Travel
May 13th, 2010
Pittsburgh Pastries
While the focus of my trip to Pittsburgh was the half marathon, I also made it a point to do a little eating. The combination of being tired when I arrived and my friends having a toddler meant that I didn’t do my usual eating tourism, I was able to hit a couple of excellent spots. I had some outstanding pizza at Vincent’s Pizza Park and I hit a legendary Pittsburgh bakery, Prantl’s.
Prantl’s is best known for its burnt almond tortes. I was skeptical, but this was an absolutely exceptional pastry. It’s a soft cake with a little bit of some some of cream in the middle and covered in a thick layer of soft frosting. All of that is covered with toasted almost slivers and large sugar crystals. The almonds add some great flavor and both the almond and sugar added some fantastic textural contrast. These things are now on my mandatory things to eat in Pittsburgh list.
While I went to Prantl’s to try the torte, once in the bakery, I couldn’t resist picking up a few other goodies. The highlights were the maple nut donut and the chocolate thing that tastes every bit as good as it looks:
April 28th, 2010
Dark Lord Day Was Hell
So let’s start this post off on a positive note. I’m not a beer drinker, but I’m a big fan of Three Floyd’s. They’re a small family-owned company that’s been putting out an apparently top-quality product for a few years and they seem to have a great attitude about it all.
Now, some background. Every year, Three Floyd’s hosts an event called Dark Lord Day. On that day only, they sell an Imperial Russian Stout known as Dark Lord. It’s got the consistency of motor oil and is consistently praised by beer snobs as one of the best brews in the country. This year, after my trip to Munster a couple months ago (covered here and here and here), FAQ convinced me returning to that fair town for Dark Lord Day would be a good idea.
So I followed 3 Floyd’s on Twitter and managed to snag a couple of golden tickets, one that I passed along to FAQ and one which I kept for myself to get a few bottles to give away as gifts. What are golden tickets, you ask? Well since Dark Lord has gotten so popular and there is a limited number of bottles, they have the limit the number of people who can buy it.
Mmmm.....Donuts. Not pictured: 3 others
After a stop at Munster Donuts for some really delicious donuts, we parked and got in line for our beer at 12:30. The line was long.
I don’t want to go off on a long rant here, so let me give the short version. About 5,000 golden tickets were handed out. The ticket allowed people to buy up to 4 (later reduced to 3) bottles at $15 each, including tax. Only cash was accepted. So an easy to calculate dollar amount and no credit cards and 5,000 purchasers. Given those numbers, what’s the longest the line could possibly take? If you guessed something conservative like 2 hours, you were not even close. We did not get out beer until 5:15. How is that possible?
This was, without question, the most poorly run event I’ve ever been to. I don’t like saying that because, as I said before, I’m a big fan of the way the company operates. But for reasons that cannot be explained well, there were two lines for Dark Lord that merged into one with no oversight. Making matters much, much worse, the merge occurred in a heavily trafficked area that included some port-o-potties on one side and tables where cups of beer were being sold on the other. And that, my friends, created quite the clusterfuck.
As absurd as that was, the lowlight of the day came when I attempted to walk the 8-months preggers KD to the brewpub so she could use an actual bathroom rather than an overflowing port-o-potty. There was, of course, a huge line of people, many drunk, waiting to get into the brewpub. We walked up to the 3 Floyd’s dude who appeared to be in charge and I indicated that big fat pregnant woman just wanted to go to the bathroom.
And the dude said no. The dude said she had to go stand in line behind the hundreds of people who were waiting to get in to drink and eat. The dude knew she was pregnant, even congratulated her on the baby; even tried to bond over their shared red hair. I asked to speak to a manager, thinking that I would find someone with a modicum of common sense. Dude told me he was the manager and that the fire marshall said they were at capacity. But dude was full of shit – if that’s what the problem was, preggers could have waited for one person to leave and then run waddle in and make pee pee.
I just realized I didn’t mention the food line. I was actually looking forward to the food. At Chicago Gourmet last fall, I was surprised at how well their sausage and homemade mustard stood up to the competition from much more highly regarded chefs. But after waiting in the food line for well over an hour (again, two lines merging = clusterfuck), I secured a lukewarm albeit very flavorful sausage, some excellent pickled cabbage and a piece of nearly stale white bread.
In short, a day that I was really looking forward to turned out to absolutely suck. If I go back next year, it will just be to hang out. I will not stand in line for beer. I will bring a smoker.
February 10th, 2009
I Still Love Minnesota
Last night I returned from another wildly successful trip to Minnesota. Regular readers will remember that this trip was planned a couple of months ago when I got a round-trip bus ticket for $3. After that, there was really no way this trip could go wrong.
Despite a late start, the bus pulled into downtown Minneapolis at 8:00 on Friday night, only fifteen minutes late. Nate picked me up and we met Alison (the wife) and a couple of their friends at The Malt Shop. This was Alison’s friend’s suggestion and it would not be the last time this weekend that she would demonstrate she doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. In fairness to her, The Malt Shop has the feel of a place that was good at one time. I’m not sure if those days have passed or if we got there on an off night. But really, how does a place called The Malt Shop fuck up a malt? My burger and malt cost me approximately four times as much as my round-trip bus ticket from Chicago to Minneapolis.
Saturday morning we got up and headed to Key’s Cafe, one of my favorite breakfast spots in town. At the recommendation of Alison’s friend, we got a caramel roll. Key’s is well-known for their outstanding baked goods. The caramel roll had good flavor, but it was too chewy and certainly not worth of the praise heaped on it. That’s two strikes on her.
The caramel roll was just an appetizer. I got an omelet that was absolutely loaded with fresh spinach, bacon and feta cheese. It was more like a wrap with egg instead of bread, but it was still excellent. Sorry about the dark picture.
On the way out, I bought a cross between a S’More and a Rice Krispie Treat. They took marshmallow, Golden Grahams, chocolate and a lot of butter and cooked it all together. I forgot to get a picture of it. I did get a shot of what may be my all-time favorite cookie: the Key’s Monster Cookie. Peanut butter, oatmeal, M&M’s and chocolate chips (and a whole lot of butter) make one outstanding cookie.
From there it was off to the bait shop where I got my fishing license which cost a little over three times as much as my round-trip bus ticket from Chicago to Minneapolis. And from there it was off to Lake Minnetonka where we joined a good number of other fishermen on the warmest day in the Twin Cities since November.
Thanks to temperature changes, there were some cracks in the ice, but they look far more menacing than they were.
The first thing we had to do was drill some holes in the ice, some for the fish and one for our drinks. Speaking of drinks, a side effect of augering was that we had fresh ice to put in our cups.
Then it was time to fish. I was wildly successful, catching three massive perch, two of which were photographed. Nate, the more experienced angler, pulled in four fish. We were aided by a sonar device and we got to watch ourselves hook some fish with an underwater camera.
We threw all of our perch back in the lake and headed to the Tavern on Grand for delicious Walleye and then to the Grand Ole Creamery where I got a scoop of Sweet Cream and a scoop of Honey Cinnamon Crisp, both of which were outstanding. Two scoops of ice cream cost more than 50% more than my round-trip bus ticket from Chicago to Minneapolis.
We had plans to try to do something later than night, but we are old men and both fell asleep before 10. Sad.
On Sunday, we did nothing in the morning and then headed to Red’s Savoy Pizza for a very good pizza lunch. I’m reviewing it for Slice this week. From there we walked over to the Excel Center to try to see the Minnesota Wild play. Alison’s friend assured us that we would have no chance of getting Wild tickets for less than our $30 limit. Three strikes. I will not talk to her again. We were able to get two lower level tickets (face value $75) for $20 each. And we did that in time to see the both national anthems (Edmonton was in town) and to hear the hokey introductory cheer in which a different person each home game leads the crowd in yelling, “Let’s Play Hockey.” We sat went to the row where one of our seats were located and sat down. We soon learned from the original owner of one of our tickets (who had sold it to the scalper who sold it to us) that the seat adjacent to the one we bought never gets filled. So we were able to sit eleven rows from the ice, undisturbed for the entire hockey game that included overtime and a shootout.
After dinner at home, we tried to watch Tropic Thunder but discovered it’s one of the worst movies ever made and we turned it off a little over halfway through. On Monday morning, I took the bus into downtown ($2.25, 75 cents less than my round trip bus from Chicago to Minneapolis) and met Ben and Jessie for breakfast at Hell’s Kitchen. I had some excellent corned beef hash (made from house-cured meat), but it was so overpriced for the portion size that I can’t imagine I’ll eat there again. I will, however, go back to buy another jar of their spectacular honeylicious homemade peanut butter.
Finally, I would be remiss if I did not report on Alison falling down the stairs and bruising her butt. Sadly, she would not let me get a picture, but I found a photo on line that I think captures the moment. Just imagine there was cereal and coffee spilled nearby.
February 3rd, 2009
MilwaukeeFest
Take a conversation a few months ago about eventually going to Milwaukee to see a Bucks game, add a discussion last week about a great sausage store in Milwaukee, and then throw in the discovery of a once-a-year opportunity to eat raccoon and I was off to Milwaukee for a 10-hour fun binge on Saturday.
First stop: Usinger’s Sausage, an almost 130-year-old sausage shop in downtown Milwaukee. I was able to resist temptation and only bought about three pounds of meat (in addition to the sausage that was going to be cooked for the Super Bowl. Up first was 1/2 pound of all beef Hickory Twigs, the best salami sticks I’ve ever had. I also got 1/2 pound of Landjaeger, a pork cured sausage with a whole lot of garlic and caraway. I then turned my attention to the discount table, which is full of what they call factory seconds and I call my table of dreams. I added a reduced fat beef salami and a package of all beef hot dogs, both of which have gone unopened so far. Because we had a long day of eating ahead, we managed to only try the Landjaeger and the Hickory Twig, both of which were exceptional. The picture below is of a hickory twig.
The next stop was Kopps’s Frozen Custard, home of the best frozen custard on the planet (among those I’ve tried). Yes, better than Ted Drewes. And yes, better than Scooter’s. I opted for a small oreo sundae which consisted of flawless vanilla frozen custard, Oreo cookies, marshmallow topping and their version of chocolate Magic Shell. And of course, it would be pointless to set foot into Kopp’s and not get a butter burger. Again, exercising restraint, we split one cheeseburger.
From there it was time to hit the road and go to the American Legion in Delafield, Wisconsin for the 81st Annual Coon Feed. This was a cultural event to behold. The place opened at 4:00 for drinks and they started serving dinner at 5:00. We got there around 5:30 and the Legion Hall was packed and there were at least 20 people in line outside. After snapping a couple of photos, I took my place in line when large man (tall, not particularly fat) in a camouflage jacket seemed to indicate that he did not like me taking pictures. I ignored the man and his handlebar mustache. About 10 minutes later, when we were still in line but now inside the entry to the building, the man farted. Loudly. And he did not apologize. There are many people who confuse Minnesota with Wisconsin. But there is no such thing as Wisconsin nice. That state has people who fart on you.
Once inside the Legion Hall, we paid our $10 and continued on in line until we got to the food stations where several very old people served out cole slaw, stuffing, sauerkraut, and, of course, raccoon. Personally, I enjoyed the raccoon. It was very heavily seasoned and had clearly been cooked for a very long time as the tender meat was falling off the bone. The meat was kind of like a corned beef, but not really. I was expecting it to be fatty or stringy, but it was neither. It was good, though I can’t imagine ever making the trip back to Delafied again.
The plan was to go to Zaffiro’s for pizza after raccoon, but we were so full that we decided to go to the Bucks game first. The Bucks were playing the Hawks; this was not a particularly desirable game. Our hope was to get lower level seats, but we were determined to spend little money. There were a few scalpers and we were the only people who had any interest in talking to them. Unfortunately, they were united in their refusal to not sell us lower level tickets for $10 each, instead demanding $30 each for $60 tickets. After some haggling, I got a pair of $16 seats in the last row (Row X) in the corner of the upper deck for $10 each. I should have refused to spend more than $15 for the pair since there were $10 tickets available at the box office. But on the bright side, I got a nice ticket stub from dealing with the scalper. Initially, we found a nice pair of seats on the lower level just past one of the baselines but about halfway through the first quarter, some people came to claim their seats. After wandering around the Bradley Center for a while unsuccessfully looking for another usher who would not check our tickets, we ended up just standing next to one of them for the remainder of the first half. Apparently standing in the aisle is okay there. For the second half, we headed up to the corner of the upper deck where the view was not as bad as we feared.
After dinner, it was time for pizza. Zaffiro’s was good, not great. Enjoy a picture. The review will be up tomorrow on Slice.
September 8th, 2008
Dollar Dance, Honey and Kid Rock
On Saturday, I drove to Minneapolis for a wedding. On the way there, I kept hearing this catchy song on country radio (options are limited in much of Wisconsin and I didn’t bring any CDs). Something about listening to Sweet Home Alabama and smoking weed. More on that later.
I got to Minneapolis and went to the cheese shop that my friend Ben runs inside a huge wine store (here’s his cheese blog). I got to try a number of excellent cheeses and some prosciutto that retails for $90/pound (not a typo). The highlight of the cheese shop had to be the honey I bought. I’ve mentioned my affection for honey a couple of times on this blog, once when I went to Toronto and again when some friends brought me some honey from Seattle. Well, in Minnesota I got a can of Leatherwood Honey, which many consider the best honey in the world. I’m not sure it’s the best, but it’s definitely up there – sweet, thick, creamy perfection.
On to the wedding. First, they got married. The minister gave a talk that included the importance of communication in a marriage. She said that the average couple only talks to each other with no distractions around (other people, tv, etc) for just four minutes a day. If I could find a woman happy with only talking to me for four minutes a day, I would have been married a long time ago.
At the reception, my fears of sitting with the flower girls as the only single people were put to rest. There were at least three or four other single adults at the wedding. Also, I got a fun little taste of rural Minnesota/North Dakota culture: the Dollar Dance. At some point during the reception, the bride and groom get on the dance floor and people line up to dance with them. The catch: you have to pay for the privilege. It’s all for a good cause – the money is supposed to be spending money on the honeymoon. According to Wikipedia, the dollar dance or money dance, is done in some Polish, Ukranian, Filipino, Yugoslavian, Hungarian and Portuguese weddings. Wikipedia doesn’t know everything it seems as these were some Scandivanians.
On the way home, I heard that same country song a couple more times. Other than ripping off a number of bars from Werewolves of London, I couldn’t place what was familiar about it. I never listen to the radio, so this song may not be new to any of you, but I liked it, so I’m going to add it here. Enjoy some Kid Rock:
Finally, best wishes to Cousin Dick, who I introduced you all the last time I went to Minnesota. He’s my dad’s first cousin, he’s 79 years old, and he never reads the internet and doesn’t know what a blog is. He’s going in for chemotherapy for the first time today. Fear not, he assured me that while he may lose his hair, his penis will grow another inch and a half.
July 21st, 2008
Denver
So this was my second trip to Denver, adopted hometown of my older sister and her family. My nephew has almost reached the age of being a legitimate person, so it was time to visit.
Unlike my previous trip to Denver last Thanksgiving, I actually left the house this time. Not too often – it was 100 degress outside – but I saw a couple of key sights.
Up first, ice cream. I owe it to my stomach to try out good ice cream places. After all, if a store is going to have the decency to make homemade ice cream, I ought to have the decency to try it. So my, the brother-in-law and the child headed to Bonnie Brae Ice Cream. I try not to be rude to the ice cream flavors by picking just one, so I settled on a scoop of Lotta Chocolate (chocolate ice cream, chocolate chips, chocolate fudge marble, and brownie nut fudge) and a scoop of Butter Brickle. The woman scooping the ice cream offered to give me two half scoops of each rather than two full scoops, but I thought hey, I’m fat and I’ve got a sprained ankle keeping me from exercising, why would I want half scoops? It was a good decision – this was some fine ice cream.
The child got a scoop of chocolate chip ice cream. I think he liked it.
The next trip out of the house was when I dragged my sister to the Rockies/Pirates game on Saturday night. This was my first trip to Coors Field (only five more teams left to visit) and I got the privilege of seeing the bad Colorado Rockies host the absolutely shitty Pittsburgh Pirates. The first order of business was getting tickets. I looked on craigslist and saw about three people selling tickets. I posted a couple of times seeking tickets, but apparently the Denver scalpers flag those posts as they were both removed within fifteen minutes. I then looked on eBay where I saw a first – not a single person had tickets listed for the game.
We got to the stadium and I talked to a few scalpers, but they wanted at least face price. One guy actually wanted more than face and he was not too happy with me when I laughed at him. Anyhow, we got in line and got a pair of $10 tickets and headed to the upper deck. The views were nice (Rocky Mountains in the background), the game was boring (the Pirates really do suck), and the fans were surprisingly enthusiastic. The highlight of the game was when I got some bulls’ testicles in my mouth. $7.50 for some Rocky Mountain Oysters – most definitely the most unique food available in an American sports venue. They were not that good.
Sunday morning included a trip to the zoo and to the barber.
And after missing my flight Friday afternoon, I showed that I learned my lesson by getting to the gate for my 5:30 flight at exactly 5:32. Fortunately, the flight was delayed by 20 minutes, which means I was on time.
July 18th, 2008
I Love Southwest
I set my alarm this morning so I’d have plenty of time to get up, pack, take Fred to the kennel, and still make my 9:50 flight to Denver that would give me time to see the supposedly great Native American art collection and the Western American collection at the Denver Art Museum.
I got up and hit the snooze button a few times, eventually got up and dicked around my apartment for a while. At some point, I realized there was no way I was going to make my flight. I showered, took Fred to the kennel, hopped on the train and arrived at the airport at 9:49. That meant I was on the 1:35 flight and would not make the museum.
I got to the counter and asked why they would let the plane depart on time when I hadn’t arrived yet. The gate agent apologized, but I think she might have been kidding. In any event, I got on the next flight and wasn’t charged a penny. Of course, I missed the museum, but I’ll be back in Denver in six months or so and will try to make it then.
July 17th, 2008
Back From Hymietown
Hello, my dear readers.
Sorry it’s been so long. I had a busy trip to New York that left me little time to blog. The trip culminated with the All Star Game, which was one of the more exciting games I’ve been to in a long time. As you know, the game ended at almost 2 in the morning. My host, who left after nine innings, lived in Hoboken. I made it back to his place at about 3:45, but no longer had the access code to get in the building. I couldn’t call because there was a sleeping infant who could have been awakened (or so I thought – in retrospect, the kid sleeps in his own room and would not have been bothered by his father’s cell phone).
I decided to take a little nap in the building’s entryway while waiting for someone to enter or exit the building, but I was awakened by the headlights of a slow-moving Hoboken police car. I stood up long enough to make it clear that I was not a bum passed out in the entryway. A little after 4, I got a guy walking through the lobby to let me in and I went upstairs to retrieve the key.
I got the key from under the mat, put into the slot, turned it, and the door handle wouldn’t budge. I tried it again and again and again and still could not get it. I sent another text to my host and told him I was outside his door and he should come get me. I laid down on the floor in hallway and slept for an hour when he came to let me in. A couple more hours of sleep inside and then the family was awake. Since I was in the living room, I was awake too. Turns out I wasn’t able to get into the apartment because you have to pull the door towards you while you turn the handle. Once again, proof that new construction sucks.
Anyhow, I got home yesterday, stumbled around my apartment for a couple of hours, went to pick up Fred, got home and went to sleep at 7:30. I woke up four hours later, putzed around for an hour on the interweb, and then slept for seven more hours. I’ve been out and about all day and this is my first change to blog. I need to go to sleep since I’m going to Denver in the morning to visit my sister, her husband, their son, and their fetus. Since they all go to sleep early, I’m sure I’ll have time to get caught up in giving my take on the events of the past few days.
In the meantime, enjoy some pictures of my trip.
Here are the four pizzerias I visited on Friday:
I also visited this New York institution:
Here’s Saturday’s pizzeria:
I have no other pictures from Saturday because I forgot to bring my camera to the Mets game (not a big loss since pictures of Shea Stadium would make my blog ugly) and my host refused to allow me to bring my camera to Babbo.
I had the best meal of my life at Babbo on January 1, 2005. The one I had on Saturday wasn’t quite as good, but it was still spectacular. Three of us shared a prosciutto appetizer and two pasta courses. The prosciutto, which seems to be a constant on the frequently-changing menu, is outstanding. Try to imagine the best prosciutto you’ve ever had. Now imagine it’s even better. Now you have an idea of what Mario Battali puts on the table. The first pasta we had was Black Spaghetti with Rock Shrimp, Spicy Salami Calabrese and Green Chiles. The second pasta was Chianti Stained Pappardelle with Wild Boar Ragu. For an entree, I had duck served on a bed of pancetta and spinach, all of which was drizzled with a kumquat vinaigrette. The pastas were absolutely spectacular. My main course was merely excellent. I also tried a friend’s lamb chops, which were the most tender I’ve ever eaten.
On Sunday, I went to the Met and had another pizza:
Afterwards, we went to Pinkberry (pictures to come). This Korean frozen yogurt sensation has swept Los Angeles and is doing the same in New York. If market research determines that there are enough people in Chicago to regularly drop $5 for a relatively small bowl of tangy frozen yogurt, it should be here soon as well. I actually hope the do come here. The ridiculous price and low fat content will prevent me from being a regular, but the stuff is good.
Sunday night, I headed out to New Jersey. First stop, outstanding homemade ice cream in New Jersey:
Monday was another pizza heavy day, with a stop at Katz’s Deli for some matzoh ball soup and pastrami:
Tuesday was the big day – the Major League Baseball All Star Game. But with time to kill during the day, I had time to get to two more pizzerias, look for some of the special All Star Statues of Liberty, and wander around downtown Manhattan:
Before I go on, I must mention a word about the stupidity of New York. I was there for September 11. It was sad. But so much of the response then and now has been colossally stupid, and I’m not just talking about the war in Iraq. I remember going back to class the first day that school was reopened after the attack and being absolutely stunned that the school had decided to shut the entrance that was not protected by a rent-a-cop security guard. It wasn’t that anyone could walk in – you still needed to swipe your card to get through the turnstile. But apparently the risk that a terrorist would jump the turnstile and blow up the law school was too great, so all of the students and faculty had to stop using that entrance.
After a while, the administration stopped being a bunch of dumbasses and reopened that entrance. Unfortunately, the same kind of stupidity still plagues much of New York. Only employees and authorized quests are allowed near the New York Stock Exchange. Terrorists are free to drive trucks filled with bombs into any of the dozens of much larger New York office buildings, but there is no way they are going to blow up a building with a few thousand traders and a whole bunch of computers that are unquestionably backed up off site. Why is this relevant?
As part of the All Star Game festivities, there was a mini Statue of Liberty painted in honor of each major league team and a few other All Star Game related ones. They were spread throughout the city and the Cubs statue was in front of the Chase Bank that is located next to the New York Stock Exchange. My hopes and dreams of getting my picture taken with the statue were crushed by the cop who guards one of the entrances to that secure area.
After leaving downtown, there was one more pizza place on my list that I had to try, and it was the best in all of New York:
From there, all that was left was to attend the All Star Game. I will have more pictures later, once James makes them available to me. He had a better camera and was kind enough to comply with most of my picture requests, including shots of each of the Cubs. In the meantime, here’s some of my shots from the scene:
July 11th, 2008
I’m A Disgusting Fat Fuck, But I’m Okay With That
A more detailed posting will come describing my culinary adventures in New York. In the last 8 hours, I’ve had pizza at four different restaurants. Then I went for a post-pizza walk around Cobble Hill in Brooklyn with Amanda, my host for the night, and we stopped at Uncle Louie G’s for an Italian Ice (I had banana and coconut – very small scoops). It was a great end to my eating day and we continued to walk around the neighborhood.
Then we stumbled across the brand new second location of The Chocolate Room, and even though I was past full, I got a nice piece of dark chocolate with some violet in it. First, they brought us complimentary chocolate sorbets as a palate cleanser. That was outstanding. Then I had my chocolate, which was god, and that would have been an acceptable end to the night.
But then I ordered a hot chocolate float, which was an extraordinarily rich cup of dark chocolate with a scoop of homemade coffee ice cream. It was unbelievable. I think I probably would have preferred them separate so I could mix them in my mouth, but still have the hot chocolate be hot, but with a flavor that good, that is a minor quibble.
Before getting to New York, all I ate today was a bowl of raisin bran because I knew I was going to go overboard on the pizza. But I did not plan on the dessert and certainly not the approximately 1,000 calorie hot chocolate. I am a disgusting human being, but that was some damned good hot chocolate.
June 12th, 2008
Oh, Canada
For the third consecutive weekend, I will be hitting the road. This time, passport in hand, I will head to the Great White North to the outpost town of Toronto. This is my annual baseball trip with the two Nates. The last three years it has involved them coming to Chicago, but last year we decided to something different this year and go to another city.
Then something tragic happened. Nate P. is getting married in September. That’s not a tragedy – the wife is a good one. The tragedy is that he has emasculated himself. The wedding is in September and he won’t go on the trip this year because he went out of town last weekend (he was in a wedding) and refuses to leave town two weekends in a row this close (OVER TWO MONTHS!) to the wedding.
Anyhow, the other Nate and I will arrive in Toronto within an hour of one another tomorrow morning. Other than three Cubs @ Blue Jays games and the Hockey Hall of Fame, the weekend is up in the air. There will be some Cuban cigars and I will purchase an unhealthy amount of delicious British candies that are not available in the U.S. And I’m sure I will check out a number of places on this list.
Sadly, I was recently disappointed to learn that my dream of going to Canada to buy a cell phone jammer was foolish. Turns out they are as illegal there as they are in the U.S. I will have to wait until I go to Asia.