Top 10 Things I Learned in Vegas Last Weekend

10. Pulnik is Big Q's special imaginary friend.

9. That Little Midget Can Pass Out.

8. The best sushi restaurant in Vegas is Ichiza in China Town.

7. Cab drivers hate making off-strip trips.

6. Penguins think the water in the Bellagio pool is too cold.

5. Never let Pedro mix your drinks if you're trying to analyze your draft picks.

4. All future Vegas trips will include a trip to the spa just before heading to the airport to fly home.

3. Everyone is your friend at the craps table when you roll eight or more points in a row before crapping out.

2. You shouldn't feel bad that the High Roller lost close to 10 LARGE when you crapped out.

1. You should feel bad when you lose LARGE when you crap yourself out.

South Padre Island. Not just for Spring Break anymore

Big news, kids. B. Whitley is all grownsed up. He popped the question just before the Houston contingent and I arrived at his condo for a weekend of nothing doing. We spent the weekend parked - at the Wanna Wanna or at the condo or at the beach or at the Wanna Wanna.

I'm sorry to disappoint those of you who were hoping for some wild and crazy stories, but there's really nothing interesting to share about the weekend. Here are the "highlights" of my weekend.

• Ate bar-b-que at some place in Harlingen that Texas Monthly suggested was in the Top 50 BBQ Joints in Texas. I was not impressed.
• Convinced The Bolivian that he and his lady friend would be sleeping on the sofa and love seat respectively
• Stared unabashedly at the attractive ladies and cougars roaming the beach and deck at the Wanna Wanna
• Kicked myself at least six-and-a-half times about not protesting more vehemently when folks insisted on dinner at Amberjacks. That place blows Donkey Kongs.
• Channeled my inner gentleman and moved from the bedroom to the couch so that The Bolivian and his lady friend could spoon
• Endured the longest trip to The Blue Marlin (grocery store) in my life, which consisted of: leaving the Wanna Wanna, shopping for $100 worth of groceries, attempting to check-out, realizing that my credit card was at Wanna Wanna, realizing that I had no cash stash in my bathing suit, driving to the Wanna Wanna and retrieving my card, returning to The Blue Marlin and attempting to check-out only to be told that they don't take AmEx, having an aneurysm at the counter, calling the condo seven times before Baby bailed me out by delivering B. Whitley and his card.
• Wished Mel (the girl in the photo) was around to sing Baby Got Back

First Class fare is worth it to sit down

Leaving Rimini gets tougher every year. The post-Paga Blues sometimes set in before you even get to the station and definitely attack you once you validate your ticket. But it pays to buy your ticket ASAP because the trains sell out quickly due to the holidays and the Paga travellers.

I'd like to think that I didn't buy my departure ticket immediately to help fend off the Paga Blues. But that wasn't the case. I just forgot to do it in typical jackass fashion. It's been nine years, and I still haven't learned.

Sara and Luca drove me to the station on Monday to book my journey to Milano. The only reserved seat ticket I could get was for the 5 PM Inter City train instead of steady pimping on the EuroStar. I took it since standing up on a train for three plus hours sucks. It is sardine-esque. Ask me about Paris to Milan sometime.

The train was packed with holiday travelers most of which were traveling only as far as Bologna. People and luggage (bagagli) were crammed into every nook on the train car (carrozza). The hallways of the first class cars are popular spots so that folks can snipe empty seats as they became available. Thus, it was impossible to make it to my cabin with all of my loot and not knock over anyone. I ditched my big backpack in the hallway and continued on with the small one and the No Tsu Oh umbrella.

Naturally my seat was taken by someone else - a woman and her daughter. I told them to stay seated but the lady was cool and got up saying, "It's OK. This is your seat."

I felt bad about it even though I did shell out my hard-earned bread to get the seat. That ended later when I figured out that the man in the hall was her husband. He came back to our cabin after the Bologna stop to retrieve luggage - about five bags. Apparently I'd missed the part of the ride where he'd already been kicked out of the cabin by other full-fare paying suckers patrons.

Stay out of my way and walk in a straight line

"Damn you people. Go back to your shanties!"
- Shooter McGavin

I travel a lot. A lot a lot, which means I fly at least two flights per week, sometimes more, which pretty much makes me an expert on travel crowds along my routes and airport behavior in general.

There are two types of travelers: business travelers and the "I still don't have a clue about airplanes" travelers.

These two species of humans are easily distinguished. The business travelers typically don't care about the amount they pay for a flight since it will be reimbursed by their company or client. This equates to them booking flights on carriers that serve destinations across the country and across the seas. If you're going to fly, you may as well earn a free trip to Italy, right?

The ISDHACAA folks are readily picked out of a crowd as well. These folks will usually frequent discount carriers like AirTran, Southwest and JetBlue. I don't blame them. I wouldn't want to pay much for a ticket if I wasn't on the expense account gravy train.

Apparel profiling aside, it would be difficult to discern one class of traveler from another if fare difference were the only indicator. But, that is just the tip of the ice cube. You can really separate the frequent traveler (FT) wheat from the once or twice a year flying chaff in the security line and in the check-in line. The FTs arrive with boarding passes in hand and luggage that weighs in at 49.9 pounds per bag since 50 pounds is the free limit. The infrequent folks (IT) show up with shopping bags for luggage and no idea where their driver's license is. Yes, I'm a luggage snob, but it's about the PITA of keeping up with the multiple bags not about the brand stamped on the damn thing.

And that PITA is borne in the security lines. FTs have their shit together. They didn't spend the last 40 minutes waiting to get to the metal detector talking about how cool it will be to go to the Bennigan's in Cancun to see if the Monte Cristo is served with salsa like the ITs. Nope. The FTs were putting everything metal and metal-like and that isn't a boarding pass or ID into their carry on bag. FTs shoes are already untied if there are even laces on them.

I've spent many a precious minute - the very few that you have between you arriving at the gate and the boarding door shutting in your face - trapped behind knuckleheads who were too busy talking about the new rims they put on their 1986 Civic. By the time they get to the TSA security lady they've lost their boarding pass inside their XXXXXL hoodie.

There should be a global "You Fly a Shit Ton" security line that you can only access if your flight total is above a threshold for the year. All the other rich folk paying high dollar for First Class should be relegated to the No Class line since they don't have a clue about security either. They are just spilling much more expensive loot into the bag check machine.

And no matter your station in life, ITs can not seem to walk in a straight line. They are also masters at walking in small circles while talking on the cell phone in the middle of the central artery of the airport.

Thank you. That is all.

Sunset from AVL to IAH #2

Sunset from AVL to IAH #2, originally uploaded by JaseMan.

Turkey Day in Vermont

I rambled a bit last week about the freedom to do you own thing for the holidays. Last week I exorcised the demons flexed my freedom muscles by heading to NYC on Friday and continuing on to Vermont on Tuesday.

The short story is that the trip was amazing. Snow isn't so bad.

The long story follows this line, so go to the bathroom and come back with a full mug of hot chocolate.

Los Pedros picked me up at Boston's South Station after my train ride up from Penn Station. The transition was buttery. We were off up I-93 in a flash.

I caught up with Los Ps during the ride. KP was sick and would only be consoled by LP. Everything was "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy." Periods don't do that statement justice as they imply a definitive pause between the utterances. It went more like "MommyMommyMommy."

We stopped at the New Hampshire liquor store on our way up to the Vee Tee. I can't be certain that the New Hampshire liquor store was in fact the only liquor store in the entire state, but when's the last time you heard about anything outrageous going down in New Hamster? That's what I thought.

The four hour ride passed in the blink of an eye, but there was a lot to see. The trees were brilliant fall colors - auburn, gold, yellow ochre - and became increasingly covered with snow. Mountains rolled by our high performance rental car (oxymoron alert) and Christmas trees dared us to come cut them down at every turn.

TP's aunt & uncle have an amazing yet simple home up the road on Walden Mountain. There's a wood burning stove, no TV and sparse cellular service.

I loved being disconnected. I wasn't constantly blasted by Twittering friends. No TV meant no news programs, a.k.a. crime reports. We were all able to relax having been freed from a constant barrage of information.

(Un)fortunately, the incredibly relaxed environment lead to my brain not spinning at 8000 RPMs all the time. Though very refreshing, I seem to have missed etching everything into my memory from the week, so I'll just hit the highlights.

TP & I skated around on the pond after helping his uncle clear a largish rink on the frozen surface. More correctly, TP skated and I stumbled around with a hockey stick for approximately 10 minutes is what actually occurred. However, I did not land on my butt, nor did I fall through the ice, which was actually a possibility.

Thursday was Thanksgiving, but everyday seemed to be turkey day. Seriously, we saw turkeys in the snow covered fields each day of the trip. TP came close to thinking about bagging a fresh one during our Serendipity Tour through the neighborhood, but Uncle D talked him down off the trigger and save that gobbler.

Of course Thanksgiving itself was a very interesting experience. It was definitely weird to be a interloper on a family holiday celebration. Brothers and sisters caught up. Cousins reminisced about hunting trips past. I just hung out and explained that I was a friend and ex-door neighbor. Very awkward at first, but then it passed - particularly once food comas set in.

We finished the week out with some big fun, low key activities. I got cribbage lessons from Uncle D and Amy. Each delivered their own brand of complimentary trash talk as well. Caucasians and Bloody Marys were served and consumed again and again. And, we managed a hike to the "auxiliary cabin" and a rambunctious ride to the family hunting camp.

There's a lot more to tell, but that's material best shared over a brew or six. All you need to know is: The landscape was breathtaking. The snow was cold. And the company was outstanding.


Los Pedros are no longer out of their element.