Craig and I met up with another couple in St. Louis this weekend. We left our children with my parents and they left their kids with relatives and then we met up and sort of ate our way through the city. It was delicious. I won’t go through all the food we ate, because really, you don’t have that kind of time.
But I will tell you that my sweat has started to smell of maple syrup.
A few non-food highlights of the trip were:
1- 9,999) We were without our children, thereby giving us free reign to sleep when we wanted, eat what we wanted and where we wanted without having to color pictures of Batman or walk circles around the restaurant while getting punched in the neck by an angry 1 year old. We were also allowed to stay up til the butt crack of dawn. We didn’t. But the point is we could have. Also, we only had to wipe our own asses. Etc.
10,000) Very enlightening discussion about why McDonald’s coffee is so troublesome. See, at McDonald’s they make you say a number of creamers and sugars that you want. It’s humiliating. I find it impossible to say “I’d like eleventeenthousand creamers and nineteengazillion sugars, please.” So, I end up guessing what would be respectable and ordering a coffee with two creams and two sugars and then not drinking said coffee because it tastes like coffee. Unacceptable. So Craig said I was being ridiculous and he’d order at the drive through for me and pretend it was for him, but then when he got up to the speaker, he was all “So, what do you want Genevieve Thompson?” And I looked at him like what the hell, dude and said over loudly so the drive thru lady would hear, “Two creams, two sugars” and then he ordered me what I actually wanted, which is a cup of sugar milk with a dash of coffee. It was so embarassing.
10,001) Then we went to a gas station and ate at Arbys which was just as disgusting as it sounds. And when we were getting ready to leave, Craig looked outside and shouted “HAS SOMEONE CALLED 911? THERE IS A CAMPER ON FIRE!” (He’s an Eagle Scout, I’ll have you know, so he’s very quick on his feet in these types of situations which is convenient since my impulse was to walk out toward the camper, which was hooked to the gas pump, which was in flames, to take a picture to post on Twitter. And his impulse was to grab my hand and drag me somewhere where a massive explosion might not kill me.) And then the janitor of the gas station came running out with a fire extinguisher and put the fire out. (I’ll bet he was an Eagle Scout too.) It was almost as crazy as the huge hunks of gristle I kept finding in my Arby’s sandwich.
10,002) Our lobby was sweetass. And also, we got a teeny room with a glorious view of the arch.
10,003) There was a cool rooftop deck with highly sculpted potted bushes perfect for hiding behind.
10,004) There was a creepy wax museum on a cobblestone street filled with bars named things like Big Daddy’s. This creepy wax museum also sold hot dogs and ice cream. Which is even more creepy.
10,005) Starbucks in the lobby. Oops. Food again.
10,006) A brewery tour of Budweiser who produces almost half the beer in the entire U.S., but who, on the tour, doesn’t seem to actually employ any human beings whatsoever. I certainly didn’t see any. Except our tour guide. (The Industrial Revolution is so depressing sometimes.) But it did result in our drinking Budweiser out of an enormous silo contraption from an apparatus called a pig tail, which is gross. We also got certificates that said we were honorary Brew Masters, and I took this priceless photo.
10,007) I saw this in the lobby. He was being led around by a woman dressed as a flapper.
10,008) We tried to do some actual worthwhile touristy things like go this amazing Basilica, but when we got there, they were doing something religious inside and asked us not to walk around. So, we went in to sit in the back pew and there was this other dude there who was chewing his gum so loudly I could barely contain my rage. I was all DUDE! WILL YOU SHUT YOUR DISGUSTING TRAP? I AM TRYING TO COMMUNE WITH GOD, YOU ASSHOLE. And then, when I couldn’t bear it anymore, I was like, let’s leave and go eat some stuff. Then, on our way to get food, we walked by these really expensive neighborhoods and I couldn’t resist taking a picture of these signs while shouting about my disdain for them while Craig tried to hide his head in his jacket.
10,010) We also tried to go up in the Arch, but by the time we got inside, we were told the next tour wasn’t for another 18 bazillion hours. Since we had to get home to my parents house to pick up the kids and make a salad for dinner (my mother was very emphatic that this was to be my job for the night,) we ended up not taking a tour. After like four minutes in the gift shop, I was like, I gotta get out of here, this isn’t working, so let’s go eat instead.
But I did get this shot of The Arch, which I think is all right, if I do say so myself. This picture allows me to deceive people into thinking I’m a worthwhile tourist who does interesting cultural things — I mean, rather than eating, finding wax sculptures that serve ice cream, and dogs in top hats.
Thanks for the memories, St. Louis (and also for the weird maple syrup smelling sweat!)