You Can Find Me In St. Louie... Preferably Not in Topeka

So far St. Louis has been the highlight of the trip. It was a jaunty 7 hour drive from Columbus to the Gateway to the West. Coming over a hill and seeing the arch on the horizon is akin to idling in miles and miles of traffic on 3 South and then finally seeing the Sagamore Bridge. I giddly exclaimed "oh my god!" and Jim was immediately on alert, assuming that I had rear-ended a car or otherwise destroyed something, as I was driving at the time. As we pulled into the city, Nelly's "#1" came on and what a boon that was. Their home town hero, welcoming us. One our way out, he came on the radio again with his more recent hit "Just a Dream" ... as if he knew we'd never be back to St. Louie and we would always remember it as a wonderful, albeit short, dream. Tom Tom then instructed us to leap from a highway overpass onto a road below. We wisely chose to follow our own instincts, then proceeded to circle 12th Street for a solid 20 minutes before finding our way to the Brewers House, a lovely B&B in the brewer's district (go figure) of St. Louis. It is an eclectic little three bedroom brick house, the proprieter of which was a charming gay (safe assumption) man who works at Macy's in addition to running the establishment.

We had minimal contact with him, but I knew I liked him before we met him based on the eclectic style of the home. Antiques were mixed with kitchy items such as Mardi Gras masks -- turned out he used to live in New Orleans. The first thing we did upon dropping our bags and Jack off at the room was head to the Anheuser Busch brewery. We walked about 1 mile to get there and I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West. I literally thought I was going to melt. It was 102 degrees with humidity making it feel more like 110. But we finally made it and signed up for a Beer Class, which cost 10 bucks a pop. A guy about our age instructed us for 45 minutes about different types of beer, glasses they should be served in, and how to pour each type. It came complete with a 4-beer tasting (why did you think we signed up? to learn something?) He moved quickly through each description and I assumed I had to keep up by chugging each sample before he went onto the next one. It was when I glanced around at the other couples and saw each glass had only two sips taken out that I realized my mistake. Jim followed my lead, as is his wont, so we both felt like genuine mo-rons.

Then we went on the FREE brewery tour. Is there anything FREE in New England? Never! But St. Louis -- all of their tourist attractions were FREE! Or so we were told, we really only did the brewery. So they take you through this massive factory that from the outside looks like Wonka's chocolate factory, complete with giant cauldrons puffing steam into the sky. We saw the Clydesdales which I just felt sorry for cause they were standing in the oppressive heat. They were quite majestic though. We were taken into a room that is kept at a consistent 50 degrees where the beer is aged over birchwood. Then we went to a room that is consistently around 115 degrees where the beer is milled and strained and all the hops and stuff are removed. The worst part was when we were supposed to see the packaging process, but the machine was down for cleaning, so they showed us a video instead. It was like one of those Simpson's Troy McClure tapes that talked about synergy, efficiency, and quality. But it didn't actually tell us what it did...

At one point, we were all in an elevator when an old extremely southern man asked the tour guide EITHER "do you have additives in your beer" or (what I think) "do you have any ANTI-CUES in your buildings?" I posited that anti-cues is a very southern way of pronouncing antiques, while Jim posited that I am crazy. The world may never know the truth.

After the tour, you get two free 11-oz beer samples. Oh and UNLIMITED PRETZELS!!!!

That night, we took a taxi to Busch Stadium to see the Cardinals play the Astros. We had a white lady taxi driver (when do you ever see that!). Then we got hot dogs and found our four-dollar seats in the nosebleed section, which turned out great because we had a really cool view of the arch, and the kid behind us was wearing crocs and was super overweight and sounded like a girl... so that was fun. At one point he yelled "I WANT MY DIPPIN DOTS AND NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY!" You really don't need a context for that. It speaks for itself in my opinion. So we stayed through the seventh, at which point Jim was about to fall asleep.

Next morning Rick (the owner of the B&B) made us unbelievable cheese omelets with perfectly crispy bacon, fresh fruit, french roast coffee, and pastries. Jim was digging the pastries and won't stop saying scones. We were informed that going up the arch isn't worth the long line and that you're essentially shot up there in a tiny tube with five other people.

So instead we decided to drive to Kansas. Leaving St. Louis we saw a billboard for injury attorneys and one of them HAD AN EYE PATCH. So great. As we drove through rolling hills and miles of McDonald's, I mentioned to Jim that I would hate to live in Kansas. Jim responded by saying "If I had to live in Kansas I would drink all day and go to strip clubs." So there's that... At one point we stopped at Wendy's and the woman in line in front of us had a "We support the NRA" shirt on. Needless to say, we felt like fish out of water. Oh and there were SO many awesome Christian billboards. One of them was "If you died today, where would you spend eternity?" and I just prayed to god it wouldn't be Kansas.

So with regards to Topeka. Don't go there. Ever. Our hotel view was a trailer park. I had to fill a prescription at Walgreens and we could hear the woman at the drive-in pick-up asking for percocet and oxy. I didn't see her, but Jim said she was "exactly what he would have expected." We went to a liquor store and Jim got a six-pack of Busch light for 4 dollars. Another woman in line was buying 2 six packs. Her friend asked why 2, and she responded "in case he doesn't show up, so I have something." ????

Well we're in Denver now, and all we're planning for the night is a trip to a Mexican restaurant ... so who knows how much material for tomorrow. Jack may have something to say though... stay tuned.

Into the Great Wide Open in a Very Small Space

Picture this: you're sitting in the passenger seat of a Ford Escape that is literally filled to the bursting-at-the-seams point. Your feet are resting on a collapsed dog crate that is serving as the floor mat. You have a 17-pound rodent on your lap and your left hand is asleep because the animal has been sleeping in the crook of your elbow for 4 hours. There are framed pictures behind you that could slide forward and crack you in the skull at any point. The driver is going 5 miles under the speed limit at any given time. You are listening to Dane Cook BY CHOICE because if you hear Adele's Rolling in the Deep one more time on the radio, you will reach for the rodent's paw and shove it in your ear in attempt to burst your ear drum. Add on to this 10.5 hour car trip a two hour delay because your husband thought the local Comcast was closed on Fridays when in reality it has been closed SINCE MAY 22, 2009. So you have to drive 2 hours out of your way, wait until 10 am, and then wait in line to return a cable box that should've been returned last week. You then finally arrive at your destination, 13.5 hours later, only to realize you're sleeping at a Red Roof Inn in Columbus and you have to get to eat KFC for dinner. Also, on the bedside table of the hotel room, there is a sheet which is a veritable crash course on how not to get robbed/mugged/murdered/or raped while staying at a Red Roof Inn in Columbus. Every 25 minutes, for the duration of the night, the rodent wakes up to bark at the air conditioner. Does this sound like your idea of hell? Cause that was my Tuesday.