then went to the chocolate shop and picked up three boxes of French chocolate for people back home. We stopped at a little coffee counter to get pain au chocolate and espresso for breakfast, then headed to the gate where they were starting to board.

AirFrance followed the EasyJet boarding system, with an Elite queue (which didn’t include Delta elite, sadly) and a general boarding line, even though seats were assigned. I had requested specific seats that looked to be similar to the economy comfort ones we’d had on the way there, but since we weren’t charged for them, I was fearing the worst. We actually ended up in very roomy bulkhead seats near the bathroom, so I was totally fine with that.

The flight attendant sitting in front of us was very nice, and our video monitors showed an outside webcam view of what the pilot was seeing during takeoff. (It was kind of nerve-wracking to watch.)

It very quickly became apparent how awesome AirFrance is. Shortly after takeoff, they served us a snack of crackers and champage. I fired up J. Edgar on my TV and started watching, but I gave up shortly afterwards because of the sound. (The European-headphones with stereo sound weren’t loud enough over the engines, and my good earbuds were only in mono with the weird plugins they had.) I said goodbye to Europe as we passed the coast of France.

Shortly after our snacks were cleared, they began lunch service. I got my meal right away, because it was a special order vegetarian entree. I had a lentil salad, pasta, miniature baguette, applesauce, and coconut pie. We got Heinekens, too.

After lunch, another cart came around with our digestifs. I said no because we’d just finished our beers, but the flight attendant asked, “are you sure?” and showed us our choices: a pear liqueur or cognac. It’s hard to say no to free booze on airplanes, so we changed our minds.

I tried watching another movie, but I had to hold the headphones against my ears to hear anything. I decided to play solitaire and blackjack on my phone instead. We played cribbage, and I napped for a while. We crossed into North America, and saw what I’m pretty sure were ice roads in Canada.

We watched the cameras on the front and undersides of the plane for a while, and then it was time for breakfast. Mine involved a miniature croissant and pain au chocolate, some weird nondairy caramel pudding, juice, and coffee.

We landed early in Chicago, got off the plane right away, and rushed to passport control. One of the guys waiting there yelled, “who wants to come into America?” We went right to him, obviously. We waited a bit for our bags, and had to open my giant suitcase to put the duty-free stuff inside; you’re not allowed to carry it onto the second leg of the flight. From there we went through customs, and there was no need for my paranoia over the fact that we were smuggling Cuban rum; they didn’t even ask. (We’d declared the liquor we were bringing back, we just weren’t specific about its origin.)

Outside customs, everyone has to drop their luggage off with the baggage handlers. I was a little concerned about that part, because they weren’t airline-specific employees, so the bags would have to be routed to a bunch of different places. I know how that goes at O’Hare, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. We turned our bags over to the guys working there, and I was worried that I would never see my backpack again.

Everyone hopped on the tram and rode to their respective terminal. We checked out the map and saw that the Goose Island pub was in T3, so we walked the long walk over there and got seats at the bar. We were beyond thrilled to see sports on TV (hockey, even!), so we toasted to America and the guy next to us joined in. We got talking to him and learned that he was living in Belgium, so we compared notes on that.

Finally, it was time to head to our flight home. We had very comfortable economy comfort seats, and the flight was very pleasant.

….That is, until we got home and discovered that DELTA HAD LOST MY SUITCASE.

After several hours of panicking, contacting their service department online, and checking status updates, I saw that they’d located it at O’Hare and put it on the earliest flight out on Sunday. A courier dropped it off Sunday morning, and everything was intact inside. The duty free bag had a TSA notice on it and had been opened, but the Havana Club was still there. I’m not sure why they didn’t confiscate it, but I was thrilled that everything made it home intact.

Friday afternoon, I picked Wendy up from work and we drove to our house to meet Matt and Amelia. We headed to the airport, parked in the long-term parking (it’s kind of funny any time airport parking is cheaper than cab rides, but for a weekend trip that’s definitely the case), and went to get in line at security. The line was pretty long, but we jumped in the experienced traveler lane and headed right to the front behind only four or five other people.

While we were standing there waiting, a lady loudly demanded to know why this group of people got to jump right to the front of the line. The TSA agent explained the rules in a defeated way, making sure to mention a few times that it was “self-selected”. For some reason this seemed to set her off even more, even though she clearly could have chosen the lane herself. Plus we were all in compliance, with our small carry-ons and shoes and plastic toiletry bags at the ready. We stood there laughing amongst ourselves as she threw a fit to anyone who would listen, and finally got past the agent and to the scanners. And for the first time ever, I didn’t get the pat-down after my body scan!

We went to grab food for the plane, then met up with Wendy, Amelia, Jumi and Josh at the extremely crowded gate. For the first time, Matt and I got to take advantage of my reclaimed Delta elite status and board the airplane early. We had economy comfort seats in the front, and the difference was kind of amazing. The seats are larger, and there’s much more leg room. Having access to those is a pretty excellent benefit.

Matt and I decided to celebrate, since we were heading to Vegas for his birthday. I’m very classy, obviously:

We arrived in Vegas 40 minutes early, got the bus to the rental car center, and headed off to find our super-sexy minivan. It took us forever to find it in the lot, and then Josh spent what felt like an hour taking photos in case of insurance claims. I was dying sitting in the parking lot way too far away from the Strip. Finally we headed out, and drove up the Strip to the Flamingo, our hotel. There may have been some yelling out the windows along the way.

We stopped at Sin City Brewing on the way to the front desk, because we’d been in Vegas for close to an hour and hadn’t had a drink yet. We ended up with individual pitchers of beer, which solved the not-having-a-drink problem but quick. We passed by the huge line at check-in and went to the automated kiosks instead. They even let us pick our own rooms! We all headed upstairs, with plans to meet again shortly.

We’d all booked the Go rooms at the Flamingo, since Matt and I loved them so much last time. (Not just because the bathroom mirrors have TVs in them, but it’s a plus.) We dropped off our stuff, finished our beer pitchers, and met up in the lobby to go back to the car. We piled in, and Josh got on the freeway to downtown Las Vegas.

We parked and headed off in the general direction of the Plaza, which we’d never been to before. There was the typical Fremont Street Entertainment along the way, including sexy saxophone man playing on a truck:

There was also a shot stand, of course.

We got to the Plaza and headed to Hash House a Go Go. I’d heard that it was awesome, but had no idea that all of their food arrives in portions of this quantity. Holy crap, everything was gigantic and awesome.

After dinner, we wandered back down Fremont in search of some gambling. We stopped into a tiny casino just to get Mardi Gras beads, then decided on Binion’s. Matt and I found a blackjack table, and everyone else wandered off for other forms of betting.

We had a really entertaining Italian dealer, and for most of the time it was just the two of us at the table. That session resulted in one of the scariest bets I’ve made yet: I split a pair of threes, and was dealt an 8 and another three. I doubled on the one and re-split the other, and ended up with $60 on the table. The dealer busted. WHEW.

Matt and I had wanted to visit the Downtown Cocktail Lounge, so we notified our friends of the plan and headed down toward the other end of Fremont. There were people ziplining above us (that was new since our last visit), and the Fremont Street Experience was showing giant QR codes in the sky. We got a table at the cocktail lounge and ordered drinks. It was particularly exciting, because Vegas has not been known as a mecca of good cocktails until really recently. This was our kind of place.

Josh, Jumi, Wendy and Amelia arrived a bit later, and we found it hilarious watching them try to open the door of the bar and fail (the handle is hidden). We had another round of drinks there, then headed back to the hotel for the night.

Saturday morning, we met Wendy and Amelia and walked down to Paris for our usual brunch of French rolls, fruit, and cheese at JJ’s Boulangerie. We then went to the gigantic slot machine at Bally’s to lose $1 apiece, then decided to go wander around Planet Hollywood for a while. We walked through the mall, made the required stop at ABC Stores, then went into the casino to see if there were any good tables open. There weren’t, so we went to get drinks at the bar instead. Amelia had gone to play slot machines, so we searched for her for a long time, and finally found her in the back.

We set a time to go meet Jumi and Josh (who were apparently at the Las Vegas swap meet that morning), then stopped to get Amelia a drink at Sammy Hagar’s bar before walking over to Bill’s to check on the tables there. Matt went to go get himself a birthday scotch while I found a Pai Gow table, and convinced Wendy to try it out (thus beginning a long obsession). Amelia went to find a slot machine. I was doing well after a while, so I went to cash out while I was up. Then it became time to go get our ride, so we gathered everyone and went to find the van waiting at the Flamingo.

We met Josh and Jumi and headed back downtown for our tour of the Neon Boneyard. It’s something I’ve wanted to do since I heard about it a few years ago. We parked, and along the way found somebody’s manifesto on a lamppost.

The Neon Boneyard was everything I hoped it would be. (My entire photoset is here.)

The Neon Museum is in the process of being built next door to the Boneyard location, but it won’t be up and running until late 2012. In the meantime, they just have a huge empty lot full of old Vegas signs, and they also curate the exhibits along Las Vegas Avenue and Fremont Street. Out front of the museum is the Silver Slipper sign that Howard Hughes believed was monitoring his thoughts, so he bought it and took it down.

The tour lasts about an hour, and is totally worth your time. Especially once the museum is open, I imagine.

On the way back from the Neon Boneyard, we stopped at In-N-Out Burger for lunch, something which all of us (even me, the vegetarian) were way too excited about. While Matt and I were waiting for our food, a guy came up to him, pointed at the logo on his shirt, and said, “Pleepleus! Drink!” He was referring to the mascot logo for the show ‘Drinking Made Easy’, and he was so excited to find someone else who knew about it that he insisted on having his photo taken with Matt. Hilarious.

We had lunch outside, making sure all the local birds got extra-fat on french fries. We then went back and parked the van at the hotel, and it was time to go gamble. After stopping for drinks at Margaritaville first, of course. (The bartenders are very proud of their flair skills there, and they were admittedly pretty impressive.)

We all walked over to Imperial Palace, where there were celebrity impersonators singing karaoke on the stage in the middle of the casino floor, and all the pit bosses were going table to table handing out Mardi Gras beads. (It’s my kind of casino.) We managed to find a Pai Gow table where five of us could play together (Amelia still wouldn’t be convinced of its awesomeness), so it was perfect. Josh and Jumi didn’t know how to play, but the dealer was more than happy to teach them.

Josh had an incredible run of bad luck, and kept getting cleaned out. The dealer even had him trying old superstitions involving getting up and circling his chair clockwise three times, which didn’t work so well because he was crowded against another table, went the wrong direction, and only made it twice. Most of us were doing pretty well consistently, and the dealer even convinced me to start playing the fortune bonus, even though I know what a sucker bet it is. I managed to hit it several times, though, and often made up there what I lost on regular hands. I realized I was consistently over my original stake, so I started shoving chips in my pockets whenever I won. After a while, I got up to use the restroom, and realized that I was going to spill chips all over the place if I didn’t cash out. I did that, and saw I was already up $75.

Back at the table, we were all many free drinks and strings of beads into the afternoon. We kept rotating between two dealers, both of which were awesome and had us rolling on the floor laughing. After Wendy made a “winner, winner, chicken dinner” joke, she started yelling things like NO CHICKEN FOR YOU, BABY!! and CHICKEN FOR EVERYBODY!! It was basically the greatest gambling experience ever, and I was sad when we realized we had to leave and start getting ready for our dinner plans. I cashed out my chips again, and was doing far better than I ever have in Vegas.

Jumi, Josh, and Amelia headed back to the hotel to do responsible things like clean up and nap, while Matt, Wendy and I went over to the Mirage. We grabbed couches at Rhumbar (their awesome patio bar), and noticed that they were showing the 3-point competition at the NBA All-Star Game. It took one glance at the menu to see what we were ordering: The Scorpion Bowl. It’s a tiki drink with three kinds of rum, gin, and rum-soaked cherries, costs $50, and has a two-person minimum. Wendy and Matt Tebowed at the sight of it.

The added bonus to being there was that we got to watch Kevin Love win the 3-point competition!

With a good amount of rum in our systems, it was time to go back to the hotel to change for dinner. It was Matt’s birthday, so we were all dressing up fancy-like and going to Jaleo (Jose Andres’ tapas restaurant) for dinner. We walked down to the Cosmopolitan, met up with the others, and got a table right under the luchador cow.

The food there was excellent. It’s always confusing when you get small plates, and you think you’re never going to be full, and then suddenly you want to die. (I could probably live on pan con tomate or their cheeses pretty easily, which was good since the menu wasn’t exactly vegetarian-friendly.) Their Sidecar wasn’t half bad, either, and Matt had the legendary gin & tonic.

After dinner, we went downstairs to drink at the Chandelier. We were really excited for everyone else to experience the joy of drinking inside a giant lamp. We had a hilarious server, and the drinks were great as always. (There was an elaborate one involving dry ice that was really entertaining.)

From there, we headed back up the Strip to do some more gambling. I was the only one who wanted to play craps, so I took up a spot at a table at Bill’s. The crowd there was interesting, and I made pals with the Australians next to me. While I’d played craps before, I’ve never wanted to roll the dice, but since I’d had maybe a few drinks, I decided to accept the dice this time. The first time, one of the dice didn’t make it to the far wall of the table. The second time, the same thing happened. I was getting pretty embarrassed, but the third time was good, and eventually I rolled the point again. (Watching other people throw later, I wasn’t so embarrassed anymore… half of them threw the dice off the table.) And again, I won a bunch of money but have no clue how much… I just grabbed my pile of chips and took them to the counter when it was time to go.

Matt and I eventually went back to the Flamingo, and stopped for a drink at Margaritaville. Neither of us had any idea what time it was, because our phones had been dead for hours. And who needs to know the time in Vegas, really?

I woke up Sunday morning, and it was time for the reckoning. We checked out, piled our stuff in the car, and drove up to the Stratosphere. We were running a little late, so we rushed upstairs and headed right to the SkyJump desk to check in. That’s because it was time to JUMP OFF THE STRATOSPHERE.

Wendy and I were the jumpers, and everyone else came along to cheer for us and cross their fingers that we didn’t die. I paid $110 cash for my jump, which I noted proudly was all from my gambling proceeds. They took us in back to suit up in sexy blue jumpsuits and a giant harness that was way heavier than I expected. We had to empty our pockets and leave all of our stuff in lockers, so I gave my camera to Matt. Then they weighed us, and wrote our weight on the inside of our wrists in Sharpie. To our relief, the weight was in kilograms. (Fun fact: the harness must weigh almost ten pounds, now that I’ve finally done the conversion math.)

We said goodbye to our friends and loved ones (and promised not to die), then headed to the elevator while they went out to the patio to watch our jump. We were led by a SkyJump attendant, and there was one other lady with us. She agreed to jump first so we could see how it went.

They led us right to a waiting pen in the observation deck, and closed the gate. People immediately started wandering over to see what was up, and asking us about how it worked. We watched them lead the other lady into the glass booth where two attendants were preparing people. It seemed to take forever, even though I think it was only about five minutes or so. Finally they led her out to the edge of the platform and she jumped. Once that happened, the people gathered around us started asking even more questions, and we really didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Waiting for it was the worst part.

It was my turn next. I wished Wendy good luck and headed into the booth while the people at the observation deck bombarded her with questions. She didn’t look happy about it at all. The attendant checked my harness for tightness, then checked my shoes and my earrings too. Next the other attendant came up and did the same exact thing, so they had a double-check of everything. They asked me a few questions, and then the guy took me out into the platform. He told me to hold the railing on the right with both hands while he attached the line to my harness. For some reason, I hadn’t expected it to be so windy up there, but it freaked me out a little. Once I was connected, he told me to step up with my toes over the edge, and to reach over and grab the railing on the left with my other hand. That railing seemed REALLY far away. Then he counted down from three, and I jumped.

I screamed for a second, but then realized that the line caught right away and it would be a smooth ride the whole way down. There was plenty of time to look around, but I didn’t really absorb any of it. I noticed that there were lounge chairs on the patio below me, and that the people in the lounge chairs were probably our friends. I spend the other few seconds of my jump picking them out and waving hi to them.

As for landing, the guy had told me to arch my back so I could land on my feet. I did that, and stood for a second before falling over onto my ass. It was a valiant effort! They sent me to get out of my jumpsuit, because there was enough time in between to do that and then watch for Wendy’s jump. I did that and went to hang out with Matt, Amelia, Jumi and Josh. I was shaking, and so adrenaline-filled that I couldn’t even manage to make a movie of Wendy jumping… I just kept turning the camera on and off instead of being able to work the controls.

Anyway, what I would tell you about jumping off the Stratosphere is to DO IT NOW. It’s amazing, and I want to go again.

After Wendy got un-suited, we were all dying of hunger, so we went downstairs to Roxy’s Diner for brunch. While we waited for our food, Josh got a gigantic milkshake in a souvenir Stratosphere glass, and used a straw wrapper to build a scale model of our jump from the top. After eating, we headed to the van and drove back down the Strip, with an extended stop at TI where Josh disappeared inside for what seemed like hours, picking up their show tickets for later.

Our destination was the famed Las Vegas sign, which we’d been meaning to revisit forever. Since our last stop there a few years back, they’ve added a parking lot and Vegas representatives there to take your picture and in some cases (like the showgirl), collect tips.

All but one of us knew what else was up with our stop there… Wendy was planning to propose to Amelia! And she did, in front of a long line of waiting people and the showgirl. It was awesome.

After the engagement, we piled back in the van and went to park at the Bellagio. Matt and I wanted to do our usual shopping trip at Caesar’s, so we all walked over that direction. Of course our shopping trip involved stopping at the bar in the mall for gigantic Long Islands, too, so we did that. Shanghai Tang didn’t have anything spectacular, and Matt didn’t see anything he needed for his birthday gift at the Nike store, so we went back to the casino. We wanted to find the barge-with-a-bar that Steve had excitedly reported about on a previous trip, so I used the magical power of Google Maps and their inside casino view to locate it. That still didn’t make finding it that much easier, especially with construction in Caesar’s, but we eventually got there and it was CLOSED. Jerks.

Matt and I wanted to possibly do more gambling and hang out at the bar, so we all made plans to meet up at the car later, and headed our separate ways. We used our two-for-one coupons at the Caesar’s bar (that’s the only way to make their drinks somewhat affordable), then went to the sports book across the way. (It’s my favorite, mostly because I’ve napped there before.) I picked Syracuse to win the National Championship (this was before Fab Melo got DQed, of course), and the WCHA to win the hockey championship. I’m too superstitious to bet directly on the Gophers, not that I could have at that point anyway.

I went to play craps again, but that $40 disappeared quickly. We decided to walk back to the Bellagio to see if we could get into Fontana Bar to watch the fountains, but couldn’t find it in the spot we expected it to be. We finally asked a girl at the podium outside a club, and she said it had been replaced. The club was opening in a bit, but we didn’t like the sound of that. We racked our brains about a good spot to visit, and then had our ‘duh’ moment: the Cosmopolitan was right next door, and the Chandelier Bar was the perfect place to end our visit to Vegas.

It ended as they all do… way too soon. We went back to the Bellagio garage and found everyone else waiting for us in the van.

Jumi and Josh had a later flight out, so they dropped us at the airport. Our flight was uneventful but late, so we didn’t arrive in Minneapolis til almost 1am. Thank god I’d told work I would be late on Monday.

In keeping with our usual way of doing things during the Fall of Travel, Friday afternoon I headed from work to the train while Matt drove to the airport. Since we were leaving from the Humphrey Terminal this time, he realized it was actually cheaper to park there for three days than to take a cab either way. We met in the lobby, checked in, got some food, and boarded our Sun Country flight to Boston. It was really strange to not be flying Delta for once.

Sun Country served hot dogs on the flight, so it was basically a huge sausage party. (No, they didn’t have a vegetarian version. Also the entire plane smelled like hot dogs. Eesh.)

We landed in Boston and headed to the rental car center where we met up with Matt’s awesome coworker, Paul, who was riding with us to Worcester. We got on the road there, and ended up at the Hampton Inn (the same place we’d stayed before, and had forgotten about) a little over an hour later. We checked in, then headed out on foot with Paul to get some dinner.

It had been about a week since a huge early snowstorm had been through the area, so there were remnants of it around Worcester. It’s unusual to come from a snowless Minneapolis and see that somewhere else first!

We walked the half mile or so to Armsby Abby, a place that Yelp seemed to think was pretty great. And it was! Though it was after 9pm, the restaurant was packed. We got a table, picked beers from their massive list, and ordered food. Everything was excellent, so I’m glad I had done some research this time… on our last visit, the place we ended up at was basically Applebee’s.

After another round of beers, we headed back to the hotel and went to bed. Matt had to be up very early, as usual.

Bright and early Saturday morning, I hauled our bags out to the car while Matt finished getting ready. In the elevator, I met an old couple from Connecticut who were staying there because they hadn’t had power for a week. (Holy crap.) We met Paul again at the breakfast buffet, then I drove them to the college where their seminar would be. It was a ways out of town, and shared the grounds with a monastery. On the way there, we noticed the huge number of trees down along the road. They were all piled very neatly in stacks lining the highway, waiting to be picked up.

After dropping them off, I consulted my very confusing Google phone-map of Worcester and tried to find my way to the interstate. I ended up lost in downtown, but finally found where I was supposed to be. I headed off in a northeasterly direction, because I was on my way to visit my last two states!

To my annoyance, our stupid green Corolla (which I nicknamed Adam, of course) didn’t have cruise control. (Satellite radio was also out, obviously.) I was able to pick up a vast array of hiphop and metal stations from Boston, though, so at least I had entertaining music along the way.

I reached New Hampshire by 9:30am, and stopped to use the rest area and grab some local maps. I’m glad I checked out the brochures, because I noticed that Stonewall Kitchen‘s headquarters were very nearby. I’ve always liked that place a lot.

As for New Hampshire, the only noteworthy thing along the way is that they have gigantic state-run liquor stores at their own highway exits. It was kind of amazing.

I decided to exit I-95 before the border and take Highway 1 into Maine instead, since I’d recently visited the opposite end of it in Key West. The border crossing happened much sooner than I expected, and I noticed that the sign read “Welcome to Maine: The Way Life Should Be.” I got a little choked up at the idea of being in state #50.

To get the business stuff out of the way first, I stopped in at the Kittery Trading Post. I’d been seeing their billboards for 40 miles, so I was aware that they would have all my tacky Maine souvenirs covered: stuffed lobster, Christmas ornament, snacks for Matt, Maine magnet. I noticed while I was there that everyone looked like a fisherman, which is exactly how I was hoping Maine would be. The accent was fantastic, too.

Following my illustrated Maine-and-Portsmouth-NH tourist map, I headed through Kittery toward the coast. I stopped at the first sight of the ocean:

I then drove up the coast and gasped as I came over a hill and saw Lobster Cove. It was a huge beach lined with cute little vacation cottages and restaurants. Most of it was closed for the season, obviously, but it was still really appealing. As I stood there taking photos, a couple of surfers walked by and said good morning. (It was 35 degrees – they’re hardcore.)

I continued up the tiny winding coastal road until I found my way to Nubble Lighthouse. I loved all the vacation cottages (some of them WAY more than cottages), and noticed that a lot of them were still occupied. I could definitely handle the off-season there. Everything about Maine was incredibly charming.

The seagulls hanging out by the lighthouse were gigantic and bossy. When I took Bally out for a picture, I was worried they were going to fly away with him.

I found my way back to highway 1, and headed over to see the Stonewall Kitchen HQ. It was completely packed with people, and in full swing for the Christmas season. I managed to do quite a bit of holiday and souvenir shopping there, though I wasn’t quite sure how I’d fit it all in our bag for the return trip. Post-shopping, I went to their restaurant and got myself a caprese sandwich for the road.

I wandered back through Kittery (which was indeed the land of outlet shopping, as one of Matt’s coworkers had mentioned). I wanted to take the little bridge across between Kittery and Portsmouth, but it appeared to be under construction. Instead I had to take the I-95 bridge back to New Hampshire. I wanted to stop in and see the Red Hook Brewery, which I’d also noticed on my tourist map. Note: if you have one of those cutesy illustrated maps, do not rely on them for actual directions. Use Google Maps instead.

After making about 10 U-turns, I finally found the brewery. I didn’t have time to take the tour, but I went in and wandered around, used their bathroom, picked up a 6-pack and souvenirs at the shop, and talked to the Santa-looking guy at the counter for a while. Then I crossed the highway and went to drive around Portsmouth, which was super-cute. It reminded me of Annapolis, with the narrow cobblestone streets and awesome shopping.

It was then time to make my way back to Worcester, so I wouldn’t be late picking Matt up. I actually made it faster than I expected, so I stopped for coffee and gas in Worcester, then drove back to the college (noting how to get back to the freeway this time) and hung out in the car reading a book. He showed up at 4pm, and it was time to head to Boston!

The drive was quick, and we spent much of it debating why the directions to our hotel were so confusing. We were staying a block from Fenway, but Google had us exiting way before that and driving all over the place. Apparently that was the correct route, though, because that’s where all the Fenway signs pointed. We got lost once and ended up circling the actual fen, then found our hotel but missed where we were supposed to park. After a lot of swearing, I finally made it into the parking lot. A man directed us to park downstairs, so we descended the ramp and were immediately greeted with a pair of rats fighting behind a dumpster. We dubbed the parking lot ‘the octagon’, and hurried the hell out of there as fast as possible.

We were staying at Hotel Buckminster, which was a cute old building in a really convenient location. Though we had a car, we figured we would have the option of taking the green line at night if we were out late. We’d also intentionally picked it because of its nearness to Eastern Standard, an awesome restaurant and cocktail bar we wanted to revisit.

The guys at the front desk were awesome, and our room was small but clean. We celebrated our arrival with a couple of beers, which took a while to enjoy since we didn’t actually have an opener with us. Matt managed it with a coat hanger instead!

We headed out to get dinner, and decided to try Eastern Standard. We ended up on the patio, which was enclosed and heated with gigantic heat lamps. (I really want to know why nobody does that in Minneapolis. It’s so awesome.) Our dinner and cocktails were excellent. Afterward, we decided to check out what was around the neighborhood. We’d seen a listing for a whiskey bar called the Citizen that also had Fernet on tap, so obviously we had to check that out.

On the way to the Citizen, walking next to Fenway, we passed two guys obviously from Minnesota: one in a Wild jersey, and one in a Gophers shirt. Funny.

The Citizen was packed. We made our way to the far side of the bar where it was standing room only, and managed to get a couple of spots there. In addition to a massive whiskey list, they had a great beer selection. We ordered drinks and shots of Fernet, which instantly earned us the bartender’s approval. Also, they arrived in skull shotglasses.

After a couple of old fashioneds, we decided to move on. (Particularly after they brought out an ENTIRE roast pig to the table behind us. Matt was excited; I was not.) We walked back toward the hotel and stopped into Cask and Flagon, mostly because we kept joking about going there. It was exactly what you expect of a sports bar across the street from Fenway. We got a couple drinks and sat down to watch the extraordinarily terrible LSU-Bama game. We were also keeping track of the Gophers hockey game on our phones, and were thrilled when they swept the Sioux. After the round of drinks, we decided we’d done our time at Cask and Flagon, and crossed over to Boston Beer Works instead.

The front of the bar seemed to already be shutting down, which was strange (it was close to midnight). We headed to the back and I ordered their blueberry beer, which had blueberries floating in it (and was extremely delicious). We sat around watching more of the terrible football game and celebrating the Gophers win. Then we decided we’d had enough of beer, and went back to visit the bar at Eastern Standard instead. We ended up having a long conversation about god-knows-what with a guy in an Iowa hoodie, and by that point it was time to sleep. After a stop for snacks at the 7-11, of course.

The next morning, we headed into downtown. It was Sunday, which made getting around slightly easier (though not much). We parked the car in a ramp in the middle of town, and walked over to Woodward for brunch. We stood at the server stand for at least five minutes before someone came over. We sat at our table without water or being acknowledged by a server for another ten. Then we got up and left for a place that didn’t suck.

We ended up at Scholars Boston Bistro instead. They were serving brunch and happened to have Kona Pipeline Porter on tap, so I was thrilled. We ate, then walked down to the harbor to wait for the ferry to the U.S.S. Constitution. While we’d visited the national park before, we’d been there too late to take the tour of the ship. It was time to fix that.

I love the ferry service. It costs only $1.70 a person to ride across Boston Harbor, and the view is excellent.

We got in line at the Constitution with a ton of students, just in time for the last tour. The ship was pretty amazing, and in great condition.

They took us belowdecks and explained how the sailors lived. That’s where we learned about the origin of the word ‘scuttlebutt’, because it was a place where the sailors gathered to get their water and rum rations, and therefore had a chance to gossip.

After the tour, we stopped in at the museum and gift shop(s) for souvenirs, then went back to the ferry just in time for sunset.

We walked through Faneuil Marketplace, and the hall full of food vendors was like torture. (I’m not sure why we didn’t stop to eat anything, we just didn’t.)

We headed over to the Omni Parker House hotel to go to their awesome bar (where we’d had martinis and warm nuts last time), but it was apparently closed on Sundays. We stood around trying to figure out where to go, and then remembered the existence of Marliave. We’d had a marginal time there on our previous visit (mostly due to a bartender who really cared what glass water was served in), but this time was way better.

After a couple of drinks there, we decided we’d go to dinner in Cambridge. Matt really wanted to visit Craigie on Main, another well-regarded cocktail bar, so we headed that direction. The place was really busy, but we only had to wait 10 minutes or so for seats at the bar. I’m glad we did, because everything there was fantastic. We had a couple of small plates (his involved squid ink, which I tried without realizing it – I guess it’s technically vegetarian, like eggs, right?) and drinks.

We ended up talking to the bartender about where we were staying, and he told us we should visit Eastern Standard. We were of course very familiar with that place, and he pointed out a guy sitting down the bar, saying that he’d designed the cocktail program there. (Cocktail nerd alert!! Very exciting!) We asked him where he was working now, and he told us to stop into Island Creek Oyster Bar, which was conveniently located right next to Eastern Standard. We made a note to stop in later.

We decided to go elsewhere for a full meal, because we’d be broke dining at Craigie. I searched in Foursquare for nearby restaurants, and we decided on Cambridge Brewing Company, less than a mile away. It took us forever to find it because it was tucked inside the courtyard of a building, but it was worth it: it’s a giant brewpub with a good beer selection and delicious pizza. We were also seated next to a table of MIT students drinking from the beer tower of power. Awesome.

After dinner, we went back to the hotel, left the car in the octagon, and walked over to Island Creek. It was a very stylish place that was surprisingly empty at that time of night. We got seats at the bar and ordered drinks. After a round, we were pretty sleepy, so we asked the bartender for our check. Before we left, he made us another sample cocktail containing our good old friend Fernet. Seriously, there is no getting away from it. (The other bartenders were doing shots of it behind the bar, of course.)

We got up Monday morning, checked out of the hotel, and drove over to Prudential Center. It’s a massive complex a couple miles away from Fenway, and has an observatory at the very top. We found our way there, and the view was totally worth it with the perfect weather.

From there, we drove over to the seaport, where the docks and the cruise ship terminals are. It’s a fascinating and kind of confusing part of town: it was really busy over the lunch hour, but we couldn’t quite figure out where all the people were coming from. We drove around looking for parking, and finally realized it wasn’t going to happen on the street: we’d have to take one of the really expensive ramps. We did that, then went out onto Northern Avenue to look for some lunch. We saw a Mexican place across the street called Temazcal Cantina, so that was our decision.

We got seats at the bar and were handed iPad menus, which was a pretty great novelty. Their food was surprisingly good, too… I was expecting something a lot more chain-y. We liked that it looked out on the harbor, too.

After lunch, we walked down to the Marine Industrial Park to the Harpoon Brewery. Bally met a lobster along the way.

They didn’t have tours on Mondays, but they did have an hour-long tasting. Having toured many breweries before, we were totally fine with that.

We sampled many many beers, and the girls working there were great. We of course picked up some souvenirs to go, and then it was finally time to head to the airport.

Our return flight on AirTran took us through Milwaukee. (Silly, but ridiculously cheap.) We hadn’t had any issues with the Boston-Milwaukee leg, but the second one was not great. They decided to leave early, but didn’t make any announcements about it. When we got to the gate half an hour before the flight, they bitched at us because we weren’t there the prescribed 40 minutes early. (You know who boards 40 minutes early? First class, and only rarely when the flight is on time.) The flight attendants were miserable, and the plane looked like it was built in 1960. We decided right then that we will never fly AirTran again.

(The entire photoset is here on Flickr.)

Read from the beginning below, or jump to each day:

• 9/19: Monday
• 9/20: Tuesday
• 9/21: Wednesday
• 9/22: Thursday
• 9/23: Friday
• 9/24: Saturday

Our flight to Seattle took us, confusingly, through St Louis. While that’s kind of ridiculous, it was also much cheaper than a direct flight, plus it pushed me the few hundred miles over the 25,000 mark with Delta and earned me elite status for 2012. So it was alright.

The STL-SEA leg was on Alaska Airlines. If Delta was smart they wouldn’t have let us fly on that airline, because it made it obvious how much poorer their service was. Also, Alaska had awesome food and served Kona beers. We were very happy about that.

We arrived in Seattle shortly after 8, and Matt went to the car rental counter while I got the suitcase. We hopped on the shuttle, and were in a pretty awesome new Mazda 3 in short order. I looked up directions to the hotel on Google Maps while Matt drove.

The directions were pretty easy according to the map, but not so much in real life. We made a wrong turn, and then found ourselves stuck in a maze of one-way, dead-ending streets. All we wanted was to get across Broad Street to the side where Seattle Center was, but it was impossible unless we went exactly the way Google told us to. That’ll be a lesson to me about thinking I can figure it out myself!

We found the hotel, got the last parking spot in the lot, and checked in. The guy at the front desk was a former Minneapolitan, so we had a long talk about the Vikings and Minneapolis’ infrastructure problem; it hadn’t even occurred to us that the 35W bridge and Metrodome collapses had occurred within a year of each other. Our room was much fancier than I expected, and we loved that they had a Keurig machine and free bottled water and microwave popcorn. And real cream for coffee!! That never happens.

It was after 10 by the time we headed out, but we wanted food and a couple of drinks before we’d be ready for bed. We walked the eight or so blocks to Mecca, the place we’d gone with Steve on the last visit. He’d ordered a gimlet and a waffle there, so we knew it was obviously awesome. We both got some breakfast food and whiskey; Matt’s came in the form of a shot of Wild Turkey, followed by a beer. That’s a good way to start the night.

While we were wrapping up, people started piling in from the Journey/Foreigner/Night Ranger concert at Key Arena. The streets were full of fans plus what we assumed was the usual crowd in Queen Anne, so that made for an interesting experience. We walked back down toward our hotel and stopped into the Solo Bar, because their cocktail menu looked decent. It was pretty crowded, though, so we decided to try the beer place next door. That was even more crowded, though, so we went back to Solo and just hung out near the bar. Rather than the Journey crowd, it was full of people who had just been to the opera. Couple that with the fact that it seemed to be primarily an art gallery, and the end result was a LOT of pretension. The drinks were still pretty good, though!

It was after midnight by then, so we went back to the hotel and headed to bed. Matt had to be up by 7, after all.

In the morning, I sent him off to his conference in the car, and I hung out in the room, trying to get more sleep. My body was convinced it was after nine, though, so I got up and walked over to the natural foods store a few blocks away. (It was just me and the joggers on the streets of Seattle at that point.) I got a morning glory muffin, a really excellent Americano, a 5-Hour Energy, and two 4-packs of Maui Coconut Porter, because we can’t find it in Minnesota. I promised the cashier I wasn’t going to drink all the beer that morning.

Back at the hotel, I hung out watching football (it’s on so early in Seattle!!), and then went downstairs to meet Steve, Colleen, and Veronica to go have brunch. We went to the 5 Spot, which they told me changes themes quarterly or so. They feature a few menu items from a certain part of the country, and update the decor to match. (And they go all out, from what I saw.) The current theme was Philadelphia, which made being there extremely confusing, since we’d just been there. One can never get enough Ben Franklin, apparently.

After brunch, we went to walk on the Alaskan Way Viaduct. They’re in the process of knocking it down, so they had this half-day event where people could go up there and wander around. It’s a great view of the city, and also we got to take a piece home with us.

I guess it should’ve been a little unsettling that they were knocking down parts of it very near where we were.

Being Seattle and all, of course there was a girl hooping. There were also some people having a picnic, complete with wooden cheese board and spade. So fancy.

People left messages for the viaduct. They know it’s a highway, right?

After our walk, we went back down to the parking lot, where a bulldozer had just arrived with a fresh delivery of viaduct chunks. People cheered for the bulldozer, then everyone scrambled onto the pile to get the best piece. Some lady yelled, “I want a piece of rebar!” Yep, it was weird. Weird and awesome.

We grabbed some viaduct chunks and headed out. I got a smallish one, since I had to bring it home on the plane. I didn’t want Delta to look askance at me for taking part of Seattle’s crumbling infrastructure.

Steve and Colleen then took me to see Uwajimaya, which I’m pretty sure was the most gigantic Asian grocery store on earth. We spent a long time there looking around, and I picked up a few things including something for Awesome Christmas, some Salad Pretz (they’re the best Pretz), and a yakisoba sandwich. Seriously, it’s a baguette with a pile of vegetarian yakisoba inside. Colleen said it was the greatest hangover food ever. I believed it, even if we didn’t get to experience it while hungover. Which is totally fine with me, really.

They went to take the baby home for a nap, so I asked them to drop me off at the hotel so I could go be a tourist. The sun was finally coming out, so I decided to revisit the Space Needle.

Of course the sun was not out by the time I got to the top, but at least it wasn’t raining!

I walked around Seattle Center for a while, then decided to go get lunch at McMenamin’s, the beer place we hadn’t been able to get into the previous night. It was really quiet this time, of course, because it was in the middle of the afternoon. I ordered a beer and a bowl of Jamaican curry, and Matt texted shortly after that to say they were done early, and on the way back to the hotel. I said they should meet me there, since it was only a block away. He and his coworker and wife were there within half an hour, and we hung out for a while taking advantage of their happy hour specials.

We went back to the hotel around 5 so Matt could change clothes, then got the car and drove up to Steve and Colleen’s. We got to hang out with shark baby for a while before heading to dinner.

Our reservations were at 8, so they said we should stop into Paratii for a cocktail first. We instantly fell in love with the place, because one of the drinks on the menu was from Bradstreet in Minneapolis (i.e. the bar we spend most of our time at here). The bartender was great, and was more than happy to invent cocktails for us if we didn’t want to order off the menu. After a round, it was time to go to dinner, but we liked the place so much that Colleen called the restaurant and told them we’d be late. We got another round, then headed that way.

(Joking about a fast round, the bartender suggested shots of Fernet. Oh, craft bartenders: you all have the same bad ideas. I love it even though it makes my liver hurt to think about it.)

We walked over to the Golden Beetle for dinner, and ordered more drinks and almost everything off the small plates menu to share. Matt and I were more than amused that they highlighted the few things on the menu that couldn’t be guaranteed organic. It was very Pacific Northwest. The food was excellent, though!

After dinner, we went back to their place and hung out drinking local beers. We only made it til shortly after midnight before I was starting to fall asleep. I’m terrible at adjusting to time zones.

The next morning, we packed the suitcase with our spoils: a ton of yarn from Colleen, 8 cans of Maui Coconut Porter, and a piece of the viaduct. You know, the normal stuff.

We drove back up to Colleen and Steve’s so we could all walk to brunch. They’d chosen Zayda Buddy’s, a Minnesota-themed bar in Ballard. It was fantastic (the style was more Wisconsin tavern, but still), though I felt a little weird about wearing a Gophers hoodie there. I had a mimosa garnished with Swedish fish, and all our meals came with tater tots. It was like being at Grumpy’s.

We stopped in a couple shops and walked through the Ballard farmer’s market, which is probably the most earnest place I’ve ever been. Then we headed back to their place to get our car, and Very stayed awake by chomping on Bally’s leg. (I think Matt was panicking a little, but Bally was fine.)

We said goodbye and headed to the airport. Delta was incredibly efficient for once, so we boarded on time, got to watch the Vikings lose, and even arrived early! My parents gave us a ride home to the airport, so we had a couple of hours to sit on the couch before preparing for the week ahead. And as tends to happen lately, I woke up in the middle of the night with no idea where the hell I was.

Matt and I wisely took a day to recover after the wedding, and planned our pre-honeymoon to start on Monday instead. (For our actual honeymoon, we’re going to Europe in May.) My new in-laws dropped us off at the airport around noon, and we headed off to Atlanta. We landed a bit early, which was convenient since my sister had given us Delta Skyclub passes. Drink on their dime? Yes, please!

(Weird Skyclub fact: while they have free food there, you’re not allowed to bring it in from the outside. We had to eat our sammiches quickly before entering.)

The Skyclub was pretty fully of bored-looking business-people, but they had free drinks and clean bathrooms, and a table where we could sit and look out on the airport. We watched a baggage cart speed off too quickly, knocking a couple of suitcases onto the ground. They sat there ignored on the tarmac for way too long before someone picked them up and sent them to the baggage claim. Quality work as always, Delta.

We got on the next flight, and landed in Key West a little before 9pm. The airport was tiny, even smaller than most we’ve seen in the Caribbean. We waited a long time for our bags (which was confusing), then got a cab to our hotel, the Southernmost House.

The hotel was incredible. It’s a famous old mansion at the end of Duval Street, right down the block from the southernmost marker. Our room was on the second floor overlooking Duval, and we had a gigantic four-poster bed that was so tall we had to climb up on the rails to get in it. From the balcony, we could see the infinity pool looking out on the Atlantic Ocean. And it was open 24 hours!

We needed food badly, so we headed down Duval Street. There wasn’t much open after 10pm, but we managed to find a few places that were still serving food. We went into a cowboy-themed bar, sat down, and waited a long time before a server came over and gave us menus. That was the last we saw of any service after that, so we finally gave up and left. We crossed the street to Jack Flat’s, which had good service and sports on a million TVs. Perfect!

After dinner, we went directly to Sloppy Joe’s, Key West’s most famous bar. It was really crowded and we had a tiny table at the back, so we decided we’d finish those drinks and move on. While we were sitting there, we noticed a sign behind the bar saying that it was illegal to have open containers outdoors in Key West. That was total news to us, as we’d definitely been walking around drinking the last time we were there (along with everyone else in Key West). Also, we noticed plenty of people carrying go cups out onto the street. Confusing.

We wanted to go to a bar called the Rum Barrel, but it was closed Mondays. We ended up across the street at a place called Island Dogs. They had good cocktails, so we hung out there for a bit. It was pretty quiet, though, so we decided to head back to Sloppy Joe’s to see the cover band instead. We got there around 1am, and hung out watching them for a while (they were from Philly, and played the 90s’ greatest rock hits). Then we decided it was a pretty excellent idea to go swim in our 24-hour pool, so we walked the mile back to our hotel, changed into bathing suits, and went to do that.

It was awesome. We swam, went and sat on the poolside edge and dipped our feet in the Atlantic (it was surprisingly warm in the middle of the night), and then swam again, for a while sans bathing suits. 24-hour pools are officially the greatest thing ever.

Here’s our hotel in the daytime! I made the mistake of opening the curtains before I was dressed, so it’s possible my butt ended up in several tourists’ photos.

We decided to do some walking and see the city, so we stopped at the corner to wait in line for a photo of the southernmost marker, then headed up Whitehead Street toward Mallory Square.

We found Kelly’s Caribbean Bar and Grill along the way, so we stopped for brunch. We got a table in the courtyard, a couple of beers, and food. As we were finishing our meal, it started to rain a little. We were sitting under a tree, though, so it wasn’t too bad. Then it started to rain more, and we decided maybe we should head for shelter. Right as we sat down at the bar, it started pouring like crazy, and kept doing so for a long time.

We didn’t mind hanging out at the bar too much. The bartender and our server were awesome, and they kept bringing us free things… extra key lime pie, and the chef’s fresh-made halvah.

When the rain started to let up, we headed down toward Mallory Square again. We got there just in time to see a cruise ship leaving, so we hung out and watched that for a while.

Then we did some shopping, which was partly spurred on by the on-and-off rain. I got a new purse, and Matt got a couple cigars.

We walked back up Duval Street, looking for a place to rent bikes. We found Sunshine Rentals just a few blocks up. The bikes were beat to hell and the seat on Matt’s wouldn’t stay clipped in place on the post, so you had to ride with it in the lowest position. We decided to trade, since I’m shorter.

We rode back to the hotel, put our bathing suits on, and rode our bikes down to Fort Zachary Taylor Beach. We quickly realized how perfect bikes are for transportation in Key West: there are barely any hills, and there are so many bikes and scooters around that the cars are pretty used to being careful around them. I preferred to avoid the major streets because I have such bad balance, but that was easy to accomplish too.

It was overcast at the beach, but still warm out. The beach was nowhere near as nice as those perfect Caribbean beaches we’ve been spoiled by, but that was fine. You just had to swim over some rocks to get to the sandy area.

We floated around for a while, watching a storm roll in over the ocean. It started raining a bit, so obviously the right thing to do was wait it out in the water. It wasn’t really raining hard enough to soak our stuff on the beach, and it had the added bonus of clearing a lot of the people out as well.

We got out of the water around five, and went to the building to dry off and change clothes. By that time it was done raining, too. We rode back to the hotel, showered off, and got on our bikes again to head to Mallory Square for the sunset celebration. We locked them up a block from the square, intending to leave them there for the night because I didn’t want to try to ride after drinking. We were a little nervous about that, but figured there were so many bikes around that they would be fine. Also, they were incredibly crappy bikes!

We went to Sunset Pier for a drink, then took them to go shortly before sunset, so we could see it without an island blocking our view. We went to the middle of Mallory Square, and found our new favorite buskers: it was an older couple playing banjo and castanets, and an old dog wearing purple boxer-briefs. He walked around the circle, taking dollars out of people’s hands and putting them in a bucket. PEOPLE MAKE MONEY THIS WAY!

After sunset, we went to have dinner at El Meson de Pepe. Being vegetarian at a Cuban restaurant is usually pretty tricky, but I did well there. The mojitos didn’t hurt, either. While we were sitting there, we noticed a little chicken hanging out under the tables. She was running around looking for food, totally oblivious to the people nearby. Then a cat showed up, and she just backed off a few feet. I really wanted to take her home in my carry-on.

We then went over to the Rum Barrel, and browsed their insanely extensive rum list. We ordered a flight, and sat there being amused by the guys from Wisconsin near us at the bar. While they had a great rum list, the bartender didn’t seem all that knowledgeable about it, so we decided to move on. There was another rum bar (called Rum Bar, conveniently) at the other end of Duval near our hotel, so we headed that direction.

Rum Bar is located in the front of a hotel in an old house. It was very small, but there were only a few people in there hanging out. We got seats and started eyeing the massive collection of rums they had. The bartender set us up with a flight, made up of things we picked based on not having seen them before, and his recommendations. It was pretty amazing.

We hung out there for a while, talking to the other people at the bar, who positively insisted that our rental bikes were going to get stolen from Mallory Square. We still refused to believe that, because they were so very crappy. Plus there wasn’t much we could do about it at that point! When we finished our flight, I asked the bartender what his preferred cocktail was, and was overjoyed to learn it was an Old Fashioned. Even in the land of rum, people still like the classics.

Conveniently, it was only a couple-block walk from there to our hotel. It may have been the middle of the night again, but we were not going to miss a chance to swim in the infinity pool. Why they didn’t kick us out for doing cannonballs into the deep end at 2am, I will never understand.

In the morning, we unfortunately had to check out of the Southernmost House. (Had I known beforehand it was that great, we would’ve chosen to stay there the whole time. Next visit!) We rolled our suitcases the eight blocks or so to Azul Key West, which I’d picked because it was a little closer to the heart of things. Since we were early we had to leave the bags there, but that was fine. The guy working at the desk was super-friendly, and knew who we were when we arrived. We thanked him and headed to get some food.

Brunch meant an obligatory stop at Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville. We had to, because it’s a tradition. (That’s also the first Margaritaville I begrudgingly visited.) We also have a longstanding tradition of bringing home a souvenir shotglass, but we were both feeling the effects of the previous night to much to really want to do a shot. (We ended up buying one at the store afterwards.) They did have Kalik, the beer of the Bahamas, on the menu, so we got that instead. I was excited that Matt finally got to try it!

While we were there, we researched various options for sunset cruises in Key West. We called a couple places, and managed to find one that was available. We made reservations for that evening.

We did some shopping along Duval Street, working our way back down to Mallory Square. Rounding the corner to where our bikes were parked, we wondered if maybe they were actually stolen, as unlikely as it was. But no, they were sitting right there where we’d locked them up, in the same crappy condition as always. We threw our bags aboard and rode them back to the hotel, because it was time to check in.

The guy at the desk had already brought our bags up to the room, which was fantastic. We hung out there for a while, enjoying the air conditioning; it was ungodly humid in Key West right then, and brutal in the sun. I dozed off for a while, and my short nap was very effective at getting me back to 100%. I was ready for some history! We hopped on our bikes and rode over to see the Hemingway House.

We knew about the polydactyl cats there, but didn’t realize to what extent they had the run of the house. They were great, and couldn’t have cared less about the people paying attention to them. They were used to being tourist attractions.

I loved the Hemingway house, even though of course there was no air conditioning and we were sweating through our clothes.

My favorite thing was his studio. It was exactly what you’d expect from Ernest Hemingway.

His pool wasn’t bad, either!

We crammed in the gift shop with all the other visitors, and picked out some souvenirs. I’m pretty sure it was that crowded just because it was the only place with air conditioning.

From there, we rode over to Hemingway’s original Key West hangout: the former home of Sloppy Joe’s (which is now half a block away), Captain Tony’s. Captain Tony was a local character in his own right.

The place was absolutely covered in mementos from people who had visited, and they were aged to the point that you couldn’t tell if there had actually been a fire in there, or it was just years of cigarette smoke. All the chairs were painted with the names of famous people who’d sat there, too.

(I probably don’t need to mention the sheer joy of day drinking in a tropical climate, too.)

There was a really drunk group at the end of the bar trying to figure out what ‘vaya con dios’ meant. We laughed to ourselves about it for a while, and then I told them because I couldn’t take it anymore. They staggered out of the bar, and shortly after that a big group of bros from Jersey piled in. They were even more drunk, celebrating one of the guys’ birthday. (They were kind of a confusing group, too. They ranged in age from questionably-21 to 50ish.) They insisted on tequila shots and a lot of yelling, so we decided it was time to move on. Plus we were hungry!

We crossed the street to Amigos Tortilla Bar, where we both got tacos and beer. From there, we could still hear the bros yelling from across the street. Holy crap. The tacos were awesome, too!

From there, it was time to head up to the dock for our sunset cruise! We got our bikes and rode up to Schooner Wharf. I was very proud of myself for riding with a beer in my bike basket.

We checked in, and the guy at the desk gave us coupons for 2-for-1 drinks at the bar, so of course we had to take advantage of that. I had a Cuba Libre, and Matt got to have his second Kalik of the day. He was very sad about it, obviously:

Once we finished, it was time to board the Schooner Western Union. As we waited in line, they announced that the bar was open right away, so we all headed there for beer. We took a seat, listened to their safety instructions and description of our trip, and then we headed out of the harbor.

The ship was amazing. It was apparently used by Western Union to lay cable as late as the 1970s.

Once we were out of the harbor, we got to help raise the sails! It was way harder than I expected. Not because of the effort, but the speed with which the rope flies through your hands.

In addition to our awesome captain, Len, there was a hammered dulcimer player named Gary. He played sea shanties and told stories about the ship’s history. Seriously, we were dying of awesome.

We sailed past Mallory Square, where a crowd was starting to form for sunset. They took us past the cruise docks, and we saw the beach we’d been at the previous day. Once we got out into open ocean, they told us they were going to fire a cannon, and even picked out a catamaran to fire it at. It was a tiny cannon, but it was incredibly loud.

And then, after firing the cannon, there was a HOMING PIGEON. Gary brought out a basket and said he was going to release the bird, so we should have our cameras ready since he’d fly away quickly. He opened the basket, and the bird’s head popped out, looking around. Then he hopped up onto the edge of the basket, and just sat there. Gary was kind of embarrassed after the bird hung out for a few minutes, but it meant we all got a bunch of pictures. He finally took off, circled a few times, and headed back toward Key West.

The ship turned to head back toward the harbor, and Matt and I got ourselves some champagne for a toast. Just like the night we got engaged in Maui!!

And then it was sunset time. I think if I lived in Key West, I’d have to go watch it every night. I don’t know how that could ever get old.

On the way back, they explained the presence of the gigantic ship lurking nearby: it was the Discovery channel crew filming for Shark Week! They have a bunch of smaller boats that go out to sea, and they’re lifted back up to the deck of the large ship at night.

By the time we got back to the pier, it was completely dark. We went back to Schooner Wharf for another drink, and to work out our evening strategy. (We were working from a list of the most historic/interesting bars in Key West, so getting to them all required some planning.) We got our bikes, and rode down to Duval Street to park them. We were about a block from the Hog’s Breath, so we decided to try that first.

We ordered food and a drink and hung out for a while, but the place was a little too quiet for our tastes (it’s Duval Street… you want it to be crazy). We decided to give the Green Parrot a try, as it was another old Hemingway favorite. The bar was unfortunately too full to sit at, but we got a table where we could overlook the scene. Their Cuba Libres were delicious, apparently:

And because you can’t possibly stay away from Sloppy Joe’s for too long, we ended up back there around 12:30. We hung out at the bar with some Sloppy Ritas, watching the same cover band from Philly. They were great.

And then it was time to take our bikes back to the hotel, which seemed like quite a feat. I decided to give it a try, and the worst case was that we’d just have to walk them. I made it within a few blocks at the hotel before tipping over, but we were stopping at an intersection, so no damage was done. So riding bikes drunk is definitely possible, but I also wouldn’t recommend it. Especially if you’re me and are prone to amazingly bad balance as it is!

We got up Thursday morning and rode our crappy bikes down to Duval Street for the last time. We turned them in at the rental shop, and went across the street to have brunch on the patio at Caroline’s. Brunch included mojitos, of course.

We walked down Duval Street doing some further shopping, planning to call for a cab to the airport shortly. I looked up the taxi number and called, but the lady on the other end couldn’t hear me (or pretended she couldn’t, because it was loud outside). I tried three times to no avail, so I started looking up alternate cab companies. I dialed three other phone numbers, and they all went to the same damn crabby lady. Finally, I got through to a different company and requested to be picked up nearby.

The cab arrived quickly, and we headed off to the private charter terminal at the airport. We went into the waiting area for the Island City Flying Service, and only had to wait a little bit before an entertaining Australian lady came to take us all to the check-in area. That part involved reviewing a map of the Dry Tortugas so we knew where to snorkel, getting our flippers, and each couple getting a cooler to hold our beer and pop. If only all flights could be that way.

We went outside to wait for the plane, which landed shortly afterwards. While we waited, we talked to the other people for a bit. There was a pair of surgeons from Brazil (via Philly), and a couple who lived on their yacht in Florida. The husband was retired from the military, and had also worked on the space shuttle launch pad at NASA. Holy crap.

There were only six of us going to Fort Jefferson that day. We’d intentionally picked the afternoon trip, knowing that the ferry from Key West would be leaving just as we arrived, which meant we’d practically have the island to ourselves.

 
We boarded the plane, which had 10 single seats on either side of an aisle. We got to wear really sexy headphones so we could hear the pilot, too.

 
The flight was 45 minutes long, and on the way we got to see two shipwrecks, some boats stashed by Cuban refugees, and a ton of sea turtles. I thought I saw a shark, too, but I couldn’t tell for sure. It was definitely big enough to be a shark.

 
The pilot pointed out a bunch of interesting features along the way, and then we listening to a recording about the history of Fort Jefferson and the Dry Tortugas. (They were originally called the Tortugas, and ‘Dry’ was added to denote the lack of fresh water.)

 
As we neared the island, I knew that the seaplane was the absolute correct choice for the trip. We wouldn’t have had anywhere near the view from the ferry.

 
Speaking of the ferry, we saw it just leaving the dock as we arrived. Our pilot buzzed it on the way in.

 
I expected the landing to be bumpy, but it was actually smoother than on a regular runway! (The only other time I’ve been on a seaplane, I think I was eight. We landed on the river in downtown St Paul, which definitely doesn’t seem legal at all.)

 
We parked right on the beach in front of Fort Jefferson. The pilot told us we could just leave our stuff laying around, because we were the only people there except for the park ranger, a couple people staying at the campground, and the few people whose boat was docked there. There were at most 15 people on the entire island. That’s amazing.

 
Matt and I went to go tour the fort first. Rather than wait for the official tour, we just wandered around ourselves. It was insanely hot and humid there, seemingly even moreso than in Key West

 
We climbed up to the roof of the fort to take photos. From there, we could see jellyfish swimming in the moat. And not like the jellyfish I was familiar with seeing on Florida beaches… they were big pink or purple things, some of them over a foot across. We were maybe a little nervous about running into them. (Especially since the yacht-living couple had told us in detail how they treat jellyfish stings, and of course we were completely unprepared for that.)

 
After completing our quick tour of the fort, we went to take a look at the rest of the (very tiny) island. We saw the camping area, which made us really want to do that someday (until the pilot later told us that they were really rough conditions: not even because of the lack of water and the smell of the composting toilets, but because it rarely got below the mid-80s and extremely high humidity at night). We checked out the beach on one end of the fort, and saw the Brazilian couple hanging out there. On the walk back, we encountered the Florida couple heading that direction with their snorkel gear. Which meant that the beach on the other side of the fort belonged to us alone.

 
I was really, really nervous about being able to see jellyfish, but after swimming around and not encountering any of them for a while, I relaxed a little. We did some snorkeling, and I discovered that my underwater camera case didn’t work so well with my new, much-smaller camera!

 
We got out the beer from the cooler, and sat waist-deep in the water on our own private beach. I’ve had some really good days, but that one had to be in my top ten.

 
After a while, it was time to head back to the seaplane. We went and changed clothes on the dock (it’s really hard to do that when you can’t rinse off the salt water, by the way), then met up with our group at the plane. The Florida couple had picked up a couple of live conch to show us!

 
We climbed back in the plane and took the same seats so that we could see what we missed on the way there. I got to see the wreck of the Arbutus this time. The ship’s mast still sticks up above the water.

 
I also saw the only private island in the Florida Keys. Those people’s lives must be rough.

 
As we arrived back in Key West, the pilot pointed out a Cuban Airlines plane that has been parked at the Key West airport for years, because the pilots landed on the runway and ran away to defect. They didn’t know what to do with the plane, so it’s been sitting there ever since. Awesome.

 
Back at the airport, Matt and I walked over to the main terminal to the car rental counter and picked up our car. We drove to the hotel, picked up our parking pass, showered, and then headed down to park near Mallory Square for our last Key West sunset. SIGH.

Again, we got a table at Sunset Pier and ordered food and drinks. I decided it was time to order my drink in a coconut, since I’d been wanting one the whole time we had been there. Having a car made it way more convenient; I didn’t want to have to lock up my monkey on a bike!

 
Since we didn’t want to have to deal with leaving our car somewhere overnight, we took it back to the hotel and parked it in the tiny maze that was the Azul courtyard. We then headed off on foot to the Orchid Key Inn, which was recommended as a good cocktail bar. We found the tiny bar around back. It had only 8 seats, and was full of mostly-local people well into their drinking that evening (it was only 9:30pm). They were hilarious, though, and everyone there was having a great time. We tried ordering a couple specialties and the bartender wasn’t familiar with them, so we went with his flavored martini creations instead (they were actually really good, especially the French 75 made with St Germain). More people came in after a while, and we were convinced they were swingers. After a couple of drinks, we said goodbye to everyone and headed up Duval Street.

We decided on Bobalu’s, a very Caribbean-looking bar that we’d noticed the first night we were there. They had an entertaining cover band, a gaggle of bachelorette-partying girls, and very delicious pizza. Which got knocked off the bar halfway through, and they totally replaced for us (like, half the pizza… I think the kitchen staff had a snack). We hung out there for a while, and then it was time to head back to the hotel and prepare to leave Key West. Again, SIGH.

Friday morning, we got up and checked out of Azul Key West. We made a quick stop for Cuban coffee near the marina, then headed up the Keys toward Miami. It’s a drive I’ve always wanted to make.

It really didn’t take anywhere near as long as I expected, nor was the traffic that bad. As expected, Key West was the most touristy, and definitely most Caribbean. The others seemed more laid back, and much smaller towns. I liked Islamorada the best.

We decided to stop at Shell World in Key Largo. That was a good decision as far as souvenirs went! We spent a very long time there, and Bally hung out in a shark’s mouth:

Our progress slowed quite a bit as we left the southern Everglades area and approached the outskirts of Miami. We ended up stuck in non-highway traffic for what seemed like forever. I spent the time looking up places to stop on my phone while Matt drove: we were in search of a liquor store, to pick up some of the local specialties, and then dinner and drinks.

We finally arrived at a liquor store, and were the only non-Spanish-speakers there. They had a great selection, and really cheap prices, so we were very excited. From there, we made our way slowly to the freeway, and headed north to Fort Lauderdale. What we’d discovered in my very long time spent on Google was that there was an authentic old tiki bar up that way. It looked like it had the potential to rival Don the Beachcomber in California.

Oh, and it did. We instantly fell in love with Mai Kai. They had oldschool tiki drinks, female servers in bikinis and miniskirts (seriously!), and a rockabilly band was setting up behind us.

We stuck around to watch the band for a while, then hit the gift shop for a tiki mug and headed out. We drove back to Miami, then across to South Beach. It was getting on toward Miami dinnertime (i.e. 8pm), so it was insane in the area, but luckily our hotel was nearby. We had no idea where to park, though, so we called and they said we had to use the valet. At least that part was easy.

We checked into the Bentley South Beach, which was right across from the giant beachfront. Our room was spectacular, so we were sad we were staying for so short a time. We hung out on the balcony for a while smoking cigars and drinking beer, then decided to go experience the insane nightlife there. (I’d told Matt that everyone in South Beach was gorgeous, and they all went to clubs til 4am. We didn’t want to see the clubs or hang out with those people so much as gawk at them on the street.)

Once we were out walking up the beach, I was really glad I’d put a dress on. Otherwise I would have been the only woman out there in capris and a t-shirt.

We had a couple spots on our list that were recommended as good cocktail bars, so we walked up toward the first one. It was a long way, so when we got there and were turned away by the doorman (because 1) they didn’t open til later and 2) Matt was wearing shorts), we were pretty crabby about it. All we wanted was a place to hang out with halfway decent drinks, and far less of the South Beach scene. We knew that would be hard to come by.

We walked past a sushi place called Kung Fu Kitchen that had outside tables and looked pretty-low key, so we decided to go there for dinner. The service was iffy and the crowd got progressively douchier, but they had great food and pretty decent cocktails, too. Restored, we decided to press on in search of the elusive good bar.

Because Matt had done some research ahead of time, he recognized the name of one of them we passed. Because it was listed as a glorious dive, I hadn’t expected Mac’s Club Deuce to be in South Beach (I assumed Miami proper). But there it was, and it was indeed the bar we were looking for. There was most definitely not much in the way of South Beach scene there, just a lot of really drunk people and strong drinks.

The very drunk bartender (who was awesome) told us all about the joys of riding a horse on the beach in the Caribbean in great detail. Then a guy who I’d seen propping up the bar when we came in came over to talk, and seemed mostly normal for a while. Then we learned that he was gay, Jewish, and a hardcore republican, which really didn’t seem to fit well with the gay thing. He started telling Matt that according to his beliefs, people who modify their bodies are going to hell, because that’s the worst thing you can do to yourself. Matt humored his drunk ass for a long time, then left to go to the bathroom and escape him for a while. I ended up sitting next to him, and he started telling me the same thing. I was pretty amused by it… here was probably the most self-hating man in America telling me I was going to hell for having tattoos. He wasn’t even being a jerk about it, he was very matter of fact. I told him that was fine, because I happened to believe he was entirely wrong. After way too much of that conversation, though, we decided it was time to head elsewhere.

We went back over to Ocean Drive along the beachfront, wanting to stop in somewhere and sit at the bar. The first place we tried had a cover, so we went a couple doors down instead. It was there that we discovered, sometime after two in the morning, that you can get to-go cups in Miami. And this place didn’t just have to-go cups, they had to-do VATS. It was incredible.

We took our vats and walked down to the beach, where we sat in the sand for a long time. After realizing it was really dark and really late, we took off all our clothes and went for a swim. When we got back to the hotel afterwards, I was wearing my dress inside out (with the pockets sticking out from the sides), and we’d lost our underwear in the ocean.

In short, Miami is awesome.

The morning came way too early, and our heads hurt. We had to check out by 11, too. We left our bags with the front desk and walked up Ocean Drive to find something to eat.

I’m not exactly sure what convinced us to stop at Sea Cafe. They had a patio, an overly-loud Italian server, and some pictures of food out front. That was enough to convince us, though, so we got a table. Fabio the server told us they were having happy hour, so it was two-for-ones on all drinks, and of course we could take them with us to the beach. We both ordered mojitos, and the THIS happened:

Yes, they were almost the size of Matt’s head. And that’s just half of the two-for-ones.

Our brunch pasta was delicious, and we managed to finish our drinks. Fabio was very disappointed that we didn’t want to partake in the two-for-ones (as were we), but we had to get to the airport. We went back to the hotel, got our bags, and brought our ticket to the valet.

The valet took FOREVER. We didn’t leave a ton of extra time to get to the airport, so we were starting to worry. By the time he arrived, we were cutting it really close. We threw everything in the car and sped off toward Fort Lauderdale, because we were flying out of there instead of Miami. We were running so late we didn’t even have time to gas up the rental car. It was expensive, but ended up being worth it since we barely made our flight!

We left Minneapolis for LA at 5:30, which meant we arrived there just in time to see a pretty spectacular sunset in the valley.

We picked up the car and attempted to stop at In and Out Burger by the airport, but there were one million people in line. So we got right on the road to Costa Mesa instead; Matt’s conference was there the next day, so we were spending the weekend in Orange County.

Matt researched restaurants in the area while I drove. We weren’t arriving til around 9:30pm, and most places looked like they closed by 11. He finally found a place called Taco Asylum that looked great, so we headed to something called The Camp to find it. We quickly discovered that the place was mobbed, and people were circling for parking. I was tired and hungry and didn’t want to deal with it, so we decided to look elsewhere. After driving for a bit, though, we realized that was pretty much the only area with food open. We managed to find a spot, thankfully.

I was very glad we ended up there, because it was fantastic. The server told us that if we waited for 5 more minutes it was taco happy hour, so we grabbed a couple of Maui Brewing Coconut Porters and hung out. She came to take our order, and we each got three of them. I got one with wild mushrooms and two with curry and paneer, which were so good I wanted to marry them. (Sorry, Matt.)

After dinner, we swung by the liquor store for some beer for the hotel, since we didn’t want to be out too late. We went and checked in at the Ayers Hotel, guaranteeing that the Flo Rida ‘In the Ayer’ song would be stuck in my head permanently. We hung out on the couch for a bit, then went to bed.

We partook in the breakfast buffet at the Ayer-ay-ayer-ayers hotel, then met Matt’s coworker and his wife. We checked out and then I drove them to the college where the seminar was being held, after getting lost on the way there. Then I hopped on the 405 and headed south!

San Juan Capistrano is one of my favorite places in California. I’ve been there multiple times, and it still amazes me.

I got there shortly after it opened, and there were already several other people there, all of them with giant expensive cameras. It’s that kind of place.

After wandering around the mission for a while, I decided to drive down to the coast and then head up highway 1. I’ve driven large portions of that highway before, but most of it was north of LA. Plus any day I can drive along the ocean with the windows down is a pretty excellent one.

Orange County was pretty entertaining. It’s all gigantic, gorgeous houses in highly secure gated communities. Who exactly is breaking in there? My theory was that it was to keep the mere millionaire rabble out.

I parked in Laguna Beach (which was super-cute) and walked down to the ocean to get my feet wet. I had to, since that meant I was in the Atlantic and Pacific within a week’s time! I then sat on the boardwalk for a while, enjoying the sun.

I headed slowly back up through Newport and Huntington Beach, which we’d visited on the previous trip. I then turned back and drove inland to Costa Mesa, because I was meeting April and Jonathan for lunch at Eat Chow. It took me forever to find it, but it was worth it!

From there, I decided to go to Anaheim, mostly because I’m the kind of nerd who likes seeing other cities’ sports arenas. Google Maps led me astray so I went about 20 miles out of the way, but I got to see the mountains, at least. Once I was on the right highway, finding Angels’ Stadium was easy. I drove around that area for a while, then went to see Honda Arena, where the Anaheim Ducks play. (Blink-182’s tour buses were outside. Haha.)

I still had some time to kill before Matt was done, so I decided to go check into the hotel and get the keys. I headed back up the 405 to Seal Beach, circled the marina (which I loved), and found our cute little hotel in town. Our room opened out on the pool, though we wouldn’t have time to use it. I stayed there long enough to use the bathroom, and headed back to get Matt in Costa Mesa.

We stopped for food at In and Out Burger (did you know they have an awesome grilled cheese? It’s basically a cheeseburger without the meat, but it’s delicious), then ran to Hi Time, the liquor store with EVERYTHING. The power was out when we walked in, but that wasn’t stopping them from selling: everyone was just walking around with flashlights. We found a few bottles of rum with my phone’s flashlight app (it’s surprisingly handy!), then got in line at the counter. Since their inventory system wasn’t working, either, the employees were running back and forth to the shelves to check prices, then telling us to remember them and tell the cashier. Their resourcefulness was pretty impressive!

After that, it was time to go to Huntington Beach for happy hour at Don the Beachcomber. (I don’t think they had actual discounts then, but any hour you spend there is happy.) We soaked up the tiki ambiance for a while, then went to the hotel. We hauled our bags in, Matt changed clothes, and we headed out on foot toward downtown Seal Beach, just a few blocks away. Our destination was 320 Main.

We had great food (I hadn’t expected many options at what’s really a steakhouse), and the cocktails were as good as we expected. Plus we got to sit out on the patio only a few blocks from the beach. We unfortunately couldn’t stay all night, but we had places to be the next day.

We walked down to the beach so that Matt could also put his feet in the Pacific. The surf was glowing an electric blue color, and we kept trying to figure out where the weird reflection was coming from. It took us forever to realized it had to be the water itself that was glowing with bioluminescence. I couldn’t believe how bright it was, especially on bigger waves. (We didn’t know til we got home that we were seeing red tide. I assumed that meant it glowed red!)

Sunday morning, we got up, checked out, and headed up the 405 to Santa Monica. We’d been trying to get to Real Food Daily for three trips, and it was finally going to happen. We even got to Santa Monica before it opened, so we had some time to wander around.

After brunch, we walked down toward Santa Monica pier. For the first time ever, it was actually sunny while we were there! And just like the previous visit, I got a text saying that our flight was delayed. Go figure.

We walked around the pier for a while, then decided to go have a beer and people-watch. That was pretty fantastic, and we discovered the existence of the Primo Bombucha! We decided to just stay there and have lunch, and finally it was time to get ourselves back to the airport.

On the flight home, we got to watch the Minnesota Lynx win the WNBA championship on seatback TV! They clinched it just as we landed at MSP. Awesome.

We arrived in Philly around 7pm on Friday night, and went to get the train to take us downtown. We were kind of charmed at the fact that you just pay the ticket-taker on the train, and he attaches your tickets to your seat. (The train was pretty oldschool, too, like the Amtrak.) We hopped off at Center City, consulted Google Maps to figure out what direction we were heading, and rolled our suitcase the few blocks under the convention center to the Sheraton Four Points.

(“Don’t Forget Me When I’m Gone” was playing in the lobby when we got there, and we had a long talk about how it was not Wham! but Glass Tiger. For some reason, I will never forget that.)

We unpacked, at least as much as people unpack when they’re only staying for a night, then headed toward the Franklin Mortgage and Investment Company. It was a little over a mile from our hotel, and took us past city hall. We noticed that the entirety of city hall was barricaded, and there were cops standing around looking bored. We didn’t realize til the next day that that was part of the Occupy movement.

The Franklin would’ve been hard to find if we hadn’t known it was in a basement. Also, the doorman looked like a doorman outside an awesome cocktail bar should. He took us to the last round-booth-style table that was open, and reserved a seat for Matt’s coworker, Paul, who was on his way to meet us.

The cocktail menu was great, and even had several ingredients we didn’t recognize. It was probably a good thing that Paul was there with us, otherwise we would’ve stayed all night. But they had to be up before very early for the conference, so we headed out shortly after 11pm. The three of us walked back to the hotel, and Matt and I requested room service breakfast at 7am the next morning.

We were up at 6:45, and breakfast arrived promptly at 7. We ate, and Matt got dressed and went to meet his coworkers in the lobby. I felt a little guilty about it, but I went back to bed for another couple of hours. (The Mutter Museum didn’t open til 10, after all!) I got up about 8:45, watched some sports and showered, then checked out of the hotel and left the bags with the front desk. I was on my way to see some skeleton babies from hell.

It was about a mile and a half walk to the Mutter Museum, so I got there a little early and hung out with the other nerds in the courtyard. When I got inside, I was informed that they didn’t allow photography. Well, that was disappointing; that means I can’t post a million photos of midget skeletons, 70-pound cysts, or deformed fetuses preserved in jars. (You’re welcome.) Oh, or the mega-colon. Yeah. It was amazing.

I was there for an hour and a half or so, freaking myself out with the medical oddities. It was the best collection I’ve seen, and that’s saying a lot considering there’s the National Museum of Health and Medicine at Walter Reed. They had a pretty interesting exhibition on presidential assassinations and the art of dead people, too.

I stopped at the shop for a shotglass, because I didn’t really want plates decorated with fetus skeletons, or shirts with flayed bodies on them. I like that stuff, but not that much. I then got a photo of the outside, just because it was the only one I could take there.

I’d planned to spend the rest of the day checking out some of the historic sites in Philly. I’d been there before as a kid, but don’t have much recollection of it. I headed off that direction, and decided to get lunch first, since breakfast had happened so early. I went with Orsi’s recommendation, Eulogy Belgian Tavern. It was on the other side of Independence Hall, about two miles away.

Walking across town, I definitely noted that while Philadelphia is obviously a pretty large city, it seems to be still somewhat lacking in the civic pride. It was, well… dirty. I don’t even remember New York being that unkempt.

Eulogy was packed full of people arriving for a breast cancer fundraising pub crawl, which was pretty awesome. I grabbed a table and ordered a grilled cheese and beer from their gigantic menu. (When you don’t recognize 3/4 of what’s on the tap list on the wall, you know you’re in a good bar.) One of the pub crawlers asked if she could join me for lunch, so we sat and talked about what to see in Philly. By the time I was done eating, the place was completely packed, so I decided to go partake in some history.

I saw Carpenter’s Hall, home of the first continental congress. There leading a tour was the first of many men I would see dressed as Ben Franklin. Then I went over to get in line for the Liberty Bell. Almost everyone waiting seemed to be European, which was pretty interesting. I’ve seen the bell before, but the line moves quickly and it’s free, so I figured I should probably go say hi again. (I was probably 13 last time I was in Philly, and mostly what I remember is my brother being a jerk and refusing to go into Independence Hall.)

The free tickets for Independence Hall tours were sold out for the day, which was fine with me. (Much to Matt and Colleen’s chagrin, I’m just not that into American History. I was a Russian major for a reason.) Also, the building had scaffolding all over it. What the hell, America?

I saw Ben Franklin’s grave, at which point I’d encountered a total of four guys dressed as the man himself. (There are other founding fathers, you know.) I walked by Betsy Ross’ house, too, but the courtyard was packed full of a busload of tourists, so I kept going. I found Paddy’s Bar, of ‘Always Sunny in Philadelphia’ fame, and took a picture.

Then I walked a few blocks to Art in the Age, the makers of local liqueurs Root and Snap. Matt had looked up the shop online and figured I might like it, but it was so hipsterish it was embarrassing. The people working there were blank and unfriendly, and the patrons were worse. I decided to buy those items elsewhere.

I was really tired of walking at that point, but I was not about to stop then! I researched to see where there was a liquor store along the way back toward the hotel, and headed back up Market Street. On the way, I met a huge crowd of protesters marching. It was pretty impressive.

I stopped at the liquor store (the kind where hobos are buying travelers of vodka with dimes and nickels) for Root and Snap, then walked over to the Reading Terminal Market to see what that was about. (It’s basically a giant Midtown Exchange.) It was complete packed, and at least half the people there were hovering around devouring gigantic sandwiches. I think that must be a thing in Philly.

About an hour before Matt was due to be back at the hotel, I was so tired of walking that I went and plopped down at the awesome bar at the Marriott to wait. The bartender and I got talking about the various huge events that were going on there (they have over 2,000 rooms), and he said the main one was surrounding the anniversary of the Million Man March. Right as he mentioned it, he told me to turn around and check out the elevator bay, where a big part of Louis Farrakhan’s entourage was just walking past. Holy crap! Between that and the Occupy movement camping at city hall a block away, there was a lot going on in that neighborhood.

Matt texted to say they would be at the hotel soon, so I shoved the bottles of booze into my shoulder bag and headed that direction. Putting them in the bag turned out to be a huge mistake, because it made it insanely heavy. I got to the hotel before they arrived, apologized to the guy at the front desk for losing my claim tag, got our suitcase, and sat there in the lobby disassembling it, and trying to fit the bottles in there. I also changed shoes. I don’t think the people working there appreciated it at all, especially when we asked to re-check the bag with them so we could go have dinner before leaving town.

When Matt got there, we headed back over to the neighborhood we’d been in the previous night, and had happy hour at Rum Bar. It was awesome, and good at tiki drinks. I was really sore from walking, too, but having switched to flipflops helped. We then tried to get into El Vez for dinner, but there was a long wait. We crossed the street to Sampan and ended up at the chef’s counter, which was an excellent decision. The food was amazing, so I’m really glad we ended up there.

We got our check and rushed toward the hotel for our bag. The airport train only runs every half-hour, and we only had about ten minutes. Despite our best efforts, we got to the train in time to watch it leaving the station. We went upstairs and hailed a cab to the airport instead. (At a set rate of $28, and the fact that it was much faster and took us right to the rental place, it was a pretty great deal.)

Because I’m a Dollar Express member, we didn’t even have to go to the rental counter… the car was parked outside with the keys in it. We headed to Atlantic City, and got there within an hour (for the low price of $3.75 on the expressway). We checked in around 10pm. Our hotel was right on the boardwalk, with an awesome view of the beach, and a Jacuzzi with a window looking out on a rotating TV. How much porn has been watched from there, I don’t even want to know.

We got coffee at Dunkin Donuts and headed down the boardwalk. I’d expected it to be really trashy, but it wasn’t anywhere near that bad. Tacky, yes, but in a really entertaining way. We checked out the Trump and Caesar’s, but our favorite casino ended up being Wild Wild West, which is part of the Bally’s complex. There was a bar offering 24/7 happy hour, a 90s-era cover band, a fake coal train running overhead, and a pai gow dealer who know every word to every song coming from both the cover band and the DJ at the bar.

We played for a long time, and got to witness a $750 fortune bonus win, which I had doubted was even possible (the guy had a royal flush – with a joker, but it still counts). I didn’t do that well, but Matt did. We crossed over to Bally’s just to experience the novelty of ordering a drink via an extensive menu on the video poker machine, and then it was time to head back to the hotel. After a stop for some giant, flat east-coast pizza slices on the boardwalk, of course.

We checked out the next morning, and walked up and down the boardwalk again to see it during the daytime. It was still way nicer there than I expected, and we didn’t see a single needle washed up on the beach! The only thing I noticed was high-security purse storage systems in the bathrooms, to prevent thieves from grabbing them while you’re in there.

(There are also adult strollers in Atlantic City. Seriously, you can pay another human to PUSH your lazy ass around.)

We got on the road back to Philly around noon. We were unprepared for the toll on the Ben Franklin bridge, which resulted in Matt paying the $5 fee with $100 bill (though the lady working didn’t seem to care). We took Bally to see the Palestra at the University of Pennsylvania, then had lunch at Resurrection Ale House before heading to the airport.

Our return flight took us through Atlanta, which meant that we got to have breakfast in New Jersey, lunch in Pennsylvania, and dinner in Georgia. Not confusing at all!

Barritt’s Ginger Beer held a cocktail contest in spring 2011. Matt created a drink called ‘Here Comes the Boom’ and won us a four-day, three-night trip to Bermuda! We weren’t planning on taking an international trip this year because we’re getting married in September, so this was a very welcome surprise.

(The entire photoset is here on Flickr.)

Read from the beginning below, or jump to each day:

• 7/21: Thursday
• 7/22: Friday
• 7/23: Saturday
• 7/24: Sunday

There’s only ever one good reason to get up at 4am, and that’s vacation. Still, it’s always pretty painful to experience. Minneapolis was in the throes of a 95+ degree heat wave, so at least it was nice outside when we went to the cab. We hadn’t had a break from heat in a long time.

Our 6:30am flight (on which we got our own row: SCORE) took us to Atlanta, where we had just enough time to use the bathroom and eat breakfast before heading off to Bermuda. The flight time was a total of 5 1/2 hours, which wasn’t bad at all. We also got to fly through tropical storm Bret; I wasn’t really aware that we were in a storm til the captain announced it while I was in the bathroom, and suddenly I almost got knocked over. Hey, I peed in a tropical storm! Exciting!

We landed around 3pm, got to exit the plane via the back door onto the tarmac, and headed off to stand in line at customs and immigration. After customs, we picked up our bags and had to stand in another line to hand in our tourist cards. From there, we were free to go get a cab and head to the hotel.

It’s about a half-hour ride from the airport to Hamilton, the main city. The island might be only 21 square miles, but the three main roads are all narrow and winding, and the speed limit is 35. We got a great tour from our cab driver along the way, too. Also, we immediately noticed how every roof in Bermuda is the same: they’re all white with many tiers, and an angled runner spanning the whole roof. That’s to collect rainwater, since they have no other source of fresh water on the island. (It’s the reason everything is so notoriously expensive, too: it’s almost all imported.)

Since the Barritt’s people were booking flights and the hotel for us, we hadn’t found out where we were staying til just a couple days prior. The minute I looked the place up on Tripadvisor, I knew they were treating us very well. The Rosedon was gorgeous.

The lady at the front desk was so nice I wanted to hug her. She explained about their beach shuttle, free breakfast served wherever you prefer, the daily tea at 4pm, and their honor bar and kitchen, where you could take whatever you wanted and just leave a note for the charges. The porter took us to our room, which overlooked the central courtyard behind the mansion, and the swimming pool. We unpacked a bit, then decided to walk into Hamilton and do some looking around. We wanted dinner and rum, in whichever order they might present themselves.

We knew that Bermuda was pretty traditionally British in that the shops were only open til 5 or 6pm (and not at all on Sundays, so I was glad for the timing of our trip). We didn’t realize that restaurants were similar to those in Europe as well: they served lunch til around 2, and then closed down til dinner at 5:30 or so. We were really hungry, but only had an hour or so to kill. We wandered up and down Front Street, then went up to the rooftop bar at Muse for a drink. They were closing down for a private event shortly, so we finished and headed to the main-level bar instead. There we encountered the first Bermudian who was not the friendliest person on earth: the bartender. She poured us a couple rum swizzles, though, so we didn’t mind.

Round about 5:30, we walked over to the Hog Penny for dinner. It’s a famous pub, so we had to check it out.

The server was awesome. The food was pretty good (it’s occasionally tricky to find anything vegetarian there, but I did alright), and the drinks were great. It was there that we learned the proper way to serve a Dark & Stormy: it’s not the same proportions as, say, a rum and Coke, which is how it’s usually poured in the US. It’s more like a gin and tonic. Short glass, Gosling’s, a bit of ice, topped with ginger beer. Way more potent and less sweet than we were used to. Perfect.

After dinner, we decided to stop and take a look around a local liquor store, to have something for our room (and the pool). We picked out a couple of beers we hadn’t seen before, then made a discovery that would change our lives: Scrumpy Jack. Just based on the name alone, we had to buy it. We also found something called WKD that I made Matt buy, because it reminded me of the C-Ice he had to drink in Mexico. (It was also Irn Bru and vodka, so he didn’t object.) The amused cashier told us that in Bermuda they called it ‘champagne wickets’. In retrospect we were pretty sure it was actually ‘wickeds’, but we liked the idea of it being a reference to the upcoming Cup Match. ‘Champagne wickets’ stuck.

We put on our bathing suits, grabbed a couple cans of Scrumpy Jack, and headed to the pool to swim. There were two duck fountains perched on the edge, and tiny birds kept visiting them to drink from the water shooting out of their beaks. It quickly became a requirement that a lap would involve a trip under the duck-fountains. You had to avoid getting sprayed in the head, though.

Around 8pm, we showered, changed, and headed across the street to the cocktail lounge at the Fairmont Princess. It was very fancy, and we saw a huge concentration of local businessmen there in Bermuda shorts. That never got old. Also, Matt met Mark Twain in the lobby:

We had a couple drinks there, then headed back into Hamilton for dinner (lunch was at 5:30, so 11pm seemed about right). Our first stop was Pickled Onion on Front Street. As we sat down, our server told us the kitchen was just closing up, but that he would go see what they could do. We got our food order in at the last second, which was good since we were about to fall over. We then ordered drinks and watched the cover band set up. They were amazing.

And while they didn’t know ‘Seven’ by Prince (my request, of course), they played ‘Kiss’ for us Minneapolitans instead. (One thing we noticed very quickly about Bermuda: almost every place only played the greatest pop hits of the 80s and 90s. No local music, no reggae, almost nothing popular. Very strange.)

The Pickled Onion was fun, but I wanted something more… local? So we headed down the street to The Beach, which I assumed would be awesome because their tagline is “the shame of Front Street” and they advertise that they’re open til 3am. It was definitely more local, but not as interesting as I had hoped. The bartender was kind of crabby. They were playing American hip-hop (and showing videos on TVs). Regardless, we had rum and were sitting 50 feet from the ocean, so there was nothing to be too distressed about.

On the way back to the hotel, Matt and Bally hopped in the birdcage for a picture, and to celebrate 23 hours of awakeness!

We got up before 10 on Friday and called to order breakfast. They delivered trays with coffee, eggs, a scone, toast, kiwi, butter and marmalade, and orange juice to our table on the patio. The above was our view. Fantastic.

Matt read about the upcoming Cup Match in the paper. There was a lot of cricket drama. Since we heard about it from everyone there, we really wanted to go. (Next time.) Gerald the maintenance guy stopped by and chatted for a long time, too. Everyone in Bermuda is so unbelievably nice! We loved it.

We walked down to the ferry terminal in Hamilton, bought tokens, and waited for the ferry. It arrived, and so many cruise passengers piled off that we couldn’t believe the boat was still above water. We boarded, went up to the roof, and enjoyed the view of the harbor, which was full of little islands, tiny sailboats, and some amazingly huge yachts.

It took about half an hour to get to the Dockyard. It’s not far, but most of the harbor is a no-wake zone. We saw the Clocktower Mall from the ferry, and also two ships in port. One of them was the Celebrity Summit, which we’d taken on our last cruise. SIGH.

We got off the ferry and headed to the Bermuda Maritime Museum, which is housed in the old fort and ramparts at the Dockyard. By the time we had walked around for 5 minutes, we were completely drenched in sweat: it wasn’t that hot (maybe mid-80s), but it was insanely humid. Even moreso than the record humidity we’d left in Minneapolis. We were grateful every time we encountered even a tiny bit of air conditioning.

The commissioner’s house was really interesting. They had a ton of exhibits about Bermuda’s history, some current artwork, and a tour of the fort underneath. Some of the rooms had A/C, too, so we enjoyed our time there. The view of the Dockyard was excellent as well:

Behind the main buildings, we discovered the reason for the sheep gate.

We also saw Snorkel Park from the fort wall. It’s the most popular place for cruise passengers to visit, because it’s an easy walk and has a bunch of entertainment. It was the only truly crowded place we saw the entire time we were there, too. It’s hard to imagine anything there being packed, even though the island is tiny. We were a little off-season, though. (Locals told us the best time of year to visit is September and October; we chose to go earlier in the year not just because of the wedding, but because the ocean is only warm enough to swim in during the actual summer.)

The fort reminded me a lot of San Juan, but more recent:

We did a little more wandering around the site, and stopped by the dolphin encounter to see the dolphins swimming around and to get some much-needed water.

Then it was lunchtime! We headed to the Frog & Onion (which contains Dockyard Brewing Company), and promptly ordered a beer sampler.

I also got a vegetable curry that I’m still fantasizing about today. Once our sampler was gone, we got a couple of pints in souvenir glasses (mine came in a mini growler!), and then headed to the souvenir shop. After that, we stopped by the booths in the mall for some samples. The best one was of a Dark & Stormy made with Barritt’s, which required us to tell the story of why we were there. The lady gave us their business card, and it had the name of the guy who’d booked the trip for us on it. Awesome.

We shopped around the craft market for souvenirs, then wandered over to Clocktower Mall. We then headed back toward the ferry dock, and decided to see about renting scooters and driving ourselves back to Hamilton. The people at the scooter shop assured us that our many souvenir bags would fit in the compartments, so we headed out for our road test.

They showed us how to drive them, and directed us to go around the loop by the museum and ferry dock. It was a one-way street with a maximum speed limit of 20, but it was still full of tourists, cars, and other scooters. I headed off slowly and shakily. Rounding the corners was nowhere as easy as I expected, nor was stopping. When I finished the loop, the guy there told me to wait a minute for Matt. When he didn’t appear, the guy told me to go do another loop and practice, so I headed off, slightly less shaky this time. (Part of the reason it was so intimidating was not just the traffic, but the fact that you have to remember to drive on the opposite side of the road.)

When I got back the second time, I saw Matt standing there with a bloody knee. He’d hit the brakes at the corner, but the scooter had other ideas and sped up. Scooters were definitely not for us! We walked over to the store to find a bandage, but they didn’t have anything appropriate. Matt said he’d be ok, so we went to the store by the ferry to get two-day transit passes instead. I was kind of relieved about the scooter decision, because I’d seen the traffic in Hamilton and at the roundabouts, and I would’ve been terrified trying to navigate that.

We sat on a bench to wait for the ferry, and Matt dabbed at his knee with a napkin. There was an old local couple sitting on a bench nearby eyeing us. The lady ran over when she saw what was up, knowing right away it was a scooter accident. She rushed over to a garden, yanked off a piece of aloe, and brought it over to Matt. Nature’s medicine!! She said she was a nurse, and showed him how to apply it. We loved her a lot. (Another running theme in Bermuda: locals telling us to not even bother with scooters, because they get in accidents constantly. In related news, Bermuda has a excellent bus system.)

We thanked Cynthia, our new nurse friend, and boarded the ferry back to Hamilton.

We walked back to the hotel so Matt could fix up his knee, and by then his ankle was hurting a lot (the scooter had rolled onto it). Since the ocean obviously has healing powers, we decided to go to the beach. We walked back into town, found the main bus terminal, and hopped on the bus to Horseshoe Bay. We had a map with fairly nonspecific stop markers, so I tried to keep general track of where we were. I knew we were close once we passed Elbow Beach, and I made a mental note of the location of the Swizzle Inn on the South Shore, too. The bus pulled over at a stop and I caught a glimpse of the Horseshoe Bay sign, so we hopped off and headed down the path to the beach.

There were a few families headed back up the path, and all of them were panting and looking like they might die. That wasn’t a great sign, but it was worth it for what we found at the bottom of the giant hill:

Horseshoe Bay was gorgeous. The rental building and snack shop had closed (it was after 4pm), but we had everything we needed. We headed right into the water, and it was perfect. Also, the pink sand thing is no joke… the sand is flecked with little bits of red. We put some in a baggie to bring home with us.

We bobbed around for a long time, and watched people cliff-diving off the far rocks. When we were finally done swimming, we went to see the little sheltered cove where all the kids were swimming enclosed by rocks. It was like a kiddie pool for the ocean.

We wanted to go to the Swizzle Inn, and since it was nearby, I figured we could just grab a taxi (there had been a few of them waiting at the beach) and go up there for less than $10. The taxis had all left, though, so we had to climb up the huge hill to the road. Panting, we went to look at the bus schedule. The next bus wasn’t coming for another half-hour, so we hailed a cab and had him take us to Swizzle Inn.

The place was nearly full when we arrived, and we had to wait forever for service. We stared longingly at other people’s food and rum swizzles. Finally, a server came to take our order. After that, everything was quick: we had a picture of rum swizzles in short order, and were very happy to be alive. Their limited vegetarian options meant that I ended up ordering nachos, but they were surprisingly good. Matt had a bowl of Portuguese red bean stew and some conch fritters.

Two pitches of rum swizzles and one meal later, it was time to head back to Hamilton. We hopped on the next bus, which was gloriously cold from the air conditioning. We exited on Front Street, and got back to the hotel about 10:30.

We stopped at the front desk to request the shuttle to Elbow Beach at 11 the next day, and also find out where the ice machine was. The old guy working there took us to find the ice, which happened to be located in the same room as the honor bar. (We’d looked for it earlier in the day, but only managed to find the kitchen.) Matt mixed us some Dark & Stormys, and wrote down our order on a piece of paper for the front desk. From the looks of the spindle there, a lot of the visitors had been taking advantage of the honor bar.

We went to our room, put our beers, Scrumpies, and Matt’s WKD in ice, and sat out on the patio listening to the incredibly noisy birds who sang all night long. (I’ve since learned that they’re called kiskadees.) We ended up with a bunch of empty bottles around 12:30am, so went inside to go to bed. I was in the bathroom half-undressed when the smoke detector went off. I put my pants back on sans-underwear and called the front desk.

The same old guy appeared about 5 minutes later. We were sitting back out on the patio, unable to take the horrible screeching noise. He and Matt went in, and it seemed like they were in there forever. At one point I thought the alarm had finally been turned off, but it turned out that the kiskadees were actually just drowning it out. (Seriously, they’re LOUD.)

The alarm shut off after twenty minutes or so, and I went in to find the smoke detector laying on the cabinet. We could finally go to bed!