The Last Of's: Final Thoughts on Being a Nickel-Plated Wayfarer

I think Former President George W. Bush called his final days in office the days of "last of's"--the last time I'll wake up and wonder what city I'm in. The last time I'll listen to a group of 40+ women complain to me about the room temperature, to which I respond with a look of concern and understanding. The last time I'll sit at the hotel bar alone with my thoughts and a crowd of Bluetooth toting businessmen chewing the fat.

Looking back from last year's posts as a Nickel-Plated Wayfarer, I wonder what I've learned this second time around? Patience, that's a quality I've definitely acquired. How many hours were spent in traffic jams? What about airport lines? How many flights were delayed or canceled? I can tell you, not once did I flip out and flail my arms in the air like a rabid monkey. Instead I've learned to recognize when something's out of my control and find the next best alternative, which oftentimes is simply waiting with a trusty newspaper.

I've learned how to stay organized (even though I lost my cell phone yesterday...the second time in a month!). Pocket routines have been essential in my life this year. My pen always goes in my left inside pocket of my jacket. My wallet always goes in the opposite one. My room key could always be found in my shirt pocket. If I wasn't wearing my Kino sandals, they were in the second compartment of my suitcase, waiting in the mesh-lined pocket.

I've learned empathy. Traveling every day, a person encounters many different lives and lifestyles, and not all of it is pretty. There are many out there who have had a pretty rough time of it. I've discovered the power of a genuine smile and a few words of understanding can work wonders for someone having a bad day, and those kind gestures often lead to a free hotel breakfast or being bumped to first class. Regardless, you meet a lot of jerks on the road, but also a lot of beautiful people. I've learned you have a choice to be either one.

So that's it. I gave my final announcement yesterday and told the ladies in the room I've had a great run of it. For the last time I told Judy, the banquet manager, I'll need my last extra gallon of coffee in the Regency Room. For the last time I told the guy making breakfast I'd have my last free ham, mushroom and spinach omelet with an orange juice and English Muffin. For the last time I told Kim at the front desk I was checking out of my room. And for the last time I retrieved my luggage from SeaTac Airport and headed home, exhausted from a five hour flight.

It's weird to think I'll never commute like that again. Flying every day becomes a lifestyle that sets a person apart from the moving world 35,000 feet below. Now that I'm finally down here again, it will be fun moving within it.

Thanks for reading!

Bruce & Barry Play Engelberg Humperdinck

Here's Bruce & Barry singing After the Loving by Engleberg Humperdinck on the beach. The video is too dark but if you turn it up on your stereo or headphones you can listen to the lovin' on island time.

Love in Hawaii...Mahalo to the Locals!

I arrived in Honolulu at 10:30pm Thursday night weary after over a six hour flight. My only solace on the plane was Marley and Me, which I felt strange tearing up during as I sat next to a shifty coach from some WNBA team I've never heard of. Random, yes, but it's just one of those things that occurs as a Nickel-Plated Wayfarer. Island Time is four hours earlier than Phoenix Time (Mountain Time?), so my body thought it was 3am when I finally went to bed. But it also meant waking up four hours later, and I was refreshed and ready for the festivities of Lei Day. Yes, "Lei Day is May Day" on Island Time and I made good use of it stringing up one of my own:

I gave it to Mary, a person I've traveled the country with to many places these past two years, including Jackson, MS, New Orleans, and Grand Rapids, MI. I presented my lei in the Hawaiian way with a hug and a kiss, as I received from my good friend at the hotel:


After a hard day's work I hopped in a cab where I had a good conversation about love with Toni, a Vietnamese cab driver who's lived on the island for over 15 years and has been happily married for over 30. He had much to say about how young and stupid I was, but in a more helpful, pedagogical way. Saying goodbye to Toni, I checked in to my room at the Hilton Hawaiian Village, a collection of five high-rise hotel buildings sitting on the shores of Waikiki. In the village there was a man-made pond with real penguins and a fancy jewelry shop among other retail options that were just as appealing. On the sixth floor of the Ali'i Tower I found my room had a balcony and overlooked the Pacific Ocean and all of the happy couples and families waddling around the sand.

There was a couple riding segways with bike helmets on and I yelled down to them "You don't need helmets for Segways!" I sat on my balcony, watching the ocean and thinking about how much love there is on Island Time when a pair of pigeons showed up to say hello. I suddenly felt lonely and decided to hit the bar, where I ordered a $13 pineapple drink and watched the hostess spray pigeons with water from a hose. I called to her "Leave them alone!" to which she responded "They're discusting, flying rats!" I wondered how much she wanted to spray the sentimental newlyweds as they populated the beaches and contributed to love on Island Time:

Could it be that love is manufactured here in Hawaii? I said "Aloha" to all sorts of people on the beach. Some literal "beach bums" sat under the gazebo by the squash courts later in the evening and said "Aloha" before I could so I approached them and was handed a beer. Bruce sat on his scooter and began strumming a tune that Barry began to sing along to.


Bruce's notes were light and melodic against Barry's voice, which was deep and filled with pain. Of all the sandy beaches, hula girls and surf boards on the island, our jam session on the beach was the best part of my time in Hawaii. The fuzz came and busted up our party at 10pm. Respect came from both my beach friends and the police, and everyone called each other by name. I'm sure this routine has lasted for years. I hugged my friends goodbye and and left in my bare feet. On my walk back to the hotel, I stopped in one last place for a beer and saw a bunch of kids dressed to the 9's, leaving their Senior Prom.


Hawaii is known for it's romantic landscapes and the feelings that go with it. I learned that the beauty on Waikiki is no novelty to the locals either, as their love was the genuine article to our postcard versions that come one week a year if we're lucky. I don't think the weather is the catalyst for love in Hawaii but it certainly does help.

Airports and Clementine...

Friday's commute home from Knoxville provided me with hours of reflection at the Chicago O'Hare Airport as our flight was delayed by three hours. All of these airports I've been to: spouses kissing each other goodbye, crying babies reunited with a parent, flight attendants picking up shuttles to airport hotels. The airport is a strange place to live part-time. It's wierd to brush your teeth in a bathroom full of strangers. Company becomes the newspaper or a paperback author. If you're lucky, you'll be stuck in an airport with Big Buck Hunter II: Sportsman's Paradise.

Waiting at Chicago O'Hare

Finally, after a turbulent flight that made me wonder about what happens when you die, I made it to SeaTac airport. After a quiet cab ride home, I was happy to find Andy and Adam waiting for me with a 12-pack of PBR. We watched Adam's newest production about muralist Ryan Henry Ward that can be watched here. We also watched an awesome piece on Mr. Yuk & the Poison Control Center that friends Harry Calbom and Austin Wilson produced that everyone should see as you never know when you might drink too much cough syrup (like I did when I was four).

Saturday was a day of errands including getting a new phone plan and buying this amazing fake cigarette that actually draws what looks like smoke! I'm going to use it for the next couple of months (after this job is over) to finally end my expensive and discusting habit that has interrupted my "nice-guy" image. In the evening, Andy and I had a bit of pre-party fun at the BalMar where friends John and Walter took good care of us:


After a couple of Sea Breezes we were off to Adam & Kelsey's, where I got to meet their newest kitten, Clementine. It was a great time seeing some good Seattle friends who are not happy about my decision to move back to Minneapolis after a 4+ year stint (give or take a few months building fences or lulling around Chicago).

The plan is to load up the minivan and head home some time in August, after a summer of taking in what I've missed about the Pacific Northwest, including camping and Vancouver, BC. In the fall, I'm heading back to school to get my teaching license from Metropolitan State University, and hopefully pick up a Masters in Education before re-entering the real world with a whole bunch of stories to tell about my "passage into adulthood." Until then, I'll enjoy the ride.

Clementine and I enjoying a cocktail at Adam & Kelsey's on Saturday night

My Week Off Catching Up With Doing Nothing

The first half of my final break from being a Nickel-Plated Wayfarer was spent in Seattle, where I enjoyed watching many movies and generally loafing around. It was, as Seattle is until July, cold and rainy and when I wasn't watching movies I was most likely sleeping.

On Wednesday, Andy drove me to the airport and I flew to Minneapolis, where my old pal Ryan was nice enough to take a break from school to pick me up. His class was canceled so we headed to the Electric Fetus to meet his brother and see an in-store performance of Justin Townes Earle, the son of Steve Earle. After the show we pre-partied a bit before heading to Big V's in St. Paul to see Matt Kunes perform as Dos Taco. It was a great welcome home and I woke up Thursday feeling like a ten-dollar bill.

Back in Burnsville, not much has changed. Murphy the dog is still restless, only now he's humping everything, but especially this blanket:


I spent much of my time at Champs, where I brought my grandma Alice May out for brunch and bloody marys. I also did some good catching up with Dave (da Boosh), drinking Miller Lights and talking about our lives since Vista View Elementary School.


So that's about it! I know it's been a couple weeks since my last post (thanks Adam), but there's just not that much to say. I could talk about the wonderful job I did picking up Murphy's poop from the backyard or how I talked shop with the neighbors about the retaining wall I'm building for my parents.

Whatever the case, I'm lucky to have friends that will drive me to and from the airport.

Joel Osteen and a Six-Pack of Silver Bullet....I Miss My Friends

Sitting with a Silver Bullet I'm drinking at my bed, flipping through the television trying to find the Twins vs. Mariners game. It's ironic that the opening few games of this MLB season begin with the city I live in batting against the city I'm from. Of course, the Minnesota Twins are my team, and that says a lot seeing that I couldn't care less about "March Madness," "The Final Four," or some hockey team skating around an ice rink trying to keep their teeth.

Here in Waltham, MA, my presence is less than welcoming, and the first sports bar I entered wouldn't even serve me because I have an "out of state license." I don't understand what that has to do with drinking a beer and watching baseball, but let's all just shun The Common Cafe for being a bunch of Massachusetts elitist assholes. Of the three bars I dropped by, none can accommodate my humble need for some good baseball that doesn't play on Eastern Standard Time.

Anyhow, I'm stuck in the East Coast with bad accents and no sense of home, which is much needed in these last days of running around as a Nickel-Plated Wayfarer. Yes, I'm homesick, and nothing will alleviate this perpetual problem but a good old game of American baseball, especially when it's opening week with my favorite sports team at bat. The real knee-to-the-groin is that I am no sports fan but baseball is somehow a solace and I am without a nut cup.

Tomorrow I fly the six hours home to Seattle, where I'll spend a good week before heading to Minneapolis, where plans are already in the works to spend the weekend with my dad and his childhood friend Clancy at the cabin, along with Murphy the Dog. I'm looking forward to shedding this nostalgia and getting into the thick of home, with its pawing puppies, Twins fans, and acceptors of out of state licenses.

Joel Osteen on Larry King Live talking about J.C. I am really far from home.

Martinis, Oysters, and T-Bone Weekend

I flew home Thursday night from Dallas to meet up with my brother and Adam Bale for a nice evening at the BalMar, where John Staley treated us to some sort of lemon drop shot he invented that was delicious because it was free. That reminds me, John's working on a blog for the Ballard Tribune called Notes From the Bar Room Floor. For those of you who don't know John, he was the guy in Deadbeats with the chops.

Friday morning Andy and I changed the brake pads on the minivan! Of course, we had help from a guy named "Dan the Baker" who Andy works with. The only request Dan had for helping out was that we provided beer, and we enjoyed a number of them during the process. It was a good feeling to get my hands dirty and actually fix something myself.

Choppa taking the caliper off the rotor of my Bahama Mama

Friday night there was no squeaking from the wheels of the van as Andy and I drove to the airport to pick up my dad, also known as T-Bone, Timmer, or Papillon. It was bar time by the time we got back to Seattle, so we had a quick one before falling asleep and preparing for Saturday. And what is there to do on Saturdays in Seattle when out of towners come to visit but go to Pike's Place Market!? We wandered around town looking for a gift for my mom, and in the meantime bought some King Salmon and oysters. Also, we took some pictures:

T-Bone and I at US Bank in Pike's Place
Timmer and Andy in front of the Gum Wall!

The bus ride home for martinis and dinner

It was good to have my dad as a guest over the weekend. The salmon turned out pretty good, even though I left it on my football-shaped grill too long. The oysters were terrible and it was tramatizing to watch my dad smash them with a hammer because steaming them wouldn't do the trick:

I Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans

Last weekend I enjoyed a couple warm days bumming around New Orleans. It was good to get back to my Holiday Inn where I checked in poolside and kicked off the mini-vacation getting some much needed sun and cracking a few beers while reading Tender is the Night:

It just so happened that some of my fellow co-workers decided to spend their weekend in New Orleans as well. I was happy to walk Uptown on Saturday afternoon in my new Kino Sandals (courtesy of friend Jack) and pop into their rental house, where everyone was laying around catching the hair of the dog. This was very different from my 7:30am wake up for coffee and the newspaper. Soon we were off to Bourbon Street to begin raging:

Fellow Program Managers Kyle and Scott sharing an affectionate moment

This gentleman walked in front of the camera as we posed for a nice picture

Yes, I had a fine time until Sunday morning when I headed for the airport to fly off to Baltimore, MD. Tonight I'm headed to Kansas City, then Dallas, then a nice few days back in Seattle where my dad will be visiting for the weekend.

Numb and Dumb, the Nickel-Plated Wayfarer continues!

A couple of weeks ago I won $100 in Reno while I was supposed to be working. The rest of the week I flew daily to wonderful destinations such as Spokane, WA and Salt Lake City! I must say, Boise was actually a cute little town. By Friday I was grouchy and tired, so I drank a beer at the airport in Albuquerque before heading to Minneapolis:

A very tired Mike wondering why he's still wayfaring

Last week I enjoyed time in Philadelphia, Harrisburg, and Rochester, NY, among other breathtaking towns. Last weekend I watched a couple of movies, drank some beer, and waited for Sunday, when I headed for Columbia, SC, finding cross-country commuting very difficult during Spring Break season. I got stuck at the George H.W. Bush Airport for four hours and flew to a town called Greenville, where I rented a car and drove for two hours, arriving in Columbia at 2am. Special thanks to my mom and dad for listening to me vent for half of their Sunday.

Today I'm in Atlanta at AmericasMart, a giant exhibition space. There was a crazy scene on the street this morning when a car decided to try and drive off the top floor of a parking ramp but only got the front two wheels past the barrier. I chatted with Martha about that for a few minutes before we went upstairs to check on the coffee:

Martha, one of my 'friends from the road' and I hard at work at AmericasMart!

Tonight it's off to Ft. Lauderdale, then on to Orlando, finishing up the week in New Orleans where I'll spend the weekend drinking beer by the pool.

Darlin' Don't You Go and Cut Your Hair...

My week ended in sunny Los Angeles and a plane ride home to rainy Seattle, which I couldn't wait to get back to. Saturday morning the first thing I crossed off my list was getting my hair cut.

Before and After

I enjoyed a quiet night making dinner for my brother Andy and my pal Adam. I cooked the steak "cowboy style," which the internet instructs to sear on an iron skillet that's been heating on high for 15-20 minutes. The whole apartment was smoked out and we quickly learned that our fire alarm is electrically wired, so instead of just taking out the battery we had to frantically fan at the ceiling with a dish rag. After dinner we enjoyed drinks and music, finding Neko Case's new album available on NPR and can be listened to here.

Sunday morning I threw on some clothes and headed to Adam's to celebrate March Day, which Adam and I created about six years ago during our "more wild" days. My friend Harry picked us up in his mom's Volkswagen Beetle convertible, and we headed for the road to get in some trouble:

Harry picking us up in his mom's car

Adam's ubiquitous March Day camera documenting the day's debauchery

Back at my house after a hard day's celebrating

We had a great time and it's amazing that Adam and I have upheld this tradition this long. I've realized something about this blog as I'm writing it. When The Nickel-Plated Wayfarer was first created, the entries all focused on the strange and new places I was visiting. Lately it seems all I write about is what happens on my weekends home. Does this mean the road has become more familiar to me than home? Maybe all the Hilton Garden Inns and Radissons have won a place in my familiar life, and these weekend visits home are what's become strange and different? I certainly hope that's not the case, but life is sure more interesting not spent in a hotel room.

We'll see what's to come for this Nickel-Plated Wayfarer! It's been a great second year of travels, but it sure has changed my perspective on the value of your friends and family. Tomorrow, it's off to beautiful Boise! I end my week in Minneapolis, where my sister Betsy will be celebrating her 23rd birthday.

A Week in Seattle Jam Packed With Fun!

After a week of steam cleaning carpets, trying new chicken recipes, and much laundry I find myself refreshed and ready to take on another week of wayfaring, starting off this morning here in Calgary with a cup of coffee. Everyone keeps telling me how beautiful Calgary is, but besides the nice gas stations and different shaped billboard signs, I don't see what's so great about it.

Ah, but the chicken! First I dipped the chicken breasts in olive oil, then flour, then a mixture of crushed up croutons and corn flakes. Then I seared both sides and popped them in the oven for about 1/2 hour baking at 325 degrees. They came out tender and juicy...that along with the steam cleaning and laundry has proved I will make a great homemaker some day! Adam and I worked out the kinks for another story he's working on about Ryan Henry Ward, an article of whom was found on the Seattle P-I and can be read here.

Adam Bale shooting some inspiring B-roll!

Well what else did I do with my week? I burst in on some couples playing Apples to Apples and dragged them to a President's Party on Valentines Day. I went to a "blind reading" of some local (Seattle) playwrights, one of whom is my friend Andrea Koval, a former Nickel-Plated Wayfarer herself! I also went to the dentist and am happy to report no cavities. So that was my week off work. I'm happy to end this work-week in Los Angeles because it's damned cold in Canada and I don't read Celcius.

Remembering the Alamo

The past week has been a sprint to the finish as I sit here at the Birmingham Int'l Airport awaiting my last day before a week-long break. Last Wednesday I hung out in San Antonio, which turns out to be quite a nice city. My favorite part was visiting the Alamo, where Mexican president Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna lead an invasion against the U.S. way back in 1836. The Alamo also made a cameo in Pee-Wee's Big Adventure.


Over the weekend I spent some good times hanging out at home with my brother Andy, whose hair has gotten long enough for me to put it in a pony-tail:

In other news, another Seattle Channel video Adam Bale and I produced over the summer is available for viewing here. We spent a night enjoying the crowd of performers singing songs from their favorite musicals as the scenes they picked played along in the background. It was one of my favorite projects with the Seattle Channel, so have a look! We're about 13:50 minutes into the show.

I'm beat and this upcoming break couldn't come any sooner. The next week I plan on doing nothing but using my kitchen and spending time with familiar faces. Now on to Dallas to get this shit done!

Shish Kabobs, Cattle Drives and Mexican Lasagna

Last week I was in the Northeast and had nothing to report but a couple mean teachers with Jersey accents.

On Saturday, me and the boys made shish kabobs on my little football shaped grill:



We had a great time drinking beer, grilling, and playing music on our old six-strings. Great to be back in Seattle, where I have my own kitchen. I miss cooking.

In Birmingham, Monday's seminar was canceled so I took an earlier flight to Dallas-Fort Worth to rent a car and find Townes Van Zandt's headstone. Townes is one of my favorite song writers, and I figured that he surely would be celebrated in Fort Worth, where he was born. I had no access to the internet so I found a place called "The Texas Cowboy Hall of Fame." I figured someone there would surely know where his grave was. Maybe there was even a little museum or something dedicated to him. At the visitors center, I met two old fellas with cowboy gear and hearing aids. After spending a good amount of time explaining I wasn't looking for the town of Van Zandt but the headstone of Townes Van Zandt, we figured out it was at Dido Cemetary, which neither of them had ever heard of. The phone book didn't have any record of it. Nor did directory assistance. Finally we pulled out an old Fort Worth directory book and found my Dido Cemetary, about 1/2 hour northeast of town.

Before I left, my two new friends suggested I stick around the Fort Worth Stockyards for a bit and wait for the cattle drive. I grabbed a beer (to go) and walked around, meeting some nice cowboys before their daily run:

Meeting one of the last authentic cowboys of Fort Worth, TX

Enjoying a test run while I waited for the cattle drive

Trying to take a picture of myself in front of the
longhorns making their daily walk down the avenue

I had a great time watching the show, but it was past 4pm and I needed to get to Dido Cemetary before sunset. The drive out was beautiful, except for the police officer that pulled me over for speeding. He let me off with a warning, which I was greatful for. Then I inquired about where I might find Dido Cemetary. "It's right there," he said, and pointed across the street.

I pulled in and called a phone number from a sign that said "For questions about Dido Cemetary, please call..." A nice old lady answered the phone and directed me to the "Van Zandt Plot," where I finally found Townes's headstone:


My adventure had ended with this tombstone, and I sat with Townes for a little while, drinking a beer and thinking about his sad life and songs that have become part of the soundtrack to my life:

Days, up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
And nothin' is to much to bear.
Where you been is good and gone
All you keep is the getting there.

I had my moment with Townes and said goodbye, heading back towards town to get a good meal in with my friend Aaron Bale, who had made Mexican Lasagna that was waiting for me in Arlington along with his girlfriend Sarah and her son Aiden. It was a great meal, but the only picture I have is one Aiden took of his cat:

Beer, Movies, and a Fish Fry at Cousin Sean's

MLK weekend was family time, spending Saturday night with my dad, my Uncle Ed, and cousin Sean at his cabin somewhere near Brainerd, MN. My dad (The Timmer) and I arrived Saturday morning, bloody marys in hand, finding Ed and Sean watching Chevy Chase in Fletch. We sat down as Sean cooked a major breakfast and finished watching the first of many movies throughout our stay.

Uncle Ed upon our arrival

Soon Sean and I were out shooting his semi-automatic 12 gauge at some empty booze bottles. After that we cracked some beers and brushed the snow off his "sled," finding it wouldn't start. Sean decided the spark plugs were the culprit, and 30 minutes later all three had been replaced. Still, only one cylinder was firing, so we drank a beer and decided to give up.

Frustration meets Sean and myself with cold hands and a broken snowmobile

Having already shot guns and no sled to ride, Sean did not relent being a great entertainer. Luckily, his entertainment center included surround sound and a loud subwoofer, which he demonstrated by playing jets flying over Nick Cage in The Rock, so we decided to crack a beer and watch the whole film.

Good viddles: Sean prepares some fried Crappie to munch on during one of our film screenings

Later on in the day, the four of us drove to a nearby lake to meet some of the locals. I finally got a ride on a snowmobile, but with Sean driving I became very afraid and asked to head back about 90 seconds after he darted away from the icehouses we were stationed at. Ed and Timmer hung back and talked shop with the fishermen and their kids:

My Uncle Ed and Dad enjoying the icefishing scene on the lake

After riding and fishing, we all decided to head back and watch The Borne Supremacy, or one of those Jason Borne movies. I fell asleep and woke up to an amazing steak dinner with rosemary potatoes and beans. We all had a blast and I look forward to future partying with my family in the middle of nowhere.

Back at my folks house, the only thing that has changed is the size of Murphy, our dog. He's still a raging puppy who chews on everything and harrasses us as we try to sleep:

Gary Hardy's Nostalgic Rock n' Roll and Rusty the Bone in Memphis

Well, here I am in West Memphis, which is not in Tennessee but actually in Arkansas. I had a nice flight here from Columbia, SC, which was not exactly an exciting town but warm and sunny, which was nice. I spent the night eating ribs on Beale Street (in the real Memphis) at a place called Blues City, where Gary Hardy and the Memphis 2 entertained us bored tourists dining on the best barbecue I've ever had. He once actually owned Sun Records, claims Carl Perkins kept him alive, and is currently friends and neighbors with Jerry Lee Lewis, whom I'm sure we all figured passed away by now. It was amazing to watch him perform, not due to his uncanny impersonation of Johnny Cash, but because of the rich detail of rock's history he explained with slurred words between songs.

After checking in to my room, I headed across I-55 to Southland Park Gaming & Racing where I won 50 bucks playing Blackjack before trying my luck at my first dog race. I lost about $7 but had two ice cold Budweisers in wax paper cups before heading home to my hotel room. The dog races are exactly the same as horse races minus the jockeys and plus the bone the greyhounds chase they call Rusty. The bone cruises around the track on some sort of remote controlled arm as the announcer calls "Here comes Rusty!" and the dogs go crazy for 1/4 mile and all the gamblers yell and hollar and throw their tickets down. I didn't throw either of my two tickets down because I was betting about $2.50 on each race and wasn't that upset that my dogs never won.

Ringing in the New Year: Lessons Learned from Winter Vacation

Winter break began in Seattle, where I spent a few days cooped up at home watching the snow. While it was nice to sit in the warmth of my apartment, drinking wine and watching the flakes fall gracefully, the mood on the streets was different. The entire city shut down because Seattle's Department of Transportation, along with Mayor Nickels, are total idiots when it comes to how to deal with snowy roads, deciding to "wait for it to melt" and create "snow-packed instead of snow-free" roads. Cabs were out of service, trash removal was out of the question, and power outages were a problem for much of the city.

Seattle's Snowstorm of 2008 from out my apartment window

My homecoming in Minneapolis was well received. One night a bunch of the boys got together and headed to Babe's in Lakeville, along with our moms and dads. The dance floor was empty for a long while until more drinks were ordered. Soon, shy feet shuffled to the sounds of Michael Jackson and Dire Straits (Babe's also hosted a class of '89 reunion that night) and Lakeville's first annual father-mother-son mixer was born.

Me, my dad, and Brock's mom dancing at Babe's

Before long I was heading to Wisconsin for a few days of drinking, eating, dancing and shooting guns with the good ole boys. It was great to get back to my parents' cabin and enjoy a couple of days in the peace of the wilderness:

Ryan and Adam loading our weapons for the hunt

The carnage from a days shootin'

Lounging in the kitchen at the cabin

I could go on to describe the rest of my trip, but it wouldn't be much different. New Year's was a fine time partying down with chums at a nice little place in Loring Park called Nick & Eddie. But not much to say besides "we partied a lot and had a great time."

Minneapolis is as beautiful as ever, even though the wind is cold and the snow has buried us all in another Winter of waiting for Spring. Nice to get inside among friends and warm up. There is something about these winters when we're all inside with no other choice; I think everyone goes a bit crazy. But the cabin fever is shared and it bonds us together closer than those who spend the season thawing in the South could ever understand. And to survive it, when windows finally open and flip-flops are dug out of the closet; that is what makes this town worth living in year-round.

But somehow, toward the end of my winter vacation, I am eager to get back on the road. To dart around the country and be alone in a strange restaurant reading a book in some city I've never been to helps me gain perspective on where I've been and what's to come. I've learned that I'm too old to sleep past noon and too young to go to bed before 10pm. That a Saturday night spent quiet is not always a bad thing. And neither is work. So here I sit, 5am on Tuesday morning, reflecting in the dark.