Hot Toddies and My Time as a Drinker and Gambler

Well, I'm sitting at Brock's desk in his new room, sick as a dog, thinking about the past couple of weeks and my procrastination of updating all you fans of the Nickel-Plated Wayfarer. I'm drinking a Hot Toddy of my own recipe, which I discovered in those moments of hallucination when you're too sick to think clearly:

In a tumbler, mix:

• a little honey,
• 1/2 part Peppermint Schnapps
• 1 part Rum
• Fresh lemon juice
• Hot water

Garnish with lemon for a tasty, soothing treat!

It's a damn good recipe and I hope you all give it a whirl next time you're feeling under the weather.

Where was I last week? Right. I was touring the "Big Sky" of Montana, starting with Missoula. I learned a lesson on my Sunday flight to Missoula. DON'T EVER JOKE AROUND AT THE AIRPORT. Don't even smile. Nuff said. It snowed all night and I woke up to beautiful, rolling hills of white that I didn't take pictures of because I was too crabby and tired from the previous night's travels to find any beauty in the landscape. Then it was on to Billings, a real armpit of a town. The next stop in my weeks travels was to Denver, where I met up with my old friend Nathan Tripp and his brother Luke. We had Mexican food and a couple pitchers of beer, but I couldn't relish in their company for long because I had a big day Wednesday, with over 150 librarians filing into the banquet hall of the Radisson fiending for coffee, bagels, and "professional development hours."

Trying to take a picture of myself in front of Reno's biggest and most famous landmark

Wednesday night, we flew to Reno, "The biggest little city in the world!" That night I got drunk and won $100! The next morning I set up the day's seminar and hit the slots as I waited for lunch, winning around $30 by pushing some buttons and watching lights flash. At the end of the day I hugged my presenter goodbye and headed to the blackjack tables at Circus Circus, where I lost my winnings, won them back, ate a prime rib dinner, lost my winnings, won them back, and flew home to lovely Seattle sick and tired and a little buzzed. For the time I spent in Reno I grossed around $200.

Foggy Memories and Snowy Runways

My day home was packed full of fun and celebration. I got to visit John Staley at the BalMar where I enjoyed a tasty Mahi dinner and a beer. Later on in the night I romped over to the Rendezvous for a wild time of singing, dancing and drinking with old friends, new friends, randoms, and an especially warm welcome for Gabe's Croatian girlfriend Ida to our little Seattle family. As you can see by the picture on the left, I drank myself to a stupor and found myself hitting the snooze bar Sunday morning until an hour before my flight to New York took off. I spent the morning packing and looking for my shoes, which I never found and arrived at such a rage I even swore and punched my ironing board in the basement!

Then it was off to the airport where I missed my flight and spent the day arranging a later flight from Seattle to Rochester, NY which included a layover at Chicago O'Hare where the weather was cold and sloppy. Special thanks must go out to the folks throwing luggage and helping the pilots taxi because I'm sure their Sunday was much worse than mine. There was a lot of time spent sitting on an idol plane, of which I took advantage by calling my grandma Alice May, my roomie Jack, and friend Elizabeth Bortz who was smarter than me this weekend and stayed in instead of braving a morning hangover. I arrived at my hotel around 12:30 am and found a horrible news posting on cnn.com moaning and groaning about the horrible weather I will meet this weekend during my New England travels.

A snowball fight with myself in Rochester, NY

Now I'm sitting at my registration table wearing Reeboks and looking forward to the half-turkey sandwich and cup of lentil soup I'll have for lunch. I foresee December being a nightmare of Grinch-like proportions as I wait outside of seminars listening to the constant stream of Mannheim Steamroller and musak Christmas songs. But somehow, the spirit of Saint Nick prevails:

Maine's Mortuaries and a Prize for Old Town Fancy

The past week I've been in many adventures that have kept me from updating the Nickel-Plated Wayfarer. On Wednesday I was busy rubbing elbows with funeral services directors at a conference held at the Holiday Inn in Manchester, NH. The funny thing about funeral directors is they are not morbid at all...in fact, they're some of the funniest, zaniest party-animals I've encountered in my travels. The night I checked into the hotel, there was a loud drum-and-bass beat coming from the hotel's lounge where they were packed in, bumping and grinding. In the morning during a break, I got to meet Mark R. Cournoyer, a funeral director out of Jaffrey, NH with the most bad-ass hearse I'd ever want my corpse to be carried in:


The rest of the week I enjoyed time watching television and avoiding the late nights while I fought off (and beat) a threatening cold, spent a night wining and dining in beautiful Burlington, VT, and suffered a horrible flight home arriving at midnight PST.

Taking in the view at Burlington's airport before the 10 hour flight home to Seattle

This afternoon, me and the gang headed to SIFF Cinemas to attend a contest called Music in Film where Profile of a Genius was entered. Out of the twelve finalists we placed third, which means a bit of air time on the Seattle Channel and some free tickets to the Experience Music Project. When the screening ended, it was snowing outside like I've never seen in Seattle:

Lookin' Seattle, Feelin' Minnesota

New England Mussels: the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Tuesday afternoon somewhere near Boston, sitting at the registration desk waiting for the day's seminar to end so I can drive North to Portland, Maine. I plan on spending the night ordering crappy movies and room service so I can recover from either exhaustion or a minor cold...even though I never get sick. Sunday evening was spent eating mussels with my colleague Yvette at a place near Providence called the Red Stripe. We both munched down a few good ones before gagging a bit on some of the less-fresh, fishier versions of shellfish and washed it all down with multiple glasses of wine. Monday I headed for Boston with my presenter, where we had an amazing Italian meal and I got a cup of coffee at Mike's Pastry:

Me and a Mike's Pastry styrofoam cup of coffee

Arizona's State Animal: The Ringtail Cat...also known as ME!!!

The sharp needles of cacti remind me of a woman's love; I embrace them without fear

Once again Phoenix, AZ has been warm, dry and sunny. I never thought I'd like this town because I figured it was just hot and full of old people-which is true-but somehow it adds to the charm of the region. Also notable are the little mountains lining the horizon that remind me of Western films as the sun sets. Maybe it's just a nice break from Seattle's climate, which seems to be the exact opposite.

Unfortunately, my stay in the Copper State was too short and sweet to even get a little sun on my pale body. Around 3:30 I took a cab to the airport, where I danced as I waited for a flight to Salt Lake City:

Once again sitting on my throne in Grand Rapids

Jessica brings me a wonderful medium-rare prime rib fillet for my night's free meal at the Radisson in Grand Rapids

Yes, walking into the Radisson in Grand Rapids, MI there was much celebration to be had because my name once again waited for me on a certificate at the front desk pronouncing the Guest of the Day. They claim to draw the winners each day by random selection, but I think the folks here know there is something special in the air when I have a room reserved. As usual I got my suite which included a couch instead of a chair. For dinner my presenter, her husband and I sat at the hotel's restaurant, where I couldn't order the surf 'n turf because my presenter is deathly ill of crustaceans. Instead, I had the prime rib with wild rice and a glass of Cabernet. Then another. And another yet. Soon the three of us were drinking beers in the cocktail lounge where Big Al hosted the night's karaoke party.


I sang my usual Elvis Presley's Kentucky Rain followed by a charming and heartfelt rendition of Otis Redding's Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone. Then I was drunk and had a really hard time getting out of bed the next morning, even though my sleep number was set to 95!

Sunny Detroit and Stoic Frankenmuth

Dancing in an empty field across the freeway from Detroit's airport

Veteran's Day was a Monday packed with flying: from Seattle to Chicago O'Hare, then on to Appleton, WI where I arrived at 10pm and had a Leinie's at the hotel's lounge. I have a lot of friends from Appleton: Wiz Shubert, Jim Harrison, and Jenny Sherman among others. I thought about this town they grew up in and wondered if they had any idea what was in store for them freshman year in the stinky, smoky rooms in Pioneer Hall at the University of Minnesota. It was a nice place to be and I wish I could've spent more time hanging around the shores of Lake Winnebago. Tuesday afternoon my presenter, her husband and I flew to Detroit, where we settled in around 9pm. I enjoyed a few cocktails at the Metropolitan's bar, a horrible and smokey scene with a ratio of 25 guys to one girl, blond, plastered, chain smoking, and relishing in the attention she received from lonely and dirty businessmen (I saw her all dressed up in her flight attendant uniform the next morning heading off to work with a couple groggy pilots). The people of Detroit are grouchy and irritable, even the kindergarten teachers who participated in today's event. At the end of the work day we zoomed off in my Toyota Rav4 rental car headed for Saginaw.

A stop in Frankenmuth, MI gave us wayfarers the opportunity to experience the cuisine and culture of Zehnder's and their all-you-can-eat chicken dinner

On the way myself, the presenter, and her husband stopped off in a little German town called Frankenmuth (frank-en-mooth), home of Zehnder's, where fine-dining meets fried chicken and includes an all-you-can-eat dinner offering an appetizer of patte & toasted bread, followed by an entree of mashed potatoes & gravy, stuffing, fried chicken, cranberry sauce, cole slaw, cottage cheese, some sort of cheesy noodles, and ice cream for dessert. We were stuffed to the esophagus and waddled out of Frankenmuth, but not before getting my photo opp. with the local girls:

Friday Night's Rager and Thursday Night's Family Dinner

I get crazy at triple keggers

The past few days I've been running around getting in trouble at both homes: Minneapolis and Seattle. Friday night we hosted a raging party here in Seattle, where Gabe's estimate of seventy people went through two kegs, four bottles of booze, and finally, two cases of PBR. We had a crazy dance party in what some day might become our living room, supplemented by a DJ that didn't get the party moving until I started dancing like a fool turning all the ladies in the room on.

It was great to see so many old friends gittin' down: Marcello and his lady Katie, Brian the Iowan, drunk Kelsey, Elizabeth, Sarah, Andy. When we weren't dancing there were keg stands in the kitchen and a haze of cigarette smoke to breath in downstairs. Thank you to all who came and weren't afraid to party-hardy.

The night prior I was in Minneapolis where I spent a few hours with my family. I got to drive my dad's '89 Lincoln Towncar named Big Lou, had an amazing roast my mom had cooking in the crock pot all day, and a glass of wine with Grandma Alice.

A pit stop at home during the horrible grind of a work week

At the end of my Burnsville visit, I drove little Betsy home to Uptown where we enjoyed a Wondrous Punch and a Leinies at the Red Dragon. Sandy still works there, only now as a bartender and will be visiting Seattle some time in May when she'll be on the other side of the counter drinking with me.

A quiet drink with Little Betsy at the Red Dragon

Shore Lunches of S'mores and Shitty Television

The Inn on Lake Superior has a shoreline backyard where people can roast marshmallows at night

Last night we got into Duluth around 5:30 but it felt like 8 or 9 because it was pitch dark. I headed for Grandma's Bar & Grill where I ate a big steak, fluffy mashed potatoes, and two glasses of Cabernet. I talked with a guy named Tom who had a goatee and wouldn't stop yammering about immigrants taking advantage of "the system" and the auto worker's union being a lazy bunch of pot smokers. I wasn't in the mood to argue so I just smiled and nodded and kept my mouth full of good food. At the hotel, I finally got to use my swimsuit and sweated it out in the sauna before doing a cannonball into the swimming pool. I got back to my room and turned on the t.v. and flipped through the channels for about 10 minutes before deciding there was nothing good on and went to bed. If anyone knows any good t.v. shows, let me know because thus far all I've seen on cable television is SHIT! What's the deal with the new Steve-O show where he wears doctor's scrubs and looks cool around hot babes!? That's the best thing I could find on the idiot box.

Good to be back in Old Minnesota

The St. Cloud Convention Center's Baseball Hall of Fame:

"Kent Hrbek's dramatic grand slam in game 6 forced the seventh and deciding game with the cardinals"

Yes, good to be back in Old Minnesota. The temperature is frigid, but more like a nostalgic frigid than a miserable one as I haven't felt this frozen since Christmas last year...and there's not even snow on the ground. Here in St. Cloud, I get a beautiful view of the Mississippi River from my registration desk. Last night I had a Grain Belt Premium at the Red Carpet Martini Lounge and then made my way downstairs for a Leinie's and a game of Big Buck Hunter at the Red Carpet Pub. Tonight, it's off to Duluth where I hope to shoot me more big buck and have myself a few more rounds of local brews.

Wichita, KS and coming home to my friends

Wichita's not only hiring drivers and servers, but everyone and anyone who's willing to come and live at this boring city with a rapidly diminishing population (no offense to Wichita, of course!)

Well, what can I say about Wichita? I was glad to leave Friday afternoon and fly back to Seattle. I wasn't happy about the layover in Dallas, of all places however. Don't ask me the logic in flying from Wichita, KS to Dallas, TX in order to get to Seattle. It makes no sense to me. The Dallas airport was nice for the Cobb Salad I got at T.G.I.Fridays, though. Friday night I cut loose with Jack, Andy, and Gabe, who's been living it up in Croatia for the past year. I discovered my roomies bought a cord of wood, which is 128 cubic feet of wood according to the Energy Information Administration. It was a beautiful cord, and well stacked, but to Jack and Gabe's dismay, it was dripping wet from the inside out which requires another cord of paper to burn it. It keeps the house warm and smells nice after the paper's burned up, though.

Jack, Andy, and me at The Tin Hat in Ballard after a hard day's thrift shopping

Saturday afternoon was a day of leisure, digging up deals at Value Village and Goodwill with my roomies. We also moved my room (which is actually Andy's now) into the basement where I got to demonstrate my skill as a window washer from the two days I spent as one this Summer. By evening we were all satisfied with a good day's bonding and were ready to party hard, which we did.

Gabe and half his sister (also a roomie) Mia

This week I'm excited to tour Minnesota, starting here in Rochester at the Ramada Inn. I already am brimming with nostalgia after driving past the Caribou Coffee where I used to deliver panini sandwiches during a job one Winter in college. Tomorrow it's off to St. Cloud! Good to be home.

Halloween in St. Louis, MI

Halloween Budweiser at the Crowne Plaza before bed

Happy Halloween, everyone! I wish I was taking the night out on the town having a good time with my friends. John, try to have a better time this year than we did last year, but keep the arts & crafts up if at all possible. I'm especially homesick on this day of my favorite holiday.

Karaoke and Crab Cakes

A final beer of the night at the Marriott in Richmond

Richmond, VA was a nice little town proud of its history. One of only three memorials to remember the mistake of slavery resides there. Another part of town offers a controversial mural of Robert E. Lee, once an image in full Confederate uniform, now re-designed the general is in plain clothes after a compromise with those who saw it as distasteful. I didn't get to see any pearls of culture concerning the history of this town. Instead, I had a pint at one bar and shared good conversation with a couple from England and their son, Ben, a writer and actor living in London who is now a myspace friend of mine. I relished in the company but had to end the fun to stop off at Penny Lane to sing karaoke and enjoy a couple more beers.

Now I'm in Durham, NC where I ordered room service for the first time ever: a glass of merlot and one crab cake for a grand total of $19. Was it worth it? I don't know, but the crab cake better be fuckin' good!

My first room service experience ever: Crab Cakes in Durham

Chicago hospitality and Roanoke, VA's airport

Me, Jimmy, Marla, and her daughter Liza who was around for the five minutes before I drove to O'Hare Airport

My short vacation in Chicago turned out to be a real kicker. Friday night I toasted to friends and family with my Uncle Jimmy and his girlfriend Marla in Lake Forest, a fancy suburb North of Chicago. We kept the wine flowing late into the evening and I even got a dance in with Marla. Saturday I got to have lunch with my old friend Jeannette in the Swedish district of Evanston at a place called M. Henry's. We also tried in vain to find me a new shirt, as my favorite one tragically shrunk in Jimmy's drier the night before.

On top of my Program Manager duties I'm also acting as security when drunken hotel patrons pee in the parking lot AND perform as DJ Sisler Mondays at Roanoke's Holiday Inn

Roanoke has the smallest airport I've ever seen, with about three gates and one security entrance that is sparsely populated with travelers and a bored airport security guard. Tonight I'm driving to Richmond, VA where I'll see Bobby Bare Jr., Lucero, and Whiskey & Co. rock the night away with music dubbed as "alt. country" and "punk country." I hope I don't drink too many PBR tall boys.

Karl Blau, Privacy, and Mt. Eerie at South Union Arts

You don't necessarily have to watch this, but play it while you're doing laundry or something quiet...Karl Blau's "That's How I got to Memphis"

It was good to commute around Downtown Chicago last night via the CTA. It's been a while, but the 'El' is like riding a bike! I took the Red Line to Jackson and walked to Union Street with some kids I bumped into going to the same show. The venue was an old church turned into a stage, much like "The Church" in Minneapolis only with stadium seating and scary crosses with naked people painted on them.

The nice hipster kids I met on the way to South Union Arts

Tomorrow night I'm off to my uncle Jimmy's! We'll see you again Sunday evening for another update from the front lines.

Guardian Angels and the Whitecaps of Lake Michigan

My guardian angel and temp for the day, Rose

This morning I got downstairs to the banquet room and started preparing for the biggest turnout of one of these events yet, teachers expected to exceed 80. I put my Townes Van Zandt on the house speakers and got to work, setting up the LCD screen, testing microphones, and moving tables and chairs. Then came the set-up of the registration table, where I met a nice old woman with a Boston accent saying "I'm here to help. Where do you need me?" I asked her who she was looking for and she told me she's with Kelly Services...a temp for BER. I told her I had no idea a temp was scheduled for the day but relished in the prospect, so I put Rose to work stuffing course packets with promotional material. When I told her my name, she said "Ah, Michael...the Archangel. You know my son's name is Michael. He's got three kids of his own and lives out in...." For the rest of the day, she wouldn't stop chatting. Rose had many stories of first hand accounts with her own guardian angel, who had helped her hitchhike to a job interview after a torrential snowstorm wouldn't allow her to drive. She talked about her one daughter with MS, her other daughter who was in cardiac arrest for 20 minutes. She talked about all her grandkids and their kids. She has been the greatest thing I've seen in Chicago this week.

Trying to take a picture of myself in a torrential windstorm on the beaches of Lake Michigan

Instead of heading to the next suburb of Chicago in Oak Lawn, I was dropped off downtown by my instructor and am sitting at a bar called Butch McGuire's on Division Street. From here I'll train, and then bus, to what is a trendy part of town (and also Chicago's meat packing district I've been told by the locals) to see Karl Blau and Mt. Eerie perform at the South Union Arts Center. Tomorrow's show would be better, but I'll be in Champaign, IL and can't make it. From the show, I'll bus and then train and then bus again to the Hilton in Oak Lawn, where I'll get to sleep around 1am, wake up once again at 5:30, and have another 80-100 grouchy teachers waiting to be registered for another seminar. The life of Mike moves on!

Chicago

Getting my picture taken by a nice stranger at the Old Chicago in the Holiday Inn in Chicago

Just got off the phone with my sister Betsy, who's having a hell of a time in Minneapolis writing for the Minnesota Daily, her beat being stories about comic book geeks and fencing clubs. Right now I'm at the Holiday Inn in Elk Grove, a suburb of Chicago, with its very own Old Chicago built right inside. It was quite the drive from Grand Rapids - around four hours of 25 cent tolls, eighties music and a delicious dinner to avoid rush-hour at "Greek Islands" in Downtown Chicago where myself and the instructor I'm supporting dined on a strange paste of salmon eggs and garlic, lamb shank, and baklava for desert.

Waiting on my dinner date with Senator Larry Craig in the hotel lounge's bathroom...

Tomorrow is my biggest seminar yet...around eighty grouchy teachers pre-registered. Mornings at 6am are my favorite part of the day: I set up the audio before anything else, crank up the house sound, and listen to whatever I want. This morning it was John Lennon and Gram Parsons. Tomorrow morning I think I'll throw a little Townes Van Zandt and into the mix.

I Own Grand Rapids, MI

I am the "Guest of the Day" at Grand Rapid's Radisson Inn

The first thing the hotel staff told me as I checked into my hotel after the drive from Detroit to Grand Rapids is that I was chosen as their official "Guest of the Day." I asked them, "So what does that mean, a free cup of soup?" They told me it means much more than that: an upgrade to a suite (which is a regular room with a couch instead of a chair) and a free meal of my choice. I sauntered into the hotel bar for a little apertif: a whiskey-soda..."easy on the soda," and kicked back my dogs in the corner booth relishing on my throne. I browsed the menu and decided on their most expensive entree: the Surf & Turf, described in the menu as "brown sugar cured beef tenderloin filet accompanied by a succulent lobster tail with clarified butter, fresh vegetables, and mashed potatoes," going for $25.95.


I'm a bit wobbly from my meal and the rush from treating myself to a couple phallic glasses of beer and my apertif. It's time for bed. Oh! The Radisson has patented sleep number technology in their beds...I wonder what number I am? It's gonna be great experimenting with that tonight...fuck I'm lonely!

Cheeseburger in Paradise? No! Motor City!

Playing Time Crisis 3 at the Best Western's video Arcade

I arrived in Detroit around 3:30pm after a rushed drive to the airport to find Hertz Car Rental had a nice Hyundai reserved for me, trunk open, keys in the ignition:

I AM IMPORTANT

The first thing I did at the Best Western was head for the bar. I hadn't eaten all day and needed my cheeseburger and a bloody mary. It was there that I met Taras P. Nykoriak, a nice young man who asked me if I happened to be from Warren, Michigan. "A year ago when I was eighteen and I bought my first house, the realtor said I was the youngest person they ever signed a deal with." Now, at nineteen, Taras is trying to win over the people of Warren in the race for mayor this November. "I just need to convince them I'm not crazy." We exchanged cards, shook hands, and I finished my bloody mary. I wish him the best of luck this November and would write him in if I could. Tomorrow, on to Grand Rapids!

Taras P. Nykoriak - Write-in Candidate for Mayor of Warren, Michigan

A Peaceful Moment in Arizona

Kicking back my dogs at the hotel pool...I wish it was swimming weather

Mesa, Arizona. Or, another Holiday Inn. At this one I have a suite complete with two televisions and a living room furnished with a couch and the desk I'm now writing at. I'm getting in deep with work, waking up each morning looking very professional and responsible and smiling and nodding and making sure everyone's happy. I get to sneak a quiet moment of indulgence every now and again as well:

Special thanks to Ron the Hotel Bartender for taking this picture of me "having a good time"

Tomorrow evening I go home to Seattle for a weekend jam packed with catching up. It feels like I've been gone a month. It'll be good to gain ground back in Seattle. Until then, the show must go on!

What time is it? What day is it? Where am I? Bagels!

A Mongolian Chicken lunch in my hotel room while
watching a Neil Young concert on T.V.

Am I in Sacramento? No, I was in Elk Grove, a suburb of Sacramento. What is it, Thursday? No, Wednesday and I'm in Union City, a suburb of Oakland, CA. This morning I woke up at 5:30 a nervous wreck for my first day as a full-fledged program manager with nobody keeping tabs on my performance.

Special thanks to Andrea Koval for being there the first couple hours this morning to help register math teachers. She trained with me my first two days, but left at 10am, left me to the dogs flailing in paperwork and math teachers.


Considering my "first day jitters," everything closed with a bang and I even got a deal on the banquet room from the fabulous staff at the Holiday Inn Express in Elk Grove. Around 3pm myself and the instructor hit the road headed southwest through the beautiful hills of Northern California. We arrived around 5pm and hit the cocktail lounge for a couple drinks, some potato skins, and a BLT. She turned in soon after and I called a few friends including my Uncle Jimmy, who I'll be staying with in Chicago a week from Friday, and my brother Andy. The pool is nice but it's too cold to go swimming.

Elk Grove's just like the Burnsville Center!

Special thanks to the nice Japanese man who took this picture
of me posing in front of the bronze statue of George Bush Sr. at Houston's airport

Sacramento? Sitting at the Holiday Inn Express in Elk Grove, CA surrounded by an Old Navy, T.J. Maxx, and the best one yet: a Bed, Bath & Beyond! Tomorrow will be my first day working alone after a week-and-a-half of being weaned off the supervision and guidance of my lovely manager Megan and other team-members. I'm excited to finally be independent from everything but hope I don't shit my pants when I screw up. Good night.

Houston has many lanes on its freeways....

The nicest bed I've ever jumped on

Houston might be nicer if it was daytime and the skies were blue, but all I've seen are thunderstorms and darkness. I get the impression that Texas is one giant suburb. Our plane was delayed from New Orleans because landing conditions at George Bush's airport were poor, so we spent two hours in Louis Armstrong Airport waiting around and then another hour-and-a-half on the plane just sitting on the runway. I passed in and out of sleep the whole flight, which ended up being three hours instead of 45 minutes and I'm ready for a nice, long nap. I've learned never to stay out drinking on Bourbon Street past midnight while on the job.

New Orleans: More than your average titty

Dance party with fellow Program Managers

The first thing I noticed about New Orleans is the humidity - it's like a Minnesota Summer night, thick with heat and moisture that makes a person need a cold beer and loud music to accompany his/her beads of sweat and looming threat of becoming a victim of fatigue from the humidity, even in mid-October. I thought flashing for beads was only a Mardi Gras thing, but on a Sunday night here it was not overlooked by drunken balcony partiers and creepy onlookers looking to catch a glimpse of some "titty." Me and my crew made our way through this mess, stopping momentarily as star-struck sightseers looking to catch some titty glimpses for ourselves. The prevalence of flashing titty does, however, steal attention away from the other amenities this city has to offer, and there were a few stops me and my five female companions stopped at to enjoy the music this city is traditionally famous for.

Mural of Louis Armstrong at the Maison Bourbon Jazz Club

It's a shame the musical talent here is overlooked by the barters of titty for beads, but the mood here calls for an indulgence of voyeurism or the patronage of such an act. Still, I got to dance with five hot babes and there were lots of jealous men that watched me cut a rug, showing off such dance moves as the grapevine, the ball change, and the feather step. While I'm completely full of shit, it's now 12:30am and I need to get up tomorrow for a day of actual work. In the meantime, I'm enjoying my luxury suite here at the Hilton Garden Inn and sipping on a Diet Coke before bedtime.

Tomorrow I plan on setting up another site where more pics of me and my friends can be seen. Until then, good night and don't take any beads from those who make you feel un-sexy.

Luggage and thoughts on the next eight months

Jack, myself, and my brother Andy

My bags are finally packed. It's not easy to figure out how to travel for six days in a row when you're stuffing into a 20" suitcase "business professional" clothes and what you might be wearing out on the town in strange new cities you've never been to: New Orleans, LA; Houston, TX; Sacramento, CA; Oakland, CA; Phoenix, AZ. In places like Houston I should like to wear cowboy boots and pearl-snap button-ups; in Phoenix I'd want to look retired in a swimsuit and a Hawaiian shirt.

The past week I've shopped around for luggage, looking for a sturdy suitcase and a decent carry-on bag that could hold all the paperwork necessary for my job, my laptop, and a day's worth of clothes in case my luggage gets lost. Today Jack and I went to Fred Meyer looking for some quality luggage for about half-an-hour until we decided we were hungry and got burgers and beers instead. This week I'll be traveling with Jack's suitcase and my laptop bag that carried me through college, along with my "tech-kit," a fifty-pound trunk that holds the contents of my audio-visual responsibilities. I've decided I hate luggage and think I might just wear the same suit on the plane, on the job, and at the bar.

I wonder what stories this blog will have to offer by May, when I'm getting home from my last flight as a Program Manager and back to a regular work week. Some days I'll be flying across the country, other days I'll be driving two or three hours to the next city. Sometimes I might have to book a train ride if flights are canceled, and I may even get to ride a limo here and there if there's no other option. In any case, leisure time will be scarce and sacred and without friends or family. Still, I look forward to my time alone "on the road" and know the different perspective will allow me time to figure out what I miss and what I don't: i.e., I'll be that much closer to "finding myself" in a world where it's easy to get lost in routine and everyday comforts like a change of clothes or a familiar high-five.

This is the first and most difficult entry for me to write because I don't know what to expect once I'm gone but for now it's Saturday night so I'm going to see the Tea Cozies at the Blue Moon and celebrate my introduction to becoming a nickel-plated wayfarer...