Matt and I headed to the airport bright and early for our 9am flight to Las Vegas. We landed shortly after 10am, the earliest we’d ever arrived there. (We’re fans of the postwork late arrival that basically just looses us onto the Strip.) We hopped the airport shuttle and picked up our car, which was a much larger Nissan than I’m used to driving; we wanted one with a trunk, since we’d be leaving it parked with our luggage quite a bit.

Our first important stop was the In-N-Out Burger south of town. We picked up our usual lunch and continued on the interstate to the Hoover Dam. Matt had never been there before, and I hadn’t been in years.

We got there within 45 minutes, drove through the questionable security check, and parked in the ramp. Having been in sub-20s weather in Minneapolis just a few hours earlier, the sun and warmth were a very nice change.

We jumped into the ‘dam’ puns as soon as we arrived. It’s an important tradition to uphold. (I was later pleased to buy some ‘dam mints’ at the gift shop, and I’ve been carrying them around ever since.)

The highway bridge had been constructed since my previous visit, and it made the view even more impressive.

There was a paddleboat tour sailing around Lake Mead north of the dam. I made a note to look into that on our next visit, because I’m pretty sure that would be awesome.

At the center of the dam, there’s a sign marking the border between Nevada and Arizona. I hadn’t noticed that before.

Since Matt hadn’t been to Arizona, we made a point of walking across to the other side. It was Bally’s first visit, too! We’re actually going to Scottsdale in 2015, but it’s not often you can just walk into another state.

We went back across the dam, made the obligatory gift shop visit, and went back to the car. I’ve never actually taken the dam tour, but we decided to save that for later. It’s a time commitment.

On the way out of the visitor center, we drove up to the overlook. Lake Mead looked very appealing from there.

I’d read that it was a more interesting route to take Lakeshore Drive through Lake Mead National Rec Area, so we decided to go back to Las Vegas that way. The desert scrub is pretty great to see, and also it’s easy to get down to the beaches. They’re rock instead of sand, but still scenic.

We stopped at a few more desert overlooks along the way. There seems to be a lot of mysterious industry going on out in the desert.

We exited from the northwest corner of the park, and headed back in the direction of Las Vegas. After a few miles, the desert started changing into this weird terraforming zone, where they were obviously in the middle of building a ton of new properties. We took a wrong turn and ended up in a golf resort neighborhood, which just made me angry with all its perfect green grass and fountains. It’s the desert, for god’s sake. Watering lawns is just wasteful.

We could see Vegas in the distance, so we knew we were headed in the right direction, but Google Maps wasn’t making it easy for us. It sent us down a dead-end road that ended in a future roundabout, and then couldn’t quite figure out another route from there. We finally found a major street that led us back to the south end of town, and from there managed to get on I-5. We took the loop around the west side, and exited to find a spot we’ve wanted to visit since we first started going to Vegas so many years ago: Frankie’s Tiki Room.

It was 3pm and full sun outside, so we walked into the nearly-dark room and were completely blind. We could kind of make out the back of the bar, and saw that there were a few tables with candles on them, but otherwise we couldn’t see anything in the room. We wanted to sit at the bar, but couldn’t even tell if there were people there or not. We had to stand around for a couple minutes before our eyes adjusted enough that we could find seats.

We had a couple drinks and lost $20 apiece on stupid video poker. Matt bought one of their souvenir mugs, which is shaped like a slot machine. We didn’t know it then, but it was the first one of a collection of new tiki mugs we’d get on the trip.

We unfortunately couldn’t stay all night even though we wanted to, because we had show tickets and a car to drive. We decided to head downtown to the hotel before going to get dinner, since it was after the 4pm check-in time. We found our way down to the Plaza, but the parking there was really confusing. We ended up parking in a flat lot a block down (rather than the ramp), and had to roll our bags through some road construction to get into the building.

The casino looked a lot nicer than it had on our previous visit (we’d had dinner at Hash House A-Go-Go a few years back), and the front desk staff was really nice. There was a beer bar in the lobby with a good selection, so we got a drink to take up to the room while we unpacked. We had a great view looking down Fremont Street, too.

Once we were settled, we headed back out to the car and drove to the SLS. I’d done some research, and discovered that Umami Burger had both 1) vegetarian food and 2) a sports book. Plus we wanted to see what they’d done to the former Sahara. The casino was waaay fancier than before, and basically unrecognizable from its previous incarnation. Umami Burger was fantastic, too: we had good food, excellent beer, and there were sporting events on about a billion TVs around us.

After dinner, it was time to head to the Rio for our show. On the way out to the parking ramp, we noticed something I’d seen and totally forgotten about on previous visits: there are footprints ALL OVER THE PARKING RAMPS IN VEGAS. Like on the walls, overhangs, and all over the ceilings. Seriously, look in any parking ramp in Las Vegas and it will look like humans were walking all over the ceiling. Why is that??

The Rio is one of the offstrip casinos we hadn’t been to before (and one I regularly confuse with The Palms, which we’ve stayed at). It definitely wasn’t as nice as I was expecting, and shortly after walking in we were harassed by one of those people trying to get you to play dumb games that are really a way to get you to buy a timeshare or something. (I don’t even know what their scammy bit is about, but it’s dumb and ends up with people littering their fake million-dollar bills all over the place.)

We had tickets to see Penn and Teller at 9pm, and since we had some time to kill, we figured we’d stop and get a drink to bring into the theater. We found a really nice-looking bar at an Italian restaurant down the hall, and got Manhattans to take with us. Then we headed to the theater, and discovered at the door that you weren’t allowed to bring drinks in with you. So we were the super-classy people slamming fancy cocktails at a table right by the entrance. We then went up to our seats in the balcony, and the show started shortly after.

I’d kind of forgotten than Penn is a weird libertarian-type, and was surprised that he managed to work a lot of those opinions into the show. Still, it was really great, and despite having seen them do numerous demonstrations of their tricks on TV, we still couldn’t tell how they pulled any of them off. It was pretty entertaining.

On the way out, we found these photos in the lobby. They disturb me every time I see them.

We drove back downtown and parked at the hotel (in the ramp this time, noting the footprints all over the place). It was close to 11pm (or 1am Minneapolis time), so we decided to go wander around downtown for a very short time before heading to bed. Fremont Street was crowded, the display was going on overhead, and a band was setting up near the hotel. We stopped into the Golden Gate for a drink, and then went to wander.

We ended up at Binion’s, just like we always do. It’s one of our favorite spots to gamble. I wanted to play craps, and ended up being lured to a table by a Canadian couple who saw me looking at it. Matt didn’t want to play dice, so he went to find a blackjack table. I talked to the Canadians for a bit before they wandered off, and then set to losing my money at that table. After a bit, the guy came back and we ended up talking about hockey forever; he was an Edmonton Oilers fan, and had no end of complaints about the fans’ bad attendance and the team just being bad in general. He was envious of the Wild being good, which is funny since that’s a fairly recent development. He also did a really good job of distracting me from craps, which meant I managed to lose $100 more than I thought.

When he took off, I grabbed the rest of my chips and went to join Matt for blackjack. He was doing very well, and I managed to recoup some of my losses too. By the time we decided to wrap up at Binions, it was of course really late at night (this always happens in Vegas). We walked back toward the Plaza and ended up standing and watching the cover band play at the end of the street. The scantily-clad female bartenders from the Golden Gate were up dancing on the bar, and the whole area was surprisingly crowded.

We finally made it back to the Plaza, and decided to stop and get a late-night slice at Pop Up Pizza in the lobby. Because not only did they have good pizza, they had a statue of a horse wearing a lampshade.

We got up the next morning, checked out of the Wigwam, and got back on the road. It was time to head into the desert… after a filling breakfast, of course. We found the highly-recommended DJ’s Coffee Shop about 15 miles away (but still in San Bernardino, of course), and sat at the counter to eat. It’s a classic greasy-spoon-type place, but their food was great; I had an omelet full of green peppers that was spectacular.

I’ve seen most of coastal California, especially San Francisco and SoCal, but I’ve never really been into the desert (with the exception of the Vegas drive). I’ve always been kind of fascinated with it, so I was excited to see what it was about. We learned from a friend later on that Thanksgiving weekend is the official start of ‘desert season’ in California, where everyone heads over there to camp and ride 4-wheelers around. Kind of like summer cabin season here in Minnesota.

The drive to the Coachella Valley was really scenic:

We got off I-10 just past the Palm Springs exit, and headed east instead. We stopped at a gas station in Morongo Valley, where I bought three bottles of water, in addition to the full Camelbak I had in the car. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that it’s smart to have a ton of water with you in the desert.

Back on the road, we passed through Yucca Valley, a super-cute little town full of art and antique shops. From there we hopped off the main highway, and headed into Joshua Tree National Park.

We bought a park pass and got a map from the ranger station. While I was paying, Matt was busy reading the sign I missed on the building: it said, “Watch out for tarantulas on the road”. While I’m sure that was meant to protect tarantulas, he thought maybe we should run over any of them we found. Hopefully they’d travel in a giant train, so we could get a bunch of them at once.

Since we came in the north entrance, that meant we entered via the Mojave, or high desert side. The hills were very volcanic looking (some of them reminded me of Haleakala), but the geology also varied quite a bit. There were Joshua trees all over, too.

Some of the Joshua trees were dead. They make for good pictures, though.

I have a million pictures of the park, and none of them really do it justice. It’s gorgeous. Also, the sky. Totally perfect.

There were rock climbers all over the bigger outcroppings. These looked appealing:

This is my favorite Joshua tree:

A few miles in, there were cars pulled over because a coyote was wandering down the other side of the road. It would pass each car slowly and approach warily, which sucks because that means it had been fed by tourists before.

This was a popular climbing rock. You can see some of the lines right in the middle. I bet the scrub was chock-full of tarantulas, too.

Several miles in, there’s a turnoff for a spot called Keys View. It’s a few miles up a mountain at about 5,000 feet, with a short trail to an overlook. It’s worth the drive.

Off in the hazy distance, it’s the Coachella valley. I really didn’t know how much farming went on there; it’s a lot. This is looking west, directly over the San Andreas Fault, with the San Jacinto Mountains in the background.

Looking south, you can make out the Salton Sea, and Signal Mountain near Mexicali in the far distance.

We headed back to the park road, and passed through a section of giant rocks. (I think one of the turnoffs is actually called Giant Rocks.) This is Skull Rock:

I wish we had more time to stop at all the roadside attractions, but it was a long drive through the park. We did have to stop to see the cactus garden, though. By then we’d crossed into the low desert, the Colorado, and the landscape started to change quite a bit.

(Confession: I touched the cactus and lived.)

The cactus garden is surreal. There are a million of them, just waiting to kill you.

This is the inside of a cactus stem:

Bally liked the view. Bally likes everything, really.

We stopped at the visitor center on the south end of the park to pick up a souvenir and to fill my Camelbak, because yes, I’d consumed all three bottles of water plus that entire container. It’s the desert, man.

Rather than get back on I-10, we followed Google’s directions (which were suspect in California at best, even with GPS enabled) toward Mecca. This led us through Box Canyon, which was kind of amazing.

The road twists and winds through at least 10 miles of canyon like this, and there are areas on the side of the road where people have parked their campers and created little compounds. They all had ATVs, too.

We exited Box Canyon onto the road heading into Mecca, a small town at the north end of the Salton Sea. Looking for the road to the sea, we passed acres and acres of produce of all kinds. It was kind of amazing to see that much food production up close, and in full bloom during late November.

We finally found our way to the highway that circled the Salton Sea.

We headed east, toward the state park area. The sun was starting to set, so we had pretty spectacular views. I pulled off at one of the beaches so we could get photos, and upon leaving the car was instantly greeted with the main reason people had deserted the Salton Sea: the smell. It smelled like dead fish and chemicals, and not just a little bit. It was overpowering.

In case you weren’t aware of this bizarre wonder in the California desert, here’s the short version (or the long version, via Wikipedia): the Salton Sea was formed accidentally in the early 1900s while workers were trying to funnel water into the very fertile Coachella Valley. It flooded the low basin, and created a huge inland sea. It soon became a huge resort and vacation destination, because, well, look at it.

The problem, however, was that there’s no natural exchange of water in the Salton Sea; it’s not fed by streams, nor does it have any drainage. So all the industrial and farming runoff from the valley poured right into the sea, and it poisoned everything. Almost all the fish died, creating a hell of a stink, and people left in droves. In many cases, they just left the stuff in their houses, and fled.

So now you have places like Bombay Beach, a former resort town that’s mostly abandoned and falling apart.

We unfortunately got there very close to sunset, and couldn’t see as much of it as we wanted to. It’s strange and mostly-deserted, but there are still people hanging on there at the end of a giant stinky sea. It’s a really bizarre place.

And then it was dark, so we pointed our car in the direction of Palm Springs. It took about an hour to arrive at our hotel, the Movie Colony. I’d picked it because it was walking distance to Tonga Hut, the only real destination we had in mind there, because we knew virtually nothing about the town beyond its awesome 1960s architecture.

The hotel was an excellent choice. It was very small, centered around a courtyard with a firepit, outdoor bar (which currently had free happy hour cocktails), and swimming pool. The lady working there was super-friendly, and took us up to our room on the second level overlooking the courtyard.

Matt had done some research on dinner options on the way there, and we’d decided on a place a few blocks away called Workshop Kitchen. We changed clothes and walked down there, finding it in the back of an open mall area. It was small, modern, and thankfully had a couple seats for us at the bar, since the entire rest of the place was already booked. We had a great meal, one of those that reminds you how completely spoiled California is, foodwise. It’s so easy to be vegetarian there.

We’d made plans to get together with my very longtime friend Paul, who lives in Long Beach, while we were in Palm Springs. He was there for Thanksgiving, and it just so happens that he and his friends love tiki bars as much as we do. So our obvious next stop was Tonga Hut to meet them.

We walked several blocks down there, passing a ton of great-looking restaurants and super-cute shops, which were all closed for the night. I kind of regretted not having more time in Palm Springs, because I’m pretty sure we’d have loved it. I liked that everything was centrally-located, too.

We headed upstairs to Tonga Hut and didn’t see Paul there, so Matt and I grabbed seats at the bar. We were worried we’d missed them, since they had dinner reservations elsewhere. After a while, they all showed up: Paul, his husband Eddie, and two of their friends who loved tiki far more than we ever could… they regaled us with stories of all the places they’d been, and the huge tiki collection they had in their new house in Palm Springs. (Paul sent photos later – it’s truly amazing.)

We hung out with them for an hour or so, talking about travel and what it was like living in the area. Apparently it’s really common for everyone in the LA area to head out into the desert that time of year, like a pilgrimage. I’d do the same, really.

Then it was time for them to head to dinner, so we said goodbye and hung out a bit longer before deciding to walk back to the hotel. It was even colder than it had been in other places in the desert at night, but it wasn’t cold enough to deter us from hanging out in the hot tub for a while before bed.

Thanksgiving morning, this was our view from our hotel room. I wished we were staying longer!

We had a 3-night Airbnb rental in Topanga Canyon starting that night that we’d booked several months in advance. The owner called and left a voicemail that morning, so I called him back before breakfast. We reviewed the plans we’d made via email: we had dinner reservations at 7:30 in Venice, and would get to the house to meet him before 9-10pm. That worked out well for him, too, since he had Thanksgiving plans.

We ate breakfast at the little bar in the courtyard, then checked out. Here’s the daytime view down the street from our hotel. We didn’t even know those mountains were right there when we arrived.

We checked out and got on I-10 again. Our destination this time was Anaheim, and Disneyland.

I’ve been to Disney World a few times in my life, a couple times as a kid and once as a sarcastic adult who expected to hate every minute of it, and ended up having a really great time. (Occasionally for sarcastic reasons, but also because I can’t stop loving Epcot Center.) People in California really seem to have a thing for Disneyland, even those I wouldn’t expect to, so we figured it was worth checking out. Plus since it was a holiday, it wasn’t as crowded!

We got to the parking around 11am, and rode the monorail to the park entrance. Everything was decorated for Christmas, which was pretty great. Also, LA was having a huge heat wave that day, around 85 degrees, so it was heaven.

One pleasant surprise was that it’s super-easy to walk anywhere in Disneyland quickly (well, semi-quickly, depending on the crowds). That’s not really that easy at Disney World. This park is a lot more compact.

We walked down Main Street USA, and stopped to take pictures of the much smaller castle. Then we consulted the map to figure out our plan of attack for rides. I was a little nervous about them in general because I still didn’t feel great, and my vertigo was terrible. But dammit, we were at Disney, and I was at least going to go on Space Mountain.

We circled for a while to get our bearings, and then went to see what the deal was with Fastpass at Space Mountain. The last time I’d been to Disney many years ago, Fastpass was awesome and enabled us to get on Space Mountain multiple times in a row. That didn’t seem to be the case anymore; you had to go stamp it with a time you were allowed to come back and get in the fast line. Those times were multiple hours in the future, though. We stamped our passes anyway (for 4:30) and headed out again.

We needed lunch, and for some reason this was more challenging than expected. We didn’t really want a sit-down restaurant, especially since everything seemed to have a long line outside it. And while I know there’s plenty of vegetarian food there, none of it seemed apparent. We finally decided on a Mexican restaurant because they had vegetable enchiladas. They weren’t the greatest I’d ever had, but they were pretty good, and nowhere near as expensive as I’d expected.

Refreshed, we went to go get in the line for Pirates of the Caribbean. Having walked past most of the rides we wanted to go on, we’d already accepted that we were going to end up standing in line for most of the day. But it was nice out, so that made the half-hour-or-so wait worthwhile. The ride was entertaining, and I didn’t really remember much of it. There was also a guy sitting in our row who texted for the entire ride, so that was pretty funny.

From there, we decided to go on the Indiana Jones ride. It was about the same wait time, which wasn’t terrible. This one was advertised as being more jarring than the Pirates of the Caribbean, so I figured it was a good test of how I would feel in Space Mountain. We got into our Jeep, held on tight, and I screamed at every fast corner. (Screaming like an idiot is the best part of going on rides.) I was a little worse off from vertigo afterwards, but it was fine. Plus the ride was great.

Next we took it down a notch at the Enchanted Tiki Room. I’m sure I’ve probably been in there before (in Florida), but I didn’t really remember it. I definitely remembered the cheesiness of that animatronic era, though. The birds that descended from the ceiling looked a little bit ratty.

After that, it was time for some actual tiki. We walked over to the monorail, and rode over to Downtown Disney. They had a skating rink! Did I mention it was 85 degrees?

We found Trader Sam’s amongst the resort buildings. It was a glorious little tropical oasis.

We walked in, and the entire place was full. There was a bunch of patio seating available, but we’d been hoping to get a seat at the bar. Paul’s friends had told us that some of them were rigged to sink into the floor occasionally, and I really wanted to see that.

Regardless, the place was great. The bartenders were hilarious, and if you order a Shipwreck on the Rocks, they trigger this whole animated diorama of a ship on stormy seas that’s built into the wall. It would’ve been nice to stay there for a very long time, but we had places to be that holiday night.

After our drinks were finished, we rode the monorail back to the park. It was still a bit before our Fastpass time, so we grabbed a pretzel from a vendor and wandered around. People were sitting on the curbs on Main Street for the parade, even though it wasn’t happening for quite a while.

Finally, it was time for the one ride I’d come to Disneyland for: SPACE MOUNTAIN. The Fastpass line was pretty great, at least.

One thing it’s important to know about Matt is that he hates roller coasters with a passion. He doesn’t like heights, so he’s waited nervously by while I’ve done things like skydive and jump off the Stratosphere. But since it was just the two of us there, he’d agreed to go on Space Mountain with me. That’s true love right there.

We were both pretty nervous by the time we boarded. I was scared of our stuff flying out, so I had my purse wrapped around my legs as much as possible. Matt was carrying a tiki mug in a box and bag that he’d picked up as a souvenir, so he had to ride with it clamped between his feet. I was scared about my vertigo and the fact that I hadn’t even been near a roller coaster in probably 10 years. Then I looked over at Matt as the coaster started up, and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there at that moment.

Space Mountain was FANTASTIC. It’s as good as I remember. Matt doesn’t agree, but he survived!! I was a little shaky getting it, but it didn’t seem to make my vertigo any worse.

Then it was time to start heading to the car. We hadn’t had very much time there, but it was good to see Disneyland. And we managed to get out before the parade insanity began.

We stopped into the gift shop to get postcards for my Disney-loving nieces, and was told they didn’t sell stamps there. Didn’t see stamps! At Disney, the place which can give you anything you want. That’s really strange, right?

We rode the parking train back to the car, and Matt pulled up directions to LA while I drove. We had dinner reservations at 7:30 in Venice, and then were heading to our AirBnb rental afterwards.

The drive was faster than expected (mostly because it’s safe to assume that generally traffic in LA will be the absolute worst), and we got to Venice with almost an hour to kill. I parked on a side street by the beach, and changed clothes in the car because I’m super classy (and was too underdressed for fancy Thanksgiving dinner). We then went to walk down the boardwalk to see what might be up in Venice on a Thanksgiving night.

The answer: nothing. There were a bunch people who lived on the beach hanging around, but all the businesses were closed. We saw one bar that was open, but the bartender told us they were just shutting down as we walked in. So went back to the car and decided to go try to find something on Abbot Kinney instead.

The one place besides our restaurant that was open was a bar that Matt had noticed more than once, and had wanted to visit. So we parked at The Brig and went in for a drink. The people at the bar were friendly (who isn’t when they’re drinking at a bar on a holiday most people are with family?) and they had sports on TV.

Then it was time for our reservation, so we drove down about half a mile (it was too cold to walk in sandals at that point!) and checked in at Joe’s Restaurant. I was a little worried we’d have to wait forever, because the bar area was packed, but they had our table waiting for us. They definitely weren’t wanting for business for Thanksgiving dinner, either – the entire restaurant was full, too.

They had a prix fixe menu that we’d approved beforehand, due to their good vegetarian options. We picked our three courses and a dessert, and Matt ordered from their awesome cocktail menu as well. My entree was half a butternut squash filled with vegetables, in case you were wondering if California is good at food.

Our dinner was going quite nicely when my phone rang in my purse. I looked at it, and it was the number for the guy who owned our rental house, so I answered right away. He started huffily exclaiming about how he’d been at the house since 7:00 waiting for us, and where were we? (It was close to 8:30 at that point.) I told him that no, like we’d discussed a couple times, we were at dinner and were supposed to meet him between 9 and 10pm. But he was having none of it; he just kept repeating over and over that he’d been waiting there forever, and that this was very rude, and what was he supposed to do? He even told me he had a recording of our phone call from that morning, where I’d told him we’d be there at 7:30. (If that was the case he probably should’ve listened to it, since I told him very clearly that we had dinner at 7:30 in Venice, and would meet him between 9-10.)

I told him we’d get there as soon as we could, and hung up the phone upset. We had to grab our server to get the tab quickly, run to the bathroom (it was still a long drive), and get our dessert to go. The restaurant was super-busy, though, so our dessert didn’t show up, and we ended up leaving. I texted the guy from my dying phone that we were on our way, and we jumped in the car and headed out of Venice and up the PCH.

We turned off the highway at Topanga Canyon, and began the 10-mile drive up into the mountains. I was glad I’d looked at Google Streetview earlier so I knew what to expect along the way. The road going up the hill wasn’t narrow, but it was really dark. We found the turnoff and headed up the wrong road initially, which ended up as a tiny narrow street that two cars couldn’t possibly pass on. After realizing that was wrong, we found the correct road up the hill to the house.

We found the driveway, which had a gate and closed garage door, with no path up to the house. My phone was dead, which didn’t much matter because Matt couldn’t get a signal up in the mountains anyway. The lights at the gate were on and there was a security camera pointed at us, so we figured he’d probably see us there. There was no bell we could find, so we waited around there for ten minutes or so, unsure what to do.

Finally, we gave up. I wasn’t thrilled at staying there knowing the guy was really flaky, accusatory and generally bizarre, and he obviously wasn’t in that much of a hurry to let us in. I wanted to just leave without telling him, but Matt convinced me that calling was the right thing to do. We plugged in my phone, drove back down the mountain, and I called him to tell him we were going to get a hotel instead. He was argumentative at first, but calmed down really quickly once I told him why I didn’t think it was a good idea to stay there (i.e. that I didn’t trust him at all, since he was being totally unreliable).

By the time we got back down to the PCH headed back toward Santa Monica, it was after 10pm. I was upset from the ordeal, and we had to find a hotel. Matt pulled up hotels.com on my phone and started searching for places, and I told him to look near LAX, since hotels were always cheap there. We decided on the Sheraton Four Points, and he used my phone to book the room while we drove there. Hooray, technology!

We got to LAX, found the hotel, and pulled into the driveway to find a ‘lot full’ sign in the parking lot. A guy who worked there was standing outside, so I pulled up and asked him about it. He told us that we should pull a ticket and go into the lot anyway, because a bunch of the staff was leaving right then, and there would be spots opening up.

Well…. no. We drove around and around in the lot, which was packed full. People had invented their own spots in driveways, so I’d go down an aisle and have to back all the way out to leave it. There were other cars circling, but nobody seemed to be finding anything. We discovered an underground parking area that was somewhat hidden, and ended up getting stuck in there and having to turn around, too.

We probably circled around there for half an hour, finding nothing. Finally, I drove back to the gate and pressed the call button and explained our problem. The lady told us to go park over at the Radisson, and they’d reimburse our parking.

We drove down a very long block, pulled another parking ticket at the Radisson, and found a parking spot. By that point it was 11pm, and I was on the verge on a panic attack. (I don’t deal with unplanned changes well at all.) We unloaded our suitcases and rolled them through the parking lot, across the street, and finally into the Sheraton to check in. When the very friendly lady at the front desk told us she couldn’t find our reservation, I wanted to cry.

It turns out that because I’d most recently been looking at hotels in Quebec in May, Matt had ended up booking a room for Thanksgiving 2015. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be a problem for the front desk – she just updated the dates, and we were fine. We even got the same rate.

(Fun fact: while hotels.com will acknowledge that you did indeed stay for a reservation booked on the incorrect dates, they won’t credit your Welcome Rewards until the original dates actually occur. So I still technically have a room booked at the Sheraton Four Points LAX over Thanksgiving 2015.)

FINALLY, we were in our room and settled for our longest stay in one place… three entire nights!

I grew up in Chicago, so I’ve always been really nostalgic about Christmastime there. When Matt and I found a deal through American Express that refunded one night of any three-night stay there, it was hard to say no. Especially when one of the cheapest hotels ended up being the very fancy Renaissance Blackstone on the Magnificent Mile, and plane tickets were cheap.

We decided to fly Sun Country rather than Delta, because even though tickets were the same price, Sun Country goes to Midway. That’s way more convenient when you’re taking the train. We flew out of Minneapolis around 5, and landed in Chicago by 6:30. Since we just had carry-ons, it was a quick trip from the plane to the Metra.

We rode into downtown and got off at the first stop down in the south Loop, an area I wasn’t very familiar with. In the past it had not been the greatest neighborhood, but it’s definitely becoming gentrified now, with a lot of the warehouse-style condos that tend to spring up in those areas. We walked the six blocks or so to the hotel (walking along Michigan Avenue in the cold isn’t smart, by the way… go inland from the lake!) and checked in. As expected, our room was really fancy… the Westin is usually my standard for nice hotels, and this was a step up.

It was after 8pm, but since we’d had sandwiches on the plane we weren’t dying for dinner yet. We decided to get cocktails at the hotel bar, which is downstairs from the resident tapas place, Mercat a la Planxa (we were excited that it’s run by an Iron Chef, too). The place was tiny and well-appointed, the ideal kind of hotel bar. They had a great cocktail menu, too.

We had decided on getting our deep dish needs out of the way early at the nearby Lou Malnati’s, partly because we didn’t want to take the train anywhere since we were planning to buy passes the next day, and it was getting late. The bartender confirmed the directions for us, and we headed out in the cold. On the way there, we took note of two bars we might want to visit later; one was a big, packed sports bar, and one appeared to be a liquor store that you could also drink in. (That one was the instant favorite, of course.)

I’ve only been to Giordano’s before, so this was an exciting change! Also exciting: they had personal-size pizzas (you always end up with tons of leftovers at Giordano’s), and Goose Island Matilda. Perfect.

After dinner, we stuck with the ‘things to always do in Chicago’ theme and headed up to Miller’s Pub. The sign out front advertised that they had Tom and Jerry’s, which was fantastic. The bar was crowded, but we managed to find a standing spot at the far end and ordered our Tom and Jerrys. They were pretty sweet, but the large quantity of brandy (and the warmth, since it was really cold outside) made up for it.

We stuck around for another round, at which point I switched to a gin martini to avoid the sweetness issue. I was trying to eavesdrop on the people next to us, which appeared to be a couple of coworkers. The guy was older and the woman was pretty young, and he was drunkenly trying to hit on her in a very subtle (but not really) way. It was very entertaining.

Round about midnight, we decided to head back toward the south Loop and stop in at one of the bars we’d seen earlier. We decided on George’s, the liquor store that apparently had a bar inside. That’s exactly what it ended up being, too… a total dive with a bar and a few small tables (and awesome jukebox), with a wall of liquor you could buy for exorbitant rates along the back wall. It was the BEST. The bartender was old and crusty, there were loud Wisconsinites manning the jukebox, and drinks were incredibly cheap.

Though the bar was open til 4am (!!), we were at least a little bit smart, and decided to leave at 2. Thankfully it was only a block from there to the hotel.

—–

The next morning, we got up and went downstairs to Starbucks for coffee before walking to the el. We purchased three-day passes, then hopped on and rode up to the north side of the Loop. Our destination was Daley Plaza, for the Christkindlmarket. Apparently it’s been going on forever, but I had no idea! I was incredibly excited to see it.

The pigeons there were smarter than the average bird, too:

The place was insanely crowded, of course. It was convenient that there seemed to be multiples of most of the food and drink booths, so that you didn’t have to push your way across the entire place to get something to eat. We saw people carrying little souvenir mugs all over the place, so I wanted to check that out first. It ended up being gluhwein, so Matt got one of those and I got a beer instead.

We did some wandering around the shops, and noted one of the gigantic shops full of traditional glass ornaments that I wanted to visit once we weren’t carrying drinks. We decided to stop at get breakfast first, too. I got potato pancakes, and Matt got currywurst. Some people joined us at our table, and it seemed like the whole city was excited to be there, even though we were freezing our asses off.

After the food, we went to the ornament shop. There was a line to get in, so I shivered there for 10 or 15 minutes before we actually got inside. From there everyone had to grab a basket and circle slowly around the store, following a pre-established path. You had one shot to get the ornaments you wanted, or you’d have to wait in line again. It was probably the most German thing ever.

I picked out a few things, and appreciated the fact that they wrapped and boxed them up really well. From there, we went to get another beer and go hang out in one of the heated tents to warm up. The tents were also packed, of course, but we didn’t care. We found a spot near the heater and I regained feeling in my feet.

Before heading out, we stopped to get a couple pretzels, and ate them outside in a sheltered spot. I would probably have stayed there all day if it wasn’t so cold out. (It was still 20 degrees warmer than home, though!)

We walked over to State Street to go see Macy’s, the former Marshall Field’s. I have vague memories of that store and Carson Pirie Scott being all decorated at Christmas, and I wasn’t wrong about that. We did some shopping, then took the escalator up to see the giant tree in the restaurant.

Then we decided to head over to XOCO for a late lunch. On the way, though, I had to stop into Walgreens to pick up some things, like super-strong hand lotion (stupid cold), hairspray, and Christmas cards for my nieces in Florida, since we wanted to send them some cash instead of gifts.

Our timing regarding late lunch was planned as follows: wait in line for a torta. Eat a torta. By the time we’re done with tortas, Three Dots and a Dash will just be opening. Since the place is very new and very popular and it was cold outside, we wanted to make sure we got in right away. Plus, you know, afternoon tiki drinks.

We decided to walk, since it was only six blocks or so. We crossed the river, stopped into Citibank to break a hundred (so my nieces could have their Christmas gifts), and then headed over to Xoco. To our surprise, there wasn’t even a very long line! I got a beer and Matt ordered one of their bottled margaritas, and we went to wait at our assigned counter spot. The food took a while, but that was fine because it was a good opportunity to warm up.

My woodland mushroom torta was fantastic, too. There need to be more vegetarian tortas in the world.

Since our lunch went faster than expected, it was only 4pm and Three Dots wasn’t open. So we did what all good Midwesterners do in the winter: we went to another bar to wait for it to open. The Boss Bar came recommended by Foursquare as a classic dive, and it was only a block away, so we headed that direction. Holy crap, the place was insane at 4pm. It wasn’t just people at post-work happy hour, either… it seemed that many of them had probably been there all day. Also, one of the walls was being held up by 2x4s, and the kitchen was just a little kiosk with a deep-fryer near the entrance. AWESOME.

We killed time with a drink there, and then promptly at 4:30pm headed over to Three Dots. It’s in the alley behind Xoco, complete with bouncers in black, velvet ropes, and heaters (thank god). But seriously, it was 4:30pm, not 11. Anyway.

We went up to the doorman, and he told us that they were closed for a private party. (Sad!) But the private party only went til 5:30. (Hooray!) Rather than wait outside, we walked to yet another bar. I had seen a place called Havana as we walked past before, so we decided to go there. I didn’t exactly know where it was, though, so we circled the entire block before we ended up there, directly next to the Boss Bar we’d just come from. At least we got some exercise.

The nice thing about places named after Cuba, or any really Caribbean island, is that you have a good idea what to expect there, and you’re rarely disappointed. Havana was a small, pretty restaurant with a very nice bar and better rum selection. We had mojitos, and the bartender made them perfectly, not too sweet.

Shortly after 5:30, we walked back over to Three Dots. The private party was taking their sweet time exiting the place, so they said it would be after 6 by the time they actually opened. We didn’t want to ruin our streak of waiting in bars, so we went to Mother Hubbard’s Sports Bar (it was not that awesome) to warm up and use the bathroom. Matt was excited that they still tacked newspapers up over the urinals to read. I didn’t even know that happened!

We made our way back again around 6, and this time found an actual line in the alley. It was only ten people or so, but still. A line! At 6pm! I’ve never seen that before. We stood there for a while, shivering and wondering if we’d ever get in, because the line wasn’t moving and there were still work-party people milling around and going in and out of the bar. FINALLY, the bouncer came over and started letting people in. We were taken downstairs to a table, and immediately knew it was absolutely worth the wait.

The place is decorated in usual tiki/nautical style, and the drinks are half classic and half inspirations on everyone’s favorite giant picture menu. (If I own a tiki bar someday, we’re going to have the largest illustrated menu on earth). The thing I loved most was that the drinks are less sweet than the originals, and they pay a lot of attention to presentation.

We had three cocktails apiece, plus a couple very delicious appetizers, and then it was time to go lest we just decide to live there forever (I would). Plus the place was getting crowded to the point where people were bumping into our table and yelling over each other. We requested a souvenir glass, paid our check, and headed back out into the cold.

We decided to walk again and see what was on the way, since we didn’t have any great ideas for dinner yet, and we’d just had appetizers. Conveniently, we ended up passing right by the Palmer House, so we decided to go visit another classic. We grabbed seats from someone who was vacating them at the lobby bar and ordered one of their house Manhattans. Then I took out the Christmas cards for my nieces and filled them out on the bar, so we could mail them right away. It’s my goal for us to be known as the super-classy aunt and uncle.

When we were done there, we decided to just go back to the hotel and check out Mercat a la Planxa. We’d looked at their menu in the room enough to know that they did actually have vegetarian stuff, and it seemed like an easy choice. We started walking back that way, and within a couple blocks of the hotel, it started sleeting. Just like at home in Minnesota! We rushed back, dropped our stuff in the room, and went down to the restaurant. It was 10:30 and they closed at 11, but they told us it was no problem. Thank god, because we were dying of hunger at that point.

Not only did they have vegetarian stuff, they said they could do a tasting menu for both of us! And holy crap, it was fantastic.

The only downside was that the food just KEPT COMING. We were getting full, to the point where we were hoping it was over, and then more would arrive. I should’ve taken it home in my carry-on or something.

Back in our room, we had truffles from the front desk, because we’d mentioned being fancy on Twitter. Cute!

At that point it was after midnight and we were hella full of delicious tapas, so it was time for bed.

—–

I woke up sometime early the next morning and noted blearily through my contact-less eyes that it was snowing. And not just a little bit, but a full-on blizzard. Lake Michigan seemed angry. After a couple more hours of sleep it was starting to die down, but not enough to make wandering around outside all day that feasible. I was glad we’d gone to the Christkindlmarket the previous day.

Conveniently, we’d talked about visiting the Art Institute, since neither of us had been there in a very long time. And conveniently, it was only a few blocks away!

Our time was limited there, but we managed to cover a lot of ground. We saw most of my favorite things, which include the impressionists and anything modern.

The views from the building, which has expanded a lot since my last visit, confirmed that we didn’t really want to be outside that much:

We visited the Chagall windows, which for unknown reasons was my absolute favorite thing as a kid, and then went downstairs to have lunch in their really excellent cafe. I had a delicious falafel burger.

We stopped to take a quick spin through the miniature rooms (also a longstanding favorite), and then it was time to head out, because for once we had actual plans! We hopped on the train to Logan Square, home of Matt’s longtime internet pal, Kyle from Midmajority. More importantly, Kyle is the inventory of our constant travel companion, Bally.

We took the longest possible route around Logan Square (whose intersections had all become treacherous pools of indeterminate-depth slush) and found Billy Sunday, the new cocktail bar on the block. Their menu was fantastically interesting, and rather than trying to explain it, here’s the link. Kyle showed up a few minutes after we arrived.

We hung out there for a couple drinks, and then headed out to get some dinner. Kyle led us to Parson’s Chicken and Fish, which, despite the name, also had vegetarian stuff on the menu, not to mention things like a Negroni slushy. I had the vegetable club, made with pickled beets. They had good beer, too, and Bang Bang Pie. (No, I didn’t know what that was beforehand.)

From there, we walked over to Scofflaw, another awesome cocktail place. It was standing-room crowded, but we were conveniently standing next to some girls who were leaving and gave us their armchairs around a little table. There was a fireplace in the room, too, so it was quite comfortable.

After a cocktail there, we grabbed a cab to Wrigleyville. We ended up talking about how Indiana was a huge wasteland, and our driver piped right up with stories about how much he hated Indiana because people were racist and did horrible things to his middle-eastern friends. Holy crap, Indiana, what’s your deal??

We were a little early for the show, so we went to Gingerman Tavern next door for a drink. It was much like Triple Rock or Grumpy’s, so we were right at home. We had beers there, and then went next door to Metro for the Breeders show.

I was expecting Metro to be a lot bigger, since they get the shows that First Ave generally does, but it was definitely smaller. Which was nice, because even though we ended up at the back, we had a good view.

Confusingly, both Matt and Kyle encountered really aggro dudes there. That’s definitely not something that ever happens at First Ave. Minnesotans like to keep their rage inside.

After the show, we were standing in the coat check line talking about the cab driver who hated Indiana, and ended up talking to a girl from Fort Wayne who could not understand the concept of flying from Minneapolis to Chicago. (It’s a long drive, and a generally very cheap flight!)

We hopped in another cab and rode back up to Logan Square to the Empty Bottle for the Windy City Soul Club 5th anniversary event. The place was packed with people actually dancing! And they had a really good bourbon drink on special! It was amazing. We hung out with Kyle’s friends there for a while, Kyle introduced us to the wonders of Malört (it’s godawful, as you’d expect of herbal Swedish liquor), and then we headed off to yet another bar in the neighborhood, the Blind Robin.

I took their photo with Bally, and it turned out GREAT in the darkness. Haha.

Finally, it was time to head back to the hotel. We got another cab since we were about a mile from the train, and apparently cabs in Chicago are way cheaper than Minneapolis!

—-

Sunday morning, we hung out in the room until close to check-out time, and then left our bags with the front desk. We picked up coffee at Dunkin Donuts, then rode the train up to Wicker Park. Rodan was a couple blocks from the stop, and we were apparently the only ones there for brunch at almost 1pm. Strange.

They had bottomless mimosas for brunch, which sounded like a great idea for people who had a few hours to kill before their flight. (It was colder outside than the previous days, too.) The food was great, too. We finished and then sat there for a long time while they refilled our drinks; it seemed easier to get mimosa refills than it was the check, but that was fine with us.

Finally we headed out, and rode the train back to River North. Our destination was Eataly, the Italian market/deli that had recently opened in Chicago and had lines around the block at the opening. Walking in, I immediately realized why. It was HUGE, and wasn’t just a deli. They had several different spots in the building that were mini-restaurants, with things like pizza, fresh bread, a wine bar, charcuterie, pasta, truffles, a brewery, and even a mozzarella bar. HOLY CRAP. I was sad we had just eaten!

We wandered around and looked at the merchandise for a while, then went to the brewery. They brewed their own beer there, as well as doing contract brewing for Dogfish Head. I got an ancient ale (a style I’d never tried before), and we went to wander some more. I wanted to get to the mozzarella bar even though I was full, but it was full every time we walked past.

Matt picked out some packaged meat to bring home, and we picked out black rice for risotto. We would’ve bought some black truffle, but they weren’t getting them in until the next week. We picked up some fancy chocolates to take home, and a few other things from downstairs before going to check out.

We still had some time to kill before needing to be back at the hotel, so we did what anyone else would do: went back to Miller’s Pub for a victory lap. The place was crowded again, this time with Chicago Bears fans who had apparently come from somewhere else (the Bears were out of town). They were in post-tailgating condition, and hilarious to listen to with their super-strong Chicago accents. It reminded me of when my dad used to put on his cop voice years ago, and he sounded like Dan Aykroyd in the Blues Brothers. We had one last shot of Malört in Kyle’s honor, and then headed back to the hotel to pick up our bags.

We rolled them to the train station just as it was getting dark outside. We rode to Midway and discovered our flight was delayed (it was late leaving Montego Bay: SHOCKER), so we got a table at Harry Caray’s to get dinner and beers. Once we were done, our flight was further delayed, so we hung out at the pub waiting for it to arrive. It finally arrived, and we got home without further incident.

Matt’s parents had come into town the night before, and we went over suitcase packing with them yet again, since this was to be their first flight in something like 15 years. The main concern was making sure that my mother-in-law didn’t try to take her huge toiletry bag through security with her, so we had to review the 3-1-1 rules multiple times.

We got up bright and early at 6am to get our ride to the airport in style; we had an Escalade from Uber, and an awesome driver named Patrick. There was a long security line which we opted to wait in so that we could escort the in-laws through security, rather than taking advantage of our PreCheck access. That was a little painful, but the trip through was entirely uneventful. We had some time to kill before the flight, so we got coffee, pastries, and a breakfast cocktail at Surdyk’s before heading to the gate.

The flight boarded early, so we were able to get on right away when we arrived there. Matt and I had a two-seat row to ourselves, and the flight was uneventful. We ate sandwiches from Surdyk’s and enjoyed the view of the coast. As we approached Fort Lauderdale, we flew right over a rainbow!

 
We circled over the Everglades before heading into the airport from the west. I really love this view, with the houses pushing right up against the alligator zone.

We landed around 1:15, then went to get our bags and board the rental shuttle. I was renting with Hertz for the first time, because I’d gotten a deal through American Express for 5,000 Hertz points for $250. We only needed 2,500 for the week-long rental, so that means I have another free week still waiting for me. That was a hell of a bargain!

I found my name on the board at the rental place, and we rolled our bags out to the car. It was a gigantic Buick Verano, so we were rockin’ it just like old people. I hate driving cars that large, but it was definitely comfortable for the four of us.

We left the airport and drove straight to Miami Beach to get lunch. Huahua’s Tacos did not disappoint, and we were able to sit out in the sun. It was a nice change, having left Minneapolis in the early fall. I especially enjoyed the world’s greatest guaco, which had both guacamole AND a slice of breaded, deep-fried avocado. So delicious.

There we had our first of many toasts to Southern Florida, too:

 
After lunch, we drove over nearer South Beach and circled for a while looking for parking. We finally found a ramp that didn’t cost a million dollars, and that was only a few blocks from the beach. Harlan and Judy have never been to Miami, so we wanted them to see the monstrous beach where we both misplaced our underpants on our honeymoon. (We left that part out of the story.)

After that, it was critically important that they visit the other best thing in South Beach: Mac’s Club Deuce. There were a few people sitting in there when we walked in, and they’d all clerly been there a while. My favorite was a completely tattoo-covered guy with an eyepatch, who managed to take a nap at the bar with a drink and a shot sitting in front of him. (We later walked past the tattoo shop that he probably owned around the corner.)

 We ordered drinks from the awesome bartender, who gave us each a poker chip, good for our next drink free. Daytime 2-for-1s? Sold. (They’re not weak, either.) We sat there enjoying the divey ambiance, and Matt got into a conversation with one of the old guys holding up the bar, based on their mutual love for Hunter S Thompson. The guy instantly became his BFF, and came over to tell him stories about his old days in journalism. It was hilarious.

After we finished our second round, it was time to head out lest we just decide to move in there. Matt bought a t-shirt, and they gave him a bunch of stickers as well. We retrieved the car and headed up the A1A in the direction of Fort Lauderdale. We could’ve taken the highway, but there’s a lot to see on that route. There’s something about that oceanside ridiculousness that I love a lot.

Once we got tired of the stop-and-go traffic, we headed back toward the interstate. At that point my father-in-law was napping in the back, so we figured it was a good time to go check into the hotel (it was around 5pm). We took 595 over to Plantation, a suburb west of downtown Fort Lauderdale, and managed to locate the Sheraton Suites. From what we could tell, the entire town of Plantation is one gigantic strip mall after another, and the hotel was no exception: it seemed to be located right in the middle of an abandoned mall. It was really nice, just a little strange.

The in-laws wanted to get comfortable, have a brandy (they brought their own bottle from Minnesota, fearing that E&J – the only brandy Judy will drink – would be in short supply in Florida), and take showers. Judy swore it would take her an hour to wash and do her hair, which seemed unlikely. Matt and I were ill-prepared for room-based relaxation, since we had brought nothing to drink from home. We dropped them off, looked up the location of the nearest liquor store (shocker: it was in a strip mall a mile away), and headed over there to get some room beers.

The place we found had an incredible beer selection, so we built a couple of our own 6-packs (a combination of local stuff and other things we hadn’t seen before, plus Dragon Stout, which we thought was only available in Jamaica!) and headed back to the hotel. We opened the suitcase but didn’t bother unpacking, since we were only spending the night. The room was fantastic, too: there was a big living/work area with a sideboard, a huge bathroom and closets, and a separate bedroom with a second TV. How many hotel rooms have a hallway? (The place isn’t convenient if you’re planning to spend a lot of time in the FLL area, but it’s great if you want to be near the interstate that will take you to the Keys with the least painful traffic congestion.)

We hung out for a while, then went to check in on Harlan and Judy in the room next door. Judy had changed to her going-out outfit, and they were enjoying a brandy. We talked about dinner options, and researched a couple spots where Matt had found vegetarian options on our phones. We finally decided on Seasons 52, and I called to make reservations for 8:30. Then we gathered our things and headed that way.

The restaurant was about 12 miles away near the beach, but it took a while to get there because the only direct route was on local streets. We finally managed to locate the mall where it was located (surprise!) on Highway 1, and parked in the nearest lot. We walked through the mall looking for it, and finally had to ask for directions. The entrance ended up being down a level and outside, near the other typical mall restaurants. We checked in with the host stand and stood around listening to the piano guy playing in the bar. The place was gigantic, and it was surprisingly packed, too.

We were seated, and attended to by a very unpleasant server. He was incredibly slow, and also impatient with my in-laws. While the food was seriously excellent (I had a vegetarian platter with a grain salad, cedar-roasted tofu, chutney, roasted vegetables, and a delicious taco), the service was unbelievably bad. I guess that’s what you get for going to a big chain restaurant in a mall in Florida.

We fixed it afterwards, though, because then it was time to go to Mai Kai, one of the greatest tiki bars on earth. We were worried that it would be really busy, and that was backed up by the huge crowd standing out front as we arrived. It turned out that it was the crowd for their nightly luau show all waiting for the valets, and the place was actually nearly empty. (We even got to park our own car!) We got a table and ordered a round of drinks. Matt’s Jet Pilot was amazing, and incredibly strong.

Harlan went to the bathroom and reappeared a long time later. He told us his zipper got stuck in the down position and he couldn’t fix it, so he finally asked the bathroom attendant if he could help. The attendant told him to hold the bottom of the zipper and tug; that worked, so he tipped the guy a dollar for the advice. (At this point in the story, we were all falling off our chairs laughing.) He also got lost leaving the bathroom, and told us he wandered all over the restaurant (it’s made up of several gigantic rooms, all decorated differently), and finally ended up crossing a bridge and ending up in a rainforest. We had no idea where that was, because we’d only ever seen the bar.

Unfortunately we couldn’t stay very late (his parents looked like they were going to doze off), but we were happy to get in a visit. While Judy and I were waiting for them to finish up, one of the hosts asked us if we’d seen the shrunken head yet. I had no idea what that was about, but since we’d already decided we had to make a return visit on the other end of the trip, I put it on my to-do list.

We headed back to the hotel, and the journey seemed a LOT longer on the way back. We finally got to the hotel, and headed to our rooms for the night. Matt and I enjoyed a delicious Abita Pecan nightcap before going to sleep. Hooray, vacation!

Saturday morning around 9:45, our friend Bill picked us up and drove us to the airport. I felt a little bad about making someone get up so early on the weekend, but he had a new baby at home. He said he was used to it.

We got to our gate just in time for the agent to announce the flight was delayed due to “a mishmash of mechanical issues”. (If there’s any way to instill confidence in travelers, it’s not that.) A bit later, they told us that the plane had a broken windshield, so they were going to replace it at some point. With nine flights scheduled over the next week and a half, we’d expected to spend some time in airport bars, but we hadn’t been counting on that quite so soon.

Delta managed to do something right, because the new plane was delivered fairly quickly, only about an hour delayed. We boarded, and the captain said we could blame him for not wanting to fly with a broken windshield. We were totally fine with that decision; I’m more alarmed that Delta was willing to leave it at the pilots’ discretion.

We touched down at LAX around 2:30, picked up our rental car, and headed into Beverly Hills via Santa Monica Boulevard. Our plans kept adapting to the time we spent in the car: we were hungry and hoping to find an In-n-Out Burger or Del Taco, but eventually we became so tired of driving and being hungry that we were just looking for anything decent. We ended up finding Good Microbrew and Grill on Sunset Boulevard, and it turned out to be an excellent choice.

We sat out on the patio having awesome beer and really good (i.e. California) food. (I can never get over the huge difference in the quality of produce between here and there. It’s very noticeable.) There were Minnesota beers on the menu, too!

After dinner, we headed a few blocks down Sunset toward our primary destination: Tiki-Ti. I won’t bother trying to explain it, since the website says it all. It was even more spectacular than we’d hoped.

The bar sat 12 people, and there were tables for maybe 20 more at most. An old guy propping up the end of the bar scooted over and greeted us with, “Hello king, hello queen.” He’d obviously spent some time in Jamaica.

We had some tiki drinks, then I got up to use the bathroom. When I got back, Matt had made friends with the guy on the other side of him. He introduced himself as Ken, and told us that his dad was Filipino and his mom Scandinavian (hence the Minnesota connection). We spent the rest of our time there talking to him about his experience living in LA and his visit to the Philippines.

We didn’t really want to leave, but knew we’d never get out of there alive otherwise. We said bye to Ken and the bartender, and went to go check into the hotel.

We picked Stay because of its proximity to the places we wanted to visit on our short trip to LA. It’s very conveniently located right in the middle of downtown, on Main Street. The building is very strange but awesome: the rooms are updated with modern art, and everything is very clean. Half the rooms have shared bathrooms in the hallway, but we got one with a private bath. The only downside, though, was the lack of air conditioning. While it wasn’t too terribly hot, the importance of that fact wouldn’t become apparent til later.

After we became situated, I started looking up our other stops on the map on my phone, only I couldn’t make sense of anything on there. I couldn’t even figure out where we were. I finally laid down when I realized I was having a huge blood sugar crash, obviously due to the tiki drinks. It was very strange because I’d felt totally fine til right then; usually you can feel any blood sugar disturbance within half a minute. At any rate, I passed out for 20 or 30 minutes, and experienced the very unpleasant delirium of the rush of insulin. Within the hour, I felt fine again, just really exhausted.

We walked to a nearby pizza place for a slice, then moved on. We’d initially been planning to go to Caña, but it was about 2 miles roundtrip and I wasn’t sure I could make it. We added that to the ‘next time in LA’ list, and went here instead:

(We’re both graduates of the University of Minnesota, and huge Gophers hockey fans. The bouncer asked for our drivers licenses and made the connection right away, so we loved him.) The Golden Gopher is a super-classic bar, though it didn’t look too much like it on the inside. We got there around 9 and it was fairly empty, so we grabbed seats at the bar and ordered manhattans.

Around 11pm, the bar started to fill up. It wasn’t hatefully douchey or anything like we were expecting in LA, but it was still pretty different from our usual crowd; the most common drink ordered was Grey Goose and Red Bull. Seriously, you’d pay $11 for a drink involving Red Bull? At least don’t bother with the Goose. Once it became crowded to the point that people were leaning on us, we headed out.

We got back to the hotel around 12:30 and had to switch our usual places in the bed so that Matt could be nearer the open window (he’s the one who’s always way too warm). It was then that we realized the true downside to no A/C: not the heat, but the noise. It was a combination of people yelling, cars honking, music, and possibly even a brass band from 1am til sometime after 4. Needless to say, it was not the greatest sleep of our lives.