Pilgrimage to the City of the Angels (2/3)

This is the second post in a three-part series.

For the most part, Kathryn and I slept pretty well the first night in L.A. I was woken up by a bit of noise around the pool area at midnight, but I got back to sleep pretty quickly. What woke me up was the sound of a beer bottle hitting the ground. Luckily it didn’t break. The managers must have given the folks a talking to, because they drank from cans the following night.

We woke relatively early Saturday, around 6:30 or so, knowing we had a big day in front of us. We had a light, early breakfast at the hotel, mindful of the fact we’d be attending mass later. The breakfast served was what a lot of hotels now refer to as deluxe continental, which means continental plus a waffle iron. Kathryn and I shared a waffle and each had some cereal and something to drink. After heading back to the room to shower and dress, we got in the car and headed over to St. Francis. Continue reading

Pilgrimage to the City of the Angels (1/3)

I haven’t updated my blog with any good travel tales for quite some time. However, Kathryn and I managed to pack a lot into our 60-hour road trip to Los Angeles last weekend, so I figured it was time for a new post.

When I sit down to write a new post, I often have the title in my head before the text. The word pilgrimage came to mind right away. Although I was a little hesitant to use it at first, I think it’s appropriate here. The timing of the trip was chosen to allow us to witness one of the friars from our church make his profession of solemn vows into the Franciscan order, as well as to support our choir, which would be singing at the mass. Los Angeles, a city named after Our Lady of the Angels of the Portiuncula, the place where the Franciscan movement began, seems like a particularly fitting place to celebrate such an event, especially in a church named after St. Francis. Continue reading

Long overdue post

There’s a certain irony to writing a blog. During those times when you have the most to write about, you have the least time to write it. The year 2007 has been, and continues to be, almost unbelievably good to me, and for several months I’ve been maintaining a hand-written list of all the things I want to write about. However, the blog format lends itself to telling stories in a chronological fashion, so as my list grows longer, I feel a certain pressure to write everything or nothing. More often than not, over the past few months, I’ve chosen nothing, but with a new travel adventure beginning in less than 48 hours, I’ve run out of time. Therefore I’ll dispense with the formalities and blurt out everything I recall in whatever order seems relevant. Perhaps it’ll all make sense at the end.

Las Vegas, Take One

I’ve actually been to Las Vegas twice since the beginning of June, both times with my girlfriend Kathryn. Since I’ve been to Las Vegas four times in the past 12 months, my acquaintances naturally have asked me whether I’m an avid gambler. The truth is, no, I’m really not a big-time gambler. Will I occasionally throw some money on a craps table and play for a while when I’m in a casino? You bet. However, I always budget a very modest bankroll for the visit, and when it’s gone, I’m out. The real reason I enjoy Las Vegas so much is the non-stop people-watching. The city is a veritable melting pot of every aspect of humanity, not just across the spectrum of races and ethnicities — I’ve lost count of the number of languages I’ve heard on the Strip — but across the spectrum of morality, in a city that attracts both the best and the worst of people.

I alluded to the June trip in my June 20 post, when I mentioned we saw the Jerry Seinfeld show at Caesar’s Palace. Overall, we had a pleasant time, but there’s a caveat I’ll get to in a moment. We stayed at Paris Las Vegas, which was the first time there for both of us. I asked for a room with a view at check-in, and they gave us a corner room with a view of the Bellagio fountains from one window and a view of Ellis Island Casino & Brewery from the other. Quite a stark contrast, actually. We had dinner Friday evening at Gallagher’s Steak House at New York New York. Gallagher’s is near the elevators to the guest rooms at New York New York, so when I’ve stayed there in the past, I’ve drooled over the dry-aged New York sirloin they display in the window. I’ve been wanting to try it for a while, and I’m glad we did. It was fabulous. After dinner, we drove to Fremont Street so we could see a bit of Downtown. After seeing the Fremont Street Experience, which had become quite a bit more commercial since my previous visit, we walked into Fitzgerald’s, where I played craps for a little while. I don’t know exactly what happened when I was passed the dice, but for the next ten minutes, I was completely on fire. It seemed like I could not throw a seven, and I very quickly had a table of new best friends. Inevitably, my streak did come to an end. Although craps players seem to be a very forgiving bunch, I decided to take advantage of an opportunity to walk away ahead. It was late, so we headed back to Paris and turned in for the evening.

The next day started off well. I don’t remember exactly how we spent the morning, although I’m pretty sure croissants were involved at some point. We walked around the Strip a little bit — not too much, since it was Las Vegas in June — and the we went to Ellis Island for lunch. After lunch, we sat at the bar for a while and had a couple of their tasty one-dollar microbrews. I must have had one too many, because I left there pretty buzzed. Fortunately, our hotel was only a few minutes away on foot, and with the sun and the heat, we were both in need of some rest anyway, so we went back to the room for a disco nap.

This is the moment where the weekend started to fall apart.

We’re not exactly sure what happened, but the theory is that some combination of the sun and an antibiotic Kathryn had been taking for a skin condition caused an allergic reaction of some kind. The previous day, we had stopped at Hoover Dam to do the tour there, and we interrupted the tour because she wasn’t feeling well, but I thought that was over. As the afternoon wore on, her lips started swelling and she began itching everywhere. Since we already had tickets, we decided to go ahead to the Seinfeld show. During the performance, her lips began to rival Angelina Jolie’s. We also had tickets for the Eiffel Tower, so we did that too, although rather hastily. We then had another early night — although this early night wasn’t nearly as fun.

Any hopes of a quick recovery were dashed the next morning when Kathryn woke up feeling worse than when she went to bed. We checked out of the hotel early in the morning, and our first stop was the CVS on the Strip. She was just going to buy some over-the-counter allergy medicine, but she decided to have a consultation with the pharmacist first. It was a good call on her part. First of all, the pharmacist who was working that Sunday morning must have been the nicest pharmacist I’ve ever met. In my limited observation, it seems to me that most pharmacists nowadays sit in the back room and jerk off while their technicians run the pharmacy. By contrast, this guy asked a lot of questions and seemed genuinely concerned. This particular CVS has an in-store first-aid clinic, and he highly recommended she see the doctor in the clinic. The doctor saw her right away and recommended she go immediately to the nearest urgent care facility, which was only about a mile away. I drove her there, and she was given a shot of something and held under observation for a while. We were probably there less than an hour. My knowledge of all things medical is incredibly limited, so I really have no idea what went on, other than she came out feeling a lot better. We went back to the CVS to get her prescription filled, and she received another consultation from the same nice pharmacist. In the hour or so that had passed since our previous visit, more of Las Vegas had woken up, and the CVS on the Strip had started to become a very interesting place. While we were waiting for the prescription to be filled, we overheard a number of consultations that would begin something like “my girlfriend is in the car throwing up” and so forth. Like I said, the people-watching in Las Vegas is incredible.

With her feeling somewhat better, we grabbed a hamburger for lunch, and popped into the Palms for a look around before heading back to Phoenix. Since the trip hadn’t turned out exactly the way either of us had planned, we agreed on the way home to attempt a do-over of the trip as soon as possible.

Las Vegas, Take Two

With the memories of our first trip to Las Vegas together still fresh in our minds, we went there again about six weeks later to see if it was possible to have two nights away together without anything horrible happening. Why this was so important to us will be clearer by the end of this post. I’m pleased to report, the trip went off without a hitch.

Las Vegas at night, view from The Orleans Hotel & Casino

Las Vegas at night, view from The Orleans Hotel & Casino

This time, we stayed at The Orleans, which is where I stayed in January when I went to Las Vegas by myself. Although the room wasn’t quite as nice this time, probably because I didn’t splurge for the upgrade, it had a fabulous view of the entire west side of the Strip. We arrived late on Friday, so I don’t remember us doing a whole lot that evening. I recall we took the shuttle bus to the Strip, walked around a bit, and got something to eat. We missed the last shuttle back from the Strip and had to take a cab, which wasn’t really a big deal.

Saturday was fun. The Orleans offers quite a lot to do, so we ended up staying there until early afternoon. We had breakfast in the coffee shop, and then we were going to go bowling, but unfortunately all 70 lanes we reserved for a tournament. We saw The Simpsons Movie, which had just been released the previous day. I loved the movie, but what I was pretty ticked off when I saw how many young children were in the theater. The movie is rated PG-13 for a reason, but even the television series isn’t appropriate for young children. I had to wonder what these adults had been doing the past 18 years that they couldn’t find 30 minutes to watch an episode of The Simpsons before taking their children to see the movie. What ever happened to parenting?

Okay, I’m done ranting for now.

Kathryn is a member of a fraternal organization, so in the afternoon we went to the lodge of its Las Vegas chapter and had a couple of cheap beers. After that, we did another lunch at Ellis Island. Then we headed back to the hotel. Unlike the previous trip, where we planned the trip around the entertainment, this time we planned the entertainment around the trip. I received an e-mail from The Orleans a few days before our arrival with a two-for-one offer to see Jon Lovitz’s show in the Ballroom. I was in one of my frequent procrastination moods, so I put off buying the tickets until we arrived. As it turned out, when we checked in, they were handing out free tickets to guests. Once again, procrastination pays off. Jon Lovitz is hilarious and the show was very entertaining. It was definitely worth more than we paid for it. I played a little craps after the show, but my bankroll disappeared quite quickly that night. No big deal. If you read my 7/7/7 post, you know I was definitely up for the month.

Sandy Eggo

In addition to our two trips to Las Vegas, Kathryn and I also took a weekend trip last month to San Diego. Since I moved to Phoenix three years ago, I’ve always heard people from around here talk about what a great getaway San Diego is. Don’t get me wrong, in the middle of the summer, getting to the coast and feeling the ocean breezes was a wonderful diversion from sizzling in the desert. However, I think all the hype about San Diego had built up an expectation in my mind that the city could never live up to. I’m not saying I didn’t have a pleasant time. I’m just saying it wasn’t all that.

We had taken my car on the two trips to Las Vegas, and I had done almost all the driving, so Kathryn offered to take her car and to drive to San Diego. By the time we got to Gila Bend, I took her keys from her. I don’t know if she hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before or if she had been stricken with white line fever, but I swear she fell asleep at one point. Once we got to Yuma, we stopped at Starbucks and rested for a while, at which point she got her keys back.

Hotels in San Diego are ridiculously expensive. We opted for the Quality Inn near the airport, which was the cheapest place we could find anywhere that was centrally located and not a fleabag. The location was decent. The naval housing was across the street, and it was relatively quiet. The hotel had a decent bar with a steady stream of sailors coming and going. We could drive anywhere in San Diego in a few minutes.

We had dinner in the Gaslamp Quarter after we arrived Friday night. Neither the Gaslamp Quarter nor the dinner impressed me. Call me crazy, but I expected the Gaslamp Quarter to have gas lamps. Is that asking too much? Instead, they have electric lamps in the shape of gas lamps. I moved to Phoenix from a city that actually still has gas lamps, and it doesn’t go around bragging about its gaslamp quarter. Whatever. Dinner was overpriced, generic Italian at a place called Trattoria La Strada. It was pretty disappointing overall, except for its location at the corner of two busy streets and its great view of the pedestrian traffic.

Saturday was beach day. We started out at La Jolla, where it seemed like we walked for miles. We also walked through the downtown area of La Jolla, where we descended into some cave. We also had lunch there, which was another disappointing meal, so I won’t bother to elaborate. After La Jolla, we drove to Coronado Island, which was really quite beautiful. We walked through the Hotel del Coronado and out to the beach to have a look around. However, by that point, the sun had gotten to us, and we didn’t stay too long.

That was really all I had to say about San Diego. Maybe I’ll remember more later.

Nickelback

Nickelback (in association with Amazon.com)

Nickelback (in association with Amazon.com)

I haven’t been to a lot of concerts, so what I think is not going to carry much weight. Nonetheless, the Nickelback performance last month at Jobing.com Arena was the best concert I’ve ever been to.

Compared to seeing Godsmack in July, arriving at the venue was a piece of cake. Kathryn and I had already been there several times to see Coyotes games, so we knew the drill. The event staff was very well organized and everyone filed in smoothly. When we arrived, Puddle of Mudd, the first opening act, was already on-stage. I enjoyed their show, even though I’m not as familiar with them as I am with Nickelback. The second opening act was Daughtry. They more or less insulted the crowd by expecting us to know the words to their songs well enough to sing along. Judging from the response, I wasn’t the only one who had never heard of them.

Nickelback was awesome from the moment they took the stage. They didn’t shy away from performing all their biggest hits, mixed in with a cover or two. The best part was the way the lead singer worked the crowd. It was half rock concert, half Tonight Show monologue. The funniest moment was when he told everyone in the crowd they should have a drink, and as he turned his head, his eyes caught someone else’s and he said, “Except you. What are you, six years old?” The audience couldn’t see who he was talking to, so at this point, I thought he was just flirting with a woman in the audience. When the crew finally got a camera on her, we found out there actually was a little girl in the audience, who, it turns out, was eight years old, not six.

Autumn adventure

Now that I’ve rehashed the past three-and-a-half months — and because it’s already after midnight — I can move on to current events. I know that’s what you came here for.

Some of you may recall from an earlier post that I was in the market for a car. Well, I bought it. The car is a 2007 BMW 328i, built to my specifications, including a deep green metallic paint, which is quite unusual here in Phoenix, a beige leather interior with premium package, and a six-speed automatic transmission. It is one sweet ride.

Except that I still haven’t seen it yet.

Tomorrow morning, Kathryn and I are leaving for Germany. We’ll arrive there Saturday, which coincidentally is the first day of Oktoberfest. We’ll sober up by Monday morning, at which time I’ll take delivery of the car. I’m hanging onto it for 15 days. The plan is to drive it to France, Monaco, Italy, and Austria before bringing it back to Munich to be shipped to the BMW Center in Phoenix where I bought it.

To say that I am excited about this trip would be quite a serious understatement. I’ve been to Europe a number of times, and I’ve even spent quite a bit of time on the road there, but never in a car like the one I’m buying. On top of that, it’s been a long time since I bought any car at all, and even longer since I bought a new car. The last car I bought was a 2001 Mercury Sable, my current ride, which I bought in 2003. The last new car I bought was a 1994 Ford Escort that I bought in, you guessed it, 1994. Anyway, I’m as giddy as a kid with a new bicycle on Christmas.

Garmin nüvi 360 Portable GPS Navigator

Garmin nüvi 360 Portable GPS Navigator (in association with Amazon.com)

However, the new car is only a small part of why I’m so excited about the trip. Mostly, I’m excited about seeing Europe with someone new. Kathryn has never been to Europe before, and this gives me the opportunity to relive it as though I’m seeing it again for the first time. Although we’re going to several cities I’ve seen before, we’re making an effort to experience things that are new for me, too. We already have a couple special plans for Paris involving things I’ve never done, as many times as I’ve been there. Anyway, she’s every bit as excited as me, and she’s not even getting a new car out of it!

To make it easier to get around, I bought a portable GPS navigator a several weeks ago, with North American and European databases preinstalled. I’ve been testing the unit by using it to go back and forth to work and to get around the city for various chores, and it is the shit. It receives broadcast traffic alerts, so that it can automatically route me around traffic snarls and accidents. It’s really cool. I figured if it saves me even a few minutes of being lost, or a few minutes of arguing with my travel companion, it’ll be worth every penny I spent.

As I did last summer, I’ll try to post updates to my blog whenever possible while I’m traveling, although since I won’t be alone this time, they probably won’t be as frequent. When I get some pictures of the new car, they’ll go in the gallery. Along with pictures of my girlfriend, if she stops being camera-shy.

Pasadena again

I spent last weekend in Pasadena, visiting the same buddy I saw in August. I’ve spent the time since then sobering up.

When my friend and I started planning this trip a few weeks ago, I reserved one of my club airplanes, intending to fly out there. I was looking forward to getting some good cross-country experience, and flying into the crowded Southern California airspace was a challenge I felt I was ready for. However, the week before the trip, the weather forecast started to deteriorate, and by Wednesday, I decided just to abandon plans to fly and simply drive there instead.

Meanwhile, I accepted an invitation to join some of my co-workers for drinks after work on Friday, the day before I was scheduled to leave. At the time, I told them I wasn’t going to have more than two beers because I’d be flying the next day. When Friday rolled around, I had already canceled the flight, so two beers was no longer a strict limitation, as far as I was concerned. So when the waitress came with the third round, I said, “Why not?” Seven beers and a tequila shot later, I had the answer to my question. I don’t want to tell you how I got home, but fortunately the bar was only a half-mile away. It was 10 pm, and I had planned to be up at 5:30 am. My feeling was that the trip to California was not going to be pleasant. The good news was that I woke up around 1:30 am with my head pounding, so I drank a liter of water and took about a half-dozen Tylenol. By the time my alarm clock rang, I was feeling reasonably okay. I had a couple cups of coffee, more water, and stopped at McDonald’s for a breakfast sandwich before I got on the freeway. By that time, I was actually feeling quite normal.

When I left Phoenix, I was kicking myself for my flying decision. The weather was perfect. No clouds, no wind, visibility unlimited. However, as the trip progressed, I came to realize why I had bothered studying all those weather reports. By the time I got to Blythe, the sky was overcast and the visibility was declining. By the time I got to Palm Springs, the clouds were at the surface and it was raining steadily. In fact, it rained off and on all day Saturday in Southern California. It turned out I made the right call.

I arrived in Pasadena at noon, and I had a nice afternoon with my buddy and his wife. We had some Mexican food and saw Blood Diamond. I didn’t especially like the movie. I thought the story was all over the place. However, the characters were good-looking, and that counts for something, I suppose.

After the movie, we went back to their place, and my buddy had invited one of his co-workers to join us for dinner, which he was cooking. When his co-worker arrived, there were before-dinner cocktails, of course. Unknown to me at the time, that moment was the beginning of night two of a weekend-long bender. I was finishing a gin-and-tonic when the co-worker, who’s several years younger than the rest of us, started talking about some guy she has a thing for. My buddy is a natural-born psychologist, and has a tendency to listen to people with a patient, sympathetic ear. As most of you know, my tendency is quite the opposite of this. When the co-worker started talking about how this guy flaked out on a date and then called twice to apologize, my buddy told her, “That’s a good sign.” Immediately I chimed in, “Yeah, a good sign he’s a fucking pussy.” Not surprisingly, there was a moment of awkward silence. My buddy’s wife was the first to break it with, “Have another drink, Curt!” She made my second one a double. I think she thought I didn’t notice.

Dinner was great. My buddy made pad thai while his wife made a side-dish of vegetables, and it was awesome. Knowing the two of them, it was probably all organic. Whatever. There was wine with dinner, of course.

After dinner, we went back to the scene of the crime from my August trip, Gordon Biersch. This time, their seasonal brew was Winterbock, which was a wonderful cold-weather beer with its dark color and its sweet flavor, but it had an alcohol content higher than most malt liquors. Inner-city gang-bangers probably drink this stuff when their forties of Colt 45 aren’t giving them the buzz they want. I had two half-liters, which they served in German festival-style mugs. Once again, those bastards at Gordon Biersch kicked us out way before the regular closing time. At least, I think they did. Frankly, I have no idea what time it was. I was in a very happy place.

At about this time I remember having been somewhat amazed by the fact that my buddy’s co-worker had become smoking hot over the previous few hours, and I was wondering exactly how such a metamorphosis had come about and why I didn’t notice it. However, before I solved the mystery, my mind had wandered on to other pursuits. Like where exactly to find more beer in Pasadena at midnight.

The four of us went to another bar, which happened to be the same bar we went to after Gordon Biersch kicked us out in August. Someday I’ll have to suggest we go to this bar first so that I have a decent shot of remembering the name, although if you put me in the middle of Pasadena, I’ll bet you I could find it again. I don’t remember how long we were there or how much I had to drink or what we were talking about, but I do remember that at some point it seemed uncomfortably warm inside the bar, so I decided to go outside for a bit. I sat down on the sidewalk, and the sidewalk seemed awfully cool and refreshing to me, so I decided to lie down. Then I puked. Unlike my buddy, who in August had the decency to hurl in the neighbor’s hedges, I regurgitated my previously delicious dinner directly onto the sidewalk of a busy city street in Old Town Pasadena. I kick ass. In all fairness, it was my turn to puke, and I’m probably getting too old to be out drinking hard-core two nights in a row.

I don’t want to tell you how we got home Saturday night any more than Friday night, but suffice it to say we all did get home and I went straight to bed. A few hours later, I woke up, still quite drunk, and I had absolutely no idea where I was. We were all staying at the home of my buddy’s wife’s parents, who were themselves asleep, and I’m lucky I didn’t end up in their bedroom. I walked up and down the upstairs hall about a half-dozen times looking for the bathroom, and every time I thought I’d found it, I was either in the utility closet or back in the room where I started. Eventually I did find it, and I drank as much water as my stomach could hold, but since I no longer knew where I or my Tylenol was, relief from my pounding head would have to wait until morning.

Since misery loves company, it was a relief that we all woke up with identical hangovers. It turned out that everyone went to bed about 90 seconds after I did, and the co-worker was still there too. Even the parents-in-law looked like they had a rough night. So that morning we all engaged in activities that didn’t involve bright lights, loud noises, or sudden motions. There was a lot of newspaper reading, quiet conversation, and contemplative introspection. When we got some of our strength back, we took a stroll through a nearby garden and looked at flowers and clouds. Then us boys watched some football on television and took turns napping on the couch.

When my head was feeling better, I decided it was time to make the trip back to Phoenix. However, my stomach still felt like shit. I asked my buddy if he had any Tums, and he didn’t, so I decided to suck it up. I started driving back, and I was stopping regularly because I felt so shitty. I had a late-afternoon breakfast at Denny’s, but that didn’t help as much as I thought it would. I even considered stopping for the night at one point. When I got as far as Blythe, I decided to get off the freeway and look for a drug store. I found a Rite-Aid, bought a bottle of Tums, went back to the car, and ate about eight of them. I wish I had done that in Pasadena. It really settled my sour stomach, and I found a second wind. I pressed on, stopping at a rest area in Arizona to have a couple more Tums, and finally getting back in around 10:30 pm. Despite lighter traffic, my trip home actually took an hour longer than my trip out there because of all the stops I made.

My buddy comes to Phoenix for the first time next month to run the marathon. We’ve pledged not to drink so much this time. However, it’s worth noting we made a similar pledge prior to last weekend’s trip.