The (Much Delayed) Obligatory Vacation Recap, Part 2

(I have no idea what happened to my post about Friday. I swear I wrote one. It had eight bajillion links! Where did it go? OK, I'll reassemble it and repost it. Until then, here's the end of the story... sorry.)

Saturday:

Once again, we got a late start. (I'm sure you're all shocked by this... SHOCKED!) We re-evaluated our plans (again the three-hour tour got pushed to the wayside simply because it would suck up three hours of our very busy schedule) and set off for the parking garage in Hell's Kitchen that we'd used the night before. (Because we knew where we were going, I did not completely freak out as I had done the day before. Hooray!)

First on the agenda: lunch (again at the dining concourse) and the New York Transit Museum Gallery Annex at Grand Central. There was an exhibit of the history of New York transportation in film. Fascinating. I honestly could have stayed in there all day, but we had too busy an agenda to spend the entire day watching clips of King Kong and Saturday Night Fever. Onward!

Our next stop took us to the Museum of Sex, where I was tempted to buy something just so I could have a T shirt or coffee mug that loudly proclaimed MoSex. (My practical side won out, and I decided against it. I do have the online store bookmarked in case I change my mind, though. Heh.) In addition to the permanent collection, there were two temporary exhibits, one focusing on the history of the male nude and another on the history of the stag film. Educational and titillating!

(I said titillating. Hee. I'm twelve.)

It was getting close to time for the Richard Cheese show at the Bowery Ballroom, so we cut through Little Italy, thinking we could find something to eat along the way. This proved a bit more difficult than one would expect. While Mulberry Street is closed to traffic on weekends and is jam-packed with restaurants, the vast majority of them are sidewalk cafes. We finally found a place with carry-out (which, as far as I can tell, was The Italian Food Center) and grabbed some calzones and stromboli (Zappagirl and Memnochlv raved about both).

Tummies no longer rumbling, we headed over to the Bowery Ballroom for the Richard Cheese show. (Amusing note: the music that was being played before the band took the stage? All original versions of songs that they cover. At first we thought it was a coincidence, but after the fourth or fifth song in a row... and when given the opportunity to sing along with "Baby Got Back," who's complaining?) The show was fabulous: if this turns out to be an extended farewell tour, I highly recommend making the trek to see them. (Completely shallow side note for the ladies: Frank Feta, the new drummer, is way cute. Memnoch pointed this out, by the way.)

After the show, the band retired to the downstairs lounge for a meet and greet, where Zappagirl engaged Gordon Brie in a discussion on French composers. (Lounge Against the Machine has some musical cred - the aforementioned Mr. Brie was preparing for his Masters performance. And the boy can dance!)

Putting the neverending quest for McLeary's on pause for a bit, we stopped at Winebar in East Village, based on a review Zappagirl had read in the Village Voice. Yummy wine (the name of which seems to be escaping all of us), but we unfortunately arrived as they were closing up. We polished off our bottle and continued up 2nd Avenue in search of beer-flavored beer.

There were three bars rights next to each other further up the street that had been recommended to us the previous night at Toad Hall. With time becoming a factor at this point, we closed our eyes and pointed, and started at The Thirsty Scholar. It was OK, but the lack of Bass Ale (my summer brew of choice... until the next stop, that is... but I'll get to that in a moment) was disheartening. I sipped at my Bud Light and almost spit it back up; sometimes my body has a hard time adjusting between wine and beer and rebels on the first drink or two.

And then the weirdness started. (As if it wasn't weird enough already.) A girl approached our group and asked if we knew where any nearby gay bars might be. Apparently this girl was looking for a bar to take her friend Matt to and thought we looked like we were in the know. After explaining that we were tourists and could recommend a few in Cincinnati, Matt joined in the conversation. It's probably a good thing we were unable to help with recommendations, as Matt had probably had enough fun for one evening. Due to the inebriation, there was also some confusion over my companions' sexual preferences: at first he suspected Zappagirl to be either bisexual or a lesbian. He then went on about what a cute couple Zappagirl and Memnoch were for several drunken minutes, then asked Memnoch, "So you're gay, right?" Wow. Brain cells were dying right and left.

(No speculations were made towards my sexual proclivities. Either I'm obviously and unquestionably straight or he was so drunk that he was unaware that there was a third person there.)

We headed next door to Ryan's Irish Pub, where I asked Memnoch to order me a Bass while I made a pit stop. I returned to find a pint in front of me. "They were out of Bass," Memnoch informed me. "But the bartender said this was better."

I glanced over at the bartender. Hello salty goodness! Pretty. Pretty. Prettyprettypretty... whee! And a thick Irish brogue to match. He could've served me a flat Old Milwaukee and told me it was the best beer ever and I would've believed him. (The beer - Smithwick's Ale - was quite good. It's apparently a relatively new import, though, so it might be hard to find, but I highly recommend it.)

Unfortunately, it was closing time (and I was pretty exhausted at this point), so we headed off to catch the subway back to the car. As we waited (and I tried to mentally will the giant blister on my heel to stop hurting), Zappagirl and I had a Motown singalong with an older African-American gentleman waiting on his train. He may or may not have been drunk, but who cares when it's 5 am on a Sunday morning, you've been up all night, and there's nothing else to do but wait on the subway to take you back to your car before the sun comes up? Singing a medly of Temptations and Four Tops songs sounds like a good way to pass the time. (It took my mind off my aching feet for a few minutes too!)

Zappabro was up when we finally made it home. (He had a golf game in the morning.) I'm sure he probably was shaking his head in disbelief, but I was too focused on crashing (and taking off my boots) to notice....

Sunday (I'll make this brief, as it's been over month since we've been back, and most people have probably grown disinterested at this point):

For the most part, we did nothing. The nonstop silliness of the previous two days had taken their toll, and we pretty much hung around Zappabro's house doing nothing. I made some progress on the book I was reading. We headed into the city that evening for dinner and drinks at The Ginger Man (hooray for numerous beers on tap - I was thrilled to find that they had Yuengling, as I had been craving it for two years), then headed over to Stout to watch Detroit get their asses kicked in one of the NBA Finals games. (Sorry about that, Zappabro.) We were also treated to the Zappasibs dancing like complete morons before we left. Hee.

Monday:

Time to head home... but Memnoch and I decided we needed to make a side trip to New Jersey for the Kevin Smith pilgrimage. First stop: Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash in Red Bank, where we spent entirely too much money and spotted Walt Flanagan ("Tell 'em, Steve-Dave!") before he headed of on his break. I am now the proud owner of a Clerks - The Animated Series lunchbox, a Randal Graves inaction figure (to keep my Dante company), and a T shirt proclaiming "I'm not even supposed to be here today!"

After a pitstop for cheesecake and coffee and a sidetrip to the local 7-11 to change the fuses in Zappagirl's dashboard (apparently running several major appliances off the cigarette lighter had blown the existing one; go figure), we headed for Leonardo to the Quick Stop and RST Video (which fittingly was not open) and amused ourselves by taking pictures of Memnoch and me doing our best Silent Bob imitations, loitering outside in a trenchcoat smoking cigarettes. (We did not deal drugs while were there. As we were lacking a boombox, we also did not bust a move. We did, however, go into the store and buy porn, but did not ask to use the bathroom with the good toilet paper.)

(My mother is scratching her head at the moment, wondering why we would ask to use the bathroom at the Quick Stop and why we felt the need to buy a porn magazine. Those of you who have seen Clerks will understand.)

Raj, the gentleman manning the counter while we were there, rolled his eyes. We asked him if he got a lot of Askewniverse tourists. "All the time," he answered wearily. (And he was right. Another couple stopped by with a camera while we were digging in the trunk for the trenchcoat.)

Giggling like idiots, we got back in the car... and realized we didn't know how to get back to the expressway. (The one we needed was on the other side of NJ. Whoever unwittingly allowed us use of their wi-fi, thank you!) We found our bearings (after a side trip to Dunkin Donuts a short time later... mmmm, iced vanilla latte...) and started the long drive home. Zappagirl, trooper that she is, drove the entire way while Memnoch and I watched the in-flight movie (Beavis and Butthead Do America - we pulled over at the Welcome Station after crossing the Pennsylvania/Ohio border so we all could watch the Rob Zombie hallucination scene.)

We finally made it back to Zappagirl's house around 7:00 am, went inside and scolded the wayward kitty (yeah, it was harsh - petpetpet "Don't you ever do that again!" petpetpet).

All of this reprimanding of felines made me realize how much I missed my own furry beasts (who am I kidding? I'd been missing them the whole time!), so I tossed my luggage back in my car (missing the iPod already - but I've taken care of that...) and headed for home. The kids were thrilled to see me, and followed me around the house obsessively.

And then I slept. For like two days. Vacations are exhausting.