I’m trying really hard not to write cliches. Shoving too many words onto this page that describe America’s diversity and beauty wouldn’t exactly charm my generally cynical audience. It doesn’t charm myself either. But (and you knew there was a ‘but’) the truth is that it is amazing. Our country is effing spectacular. There is no end to its exploration. It begs for one more turn…. one more mile…. one more day. (Begin humming of the national anthem.)
But I think I love its insanity the most.
While in a New York “hotel” that arguably had the countries smallest rooms, we witnessed a toilet exit the countries smallest elevator. No shit! (da dum, ching.) The elevator hit the lobby floor. The door dinged open. And out came a big white toilet. So what if it was being dragged by two work men. It seemed fitting for a city that smelt like the patrons of the elevators that could barely hold five chihuahuas.
Also for the first time in my life I missed a flight out of O’Hare. A mysterious illness destroyed me for a week (ah hem…bad hummus from the Taste of Chicago) and the morning of our flight I found myself on the bathroom floor heaving. Einat’s caring hand gave me enough strength to drag myself to the airport. But apparently the 10 minutes of vomiting caused us to be 10 minutes late for baggage checkin. 10 minutes! The flight wasn’t for an hour but it was closed for baggages. Thus, closed to us. Needless to say, we found a nice quiet, cozy spot in the terminal and waited five hours for the next flight. Air travel is fantastically boring and painful when sun baked hummus is ripping through your body.
Other observations:
Disney is NOT for families. I can’t understand how a family could survive a Disney park without ripping each others hair out strand by strand. The heat. The lines. The horrible food. The heat. Mom, Dad, thank you. It was for the better that we never went. But there’s always the Dumbo ride. God bless the Dumbo ride.
Graceland in Memphis (that’s Elvis’ pad, yo) is the size of an upper-middle class summer home by todays standards. It was mildly dissapointing. Although he really has some amazing interior decorating. 70’s posh. Oh Elvis, you playa!
New York ain’t got nothin’ on Chicago. Except maybe Central Park. And their subway system is bigger, badder, and faster. Their bums are way more insane also. Congrats New York. You’ve got better bums.
Lastly, if you’re ever in Nashville, remember that the Lipstick Lounge is closed on Mondays. Just sayin’.
Popularity: 31% [?]
3 Users Responded in " Relatively Unorganized Travel Notes "
If it’s good bums you’re looking for, head to San Francisco. Better yet, Berkeley. I’m convinced from my travels that the best bums reside in People’s Park.
“But there’s always the Dumbo ride. God bless the Dumbo ride.”
Having been there twice with John and Heather, the first time when Heather was 5, I had to laugh at this comment. Heather was too small for many of the rides then. So while your Uncle Scott or I took John on Space Mountain or something like that, the other spent the entire time at the Dumbo Ride with Heather. She loved that ride and wanted to ride it constantly. I think she would have been happy that year if that was the only ride in the park.
Needless to say, we did survive both trips without one fight and with all our hair still intact. I think it helped having kids who were (and still are) patient and easygoing. They got along great with each other on those trips, better than they did at home.
I could have spent the whole day on the Dumbo Ride too!!! Heather and I have always been similar in some ways.
Leave A Reply Here