An excellent weekend in Louisville, celebrating Thunder, the kick-off of Derby season. The trip involved: a stealth bomber, the world’s largest fireworks display, a transvestite cabaret, and (most importantly) Lindsey and her fabulous housemates and Louisville Science Center co-workers. While I won’t be moving to Kentucky any time soon, I’ll definitely be heading back to visit at some point in the near future.
I’m off to Louisville, Kentucky, for a quick visit with one of my best friends from college, Lindsey Tucker. Until I return on Monday there won’t be any new postings.
While I had intended to pull together a travelogue for my trip to the Bahamas, I returned to work this morning to find more than 1200 emails waiting for me. Therefore, I’m instead falling back on these dozen short observations, which I jotted down on yesterday’s flight back to JFK:
1. Kalik, the Bahamian local beer, tastes like a bitter, watered down version of Bud Light. The can proclaims it’s “export quality” – perhaps I’m just shopping at the wrong liquor stores, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen that exported Kalik here in New York City.
2. The bikini is, without a doubt, one of the 20th century’s great inventions.
3. Diving with groups of first time scuba-divers is absolutely hysterical. Everywhere you turn, one is floating up towards the surface, dragging along the bottom, or swimming off into the blue. Divemasters are apparently exceedingly grateful for any assistance in corralling such divers.
4. Getting cornrows is a big thing for tourists in the Bahamas. Girls everywhere had dropped $100 to have their hair tightly braided by old, fat Bahamian women on the beach. Note to future visitors: White girls in cornrows bespeak a world of missing teeth and trailer parks that is probably best avoided.
5. I went on the Booze Cruise, and I’m willing to admit it.
6. Crystal Palace, the Bahamas’ largest casino, while tanner and less geriatric than much of Vegas, wouldn’t even hold its own a few blocks off the strip. The place is less than a fifth the size of Foxwoods.
7. Watching spring-breakers from a Texas sorority interact with spring-breakers from an Ohio sorority is oddly fascinating. I felt sort of like Jane Goodall watching two tribes of gorillas squaring off over territory and mating rights.
Note to guys looking for vacation destinations: female-to-male ratio on Nassau’s Cable Beach was approximately 2-to-1.
8. Adrienne, if you’re reading this, I really will call you.
9. Conch chowder is mm-mm good.
10. Other than that, the food blew and was vastly overpriced. It was, however, served rather quickly, seemingly at odds with the otherwise blissfully slow pace of Bahamian life.
11. Masculinity be damned. I like pina coladas.
12. Our hotel didn’t have a hot tub, necessitating frequent trips to the next-door Marriott for the crucial tropical vacation cycle: beach – ocean – pool – hot tub – drink – repeat.
Nassau, in short: Without a doubt, worth the trip, but probably not the repeat trip. My heart is with the Pacific, and Hawaii is where I’d rather be.
I’m off to the Bahamas for five days of bibacity and philandery. And, of course, a good sunburn tan.
Don’t bother returning here until Friday, as the site won’t be updated until then.
In other news, apparently I can still swing dance. Last night’s date went well. Very well.
Several days ago, I discussed the Bay Area’s tragic flaw: a shortage of hot women. A slew of readers have replied, mainly splitting by gender:
Guys: You’re damn right.
Girls: Yeah, but we have it worse; look at the guys.
Several readers also pointed out a number of other, admittedly more minor, shortcomings of the idyllic greater San Francisco region. In particular, I’d agree with the lack of:
The list goes on, but I’d prefer not to dwell on it, as I do intend to eventually move back to the Bay Area. Besides, if I can find the right woman to bring with me, I can get by without the rest.
Each time I return to the Bay Area, I’m hit with a wave of homesickness. The perfect weather, the laid back lifestyle. The beaches, the mountains. Green everywhere. Wow, I always think. I should move back.
And yet, something is missing. Wandering Palo Alto this morning I finally realized what it is: hot girls. Women in New York are just better looking than in San Francisco. I’m not entirely sure why, but it’s indubitably true.
Cue up the Sinatra. Start spreadin’ the news, I’m leaving today…
Made it to my parent’s house in Palo Alto in one piece. “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” — Robert Frost
Not the smoothest flight. I’m reminded of a trip several years back from Washington DC to Hartford where a blizzard forced us to take six or seven landing passes, before finally giving up and turning the flight back to Washington. Some 50% of the passengers tossed their cookies, and I spent most of the flight clutching my barf bag preemptively, doubting the integrity of my previously reliable and flight-tested stomach.