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