Posted by: kristabella | November 14, 2006

St. Lou-natics

No, this post isn’t about Nelly. But man do I love me some Nelly. It’s gettin’ hot in herre. (That song will always remind me of Osaka, Japan. Why, you ask? Because I was travelling with the 49ers and like all the players and little ole me ended up at some club and they were all dancing, and um, disrobing, when this song came on. (DJ Skribble from MTV was spinning the tunes) It. Was. AWESOME!)

Man, I really have no attention span. So anyway, about a month ago, my friend Sus and I took a road trip down to The Lou. The Seahawks were playing the Rams and one of my good friends works for the Seahawks (although if he keeps making comments about the shocker on here, we won’t be such good friends. Which will severely upset Mom and Gram, who both think we’re meant to be.)

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Sorry Mom and Gram. Not gonna happen.

So we drove down on Friday evening to spend the weekend. Although, we didn’t actually stay for the game. Sus had a Christening or something on Sunday afternoon, so we left early. Which was fine by me, because I needed the rest to recover from the previous two days.

I’ve actually never really been to STL. I went down last year for the Rams/Seahawks game, but came down Saturday and we only made it to Fridays. Rich LOVES Fridays. And man, they make stiff drinks.

So this year, I really wanted to go and do the few touristy things that dump of a city has to offer. Few things to me is the Arch and the Budweiser Brewery. (Which, I tried EVERY year to convince my mom we should do on our drive down to AZ. But I got denied every time. And she wonders why she has no walnut bowls. Hrmpff!)

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(Totally off topic, but ugliness is not just limited to Wisconsin. St. Louis fares no better. Mullets EVERYWHERE!)

Friday night we got in about 11 and then walked all over the place because I was damn positive we were going to the right way to get to The Landing. We weren’t. When we saw the White Castle, we knew we were heading in the wrong direction. And by this time, Rich was about 8 drinks ahead of us and we were NOT drunk, and therefore cranky. This did not make for a fun situation.

FINALLY we made it to The Landing, which kind of blows and my St. Louis friend totally told me that. Oh well. It was close. We ended up at Sundecker’s. Which was quite an interesting place. Since we were way behind the rest of St. Louis, I found it entertaining. There were these two chicks, clearly anorexic. I mean, one false move, one slip on aBud Light puddle on the floor and we were going to have a bone jutting out of the skin. Which I did not need to see.

But Nicole Richie and her friend were clearly shit-faced (and seriously? what does it take? one drink?) and just dancing up a storm. And I use the term “dancing” loosely. But the best part was that they were trying to draw attention from the “men” by bumping and grinding with each other. Trying, being the operative word here. Oh, and there was a pole in the middle of the room. They attempted to use this, but it was neither provocative nor sexy. Nor something I should ever see again. Ever. But they got a lot of attention. Probably not the kind they were looking for.

This Sundecker’s place is great though. For $4.50, they give you this like 16-ounce rum and coke. In a take home cup! After three of these, I was good. To. Go.

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Lots of Coke & Rum in this cup!

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Which one of us had the most Coke & Rums? Hmmm, Rich?

The next morning, though? Not so good. Too much rum. Too little time. And I wasn’t feeling well. We went to eat, which usually helps. But I ate too much. And then drank a bottle of water. Filled me up good. Which, hungover and queasy is just asking for trouble of the vomitous kind.

So we head to the arch and get in line. My nausea is going in waves, but I’m doing OK. For the most part. Until it is our turn. (Of course. Although, better now than in the 5-man pod) We are seriously the next to go in and it hit me. I got all hot and weak and I swear I turned white or green and so was going to pass out in line or puke on the turnstile guy.

So we jump out. Because, if I can’t stand in line, how the hell am I going to make it up in one of those enclosed pods? (Which, by the way, totally Mork & Mindy. Na Noo, Na Noo)

Finally, after some time (most spent in the bathroom) we get back in line. This is when I finally decide sitting down is good. It’s the only way I’m going to get up in this damn arch. Kids can make it without sitting. Hell, you can’t bring strollers in. Not me. So as much as I can, I sit. I sit in line. Once we get in the museum. In line again at the pod. In the pod. And I’m good. I can proudly say I did not puke on any unsuspecting tourists. But someone else did. There was a “hazardous spill” up at the top of the arch. Ewwww…….

And with the views, I can see how you could lose it. Plus you’re in that little area, and it’s all like slanty and shit, like you are in some sort of archway or something. And there’s no air. Just tiny little windows. That remind you how far up you really are. And how a rickety pod thing was the only thing that got you up there in the first place. And they built it like in the 60s or something. So it’s all old and shit. I’m getting a little queasy thinking about it now.

But the views are worth it.

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Needless to say, after all this, I still haven’t been to the Budweiser brewery. And frankly, I don’t even really like Budweiser that much anyway.

But after a nap and a decent dinner that night, I was back up to about 75%. I could drink. But   s   l    o   w   l    y. Which didn’t please Rich in the very least. But I rallied. Which was more than Sus could say. So we spent some time at Fridays. AGAIN. And then on to the Westin bar. Where? We saw Tom Glavine. Who was totally checking me out. Or maybe he was looking at Rich. We really couldn’t decide.

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But overall, it wasn’t such a bad trip. But I doubt I’ll be heading there any time soon. Go Cubs!

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It was the first game of the NLCS and they dyed the fountain red. Which is kinda cool. Kinda.

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Responses

  1. How painful for you to bring up the walnut bowls!!!!!!

  2. To quote Veronica Mars, as people often should, “In the ’70s, they had The Hustle. In the ’80s, they had the Moonwalk. Now, we have the Faux-Lesbian Dance.” Booooooooo! Ever call people out on their blatant attention-whoring? They don’t have a great sense of humor about it.


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