You can't always be a winner in Vegas

I'm old. I'm 38 going on 83. I complain. I grouse. I drive slowly. I suddenly enjoy Barry Manilow music. I forget things, like the things I want to write for you, oh dear reader.

I wanted to tell you about our mini-vacation last weekend, a beautiful time in Nevada. But it just kept deteriorating into a full-blown old-man rant about unrelated and generally unimportant things, so this is the third draft.

To sum up, first, the Bad (so you'll end on a high note, like the French resistance!):

No free rental car upgrade. Skippy would have gladly charged me 50% more for a slightly larger car, but really, I'm not going to pay more for something I don't want to drive, when I'm already getting something I don't want to drive. The exception here is if the only car they had in my class was a PT Cruiser, I do have my limits. His response to me became the title.

No hotel reservation when we arrived at the hotel around midnight.

A nearly two-hour adventure in the hotel's only open restaurant in order to get our food. He comped us, apologized profusely, but when I haven't eaten in ten hours I don't really care. Bring me my bacon and eggs. If necessary, I'll cook it myself.

DFW is a monstrous airport, just allowing them to put connecting gates further apart, I suppose. It's an impressive feat of engineering, but how can you enjoy it when you have 20 minutes to travel to another time zone in the airport?

And really, can't we join hands across America to stop people from bringing their yippy dogs and screaming children on planes? I understand that children need to get places, too, I really do. But is it really a good idea to take them on the latest flight you can possibly find? Overtired children plus overtired me will get me banned from an airline some day, I'm sure of it.

Funny how travel takes everything out of you. As nice as the core of our trip was, seeing the strip and the mountains and everything between, the periphery of a trip can really take its toll. In fact, I know this is a lousy post, but hey, they can't all be winners.

The Good:

Believe it or not, my Ford Focus. The Ford Focus with the bad wheel bearing and jangling rattle in the door. Of course, I could have taken the Rondo, but we already know how I feel about that. Truth be told, though, if I were an economy car kind of guy, and wheel bearing aside, it was a zippy little car. Not much for offroading in the desert, but zippy nevertheless. I'd actually give this car a B, for what it was.

Had a nice Thanksgiving dinner at my boss' house with his family and friends, phenomenal wine that I could never afford myself and pumpkin pie. Mmmm, pie.

Had a great drive out to Red Rock Canyon, though we failed to see any of the wild burros they claimed were roaming the land. Because Friday was their busiest day of the year, filled with people avoiding the mall, they let us use Friday's receipt for admission again on Saturday. We went back in the morning, when the crowds were gone, and it was still stunning that something so wild could be so close to civilization. That just doesn't exist here in Florida.

Drove the strip, still quite the experience, we even drove past the 'civilized' areas and on to the cliched wedding chapels and motor lodges. It's important to have perspective.

Had some great Mexican food, first thing we've had that rivalled Jalisco's that didn't come from a truck by the side of the road. Though I love me some truck tacos.

Even though it was just a long weekend trip, we got to look at houses. There's some surprisingly affordable new construction out there.

And the best part of any vacation, returning home and sleeping in my own bed, with my own pillow, nestled against my sweetie.

Dreaming of luxe rental cars, posh new houses and wild burros.

Fun Fact Friday - Don't know why...

...there's no sun up in the sky...stormy weather?

Not that our rainy season needs any assistance here in Florida, but I thought I'd check out cloud seeding anyway. I know it happens, I just never knew just how it worked.

There have been other attempts to alter the weather throughout history. Heck, even Richard Pryor tried his hand at it.

But really, what we're talking about here is an attempt to plan for rain scientifically. First developed in 1946, sometimes clouds are seeded simply in an effort to make it rain (...sorry, rap video strip club moment...it will pass...) when rain is otherwise scarce. Other times, especially in modern times, foreign nations seed clouds in an attempt to make it rain sooner rather than later, or to keep fog and hail at bay around airports. When a special event, like the Olympic opening ceremonies in Bejing, could potentially be ruined by rain, China seeded clouds during the week before the event so the skies are just too pooped to rain the day of the event.

Things I like about cloud seeding: First, Dr. Bernard Vonnegut developed the use of silver iodide for cloud seeding, the most popular chemical used in the process. Bernie is Kurt Vonnegut Jr's late brother, and I love me some Vonnegut.

Second, cloud seeding is rife with conspiracy theories. During the Vietnam conflict, U.S. forces seeded the clouds over the Ho Chi Minh trail to extend the monsoon season another month. Funny how at nearly the same time, it rained the entire week of the original Woodstock Festival, 40 years ago. There were some who claimed to see government planes seeding the clouds above Max Yasgur's farm. Of course, there was rumored to be some drug use at said farm that weekend, too, so it probably serves those damn dirty hippies right.

Even today, conspiracy theorists think the cloud seeding is a cover-up for chemtrails, a not-so-secret attempt to control populations by poisoning large sections of the planet. These are, of course, the same people who believe some of the 'clouds' we see are actually supernatural beings sent to eat the chemtrails. (Google 'Sylph' and see what you get!)

Finally, there is the humor at other peoples' expense. While rare in the U.S., cloud seeding is still common practice in Russia and China. Last year, a Russian fleet was seeding clouds with silver iodide and cement powder. Apparently the cement didn't disperse as planned, and a 20-pound chunk of concrete fell through the roof of a rural home. Dumb, dumb chicken little!

On a completely unrelated note, I tried using Blogger's newest editor to post this, and it took WAAAAY too long to piece this together. Call me a creature of habit, I guess.

In-Flight and Inexplicable

I travel a bit for work, and since both of our families are in Wisconsin, we travel a few times a year to visit them, too. As such, I log quite a few air miles every year, and despite having a Sony reader along with an extensive physical library of favorites, I still wind up reading SkyMall.

Because how can you not?

I know their game. "These people are trapped in a pressurized metal tube (not Michael Jackson's decompression chamber, in case you were wondering), they're breathing the recirculated expulsions of 200 other passengers, and they're in the most uncomfortable seats in the world. Let's sell them shit they'd never buy at ground-level!"

Really. Some of the worst products I've ever seen, I've seen in SkyMall. Don't get me wrong, one of my favorite Christmas presents came from SkyMall, and now I never have to turn around three blocks from home to see if I closed the garage door. If I forget, it shuts itself.

This does not mean I, or anyone else, needs any of the following:

The Canine Genealogy Kit

For a mere $59.95, SkyMall will send you a Q-Tip so you can swab your dog and send it (the swab, not the dog) to "a professional laboratory" for analysis. They'll compare the makeup of your dog's DNA against the 63 pure breeds they have in their computer to tell you exactly when your dog will develop some debilitating doggy disability. Oh, and they can help get your dog out of jail if he's ever accused of killing doggy Nicole Brown and doggy Ron Goldman.

The Mademoiselle Floor Lamp
Robert Palmer's estate called, they'd like their lamp back. You too, can flash back to 1985, fake Ferarris and pastel-colored blazers with this thing for a mere $375 (plus additional shipping and handling). Part of what kills me about this are the suggestions for additional items you might like when you search for this on the website: A suit of armor? An elephant-head wall sconce? The Ed Gein do-it-yourself lampshade kit?
'POOF' Toilet Deodorizing Drops

This is a classic SkyMall item, but even they realize that no amount of oxygen deprivation and $8 shots of Canadian Club will make sane travelers buy this and they've pulled it from their website. The description indicates it was created for the 'sophisticated and bathroom-conscious', I think it was created by someone who really, REALLY wanted to convince everyone that their shit really didn't stink. Who buys this stuff?

The Week In Review (so far...)

Sure, it may seem premature to blog about the week in review on Thursday morning, but the last few days have been somewhat eventful, so I figured I'd get my random nerdiness out of the way so I can bring you officially single-minded nerdiness tomorrow.
Maryland, or at least Germantown, Maryland, is quite a peaceful town. So relaxing. Really...is there something politcally incorrect to just say 'Speed Bumps'? The best part is, you can see how far apart they are, and there was a sign before EVERY ONE.

I thought I'd share my restaurant experiences with all of you, in the event that you wind up in this little corner of the planet some day.

Old Shanghai is an all-purpose Asian bistro, as is the trend these days. Pan-Asian, I think is the term. Great service, too many good choices to pick from. Read Sunday's post for details on my meal.

The next night, I ventured across the strip mall courtyard to Agradolce. I was actually headed to Old Shanghai for a repeat of the dumplings, but they had seafood risotto on the specials board and a bar in front of the wood-fired brick oven, so I was sold. Ah, memories of Rome. I actually wound up with the duck confit risotto, though what I got was more of a melange of every risotto they had on their menu, with wild mushrooms and an assortment of other vegetables. Excellent texture, great flavor, though I could have done without the frozen corn. Did a comparison between an older Montepulciano d'Abbruzzo, one of my favorite varietals out of Piedmont, and a younger Sicilian red. Both delicious, though the Sicilian would have worked better if my dinner had a little spice to it.

Tuesday I ventured the opposite direction, and saw Bailey's Pub and Grille. Beautiful stone and copper building, I was expecting something like a Ruby Tuesday's, only not so generic. What I walked into was what I can only imagine is a Hooter's where they stopped caring about anything except the wait staff. The place stank of stale beer and vomit, a smell that only got worse as I pried open the drink menu. This was a dime-a-dozen place, a restaurant that probably renames itself every time the health department shuts it down - the menus didn't even bear the restaurant name, just a myriad of generic TGI-McFunsters fare. I walked out without ordering, and even then I felt as though I needed a shower.

Yesterday's lunch, however, was a highlight not only in the trip, but possibly in my life of casual dining experiences. EN Asian Bistro was clean and simple, the staff friendly and outgoing. I could eat their crab fried rice every week and never tire of it. Real crab, not the pink stuff spelled with a 'K'.

Glad to have carbs for my long journey ahead, I raced to the airport yesterday afternoon to make sure I was checked in on time. I needn't have worried, as we finally took off almost two hours late on the following plane:

As if crying children aren't bad enough on a plane, try keeping them up a few hours past their already generous bedtime. And then, let's cram a fidgetty 10-year-old named after a damn dirty hippie in the seat next to me. "Where do you live? Were you on vacation? There's some good articles in there. Mom, what book are you reading? Have you been here? I need to go to the bathroom. Do you still subscribe to this magazine?" All the while popping hard candy like it was Ritalin. The worst part of these experiences is when I worry that people think these rude kids belong to me. My children are not rude in public, talk to the crazy woman in printed socks and orange shoes behind me. It was a blessing to finally get back to the truck that Lori left for me in long-term parking when she left for Ohio, get in peaceful air conditioning, hit the Taco Bell drive-through so I didn't pass out (since I last ate 12 hours earlier), and come home to an equally silent house.

Quincy seems to be happy to be home as well, after I sprung him from the pokey this morning. He's already fallen back into being his lazy, smelly self. And he seems to have a new little brother or sister.
Brody (after Adrian) has apparently taken up residence in the pool. Lori fished him (or her, how do you tell?) out of the pool earlier this week, and when I went to check this morning, he/she/it was happily doing laps again. I put him/her/it back after this picture, since it seems he (enough already) likes it there, and I won't have a terrapin fritter on my deck when I get home tonight after a day of brutal sun.

Bonus Post - Maryland Adventures

So I'm in Maryland for the majority of the week, and so far it's pretty groovy. Our first trip through the state many years ago, with surly pre-teens in the back seat and nasty hot weather was unpleasant, to say the least. This time, seeing the northern part of the state, I'm much happier. Rolling hills, winding backroads, lush and green and pastoral.

I landed in Baltimore (first the right side of the plane, followed by the left), and being the all-purpose nerd that I am, coupled with my love of cake (third in line after bacon and pie), I sought out Charm City Cakes, just to take this picture.

Of course, Baltimore as a whole, while a little run down and worse for wear in these economic times, still has other charms:

The color doesn't do these houses justice, they were so bright and vibrant, but again, cameras and I don't get along. Drove past Camden Yards, too, but since I'm not actually a baseball fan, let alone an Orioles fan, I didn't see a reason to risk life and limb while driving 50 miles per hour and snap off a blurry, uncentered picture.

And then there's this thing. The Emerson Bromo-Seltzer Tower, as Google so kindly informed me.

I don't know what bromo-seltzer is (though I'm sure Google could come in handy there, too), but Captain Emerson, who invented it, also built the tower. Apparently it sported a giant bromo-seltzer bottle at the top of the tower until 1936, when the fun police deemed it unsafe.

I went a little overboard here in Germantown for dinner, thanks in no small part to not eating anything since my granola bar before the flight this morning. Pan-fried dumplings, fried squid and a dish called seafood chow foon, that was lots of seafood and vegetables on top of Amish-style noodle dumplings. Mmmm, carby. Good stuff, must thank Courtney for polling her friends for me ahead of time, I love it when a plan comes together.

Now it's time for...THE PREMATURE (and always popular) RENTAL CAR REVIEW!

When I rent cars, I rent under the premise of an extended test drive. As my faithful readers may recall, the top scores have always gone to big luxury cruisers like the V8 Lucerne and the zippy Maxima. However, on the company's nickel, I try to stay frugal. As such, I am driving a glorious sub-sub-sub-compact Kia Rio (because 'Kia It-has-four-wheels-what-more-do-you-want' wouldn't fit across the tiny decklid). The nice thing about a car this small is that I can still roll down the passenger windows without leaving my seat, even though there are no power windows.

Really, I kid. I know lots of people like tiny cars. I can't fault that, I try to stay conscious of the environment and such when it doesn't bum my natural high on life. For a tiny car, it has a remarkable ride quality. Smooth, even on some bumpy roads I ran across. Of course, at 11.8 miles on the trip odometer, it developed a nasty rattle somewhere in the dash, so ride quality was insignificant since I started avoiding potholes anyway. Excellent radio, too, at least for me. As long as the speakers don't buzz and I don't feel like I'm back in my first car with the AM radio, I'm good. Precise steering, adequate pickup when you floor it with the AC on, so first assessment, I'd give this car an overall B-. Nothing I want to own, ever, but actually nicer than the larger Spectra I had in Kansas City last January.

The great cross-over post!

Ah, yes. As we embark on this newest venture, I felt I could at least share my most recent posting from my original blog, created back when I was young and full of interesting things to share.

By the hair not on my chinny-chin-chin

All gone. Yes, my face is bereft of all but the minutest stubble of the day for the first time since August 1996. My chin is cold. So cold. It was a whim, something that I probably should have waited to do until I lost the chubsy-ubsy double chin that, apparently, the goatee was hiding. Who knew?

Good grammars is everywhere:

Following is a direct quote from a news article I read earlier today: "Poor visibility was poor near the top of the mountain, which about 15 miles northeast of Santa Fe, state Department of Public Safety spokesman Peter Olson said." Really?

A-pub-calypse Now

As is tradition on our visits to Milwaukee, we must find at least one trashy bar upon which to inflict our rowdiness. It was Bob's pick, the New Yorker, across from the Greyhound Station. Immediately we knew (well - after the ten minutes it took Bob to parallel park) this was a bar like no other. Oddly and fluorescently lit, battleship gray from head to toe, with a subtle 'Jazz and NYC as drawn by preschoolers' theme. The three patrons along with the bartender all showing signs of what movies have told me is shell-shock. The jukebox blaring the soundtracks from Apocalypse Now and Platoon. There were four of us, so I ordered four drinks, got five. An extra vodka-cranberry that was 90% vodka, and Bob's 'Fuzzy Navel'. I don't know what actually goes into a fuzzy navel, but I'm certain it ISN'T 90% vodka, 5% OJ, 5% of some other clear liquid - peach schnapps? - and finally, a shaky, tentative flourish of grenadine. Sometimes you just know when you should be drinking whatever tap beer is available. I was.

My Blue Hawaii

In case you were curious (and I know you are), Boone's Farm Blue Hawaiian, with a bouquet and oily finish like Coppertone 30, is NOT the worst choice of alcoholic splendor when compared to some of the small-run Chardonnays and Pinot Gris from Trader Joe's. Go figure. Perhaps because one EXPECTS Boone's Farm to suck and therefore sets low expectations, but at least it couldn't be used as pancake syrup or hand-to-hand combat. Good times, nevertheless, after our visit to the tavern of the damned.

Separating the White and the Colored

Congratulations, Stephanie! Steph graduated high school last Sunday, and was given a crisp, white cap and gown to wear for the ceremony. As were the rest of the girls. The boys were given burgundy ensembles, and they were split by gender on stage, so they formed two separate blocks of color. They were even called alternately, boy-girl, boy-girl, to receive their diplomas from opposite sides of the stage. Because alphabetically is just so 2008, apparently. The PA system was sub-par, or at least sub-volume, everyone sounded like adults in a Charlie Brown special. Only the first three rows of people directly in front of the podium could hear, as evidenced by their occasional laughter. On another note, how does someone with a last name of 'Stoner' actually manage to get himself elected to the school board? Was the other candidate's name Tweaker?

Government-Sanctioned Torture

Commercial flight, of course. What did you think? I'm convinced that the rows of seats move closer together, like tectonic plates, each time I fly. Yes, I am of an amply-rumped Midwestern build, but this hasn't changed, and yet I feel like somehow I keep getting assigned to the child seat. Half a plastic cup of warm, flat Diet Coke? Yes, please. Rat Bastard who thinks the 'Turn off your cell phone' announcement doesn't apply to him, as he's texting during takeoff? Of course. The guy at security who disposed of his water but kept his juice, because that's not a liquid, right? Whiny woman complaining when her 'window' seat in the last row of the plane didn't actually have a window, and again when the window seat she decided to take had a scenic view of her reflection in the side of the engine? Why not? All manner of miscreants who chose our flight home to be their first taste of commercial flight? Damn straight.

Finally, the highly-anticipated Rental Car Review

It's been some time since my buttocks graced the overused seat of a rental car. My last few trips for work had me staying across a parking lot or across a street from my clients, and this last week was the first personal travel we've had. We live in Florida, people should be visiting us! Anyway, Hertz was decent overall, though the line couldn't have moved slower if they tried. Not the clerk's fault, with one customer barging in line to complain about the oil change light, and another being credit-card impaired. Then there was the father at the Avis line next to us who couldn't actually remember WHERE he booked his car, but was certain that it was one of the agencies in Milwaukee. He hoped.

I booked a full-size car, same price as Standard and Compact this trip, and we're never compact travellers. Given our experience with Enterprise in January, I inquired just what qualified as 'full-size'. Apparently what Hertz considers a full-size car is neither full-size nor a car, I had my choice of a Subaru Forester or a Ford Escape. Opting for the Escape, and walking past a slew of what I would have considered both full-size and car-like, we found our vehicle, loaded the luggage and we were off. Hertz has this thing about renting non-local cars to non-locals, so there's no chance of fitting in - this trip we were from Mississippi, further south than last summer's Lucerne from Tennessee.

For a little SUV and for all the poor reviews I'd heard about them, I had few complaints about the Escape. Hertz now includes Sirius/XM radio on all of their cars, so we had that going for us. Decent mileage, lots of room, could have used a little more pickup up hills. Not the soft luxury ride I'm used to in the Buick, but all in all, a very nice non-full-sized non-car. B+

And now, a BONUS MOVIE REVIEW!!!

The Hangover. Funny, funny, stuff. See it.