Bringing Down the White Picket Fence
A Couple's Quest to Live Globally
As many of you know already, Paul is not a huge fan of camping. While he thought it was really neat to get some up close photography of elk grazing along the rim of the Grand Canyon, he also stated he felt “he was living in a zoo and he was the inmate.”
In this post, my husband does the writing and I took the photo. We reversed roles so that you could hear his side of what it is like to camp across the United States of America:
Camping!
When Michelle and I decided to go on our Road Trip U.S.A, I agreed to camp for a large portion of the way to help save money. Now let me preface this by saying that some of the worst experiences of my life have been camping trips. For instance:
When I was about 11, my father took us on a camping trip to the Shenandoah Valley. Dad was very excited and rented one of those pop up tent campers. He installed the trailer hitch on the back of the Chevy and off we went to camp for a week. We settled into a beautiful campsite and mom made a very tasty dinner. We attended the whole bear program about not keeping food in your tent etc. and then settled in for a pleasant evening in the mountains.
Then the rain came, and I mean sideways hardcore rain. The rain continued for two days and we just sat in that dang camper and did nothing. I then woke up with my eye covered in mucus and had to go to the doctor. While we were at the local hospital, my Dad developed a fever and was diagnosed with pneumonia! He had to spend the night in the hospital, and the next day Mom had to drive us back to New Jersey with a trailer attached to the car, while Dad was asleep in the back seat. When we got back to the Garden State, Mom said,”Joel, do not ever talk to me about camping again!”
As a Boy Scout, I went on to have more bad experiences camping in the rain when tents had no floors. Older scouts sent me to look for things like a left handed smoke shifter, and my favorite, dehydrated water…you add water to make water. By the time I was about 16, I decided that I was a city guy. Thus, you can see that I approached this trip with much trepidation!
Fast forward to our first campground…Coopers Rock in West Virginia. When we arrived it started to rain and we had to set up a tent, which, by the way, we had set up once in our back yard, on the quick. Not to mention that we skipped the rain fly on that one occasion because we thought that part would be simple. It wasn’t, but we did manage to get it all together. Next, being a man, I tried to get the camp fire going. Now while my brothers’-in-law include me in their fire triangle, I usually just watch them build the fire, sit back, and enjoy it. Now I had to make something combust. I used a whole can of lighter fluid and burned maybe three twigs. My manhood was at stake at this point. So now I’m thinking, “Can we just go back to Jersey?”
After staying in a wonderful hotel in New Orleans, we headed to Texas. Now, originally, I was quite excited to see the big state. However, our first stop was Brazos Bend State Park where we were going to camp. The place had signs about alligators and snakes, but nothing about the ANTS! We started to set up our tent and suddenly my feet were on fire thanks to the ants attacking me. All I thought was…I have how many more weeks of this?
Next stop…Mountain Breeze Campground in New Braunfels. This was another miserable experience. It seems that we had landed in a weekend party for 20 year olds. We looked so out of place that the gentleman that worked there felt the need to come over and inform us that if we had any troubles during the night, there was always a sheriff’s officer parked in the campground! Well, we had no problems ourselves, but there were plenty of fights and the music never stopped blaring until 4:30 a.m. We got up two hours later and high tailed it out of there leaving the cast of Jersey Shore behind!
We kept traveling through the never ending Texas landscape, camping at a KOA outside of Lubbock. While fairly uneventful, we got no sleep there either as freight trains rumbled through most of the night.
We finally arrived at the Grand Canyon. While camping, to this point, had been not been much fun, this was the pinnacle. We stayed at a first-come, first-serve place that had incredible views of the canyon. We went to great programs by park rangers at sunset. We got up at sunrise to see the canyon without the multitude of visitors and saw elk feeding on the trees. So, after all the rain, ants, and bad campgrounds, I would not trade those two nights in the Grand Canyon for any, save the night we were married!
So here are my observations on campgrounds and campers:
- What’s up with the head lamps they wear? Our first night I thought we were being invaded by one-eyed aliens. Buy a flashlight folks!
- Is RV camping really camping? Countless times I saw folks pull in with these huge vehicles, go outside and set up their Directv dishes, and then retreat right back in to watch TV all night. I could do that at home!
- Can you clean the bathrooms more than once a year at these places? Several times they were so disgusting that Michelle and I brushed our teeth using bottled water and a cup for fear of catching a disease just by entering those germ incubators they called bathrooms!
Well, this was my first and probably last post. Michelle is a much better writer, so I’m going back behind the lens of my camera.
Being married to Miranda’s stunt double is a tough gig for Paul. It would be one thing if his Miranda-like wife just resembled the country singing superstar, but the fact that she somewhat looks like her AND loves her music is just something he can’t quite figure out. How did his Jersey Girl ever become a fan of cowboy boots and Tim McGraw?
My country tastes began in the concert venue of Six Flags Great Adventure when a friend from high school invited me to attend a concert with him and his mother. I don’t remember exactly who was singing that evening, but I do remember buying my first Tim McGraw CD shortly thereafter and falling in love with the song “Don’t Take the Girl.” In the end, my love for country began with Tim and “Johnny’s daddy takin’ him fishin.”
Anyway, when Paul and I began dating, he absolutely despised country music. His exact words were, “I’m telling you now, you’ll never get me to go to a country concert.” Besides those famous words, my radio time was extremely limited. For fear that my husband’s ears may start to bleed on any particular car ride, I was granted just about enough time to listen to one song on the lowest, yet still somewhat audible, volume level. This argument over the radio dial proved to be our first real fight and while the disagreement still lingers, I’m pleased to announce I’ve made some profound progress over the past 6 years.
Since that time my husband became a fan of the famous Alison Krauss song “When You Say Nothing At All.” He also bought tickets to a Miranda Lambert concert for my most recent birthday, and, despite the above mentioned statement, he ATTENDED it too. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he willingly asked to make a stop in Nashville and take a tour of the Grand Ole Opry on our cross country road trip. He can even (sarcastically) belt out Lee Brice’s “Parking Lot Party”. Pinch me now because I think I’m dreaming.
About ten years ago my mom and I took a mother-daughter trip to Nashville to see the Grand Ole Opry. We stayed at the lovely Gaylord Opryland Hotel. It was expensive and luxurious and my mom and I loved every minute of it. We even had the pleasure of meeting a humorously entertaining bus driver from Branson. Mom’s got a photo of him somewhere.
You can imagine how surprised I was when Paul and I recently scored a room at the Gaylord Opryland for a very reasonable rate. In fact, I was suspiciously surprised that a place I remembered to be so grand could be so inexpensive. Turns out, I had every right to be suspicious.
While the Gaylord Opryland Hotel is still beautiful both inside and out, it was recently obtained by a famous and huge hotel chain. Therefore, the grand reputation of the Gaylord Opryland Hotel is now being successfully and quickly flushed down the drain by Marriott.
Now, of course, we didn’t know this coming in. We didn’t find this out until we went in search of a place to eat lunch within the hotel. The Gaylord Opryland Hotel offers a variety of restaurants within it’s sprawling property so finding a place to eat should have been a simple matter. Unfortunately, it was exactly the opposite. Only one restaurant, Jack Daniels, was open for business on that particular day, while all the rest stood dark and dismally closed.
Neither of us cared much for anything on the menu at Jack Daniel’s and resorted to exiting the hotel and dining at Chuy’s, a Mexican chain restaurant in the mall next door. Paul had a bean burrito and I had vegetable enchiladas, both of which were dramatically less expensive than dining in the hotel.
We didn’t find out about the Marriott takeover until later in the day when we asked a bartender why the hotel seemed shut down. He gave us an honest answer and told us that when the hotel isn’t filled to capacity, Marriott’s formula is to shut everything down and send everyone home. We could tell the bartender didn’t agree with this formula when he said, “I wish I could talk more about this matter, but I am unable to.”
While our experience at the Gaylord wasn’t at all good, I can’t say I blame the hotel for the issues we faced. Unfortunately, Nashville was hit with a terrible flood in 2010 which caused massive devastation to the area. Both the Grand Ole Opry building and the Gaylord Opryland Hotel suffered terrible damage, and millions of dollars were spent to restore both buildings. It seems they are still trying to recover and, at least in the hotel’s case, Marriott came to the rescue.
The Grand Ole Opry tour is great and I recommend you do it at least once in your lifetime, no matter what your musical preferences may be. I’ve been on the tour three times now. I didn’t expect to see or learn anything new the third time around, but since the flood, things have changed. You can even see the flood lines marked along the walls. It is incredible just how much water filled the building during that tragic event.
Despite Paul’s feelings on country music, he thoroughly enjoyed every minute of his Grand Ole Opry tour. He even snapped a few shots of things he knew I would love, like the Rascal Flatt’s plaque and Minnie Pearl.
Look what a few years of marriage and some consistent radio hostility did to my husband. It made him a little more tolerant.
Or maybe it’s just love. I mean, he’s even camping these days! Gasp!
Next Post: Paul’s Guest Post on Camping
The Smoky Mountains are magnificent, and if you’ve never taken a drive through them, I suggest you put it on your list. This was my second trip to the Smoky’s and Paul’s first. I think one of the best ways to really experience the Smoky Mountains is to tent camp there. Of course, you could opt instead to join the thousands of tourists that flock to DollyWood in nearby Pigeon Forge or Ripley’s Believe It or Not in Gatlinburg and completely miss out on the mountains sandwiched so beautifully in between. As I’m sure you could guess, I wouldn’t recommend that option.
The winding drive into the mountains is incredibly fascinating and there are plenty of places to pull off to the side and snap some photos of the haze looming in the mountains. It is incredibly quiet and serene in these locations and the view is just breathtaking.
We camped in the Elkmont Campground which is one of many campgrounds scattered throughout Smoky Mountain National Park. The national park rangers are extremely pleasant and helpful and the campground is well maintained. Bathrooms are easily accessible and within walking distance to all sites.
You do have to sign a “bear waiver” to camp in the Smoky Mountains. Yes, you read that correctly. This waiver is necessary so that the park has proof that you were made aware of the restrictions on food containment within the park. Don’t let this minor little detail scare you. I mean, these mountains are their habitat, not ours, and they have little interest in us as humans. Now our food is an entirely different matter. The smell of food lures the bears into the park, and if you don’t dispose of it correctly, you’ll have some big problems. This doesn’t mean you can’t eat while camping. You certainly can eat as much food as you want within the campground, just make sure you don’t eat in your tent or drop any food on the ground. You don’t want the scent of food to invite Yogi into the tent only to find you and not the chips and salsa he was hoping for.
My Smoky Mountain food find is the Smoky Mountain Brewery located in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. It is a short drive out of the park and hidden among all the bells, whistles, and cheesy amusements along the main drag of Pigeon Forge. It really is hidden in the back of a shopping center. This wasn’t the greatest food we’ve ever had, but we came hungry and left full. I had a portobello salad and Paul had a portobello sandwich. I know, this sounds a little boring compared to my other post.
Actually my real food find in the Smoky Mountains was my own cooking by the campfire. Paul and I had a romantic dinner of black beans and rice topped with tomatoes, cilantro, green onions, salsa, and a few generous dashes of Chilula hot sauce. This was all accompanied by some chilled white wine in my Raven’s purple solo cups and served picnic table style upon our fancy red and white checkered tablecloth.
Now I do have to mention our camp stove caught on fire just before making this elegant meal. My parents lent us their Coleman stove that they’d had since the dinosaurs roamed the Earth or at least since before I was born. Mom said it looked old, but it worked great. I believed her entirely until the dial that you turn to regulate the flame burst into flames. I, of course, screamed for Paul who was intently working on getting the campfire to ignite and actually burn the firewood. I know now that screaming, “Baby, the stove is on fire, the stove is on fire!” repeatedly is not the correct way to deal with this kind of situation. Luckily, Paul came to the rescue and put out the fire by simply turning the gas dial off. So I panicked a little, what can I say. We were able to still use the left burner without the stove bursting into flames and therefore, my rice was cooked to perfection. However, we did have to bid farewell to the old family camp stove after all these years of dedicated service.
After a lovely night by the fire, we had a cool, comfortable, and quiet night for sleeping and woke early the next morning to head to our next destination.
Next post: Nashville, Tennessee
Did I mention Paul hates country music?
After a sleepless night in West Virginia, we headed south to New River Gorge, and then onto Asheville, North Carolina for our second night. The drive to Asheville was a long 6 and a half hours, but it felt even longer due to only getting an hour’s worth of rest the night before. We arrived into the small city around 4pm, parked in the nearest public parking garage, and walked desperately in search for a quick bite to eat. As you can imagine our fatigue was intolerable and our car snacks of pita chips and almonds were no longer keeping us energized. We ducked into a nearby Irish pub and grabbed some chips and salsa to hold us over while we analyzed our situation. We had originally planned to experience Asheville and then head into the Smoky Mountains for the night, however, neither one of us could even fathom that idea by this point in the trip. Since the public parking garage we parked in just happened to be underneath an Aloft hotel, we thought it best we reserve a room for the night and get some much-needed sleep. We booked the hotel while sitting in the pub through our Starwood application on our phones, paid our check, and walked a block back to the hotel to check in.
To be honest, I was so tired at this point that I wasn’t sure I was going to experience anything in Asheville. After hauling our stuff up to the room, Paul ventured back downstairs to get something he forgot and I just fell onto the bed and didn’t move until he came back. The only thing that persuaded me to get out of the bed was that I hadn’t had a proper meal all day and I was hungry. The way I work, hunger usually overrides exhaustion.
My Asheville food find is the amazing Spanish tapas style restaurant Cúrate. I stumbled upon Cúrate while doing some research on where to eat in Asheville. I looked no further when I read that the chef interned at El Bulli and that another founder of the restaurant was the Chef de Rang (front of the house service manager) of El Bulli. El Bulli was a restaurant near Catalonia run by famed chef Ferran Adrià. Ferran Adrià is highly regarded as the best chef in the world, and his Michelin 3-star establishment was considered the best restaurant in the world. Unfortunately, El Bulli is now closed and we will never get the opportunity to dine there. However, after eating at Cúrate in Asheville, I’m convinced I found an authentic taste of Spain right here in America. Who knew there was a tiny slice of Spain in North Carolina?
Years ago Paul and I and our mothers ventured through the streets of Madrid in search of the most authentic and tasty Spanish delicacies we could find. We indulged in an assortment of tapas and often find ourselves craving the delicious flavors of Spain that are now a distant but fond memory. While we have future plans to one day eat our way through Barcelona, we didn’t think we’d taste authentic Spain again for quite a few years. Luckily, Cúrate came to our rescue and fulfilled all of our Spanish hunger pangs.
So what should you order if you visit Curate? Um, just about everything.
I’m not sure how I would have navigated the menu of this culinary paradise if I hadn’t ever been to Spain, however you can’t go wrong by just choosing something at random. One of the things I was super excited about was the tomato spread on bread. I used to eat this every morning at our hotel in Madrid. In fact, I would wake up early each morning in anticipation of this deliciously simple spread. Much to my delight, Cúrate’s tomato spread tasted just like the one I used to fawn all over in the downstairs lobby of our Spanish hotel!
Our dinner at Cúrate consisted of a pitcher of the best sangria I’ve ever had accompanied by a series of tapas style dishes including gazpacho, jamon Iberico, meatballs, potatoes, and, of course, my tomato spread on fresh-baked bread. The restaurant was bustling, but we still landed two of the best seats in the house by sitting at the bar and getting a front row view of all the dishes being prepared by the cooks. You can’t possibly have the same experience if you sit at a table. This is one of those places where sitting at the bar is a must.
A “why we travel” side-note: Cúrate was just a few blocks from our hotel and we were caught in a torrential downpour while trying to get there. While seeking shelter momentarily under the entrance to a local music store, the owner kindly stepped out and handed me a plastic bag for my hair. I laugh when I picture what I must have looked like running down the streets of Asheville with a plastic grocery bag on my head, but it kept my hair dry and lifted my spirits after an exhausting journey from West Virginia. While traveling, kindness comes in the most unexpected places and sometimes in the smallest forms.
Sadly, there wasn’t much left of us after dinner and we immediately retired to our room at the Aloft. Thankfully, we were granted a peaceful night’s rest.
So, if you can’t get to Spain (and you should try), go to Asheville, North Carolina. It’s a great place to walk around and you’ll eat very well. Go to Cúrate, sit at the bar and take it all in.
You’ll love it, I promise.
Next post: The Great Smoky Mountains
It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. The first post of many on our road trip across the good ol’ U S of A.
I know I promised a “live” blog to many of you, but doing this “live” isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. While driving across this great land of ours, I have a lot of time to think about what I’m going to write, but rarely much time to put it all together in blog form. Even when I’m the passenger I’ve got many responsibilities including handing Paul his coffee and researching the fine food establishments at our next destination, all while being a proper navigator. I’ve become a professional at juggling the good old-fashioned road map and the modern-day GPS. In addition to all of the above, many times we are camping and while our tent has all of the best things L.L. Bean has to offer, Internet capabilities isn’t one of them. That’s a good thing though. It feels good to “disconnect” once in a while.
We began our trip on Saturday and headed towards Morgantown, West Virginia with Cooper’s Rock in mind as our first camping extravaganza. We’ve been asked many times why we picked West Virginia as our first stop and all we can say is: we wanted to head west and we listened to a WVU graduate. Those WVU graduates seem to have a lot of pride in the place.
You should know our Jeep is packed to capacity. We are traveling without a backseat and before we left, we packed, unpacked, and repacked the thing at least five times. We’ve got camping gear and hotel gear, plus a cooler and other miscellaneous items all jam-packed into a two-door Wrangler. By the time we reach home again, we will be experts on packing a Jeep Wrangler efficiently for a road trip. As I write this, we have already reconfigured our packing arrangement several times and dropped a few bags and a camp stove in the trash along the way. At the rate we are going, we expect we’ll arrive home with a tent and a toothbrush.
Our drive to West Virginia took us through Baltimore and through the beautiful hills and mountains of Western Maryland.
It was hard to resist the temptation to spend a few hours in my favorite city of B-more, but I kept driving and pretended I didn’t see it as we passed. I have a profound love for my little city and it was so hard to just pass through.
We reached a deserted Morgantown, West Virginia around 3 in the afternoon. Perhaps because it is a college town and school is not in session, we did not get a real feel for the place. We were extremely hungry at this point in the trip and decided to grab a bite to eat before heading into the wilderness.
Morgantown Food Find-Black Bear Burrito
I plan to do a food find for the tastiest places we find along the way. While Morgantown may have seem deserted on the outside, Black Bear Burrito was still serving up late lunches and cold beverages late into the afternoon. Paul picked the Sergeant Peppers burrito, while I chose the WV Hot Rod Wrap with tofu and fakin’. Both were extremely delicious and satisfying. Paul’s burrito was overflowing with rice, beans, peppers, and cheese and topped with kiwi salsa, while my wrap was filled with fresh lettuce, tomato, tofu, tempeh, cheese, and Dijon sauce. Both came with a side of tortilla chips. If I was a student at WVU, I’d probably be tempted to hit up this place every single day and I would recommend it to anyone who visits the area. You can check them out online at www.blackbearburritos.com.
After filling up our tummies, we headed to Cooper’s Rock State Park to find a campsite for the evening. Upon arrival to the park we were intrigued with how beautiful it was. The drive in is amazing with tall trees lining both sides of the road.
We were able to get a campsite easily, but cut it close since there were only two remaining sites available for the evening. The people who worked in the office were extremely polite and helpful and very welcoming. Of course, as soon as we pulled into our site and started setting up camp, it started to drizzle. This did not help our spirits any as we were still a little inexperienced setting up our new tent. However, we got it up and spent some time sitting in our screened in front porch room listening to the rain hit the canvas of our tent.
L.L. Bean’s King Pine Dome Tent=best tent ever!
Luckily, it didn’t rain long and we were able to go for a walk around the park. When we returned from our stroll, we sat in our front porch area and listened to the owl lecture being conducted just outside our tent. We learned a lot of useless knowledge about owls and I was highly disappointed the owl master did not bring any real owls to play with. I totally expected someone with a Master’s Degree in wildlife to show up with an owl or two to complement the lecture, but unfortunately, the owls didn’t show. Then he took a group of people on a nighttime owl hike. We declined on the invitation which turned out to be a wise choice. While walking to the dumpster to dispose of our garbage, we noticed the group was getting up close and personal with owls on the tour guide’s cell phone. I don’t have a degree in this kind of stuff, but this guy needs to seriously get himself some real owls. It would totally take his whole presentation up a notch.
We skipped dinner due to our late lunch and retired early since we were a little exhausted from driving. We’ve got an extremely comfortable setup inside our tent with a queen size air mattress and comfortable pillows and blankets. We were looking forward to a peaceful sleep until we realized we had the worst campsite neighbors in the history of campsite neighbors. The couple behind us stayed up talking, singing, and squirting lighter fluid on their fire until 4:30 a.m. I’m not kidding. The girl was literally belting out Alison Krauss “When You Say Nothing At All” all through the night and even did a Stevie Nick’s rendition at one point. Her singing was just awful and she kept us awake all night long. Each and every time she put more lighter fluid on the fire, our tent lit up like the 4th of July and we feared our tent was going to go up in flames at any minute.
Despite our lack of sleep, we broke down our camp early and took a short hike out to Cooper’s Rock to check out the view. The view here is amazing and it feels like you can see the entire state of West Virginia from this viewpoint.
Afterwards we headed towards our next destination-New River Gorge. New River Gorge is also another beautiful area of West Virginia known for this breathtaking bridge! We stopped to capture some photos and then headed towards our overnight destination Asheville, North Carolina.
Interesting Observation:
Have you ever seen these signs on a highway?
They are rather disconcerting, especially while driving up and down mountains in a small Jeep alongside many large trucks. A runaway truck ramp is a ramp off to the side of a highway consisting of a long lane of dirt or sand to slow the runaway truck down as it’s coming down a steep grade. Luckily, we didn’t see any trucks running away.
Next post: Asheville, North Carolina…stay tuned!
Just in case you’ve been wondering what we’ve been up to…
We were just notified that Paul’s photo of the Empire State Building and my writing is being featured on the Westin Finds from AFAR website! Follow the link below, then scroll down to Great for a Couple, EAT. Click the 3 and there we are! Just another great reason to love the Starwood Hotel Brand and AFAR Magazine!
http://westinfinds.com/us-ny-newyork/the-westin-new-york-grand-central/couple/
I didn’t know until recently that Paul was hiding a rather amazing photo from Chicago because “he didn’t really like it at first”….
Seriously? I’m in awe of this masterpiece!
I’m happy he’s letting me share it with the world now…
Chicago and I fell in love over a hot dog.
At Wrigley Field, I indulged in a juicy, Vienna beef hot dog, topped with fried onions, ketchup, mustard, bright neon green relish (we need to talk about the color of this relish, Chicago), and some incredibly spicy yet amazing Chicago sport peppers. This was all nicely positioned inside a long, white, poppy seed bun. Paul savored his two bites and agreed-this was a heavenly dog. As I licked my fingers clean and resisted the temptation to jump back into the “hot dogs from heaven” line, I couldn’t help but think, “This is the beginning of something fabulous. I’m in love with another city.”
Shhh…don’t tell Baltimore.
Thanks to The 7 Line and our profound, sometimes worrisome, love for the Mets, this was my first trip to Chicago. The 7 Line is a small, independently owned apparel company, operated by a guy (a genius really) named Darren Meenan. Darren is from Queens and is responsible for producing some of the coolest Met’s apparel for the most die hard Met’s fans. While you’ll never see a Met’s logo on any of his merchandise, there’s no mistake, these t-shirts, sunglasses, stickers, calendars, etc. are made especially for those who have “stayed true to the orange and blue” for many, many years.
Darren also gathers his 7 Line customers together by arranging Mets outings at Citi Field. By following his website or logging in to Facebook or Twitter, anyone can join in on The 7 Line fun. http://the7line.bigcartel.com
So just how did we end up in Chicago?
Several months ago, Darren advertised his interest in taking The 7 Line on the road to Wrigley. He wasn’t sure just how many people would want to join him, so he asked for those who were interested to let him know. Paul and I jumped at the opportunity. And guess what? So did 500 other Mets fans from 14 different states! I told you this guy was a genius!
We bought our tickets, booked our flights on Southwest, and waited eagerly for our first trip to Wrigley. When our bright orange Wrigley Road Trip shirts arrived in the mail with our tickets, our excitement was indescribable.
We flew Southwest out of Newark at 6pm on a Friday night. We love Southwest, but we don’t love Newark Airport. Is there something that can be done about this nightmare they fly planes in and out of? We have yet to get out of this place on time, even on an airline that prides itself on always being “on time”. On this particular trip, we boarded the plane, backed away from the terminal, and waited our turn in line to take off. Since we were 18th in line (literally, I’m not exaggerating here), we had plenty of time to get to know the guy sitting next to us. You know, the 40 year old guy who says, “I just have to tell you both now, I have a terrible fear of flying. I cry during take-off and landing.”
As you can imagine, this guy and I had plenty to discuss. Paul rolled his eyes as he sat through his first meeting of the “Fearful Fliers Club”. We discussed our anxiety and worry about flying, and he expressed that he was traveling on business and how he was shocked that anyone would put themselves through the torture of flying in an airplane just to go to a baseball game. Meet the Shappirios, buddy. We do this kind of crazy stuff all the time.
Then we took off. Since we had to make a sharp left to head in the direction of the midwest, the plane did some bumping around and since we were sitting on the left side of the plane, we had a great view of the ground below us. The 40 year old guy started to cry and shake and I confidently said, “You are doing well!” and my husband almost fell out of his seat. He couldn’t believe, I, of all people, was consoling this guy.
The flight to Chicago is only about an hour and a half long. Aside from Mr. Anxiety, the flight was very pleasant. We even discovered you can track your flight for free on Southwest.com. This is super reassuring for people like me. You can see your plane is safely gliding across the sky, as well as keep tabs on the elevation, speed, and duration of the flight. Just in case the pilot needs any help, you can be totally prepared.
As expected, the guy next to us cried on the way down and eased any anxiety I might have had about landing by letting me know he thought we were going to hit the houses below us. “Thanks dude. Just when I thought I had it all under control you go and talk about flying into houses.” Luckily, we landed safely without clipping any structures on the way in. We parted ways with teary-eyed Joe and gawked in amazement at Midway Airport and all of its lovely amenities. Newark needs to take an educational field trip to Midway to learn a few things.
We picked up our luggage, hailed a taxi, and headed straight to the Sheraton Chicago Hotel and Towers. Paul and I are Starwood members now so we stay loyal to their brand of hotels. If you travel a lot, Starwood Hotels is where its at. We almost always get upgraded to a better room with club access, and almost always get a free gift upon arrival, such as Starwood points or a beverage coupon good for the duration of our stay.
Since we were exhausted from teaching all day and doing the airport shuffle, we decided to eat dinner at our hotel. We wound up at Shula’s Steakhouse, a chain restaurant we’ve been to in Fort Lauderdale. While it wasn’t exactly what we were looking for as far as food, we were too tired to venture any further. We do have a strong affection for the BBQ Shrimp appetizer at Shulas. They stuff jumbo shrimp with basil, wrap it in bacon, and dunk it in barbecue sauce. Not healthy by any means, but oh so delicious.
Our server at Shula’s was delightful. He was very warm and welcoming to us and gave us all the information we needed to know about getting to Wrigley the next morning. This is what I love the most about traveling. Making a connection with the locals. It is beyond satisfying when somebody goes out of their way to make you feel at home in their city.
The next morning we navigated the Red Line and headed to Wrigley early to get in line with 500 of our friends in orange shirts to claim our spots in the bleachers. The enthusiasm among us was contagious and the Wrigley employees were, for the most part, extremely friendly and accommodating to this Mets invasion. Once we were seated in the center field bleachers, the Mets players began to notice and run by and wave. Even the general manager, Terry Collins, came out to say hello. It was hard not to feel like we were part of something big. And when we saw the photos in the Daily News the next day, we knew we were, indeed, part of something huge. Darren Meenan brought “a sea of orange” on the road and made Mets history at Wrigley.
After the game we met up with our good friend John and his girlfriend at an establishment called Murphys outside of Wrigley. Everyone wanted to know who these people in orange shirts were and where we came from. There were reactions of shock and concern when they realized we’d all traveled from 14 different states, separately, to meet up as one united and devoted group of Mets fans. It goes without saying that even though the Mets lost the game 8-2, our pride as Mets fans never diminished.
For the rest of the trip, Paul and I ate up Chicago. We watched soccer in a packed Irish pub on Sunday morning. We didn’t plan this, we just walked into it. We felt like we stepped out of Chicago and into Ireland for a few hours. The intensity and rivalry was strong as fans indulged in Guiness and Irish breakfasts while belting out their team anthems amidst rounds of applause and cries of outrage.
For lunch on Sunday, we gave the deep dish pizza at Lou Manalti’s a try. We went for the traditional Chicago style deep dish for two. I’m pretty sure it was enough food for ten and I’m not sure it fit our definition of pizza. It was a solid brick of cheese, tomatoes, and sausage and it wasn’t very flavorful. It definitely did not even come close in comparison to my heavenly hot dog and I was filled with some regret that we didn’t return to Wrigley for lunch instead.
Between eating, we strolled through beautiful Millennium Park. The parks in Chicago are gorgeous and clean. In fact, the city itself is the cleanest city I’ve ever seen. And this bean thing is hilarious…
I experimented taking photos of these perfect flowers. Yes, yes, I know. I should stick to writing, but I just had to capture these and Paul isn’t fond of flower photography.
At night we took an architecture boat tour. The river and its bridges reminded me of the Seine in Paris. While sitting on the top of the boat, Paul captured some amazing photos of the unique and beautiful buildings of Chicago. Paul likes to call these buildings the “cd towers”…
After our tour we took a long walk through the city of Chicago. In an effort to find a restaurant frequented by Anthony Bourdain, I directed Paul and I into a somewhat deserted meatpacking district. We eventually did find the restaurant, the Publican, filled to capacity, and without reservations, decided we’d give the place a try another time. We must have walked a good 6 or 7 miles on Sunday and eventually, in an effort just to find a place to sit, wound up at Harry Caray’s Steakhouse eating a dinner of bruschetta appetizers and a side of creamed spinach. Yes, I know that sounds strange, but that brick of deep dish pizza kept us full even through dinner. While resting our legs and snacking on appetizers, I saw a side of creamed spinach go by and I knew I just had to have it. The fact that the server didn’t even think twice about getting me a side order of creamed spinach for dinner, made me feel assured that this spinach was going to be good. And, of course, it was delicious, like I expected!
Like all of our vacations, this one ended quickly. Before we knew it, it was time to head back to Midway and our Met’s trip to Chicago was over.
But my love for Chicago is just beginning. We will be back. I’ve got a list of things I need to do, food I need to eat, and places I need to see in the Windy City.
See you on our trip across the country this summer Chicago! We are going to hit you up on our way back! Have a hot dog ready for me!
Paul’s “Paris in the Rain” photo was recently chosen as a top 25 photo in a showcase challenge on the website The Photo Argus!
You can check out his and all the other amazing rain photos by checking out The Photo Argus website at http://www.thephotoargus.com/inspiration/25-wonderful-photographs-of-rain/
Wow! So grateful for all the love lately! Keep it coming!
Bringing Down the White Picket Fence 