Three years later, Sugar is working for L’Oreal and they decided to send her to NYC for Fashion Week!

I booked my plane ticket to NYC, excited for the epic reunion. Some highlights from the trip:

-Losing Sugar in Central Park. We were running a 1.5 mi loop around around the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir.

I ran ahead, feeling confident I would catch her bright green sweatshirt on my second lap. Every time I caught a glimpse of a brightly colored top, I raced ahead to find Sugar. I got pretty close with an Asian in a teal Lululemmon sweatshirt, but albeit, no Sugar. On my third lap, I decide to reverse direction to be sure I catch this stealthy creature. No luck. After three laps, I’m feeling like something has gone horribly wrong. Someone has snatched Sugar! I head back to Cora’s (our gracious hostess for the weekend), to re-group and grab money in case I can get Sugar to meet me via taxi.

I race up to the apartment, red-faced and winded, and am greeted by a very relaxed looking Sugar.

Me: “What happened?!”

Sugar: “I got tired, so I came back”.

Me: “Oh, well….that makes sense”.

Relaxed now that Sugar is safe and sound, we shower and Sugar does my makeup. I remove the bright green makeup Sugar has put on and she instead does a stellar job with a more subtle glitter bombed brown. We head to lunch, and then to meet her Thai friends who came in from Philly. The one request her Thai friend has is to see the museum of sex while in NYC. My friend Alissa hails all the way from Boston to meet up with us, and into the Museum of Sex we go (or, as I will tell my coworkers who will ask what I did in NYC, just “The Museum”).

In typical Tracey fashion, I sneak in for free but then feel bad (I must be growing up!) and go back outside to join my friends and pay like the responsible citizen I am.

In the Museum of Sex, we learn that dolphins sometimes have sex through the blowhole, “Youth” is the #1 searched type of pornography (anyone else a bit bothered by this?), there are a lot of gay monkeys, and there is a species of fish that can change gender, based upon the social situation.

Alternative Dolphin Sex

Post museum, we head to the NYC LGBT center, where we gladly welcome a place to sit, and learn about the gay things to do in NYC. None of it is happening this weekend, so we move on to begin the arduous task of coordinating a place to meet a bunch of different people for dinner. The conversation goes something like this:

Me, calling Monica: “Hey! Want to go to dinner?! We are going to Ippudo, for Japanese udon!”

Monica: “Ohh god. No way. There will be a 4 hour wait. Trust me.”

Me: “Ohh…well, that puts a crinkle in our plans. Wherever (of the 2 million restaurants in the city) will we eat now?!”

Monica then lists out a few places, and we agree on a sushi place in East Village.

As we head there, Sugar suddenly exclaims “How about Taisho? My friend suggested it a while ago”

It begins to rain.

Me, calling Monica: “Change of plans, we are going to Tai Chow.”

Monica: “Thai…. what? Chow? How do you spell that?”

Sugar, gets on phone with her friend we are meeting for dinner, to get full name of the restaurant.

Me:” T-H-A-I-C-H-O?”

Monica: “No, that is not a restaurant in NYC”

Me: “Sugar, how do you spell Thai Cho?”

Sugar, on phone with her friend, Kin :”How do you spell it? T….a? h?”

Me, to Monica: “T-A….what comes after A, Sugar?!”

This goes on for a few more minutes before our college degrees kick in, we learn that Thai Cho is Taisho, and you must look up  Yakitori Taisho to find directions. Satisfied we have figured out the hardest part, we then all get on the subway and head to the restaurant.

Once we find the restaurant, we are transported to a China where the one child policy does not exist, and you literally a) cannot get into the restaurant and b) 15 minutes later, when you have clawed your way in, you cannot stretch without hitting the person next to you. As every person in the place is Asian, we decide this place is legit and sit down to eat.

It's much more crowded than this...

Alissa, Monica and I have our backs to the wall, when Alissa suddenly has a spasm, with an intense look of fear in her eyes. I know that look. It’s the look of someone who has seen NYC’s most prevalent resident…the roach. I immediately jump 5 feet in the air, make a large scene, and sprint to the other side of the restaurant, taking Monica down with me. The waiter quickly clears away the roach, while I skittishly brush imaginary insects off my shoulder, and make the others switch sides of the table with me.

Monica suggests we switch restaurants, b/c we just saw a filthy vile creature, which we all quickly dismiss as a ludicrous idea, as we have successfully been seated in a NYC restaurant on a Saturday night and there is no way we are going anywhere.

We eat the most delicious meal of things I cannot pronounce and did not take pictures of, but please enjoy these pictures from the internet:

This resembles something we ordered...

Grilled Squid

After our eating adventure, we head to Monica’s to listen to records and smoke hookah (we’re so retro). At 1:30am, we head to Empire Hotel to get the night started. At a time I am normally deep in REM cycle 3, we begin dancing the night away. 3 hours later, we’re eating chicken and rice from a street vendor and 5 hours after that, we are at brunch.

We meet a fellow UT grad and Christie Yang at Alice’s Tea Cup, the most darling little place in the Upper East Side, modeled after Alice in Wonderland (although both bathroom doors are the same size =  disappointing).

Cutest brunch place of all time

After a delicious meal of scones and tea, Christie heads downtown for brunch #2 (it’s a hard life), and Cora, Sugar and I head to Brooklyn where we briefly meet another UT alum, and generally marvel over how cute and hipster Brooklyn is. I take my only picture from the trip

View of Manhattan, from Brooklyn POV

Sugar takes one of many:

Sugar & I next head to Grand Central Station to visit the Apple store. I book a 2:45am shuttle to Newark airport (ugh, what was I thinking getting a 6am flight out of Newark) and then head to Korea town in Midtown to eat dinner…at 5pm. Grandmas! We eat a bunch of different soups that make my lips burn, and we head home to complete the journey.

48 hour trip to the Big Apple- done and done! Time to get home, where I can drive a car, walk right into a restaurant (stomp angrily out when I see a roach) and ….sleeeeeeep like a normal human being!!!

Our boxing class is basically just like this

One woman in particular is my type of friend. She is hardcore. She will do a 60 minute spin class (hard) before a 90 minute boxing boot camp (harder), and then perhaps run a couple miles. I set my sights on her, as my new triathlon training partner in Dallas! I’ve been steadily chipping away at her resolve to focus solely on running, and have been persuading her to add biking and swimming to her mix. At Saturday’s boxing class, I told Amy I would be swimming up north the next morning, and asked if she would like to join. She agreed, and we set a plan to meet at Royal & 75 at 10:30 am.

I decided to bike to Royal & 75, to get the biking portion of my training in, swim with Amy for 30-45 minutes, and bike back. Royal & 75 is about 10 miles away from my house, if you take a straight shot on the highway. Obviously, I couldn’t do that on my bike. I looked up the route online, and as it turns out, there is a set of trail systems that go from my house all the way to Royal & 75! Due to the indirect nature of the trails, the total mileage would be 14 miles each way. 28 miles total + a swim = totally doable. I could leave at 9:30 am and be back in time for a late lunch! No need to bring food with me! Why would I need to do that! This was only going to be a three hour tour!

Does anybody know where I’m going with this story? Of course you do….

My three hour tour turned into a 6 hour adventure. Knowing I have a propensity to get lost, I left the house a bit after 9am, to ensure I would not be late to meet Amy. I find the first trail system, the Santa Fe trail, with ease and coast along for the next 30 minutes. I then hit the second trail system, White Rock Lake, and at this point I feel very confident I am going to make it all the way to Royal & 75, all by myself! What an accomplishment for my pigeon sense of direction! I can do anything; maybe next I will be a navigator!!

Or, maybe not.

The trails at White Rock lake go in a circle. Theoretically (and, realistically), I could ride in circles all day. There are seemingly endless entrance and exit point on the trail and I had no idea where to exit, to make my way towards Royal & 75. With the clock ticking ever closer to 10:30am, I began desperately asking people for directions. This is how most of my conversations with passerbys went:

Conversation 1

Me: “Excuse me! Excuse me! (damn their headphones) EXCUSE ME!!!

Confused passerby: “Oh. Are you talking to me?!”

Me: “Yes. Do you know which direction 75 is?”

Confused passerby: “Oh yes, you need to go the other direction, towards the west”

Me: “And by west, do you mean….left? or right?”

Confused passerby: “Hmm, that way” (points opposite direction I’ve been biking)

Me: “Okay, great, thanks!!”

Conversation 2

Me: “Excuse me! Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!!!

Confused passerby: “Oh. Yes?!”

Me: (out of breathe) H….i…Hi. Do you know which direction 75 is?”

Confused passerby: “Oh yes, you need to go the other direction, towards the east”

Me: “And by east, do you mean….left? or right?”

Confused passerby: “Hmm, that way” (points opposite direction other confused passerby told me)

Me: “UGH. I mean, great, thanks for your help!!”

This happened four times. I finally decided to trust my sense of direction (always a bad idea), and go the direction I felt was the right way. Next thing I know, I am mountain biking on my skinny road tires, jumping barricades with my bike,  sprinting across streets and pedaling my little butt off.

45 minutes after our scheduled meet time, I finally arrive at the pool to meet Amy! Luckily, Amy is very gracious about my tardiness, and we have an interesting conversation as I suit up to swim.

(I bring out my goggles) Amy: “Does that help you swim?”

Me: “The….goggles? Yes…. Wait. What? You don’t use goggles?”

Amy: “No, I don’t need them!”

Me: “What! Do you swim superman style (head above water)?

Amy: “No, I just open my eyes underwater… I guess goggles would help the water from burning your eyes?”

Me: “Um, yea. What! How do you swim without goggles?! I must see this. Let’s go to the pool”

We get to pool. Amy totally swims superman style.  We spend the majority of our workout learning how to properly breathe while keeping your head underwater and swimming. I flashback to my old roommate, Lizzy, teaching me how to swim at Gregory Gym (at UT). Lizzy literally had me hold the side of the pool, kick my legs and practice breathing while she held me up. I was 19 years old. It was awesome. And, it worked! I employed the same techniques with Amy, and she got the hang of breathing like a champ!

An hour later,  I head to my bike to make the journey back home. Flat. Tire. That’s okay, b/c I have a flat changing kit! That I keep on my other bike. Damn it. Not so lucky. But this is: The pool is right next to a bike shop! Bam!

I enter bike shop, get my flat fixed, and ask what the best route is back to Deep Ellum (where I live). The bike guys respond “Oh!! There is a great trail system! Right outside of Royal. It’s super easy. Take White Rock Lake trails to Sante Fe trails. It’s clear as day. You can’t miss it”

…

Waking up to the  beautiful Southwest weather this morning, I decide to go for a jog. A quick jog to start the day. Nothing dangerous. Just a jog. Until….the attack of the rogue dogs. I was minding my own business, merrily running along, when I see two dogs growing increasingly agitated in their backyard. Their front paws seemed a bit over-stretched on the rock wall separating their private house from public domain. I thought, “Surely, their wall is tall enough to keep these dogs in their backyard. Surely….Right? I think so….Why is he getting so far up the wall? Why is half his body over the wall? WHY IS HE OVER THE WALL and growling in my face?!?!”

This is the exact dog that was growling at me. I stopped to snap a photo

At this point, the hair on the Chow/Pitbull’s back is at full attention, an impending sign of attack. Teeth are bared (mine, from my screams), eyes are scanning for nearby rocks, and an escape plan is quickly hatching in my mind. I see no large rocks, but I do notice the wall of a neighbor’s backyard, not far on my left side. I sprint for it, use all my rock climbing skills to scale the 10 foot rock wall, and find myself precariously perched alongside the neighbors wall.

I quickly weigh my options:

1) Jump into the neighbor’s backyard, and risk getting shot for trespassing — this is Texas, y’all. Right to bear arms and shoot any thief stupid enough to rob a Texan (or a small white girl clearly scared for her life).

2) Face the rogue Chow/Pitbull mix.

Duh. Face getting shot! Right as I’m about to make the leap into the neighbor’s backyard, out prances walks in a dominating fashion, a Rottweiler. Just. My. Luck. I quickly weigh my new options:

1) Face the Rottweiler.

2) Face the Chow.

Chows are CUH-RAZY animals, so I decide to take on the Rottweiler. And I thought the biggest decision of my run would be whether to play Spice Girls or Britney Spears on my Pandora.

Right as I’m about to jump into the backyard, I notice the characteristic CUH-RAZY Chow move…a quick run in a tight circle, repeated multiple times until the Chow launches himself a) throw a window (true story, that happened to my dad and sister whilst dog sitting) or in my case b) up a rock wall. This gives me a third option to weigh:

3) Wait for the Chow to land precariously on the rock wall, and then toss him to the neighbors yard to let these two rogue dogs duel it out themselves. Cruel, I know, but hey, it’s a dog eat dog world (see what I did there? I made a funny).

True to CUH-RAZY form, the Chow launches himself 10 feet in the air (amazing, really) and makes a lunge for me. As the Chow is about to chow down on my face (another funny!), I push him to the left and jump to the right. I’ve MADE IT OUT ALIVE. Just like that show on Animal Planet.

*Note* The above story was a dramatic re-enactment of real life events. Here is the 100% true story, no hyberbole:

I was running. I saw the rogue dog over-reach his wall. I saw the rogue dog on the other side of the wall, within clear capabilities of attack. The rogue dog didn’t look too terribly formidable, so I decided to take my chances and run past him. 5 seconds pass. 10 seconds pass. 20. 30. No sign of attack. Just when I think I’m free, I feel a yip at my heels. I jump 3 foot in the air, scream, and turn around. A 5 lb Yorkie has escaped his owner and is now “attacking” me. To stave off the attack, I bend down, pet the Yorkie and coo “Who’s a cute dog? You’re a cute dog! Yes, you are. You’re so cute”. I was attacked by a 5lb Yorkie. But no worries, I fought it off.

The ANIMAL that attacked me

Rogue Dentists (this one is totes true. It’s scary. You’ve been warned)

So, this is me...

Last week, I got my teeth whitened. I have some things to say about this:

• I thought I was going in for a mold of my mouth and subsequent whitening trays. As it turns out, the dentist put an unknown chemical gel on my teeth, followed by a high intensity light/laser, which made my teeth hate me for the next 24 hours.
• A few years ago, I got in a bike accident, where I landed face-first on the street to avoid crashing through the windshield of a car. I chipped  off a piece of my front tooth, and got a veneer/cap put on my tooth, to make myself look normal again.
• Apparently, the unknown chemical gel/laser combo weakened my enamel, and caused my veneer to come off.
• In an effort to have a movie star smile, I actually came out looking like a 5 year old that just received a half-ass visit from the Tooth Fairy. Oh, the irony. It’s like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife.

Tri Training #2!

Last week, my good friend Whitney and I decided to sign up for an olympic triathlon, near Austin in April! My first tri was a sprint triathlon in October; this tri is much more hardcore (or, simply less pansy), with double the distances: 1 mile swim, 25 mi bike, 6 mile run. In my effort to train, I have once again turned to my trusted clearance athletic sites: Bonktown, Chainlove, WhiskeyMilitia, and SteepandCheap.com. I have thus far purchased:

• Tri shorts
• Tri running shoes (b/c they are somehow better than regular running shoes?? I will take whatever competitive edge I can get)
• An i-pod shuffle. Who remembers those?! I use this shuffle with an underwater audio system I own, to listen to music while I swim. I frequently choke myself with the headphones– when they become caught up in my stroke– and I can usually only hear out of one ear, and sometimes I can’t hear the music at all. It’s awesome, and definitely better than the alternative: boredom.

Kickin it old school

Have I put any of these to use yet? OF COURSE NOT. I did, however, visit the lap pool in my apt complex to scope out the sitch. The pool water was literally the same temperature as a glass of ice water, and there was no hot tub in site. That clearly was not going to work. But, at least I know where my swimsuit is, which is a major improvement over last year’s training regime!

It’s super time for a vacation. It has been one full year since I’ve been abroad. *gasp* *shock* *horror at lack of proper vacation time one encounters upon joining the real world*  It really is horrendous how little vacation real people get. Who’s with me?

Anyway. I’ve decided to rebel. By taking a 2.5 day vacation. WOO. What do I do in my 2.5 days + weekend? Explore the ever-beautiful, magnificent Canadian Rockies! Banff and Lake Louise, to be precise.

Lake Louise

Where does day 1 of my 12-month-awaited vacation find me? Ridin’ solo in the Calgary airport. Of the two friends joining me, Steve & Whitney, exactly 2 of them are no where to be found. I get on g-chat and find Steve online, who should be 10,000 feet up in the air and definitely not on the internet. He tells me his first flight caught on fire (no big deal), and he is still in the States. But not to worry, “hang tight, I’ll be there in a couple hours!”

An hour later, I see Whitney walking up and we decide we would really like a McDonald ice cream cone. Problem? Steve rented our car and is still hours away from Calgary. Solution? I pretend I am Steve’s wife and try to get Steve’s rental car. The conversation with Hertz went a little like this:

Canadian Hertz rental agent: “We cannot give you the keys, because it is under Steve Kennington.”

Me:”No, it’s okay, I’m his wife”

Hertz: “Oh, hmm. Can I see your ID [give him my id) And, are you under 25?"

Me: "Yes"

Hertz: "Oh, I'm sorry. We cannot give you car if you are under 25, for there is an extra fee". (looks confused at my ID) "I'm trying to do the math, you are under 25?"

Me: "Oh, no, I'm over 25"

Hertz: "Oh! Okay! Here are the keys, car is out the door and to the right."

Whitney: "Hey! Do you know where the nearest McDonalds is?"

Hertz:"Do you know the area well?"

Whitney & I: "Not so well, we've never been here"

Hertz: "Do you want GPS in your car? It is $16 a day extra"

Me: "Ugh, that's dumb, no"

Hertz: "Okay, no problem, I will give it to you for free! And, I'll upgrade your car as well"

Me to Whitney (as walking to car): "Omg, I love Canadians!!"

30 minutes and 3 McDonalds later, we finally arrive at a 24-hr McDonalds, where we are given free ice cream cones and my love for Canadians is affirmed. After our ice cream fill, we pick Steve up from the airport and arrive in Banff shortly before 4am.

Let the Adventure Commence

The next morning,we head to Lake Louise to gaze at the splendid beauty of what appears to be a painting, and hit the hiking trails.

Steve didn't have any hiking clothes, so he wore Whitney's pants all weekend. SEXY.

Starting the hike...

But not before a jumping pic!

After admiring the gorgeous, turquoise-green lake, Steve begins to blaze the trail. We arrive at a point where we see a “Danger! Avalanche!” sign, and a British lady sitting nearby points out she hasn’t seen anybody successfully go up the trail. Steve looks at me, asks “Want to do it, Tracey?” to which I immediately reply “Yep!!” There is a fine line between ignorance and adventure and we soon find ourselves straddling that line.

Within a few minutes, we are no longer on a trail, but rather trudging through the snow, at times sinking in up to our knees. After a while of trekking through the path less taken, we soon find ourselves traversing rapids, hopping from stone to stone, climbing boulders and jumping through rivers. Several falls into icy waters later, we have never been so happy to stumble upon the trail (except for that one time I got lost in the woods in Seattle in February).

Our hiking path has been destroyed by an avalanche

On the way back to our hotel, we decide we simply cannot walk another step and half-jokingly stick out our thumbs to hitchike back to town. A few seconds later, a car pulls over and Marcos, our German savior, not only drives us back to town but offers us cookies as well! What a swell guy. Don’t worry Mom & Dad, we asked him if he was a serial killer before getting into his car.

The next day, we take a 4 mile journey through Johnston Canyon, to make it to the Rockie’s most impressive waterfalls!

Johnston Canyon

Lower Falls

Upper Falls

After our strenuous hike, we head to our hotel, where SPG has granted our requested upgrade to the honeymoon suite. The polygamous trio is happy with the jacuzzi in our bedroom

Honeymoon Suite

The following day, Steve heads to the airport and Whitney and I spend the day urban hiking through Olympic Park and downtown Calgary, in search of a hookah bar. We successfully find the hookah bar and celebrate by spending the evening watching t.v. and eating McD….life is good, eh?

This place could not be more perfect for me– I love the mountains and truly felt like I may have landed in heaven. The feeling quickly went away after going left over a mogul with my left ski, and straight over the same mogul with my right ski. I don’t think one gets knocked in the head with a large wooden board in heaven.

I landed in Whistler via free resort nights from SPG (thanks, Starwood!). Steve and I originally tried to book a ski trip to Salt Lake City, but all the resorts were sold out, as was the case with most of Colorado. I called SPG and asked them which ski resorts were available. Their reply: Whistler, Canada.

Canada, eh? Then Canada I shall go!

Sreetham, Steve and I all met up Wednesday evening in Whistler, stoked for our 3 day ski holiday (or Steve’s 3 day “work remotely” session). Sreetham arrived before any of us, but was quickly put in his place by the resort staff, who unkindly informed him “You are not an ambassador…is Mr. Kaplan coming with you? It’s very important Mr. Kaplan be here to receive his gifts”. Despite my pink goggles, this would not be the last time I was referred to as “Mr. Kaplan” on this trip. Rude.

Thursday morning, we wake up and make the far far journey downstairs to get our ski gear. 1.5 hours later (I still don’t know how it took us so long), we find our way to the gondola conveniently located outside the rental shop, and off we go to begin the adventure!  A few things to note about our polygamous ski trio:

• Steve hates green trails
• Sreetham kind of loves green trails
• Steve hates catwalks
• Blackcomb and Whistler Mountains love catwalks
• Steve and I love to fall down black diamonds
• Sreetham prefers yellow diamonds…in the sky. Sreetham also prefers the pizza method of skiing, which can be a bit tricky over moguls and black diamonds

With this in mind, we pick a nice looking blue run and head on down! A few minutes later, I have no idea where anyone is. I begin teaching myself how to ski backwards, which essentially consists of 1 second of backward navigation, following by 5 seconds of terror, as I am blindly sliding down a mountain. Then I fall and repeat. I do this while Sreetham pizza’s down the mountain and Kennington horizontally slides down. We’re practically experts…this will be proven the next day…

We continue our backward falling/pizza-ing/horizontal slides for a few more hours and before we know it, the lifts are closed! The one negative to Whistler/Blackcomb mountains are the lift closing times- 2-3pm…whaaatt?! So early. Punks.

We hit the hot tub to soak our sore muscles, grab dinner at a posh Italian restaurant where we have gotten wind of their Thursday $10 pasta plate, and promptly pass out by midnight.

The next day, we confidently breeze past an “Experts only” sign posted before a terrain park entrance, and proceed the many attempts to launch ourselves a foot in the air, off a jump! It’s fair to say I jumped the highest, at a whopping 1-2 inches, while Sreetham almost got off the ground, and Steve flapped his arms really hard.

Steve begins to join a conference call on the ski lift, and then decides to take it inside, at a nearby lodge. Such a responsible worker, this one!! Sreetham and I explore uncharted territory, where we can barely tell the difference between the white sky and the snow:

Blackcomb Bowls

We blindly go down a few runs, meet up with Kennington for a bowl of chili, and onto Whistler mountain! 100% of the population of the gondola we took on the way from Blackcomb peak to Whistler peak was gay….could you imagine that! We talked to everyone on the gondola—all GAY.

On the first run on the new mountain, Kennington blazes the trail while I cut to the sides to attempt my one foot jump! Needless to say, I take a few tumbles and Kennington takes the lead. A few minutes later, I see a small jump across a narrow patch of snow over a creek. I brace myself, knowing if I fall, I’m going in the river. I speed up. I speed up a little more. I’m still going rather slow. I get to the bridge, hop over the bump, and make it safely across!! Too bad the same couldn’t be said for Kennington….

Steve is halfway in the creek, and slipping precariously close to the frigid waters as I regain my breath from laughing so hard and pausing to snap a photo, before assisting with the retrieval.

After a day of skiing, we once again soak in the hot tub and spend some quality time on Grinder.  Sreetham and I head to dinner, and Steve joins us later, with his computer…so responsible! He eats a bit, gets a call, presses a button, and calls it a productive day! After dinner, Sreetham and I head to a bar, and take shots and PARTY HARD!!! (ie, one beer, followed by bed).

The last day of skiing: nothin significant happened. But, it was SUPER fun and I finally got my foot of air (or at least 6 inches)— I lost both my skiis in the process and landed directly on my arse….but, 6 inches WOO!!

To one of the BEST and most beautiful trips yet. Hear hear, I toast to thee!!!!

Conquering uncharted territory

Next weekend, I will be moving in to an apartment and I will no longer be a homeless vagabond. As much fun as I’ve had as a nomadic wanderer, it will be nice to settle down and change my clothes out via closet rather than a piece of luggage in a 5 x 10ft storage unit.

I lived here for 3 months

In my last hoorah before settling down into a life of stability and home owner (renter)ship, I spent the weekend skiing in Beaver Creek with Jessica, my friend from study abroad, and her roommates who live in Denver. Some highlights from the trip:

• Getting a 30-minute welcome chat from the concierge at the hotel, while the girls are popping champagne at the hotel.
• Spending equal money on food vs. alcohol for the weekend
• Sneaking into the hotel hot-tub, even after being told it was closed due to a $25,000/plate fundraiser. We kept it classy with $5 Andres champagne in the hotel tub….just in case the fundraising folks wanted to join us.
• Major ski faux paus:
• Ski in, ski out gondola opens next week.
• Rental shop didn’t give me ski poles. I didn’t notice until I was almost on the slopes.
• Getting to Keystone slopes at noon and leaving at 3:30pm, fully exhausted and unable to feel our fingers
• Unable to use my Camelbak, as the water literally froze in the hose
• Skiing in 0 degree temps
• Learning how to land a 2 inch jump!! (not a faux paus, except for the fall which taught me to lean forward rather than back)
• Spotting a jump on the opposite side of the run, and crashing into Rachel (ski buddy) while bee-lining for the trees, in an ADD frenzy.

• Making snow angels on the slopes

• Being on receiving end of a 2-hour chat about becoming part of the SPG vacation home ownership program. BEFORE breakfast.
• Partying and TAKING SHOTS!!! And by that, I mean drinking $5 champagne while playing Telephone Pictionary and watching Virgin Diaries on TLC.
• Nesting in the hotel villa, courtesy of Jessica:
• returning “home” to freshly baked macadamia chocolate chunk cookies, chicken pasta w/ garlic bread and Argentine wine on the table

LOVE Jessica and her nesting abilities!

.

• Taking bubble baths that overflow the bathroom. Note to self: do not pour entire mini-bottle of shampoo into jacuzzi tub and then turn on the jets.

• Going to a Thai restaurant and getting laughed at when I tried to respond to the waitress in Thai.

Even with all the faux paus of the weekend, it was an amazingly fun weekend. Next step: move to Denver, so these trips are the norm rather than the anomalies.

In a last minute switch-a-roo, I changed my Philly weekend trip to Atlanta. Here’s what happened in (not so) Hot-lanta:

My first day in Atlanta consisted of a tour through CNN global HQ, and the world famous Atlanta Aquarium. During the CNN tour, I learned CNN news reaches about 2 billion households globally, and was able to view a live broadcast of CNN global news, featuring news anchor __________
(can’t remember her name, but she is a dead ringer for Michelle Obama…she doesn’t do the news, does she?? That would definitely be a conflict of interest).

Then, onto one of my favorite parts of the trip: the fishies! I’m a big fan of aquatic life, and I was right alongside the kids on a field trip, staring in awe at the exotic marine life, climbing through “underwater” caves, and petting the sting rays, sea enemanes, starfish, crab, and shrimp at the multitude of touch tanks throughout the aquarium. After a few trips to pet the sting rays, I head to see the big boys: the Ocean Voyager, home to whale sharks, sand sharks, manta rays, and other big-ass fish. I have some deep thoughts consisting of “Isn’t it wild how there is a whole other world beneath the surface of the sea, which we hardly know anything about?! Isn’t that just crazy?”

After the Atlanta tour, we head to the 360* revolving bar atop the Westin hotel, to have a pre-dinner drink and catch a view of the Atlanta skyline at night. A few minutes after ordering, the waitress returns to inform me the drink I ordered is out of stock. She begins to describe a few other similar drinks when I cut her off with a “Don’t even worry about it. I’ll have the mint chocolate cake”. For those that don’t know me, I have a ridiculous sweet tooth, and prefer chocolate over alcohol any day. This will play a large part in the next day’s activities….

Atlanta skyline

The next day, we head to brunch at a solid Jew restaurant, Bagelicious. We eat lox on a bagel (yum!), whitefish on a bagel (yum!), liver on a bagel (gross!), and order several bags of chocolate, apricot, and raspberry hamantaschen to go.

Fueled up, we head to Stone Mountain to enjoy a hike up the largest exposed piece of granite in the world. The mountain extends 9 miles underground, and one mile above ground. We hiked that mile to the top, where we were rewarded with a beautiful view of the Atlanta skyline, surrounding areas, and gorgeous fall foliage.

Hiking up Stone Mountain

View from atop Stone Mountain

We hike down, make the journey home, and spend the rest of Sunday afternoon aggressively pursuing an ambitious goal: get through the first 3 seasons of How I Met Your Mother, while consuming copious amounts of chocolate left over from Ryan’s recent 21^st birthday. We began this journey at  ~4:30pm, and had to leave the house by 6am for my flight to St Louis. Intended Goal: 3 seasons of How I Met Your Mother. Actual result: 2 episodes shy of finishing Season 1. FAIL. But, oh, such a fun FAIL.

Next weekend: “Home” to Dallas, to search for an apartment (OR, decide to stay in a storage unit forever?? B/c it’s kind of awesome), and enjoy a pre-T giving celebration with friends.

For the past 23 years, I listened to my family members talk about their significant others. I watched my sister bring boyfriends home to meet the family. I watched my Mom comfort my sister over a broken heart, none the wiser when the same thing happened to me. I was introduced to boyfriends and girlfriends; husbands and wives. I thought about the day I would bring my significant other home and introduce her as “My friend, ___”, careful not to show too much affection. I never thought about Sunday night, Nov 6, 2011.

My to do item #1 came to fruition yesterday. I flew home to El Paso with the intention of officially coming out to my parents. I had a plan. Go to dinner, get them drunk and blurt it out in the most awkward fashion imaginable. That’s not exactly what happened, but the night started off well:

(dramatic re-enactment)

Arielle: Shall we go to Singapore Cafe, for Thai Food?

Me: Yum. Definitely

Mom: You can BYOB.

Me: PERFECT. Where’s our liquor? I mean, wine….do y’all want wine or whiskey?

Mom: Grab a bottle of wine from the living room

Me: (grabs 2): I’m READY!

(arrive at Singapore cafe. No cars in parking lot. Completely dark. Totally closed)

Me: Noooo.

Dad: Shall we go to Pei Wei?

Me: Uhhh, let’s just drive. We’ll figure something out.

Mom: Look, there’s Peter Piper.

Dad: There’s Subway.

Me (I cannot come out in a Subway. I like Subway way too much to taint it): Um, keep driving.

Dad: Pei Wei is right up ahead

Me (sees a Vietnamese restaurant 2 feet ahead): STOP! STOP! We’re going to Saigon Cafe. Turn NOW. HARD right. Oh, is everyone okay with Vietnamese?

We arrive. I strategically pick a table most removed from other customers. We sit down. We have a very pleasant conversation for 15-20 minutes.

Me: (think everything is going very well. Glance at my sister; she shoots me the look. The look of a cat clawing it’s way out of the bag.) (clear throat). Mom, Dad, there has been something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a few years now. I’m gay. Have you tried the curry vermicelli? It’s excellent. Do you have any questions?

Mom: Do you think we’ve been living under a rock?! All of your friends…they are so gay. Steven….c’mon. Duh. And, you’ve never brought a boy home. We know.

Dad: Was Steve wearing women’s clothing in Canada?

Me: I can explain that…he didn’t have clothes….he was traveling…

Dad: Wasn’t he wearing gold tights on New Years?

Me: I can’t explain that one.

Mom: Were you dating Mitra (HS friend)?

Me: What? Mom, no! Mitra is my best friend.

Mom: I just noticed, the last time she visited, that y’all took some funny pictures…where you held hands.

Me: Yea, we do that…

Mom: What about Monica? I saw on facebook, you entered into a relationship.

Me: Noo….she hacked me.  How much time do y’all spend on facebook?!

Mom & Dad: Are you going to become butch?

Me: No, I’m still me. Nothing about me has or will change. I’m still the same Tracey I’ve always been.

Mom & Dad: You know we love you no matter what. We’re just concerned this will make your life more difficult. We don’t want you to be discriminated against.

Me: There is no doubt that this has made my life a bit harder, and will continue to do that. Obviously, it’s not the easy way out. But, this isn’t something I chose.

Mom: YOU WERE BORN THIS WAY (thank you, Lady Gaga).

Me: Yes. And, I’ve never felt discriminated against or faced an adverse reaction. I’m sure it will happen one day, but those aren’t the people I’ve surrounded myself with.

Arielle: Yes, our generation is very accepting.

Dad: And, everyone loves lesbians!!

Me: Um, I don’t think that’s true…

(pause)

Arielle: Well Dad, now you have someone to talk about pretty women with! Mom and I always talk about boys we think are cute. You and Tracey can do that with women.

(silence)

Me: I don’t think he’s ready for that yet….

(laughter) Dad: Ya, maybe , maybe not right now.

Crossing off an action item on my To Do list has never felt so good. To my family: thank you for being accepting and supportive. I invite you into my life, one step at a time. This blog is officially…PUBLIC.

Thursday at 10 a.m., St. Louis

Coworker Michael: “Hey, Tracey. Your staying in town tonight, right?”

Me: “Yep”

Michael: “Want to go to a Halloween party?”

Me (.002 seconds, briefly think: where is this Halloween party, who is hosting, when is it, who will be there. Dismiss all those thoughts) “YES!”

Michael: “Cool, I’ll send you the details”

Me: “Wait! What should I be? What are you going to be?”

Michael: “You don’t have to dress up. I’m going as soy sauce and Ellen (wife) is going as sushi”

Me: “That’s so cute! I want to fit into that theme…. (10 minutes later)….maybe I could go as ramen?”

Michael: “Or, chopsticks! Hahahaha”

Me: “Ohh, yes, that’s it! Be right back!”

(11:10 a.m.) — Stephanie, Chinese coworker, and I head across the street to a craft store to buy supplies.

(11:25 a.m.)– Stephanie and I book a conference room for a “lunch meeting” to build the outfit. Thankfully, Stephanie’s Chinese classes pay off….

Semi-finished product

Final Product!

Sushi dinner + a Spider

Once at the party, we immediately head to the open bar. Problem: Huge lines. Solution: Grabbing 2-3 drinks every time you reach the bar. This leads to double (or triple) fisting drinks all night, which leads to a few evening highlights:

• Entering the couples contest with Michael and Ellen, as a sushi dinner. This menage a trios makes it to second rounds, but eventually get beat out by a pair of Legos. Well done, Legos.
• Dancing to live performances by Coolio and that dude who sings “Bust a Move”.
• Busting a move on the dance floor.
• Discarding my costume to the side of the dance floor, feeling like it cramped my style and ability to adequately bust a move.
• Getting glitter bombed by Ben
• Nurse (well, someone dressed up as a nurse) aiding me wipe the glitter from my eyes.
• Photo shoot with Ben, in our new glittered out state
• Reaching my alcohol limit for next 3-6 months.
• Seeing the Cards come back to win game 6 of the World Series
• Just kidding. I didn’t see this at all, just noticed everyone was cheering exceptionally loudly at some point in the night. I may have taken that opportunity to toast with more random people.

]]> http://traceymichele.wordpress.com/2011/11/02/halloween-freakfest/feed/ 0 traceymichele Creating the masterpiece http://traceymichele.wordpress.com/2011/10/23/hawaii/ http://traceymichele.wordpress.com/2011/10/23/hawaii/#comments Sun, 23 Oct 2011 21:17:36 +0000 traceymichele http://traceymichele.wordpress.com/?p=63 Keep reading →]]> 1.5 years after joining the real world, I finally had enough vacation racked up to take a trip off the mainland. I may not have traveled to a far-away land, carrying only a backpack and the knowledge of how to ask “How much” in whichever foreign language I have chosen to immerse myself in. I may not have spent a month hopping between 14 hour bus rides and sustaining myself off bananas and bread. I may not have shared a bedroom with 15 other people, several of them bound to be snorers. I did however, spend a week in a non-foreign land, speaking English, eating whole meals, and staying in some sweet SPG resorts. Guess where I went?!? …..HAWAII! And, it was AWESOME. Here are some highlights:

• Competing in my first triathlon!
•  A few months ago, I decided I want to try out a triathlon. I also decided I wanted to vacation to Hawaii. I merged the two ideas together, and signed up for the Ko Olina sprint triathlon, on the beautiful island of Oahu. I arrived in Hawaii Friday evening, picked up my bike and packet Saturday, and was front and center at the start line at 4:30 a.m. on Sunday morning…woo, vacation!
•  The coolest part of the tri was the swim. Rather than swim for 15-20 minutes straight and transition into the bike, our swim was through 4 lagoons. After each lagoon, you ran up a hill and sprinted (ahem, jogged for me) to the next lagoon. Repeat x4!
• I finished in 1:38, 100th place out of …. ? Lots of people I hope, and not 101 folks.

• 

  My first Tri!

• After completing the tri, I promptly return to the hotel to lounge by the pool. 5 minutes after collapsing (okay, sitting. The tri wasn’t that exhausting) onto a beach chair, I get a call from Monica, who had been testing for her open water scuba diving certification. She was on the way back to the hotel, after stepping on a sea urchin. Womp womp! A few minutes later, I see her limping into the pool area, with a series of reverse barbs stuck deep into her two little toes. Uh-ohs.

• 

  Reverse Barbed--Ouch

•  I send her back to the hotel, to soak her foot in hot water, while I grab her a scotch on the rocks at the pool bar. After getting the drink, I ask the local lifeguard what Monica should do to treat the wound. His reply “Pee on it”. Being the good friend that I am, I race back up to the hotel room, and pronounce “Monica, I talked to the lifeguard. We have to treat this. It could be dangerous. I’m going to pee on you. Don’t argue with me. I’m going to pee on you. Ready?” To which Monica replies “To hell you’re not”. Thinking ahead that she might be adverse to the idea of me peeing on her, I also got a cup of vinegar while downstairs. Soaking your foot in vinegar is said to dissolve the barbs, and help your body either break them down, or force them out. Monica and I spend the next few hours intermingled with soaking her feet in vinegar, and drinking at the downstairs bar.
• While at the downstairs bar, we have a small confrontation with a hotel employee:
• Hotel Employee, heretofore named Zeek, has the nightly task of removing all the beanbag floaties from the pool once dusk hits. He likes to begin this process well before dusk sets in. He begins pulling in the floaties that are not being used. As he does this, I reach in to sit in one. He pulls it away from me, saying “I’m taking these in”. Noticing there are 30 people currently lounging on these floaties, I shrug my shoulders and grab a different one. 10 minutes later, he targets Monica and I. At this point, there are still ~20 people on the bean bag floaties, and ~ 15 empty floaties in the pool. Zeek points at Monica and I, and growls “I need those”, to which I do not respond well.
• Zeek (growls): “I need those”
• Me (kindly) : “Hmm. Can you get the empty floaties out first?”
• Zeek (snarls): “No. I need those”
• Me (sweetly): “I’m not giving you this bean bag while there are empty ones you can take out. I will gladly give you the bean bag, when you really need it. Don’t target us” (turns away)
• (Zeek now targets Monica, exchange repeats itself)
• Zeek: “Don’t make me call security”
• Me (Bon Qui Qui Madtv skit): “SECCCCURRRITTTTYYYYY
• *note* I didn’t scream secccccurrrritttyyy, but I wish I had. We waited 5 minutes and then gave him the bean bag chair. 

• At night time, Monica & I meet my pen-pal, Kylie! Yep, I have a pen-pal. It’s like in 5th grade, when you had a pen-pal from El Salvador, but way better, because this time you can legit communicate with your pen-pal.
• Kylie takes us to a scenic look out point at the top of a lot of hills in Honolulu.
• Monica debates getting a tattoo of Texas .
• We all debate ghost-chasing.
• Kylie takes us back at 10pm, because I am a 90 year old grandmother, disguised in a 23 year old’s body, and it was almost past my bedtime. Quick, to the hotel before I turn into a pumpkin (I don’t even last until midnight, Cinderella’s got nothin on me)!

• Pearl Harbor. Done and done.

• Dole Pineapple Plantation.
•  Aka, the world’s largest maze! Upon entering the maze, we were told the record was 8 minutes to find the 8 checkpoints, and make it out….alive. Monica was determined to beat this time. She set out as a woman on a mission, bound and determined to race to all 8 checkpoints in under a minute each. 15 minutes in, we realized that would not be possible. New mission: beat the kids. As anyone who knows me well knows, I am a terrible navigator. I don’t understand maps at all, and prefer to simply ask people for directions (or blindly follow the GPS on my phone….love Google maps). With Monica blazing the trail (gimp foot and all), we made it through the world’s largest labryinth in under 45 minutes! We may have ducked under a few bushes that we weren’t supposed to, but to quote Monica “It doesn’t matter how you get there. All that matters is that you got there.” Spoken like a true Wall Streeter. Well said, Monica.
• We ate pineapple. Twas good.

•   Kahala Beach
• Kylie the pen-pal took Monica and I to a pristine beach on the other end of Oahu, where  Obama stays whilst in Hawaii!

• 

  Kahala Beach

•  We then had dinner with a friend I made from the Ko Olina triathlon. Good thing we let him pick the dinner spot, as I overhead this during the dinner conversation:
• Friend Ryan from tri: “If I didn’t come along, where would you have taken them for local Hawaiin food?”
• Kylie: “Blah blah place, on blah blah street”
• Ryan: “Ugh, that place is mediocre”
• Kylie: “I know. But…they wouldn’t have known the difference”
• Tracey: “I HEARD that.”
• 10pm rolls around, and I have to call for the check. I’m about to turn into a pumpkin. To be fair, the latest Mjam and I woke up while in Oahu was 5:45am. The next day was a 5:15am start, to make a 6:30am cage diving with sharks tour!

• Cage Diving with Sharks
• Bright and early, Monica and I head to North Shore, to jump in a cage with Great White Sharks!! Just kidding. It was a Galapagos shark, and there was only one of them. Seeing sharks is hit or miss, and we ish missed.

• 

  Shark Attack!

• Snorkeling in Shark’s Cove
• Determined to see more sharks, I convince Monica to go snorkeling in Shark’s Cove, with me. We see no sharks, no turtles, and are bored within 20 minutes. As it turns out, the name Shark’s Cove is derived from the architecture of the cove, which looks like a sharks tail. Damn it. Sighting of sharks = fail.
• While driving home from North Shore, Monica spots a beach and the conversation goes like this:
• M: “Beach!! Want to stop?!?!”
• T: “Oh my goodness, a beach! YES! Definitely”
• Apparently, we had forgotten we were on an island.
• Later that evening….
• We finally make it back to our hotel, circa 2pm. We lounge by the pool for an hour, and then meet Ryan for local Hawaiin food, take two! He takes us to this amazing local eatery (definitely better than mediocre), and we try Kalua Pig (slow cooked pig), Ahi Poke (raw tuna), Chicken Lau Lau (chicken and spinach wrapped in ti leaves and steamed), snail delicious thing, seaweed salad, a fancy delicacy which was very salty and I have no idea what the name is, and Haupia (a coconut pudding dessert).

• 

  Local Hawaiin Grub

• After dinner, Monica and I head back to the hotel, and chill out before gaining our second wind. We begin watching Hulu, and I pass out with one last thought on my mind: “Monica wouldn’t hack my facebook, would she?!” She would. The next day, I find myself divorced from Carlos, married to Monica, with the political view that ” national curfew should be at 9pm. Even whilst on vacation in Hawaii” Passive aggressive much, Monica?? But, kudos on hacking the hacker.

• Kauai!
• At 9am the next morning, we board a flight to Kauai, the country livin’ of the Hawaiin islands. We are greeted by chickens and roosters upon our arrival, and a beautiful view of the mountainside and ocean, on our drive to the north shore.
• En route to our hotel, Mjam and I spot a sign for a lighthouse, and decide a detour is in order. Not having any cash on hand to enter the lighthouse, I see a group ahead of me, that had just finished paying. Monica and I saunter up to them, and glide past the entrance fee counter, as part of the touring group. A few minutes later, Monica sees a sign that says “Bird enter only” and makes the oh so clever quip: “Let’s just find a group of birds…we’ll walk in with them! No one will know the difference”. Touche.

• Hanalei Falls
• 8 mile hike; 2 miles in leads to a beach with dangerous undertows, 4 miles in leads to a gorgeous waterfall cascading down into a frigid pool.

• 

  Hanalei Falls

• Following the hike, we hit what we thought was the sole hot tub at the resort. We met a couple there who, upon exiting the hot tub, said “we’re spa hopping”, to which I replied “Huh? There are others?!”. They responded “Yep, there is one to the right, which is small, and one to the left, which is much more fun, and has a beautiful view of the ocean. Excited, Monica and I head to the “fun” jacuzzi, while the other couple veers to the right, to the “less fun hot tub”. Possibly trying to get rid of us…?

• Scuba Diving
• The next day, while Monica finishes up her scuba certification, I join a scuba diving company in the south shore, to once again find some sharks.
• I don’t find sharks (except for the 40yo dude trying to pick me up), but do find octupus, turtles, a viper moray eel (friendly looking guy), and Gil from Finding Nemo!
• Also, I got a major nose bleed on both of my dives, effectively filling up my mask with blood. An unpleasant thing to find upon returning to the water’s surface. Ahhhhh I’m bleeding! I’ve been BITTEN….by….something. Not a shark, but something.
• *Side note: I’ve never gotten a nose bleed. Kylie made me feel better by informing me the last time her dive buddy got a nose bleed, it was a result of his eardrum bursting on descent. It’s cool guys, I’m fairly certain my eardrum is intact.

• Partying, Kauai style
• After scuba diving, I meet up with Monica, her HS buddy, and a few of his friends for a good ‘ol BBQ. So we do that, and then we decide to head to  Shipwrecks Beach.
• Once at the beach, Clint, Monica’s HS friend, challenges me to a midnight showdown. There is a nearby cliff that hangs about 35 feet over the ocean’s edge. Jumping 35 feet off a cliff, into the ocean? Peace of cake! Climbing up said cliff in the dark of the night, and then jumping 35 feet into the shark-infested ocean, during tiger shark mating season? Slight hesitation. Clint notices my hesitation, and right as he is about to say “We’re not jumping”, I say “Let’s DO this.” To all who think I’m crazy stupid, let me just say, I didn’t know it was tiger shark mating season until afterwards. I also didn’t know a 14 foot tiger shark was seen patrolling the waters below the cliff, until afterwards. The undertow? Didn’t know about that until afterwards. The bit about shark-infested waters? I thought I had made that up. The last question I asked atop the cliff was “Are there sharks down there?”, to which Clint replies “I can’t promise you there aren’t. It is, afterall, the ocean.”
• Clint jumps
• I hear nothing for 1…2….3…..3.5 seconds. Splash goes Clint into the water, followed by a “I’m OKAY! Come down”
• I wait a few more seconds, to ensure Clint doesn’t get eaten by a shark, then a few more seconds to decide if I really want to do this, and then I launch myself off the side. I jump. I fall. I continue falling…..IMPACT. Holy goodness, I have not jumped in the correct fashion. The pencil dive was out, the butt landing was in. Completely shocked, I thank my lucky stars for my god-given cushion, and then promptly think “Holy batman, OUCH”. I take a few seconds to catch my breathe, find Clint, and we proceed to swim in to shore together. As we’re swimming, I see a dark shape to the right of Clint. Right as I’m about to scream “SHARK!!!! Save yourself!!”, the shark shouts out “Nice jump, guys!” Phew, it’s just our friend Chris, on a body board. Mission Accomplished.
• After chilling on the beach for a while, a group of teenagers join the party, and this is where I learn about tiger shark mating season, the previous presence of the 14 foot tiger shark, undertows and swells in the current…..all good things to learn after doing something stupid.
• Illegal hot tubbing–how else do you end a night? We eventually get kicked out of the Sheraton hot tub, and then proceed to make the 1.5 hour drive back to North Shore.

• Allerton’s Beach–Surf & Turf!
• A secluded beach behind a bunch of fences and “Warning, Do Not Enter” signs. This is when I knew it was going to be a good day.
• We make the little trek through the backwoods, and Chris, our fearless leader, begins the hopeless task of teaching myself (and less hopeless task of teaching Monica), to surf. Monica goes first, and almost makes it up, and definitely surfs on her stomach to the beach. I settle for a surf on my stomach, and spend the rest of the afternoon lounging on the beach. Chris eventually has to remind us we have a flight out in a few hours (UGH. Do we have to go?), and Monica and I begin the sad, sad journey to the airport.

• Should I stay or should I go?
• Once at the airport, I have a very emo moment, where I get totally sad about leaving Hawaii and rejoining reality. Work? Huh, what’s that? Computer, whhhaat do you need that for? All you need in life is sunscreen and coconuts!
• I debate jumping ship, and staying in Hawaii FOREVA. Then, I decide to be semi-responsible and ask the AA ticket lady if I can change my flight to a few days later. She begins describing the hoops and fire rings I will have to jump through, and I spend the next couple of minutes pacing the airport like a schizo, determining if my parents would disown me if I never came home, quit my job, and became a beach bum. They probably wouldn’t, but then I realized I missed CBW (best restaurant in all of the WORLD, in St. Louis), so I boarded the flight for St. Louis. Real world, you win. But one day, mark my words, you will be beaten!!