Rocky Mountain High

We got to Denver just in time to go to the most fabulous place ever constructed by human hands. You guessed it, Casa Bonita. For those not familiar with this establishment let me put it this way, it is the Disneyland of Mexican restaurants. It is also featured on Comedy Central’s hit television show South Park. Let me give you a run-down. Casa Bonita is anywhere between 3 and 5 stories tall, it is tough to tell exactly due to the multiple levels inside. There is a waterfall inside and during dinner divers climb the rock sculpture and jump off of the waterfall – it is at least 35 feet high. There is seating for more than 1100 people, we asked. There are not one, but two video game arcades. There is an artist who does cartoon drawings of kids. There is a live mariachi band. There is a puppet show. There is a haunted cave – comparable to the caves on Tom Sawyer’s Island in Disneyland. There is a jailhouse where you can dress up in old western clothes and get your picture taken. There is a flag on each table and when you want more sopapillas you simply raise the flag. I could go on but my fingers are beginning to cramp. Simply put: it is the most magical place in the whole world.

After we left the Casa we stumbled around the streets of Denver for four hours, everything was just a blur; we were in such a daze. Once we came to we headed up to Boulder, which is a fine college town. We were fortunate enough be there when CU was playing a football game. So we mixed it up with the locals, had a few beers, and pretended like we cared about the output of the game. It was a delight. We spent the night with a guy named Will and his two roommates. Will, a CU senior, was a real cool guy and an avid sports fan – the two tend to go hand-and-hand. It is great to make a new friend across this nation who we can talk baseball with.

On Sunday we had a day game in Denver. The Rockies play at Coors Field – which is gorgeous. I was there back in ’95, the year it opened, and the stadium is just as nice now but now the area around it has developed making it a great place to spend an entire afternoon. Our tickets to the game were gifts from Jim Candy, a friend of Eric Veneble, of course, and they were excellent. It was just another beautiful Sunday afternoon at the ballpark. There was no place I would rather be.

We decided to break up our 1300 mile drive to Seattle by driving a few hours that night. We drove out of Colorado and into Wyoming. This part of the country is fascinating because it is has unpopulated as Iowa or Kansas but there are no fields of crops, just simply rolling plains. So with the Rocky Mountains to the left and the highway in front of us we drove on. Because there is nothing out here the sun gets real low in the sky. Lower than I have ever seen because, well, usually there is something to block it. But there is nothing in Eastern Wyoming. Nothing. The sun got so low that it turned the clouds in the sky and the fields around us a bright orange. It was the color of a campfire that was perfectly ready to roast marshmallows. The sky matched prairie. Wyoming does not have much to offer, but it gave us its all with that sunset.

We spent last night in Kaycee, WY. There was only one light on in this town; it was some hole in the wall bar. The name of the bar, I kid you not, ‘Hole in the Wall’. We walked in and a women greets us by yelling, ‘You guys cops?!’. She was slurring her words, it was only 8:30. The bar had 5 people in it – Mitch, the town comedian who owns a meat-packing plant and loves Nascar (big surprise), Butch, a simple man who had his dog with him (yes, a dog, just hanging out in the bar), the Drunk Lady, never got her name, the female bartender who came straight to work from the rodeo (I’m serious), and a man with a grey mustache and a cowboy hat who just sat at the end of the bar quietly and smiled at us all. They didn’t have a kitchen, but they did heat up some frozen pizzas for us. It was quite obvious that everyone knew each other and they were all so intrigued as to what brought us into their bar. We were only in there for about an hour but I could talk for half a day about our experience. Let me give you a sample conversation between me and the Drunk Lady who sat down next to me (assume she is slurring all of her words, because she was):

Drunk Lady: The Cowboys won today (not a bad ice breaker I suppose).

Scott: Oh, did they.

Drunk Lady: I’m from Texas (smiles with pride at me, she is missing 2 teeth)

Scott: We were just in Dallas, it was great.

Drunk Lady: Where you boys from?

Scott: Southern California.

Drunk Lady: What brings you here?

Scott: We are driv…

Drunk Lady: You are really skinny, I’m not skinny, he is a lot bigger than you (motioning to Geoff)

Scott: I suppose.

Drunk Lady: (pulling on my arm hair) You are really hairy too.

Scott: Sure am, it keeps me warm in winter.

Drunk Lady: You won’t need that here, I’d keep you warm.

Scott (thinking): So this is her flirting. I could go for the wedding ring trick, it worked in Memphis, but something tells me she can’t see straight.

Drunk Lady: Where you going?

Scott: We are driving to Seattle.

Drunk Lady: Why you comin’ up this way?

Scott: Well we are coming up from the Midwest through Denver and Texas.

Drunk Lady: TEXAS! I’m from Texas …

It was awesome. We also talked to Mitch a bit. I believe we assimilated some knowledge of Nascar as we drove through the South and Midwest because there is no other way we could talk about auto racing for that long. The jukebox was playing Life is a Highway (there are a few of you out there who know the significance of this song) which was being covered by some country singer, a former resident of Kaycee, population 250. It rocked. It was the most down-home place we could have ever found. It was great. It was just what we needed. After being gone from home for so long it great to be at a place where our presence was so well noticed and appreciated. The bartender made us promise to come back next time we come through. I can’t wait for my next opportunity to go to The Hole in the Wall.

Scott in front of corn in centerfield 

Field of Dreams 

The Heartland

The past week has been filled with more driving than baseball, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have any good stories. The brief synopsis is KC-Field of Dreams-St. Louis-Memphis-Lynchburg, TN-Dallas/Ft. Worth-Denver. So for those interested in simply our geographical location, you are all caught up and skip ahead to the next post.

The Field of Dreams is located in a tiny farming town called Dyersville, which is in Northeast Iowa. After the day at the field we checked into a Super 8 and went to the local Diary Queen to spend the $10 the nice lady gave us at the Field (As mentioned in Geoff’s post). At the Diary Queen I struck up a conversation with the cashier;

Scott: So is your guy’s high school football team good?

Diary Queen Girl: (not as confused as she should be considering the obscurity of the question) Yeah, not bad, we won state a couple years ago.

Scott: Very nice, what type of defense …

Geoff (interrupting): So what is there to do in this town?

Scott: Yeah, like, is there a bar or anything like that?

Diary Queen Girl: Yeah, there is one up the street, but there isn’t much to do here in Dyersville. You guys should head to Dubuque. They have bars, places to play pool, a Wal-mart, lots of stuff to do there.

Scott: Thanks darlin’ you have been too kind. (everyone says darlin’ here, it’s great)

That is as accurate as can be – if we want to find something to do we should head to Dubuque because they have a Wal-mart. There is something romantic about the simplicity in their lives. Sure it is tragic that this girl thinks of Wal-mart as entertainment but it is so cool that their town doesn’t even have one.

The whole story has a sense of irony because we actually spent the following night in the parking lot of a Wal-mart. We spent the following night in the parking lot of a Holiday Inn Express, which is brilliant for any roadtripper because you can get free breakfast and coffee if you get up before nine. That is exactly what I did, it was glorious. I also made friends with these two ladies who were driving out to Knoxville that day – not sure why – but they were more than happy to tell me about their grandsons who play high school football (I was reading the West Tennessee High School Football Review). I also talked to a family of Hurricane Katrina evacuees. They had family in Kentucky and they were headed up there to live with them for the next couple of months. We didn’t drive South enough to see any real hurricane damage but we did see plenty of fallen trees and road signs and talked to several people scattered all across the Midwest who lost their homes. Everyone was in really good spirits though, and all of them were saying that all they lost was ‘just stuff’. Excellent perspective they all had – and having lived out of a van for 6 weeks both Geoff and I can agree that one doesn’t need many possessions in order to be happy.

One night we hung out in Memphis. We drove along the Mississippi River and took in the slow pace of the water which is mirrored by the attitude of the town folk. I love this city. It got pretty late and we were pretty hungry so we started driving around looking for an open restaurant. We noticed some lights so we parked the mini van, activated the security system, and began walking into downtown. It was a Wednesday night. We turned onto Beale Street and it was barricaded off – only pedestrians and motorcycles were allowed in. There must have been 300 bikes. It was insane. There was bar after bar after restaurant after bar and they were all packed. It was crazy. Let me repeat, it was a Wednesday night, about 10 pm, this town rocks. The night was just the perfect temperature to be outside and the streets were filled with jazz music and onlookers. We went into some burger place and just as we were finishing up our meal our waitress sat down next to me and began chatting it up. I quickly moved my ring to my left ring finger and then acted very gregarious and pleasant, yet I was still careful not to send mixed signals. After a few minutes she noticed my ring, asked about my wife, and then politely went back to work. I suppose that if you live in Arkansas long enough, as she did, that even two guys who have been on the road for over a month start to look good.

Just inside of Texas we stopped for some brunch at the Waffle House. That isn’t the right word, I don’t think people ‘brunch’ at the Waffle House, people brunch at Marie Calender’s after church on Sundays, but you get the idea. This place is an institution, clearly they know what they are doing, yet I am still puzzled by a few things. First, there were 7 women working and only two customers. I like personal attention and all, but this seems a bit ridiculous. Second, the waitress who took our order walked across the restaurant and then yelled our order at the cook. I guess this adds to the atmosphere to hear, ‘Two hashbrowns, scattered, smothered, and covered …’ but the cook was about 3 feet away from us. She heard us order. And we were the only people in the whole joint. The whole thing seemed kind of impractical and immature like when kids ignore each other – ‘Heather can you please tell Sherry she is ugly’ ‘Heather can you please tell Scott that is he stupid’ ‘Heather can you please tell Sherry I’m telling Mom on her’ – all and all, I still love the Waffle House, we both do.

On September 9^th we saw the Rangers play the A’s in Arlington, TX. The Rangers have a perfect stadium for Texas – it is massive and exposed yet intimate and friendly. It was one of, if not the finest of the new stadiums. I mentioned the date because as you all should know, it was the 40^th anniversary of Sandy Koufax’s perfect game. When I mentioned this to Geoff he told me he had heard enough about Sandy Koufax and the Dodgers. This is incomprehensible. This is like a kid saying they had enough dessert or a student saying they had enough summer vacation. It didn’t matter though because when I left the game I got a voice mail from my dad with only one message – Happy Perfect Game Anniversary. Geoff, however, was more than willing to celebrate with some Johnny Walker Blue Label. A perfect whiskey for a perfect game, the only way to honor the greatest southpaw in the game.

We then drove through Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, and Eastern Colorado on our way to Denver. Geoff found the drive boring, and it kind of is, except that the landscape is mesmerizing. It is so flat it is supernatural. The farmhouses and silos seemed strategically placed as if they were put there by an artist or photographer. The Great Plains are aesthetically pleasing because they are truly one of a kind.

Western Kansas also brags Prairie Dog Land. Not only does Prairie Dog Land house the world’s largest prairie dog (duh) it also features over 300 other animals, including a baby buffalo and a cow with 6 legs. The owner of Prairie Dog Land, a portly man wearing a rattlesnake t-shirt, told me some of his animals will be on Ripley’s Believe it or Not in the fall. I already have it TiVoed. Although I could write another page commenting on the proprietor of Prairie Dog Land I will restrain because I, too, own a rattlesnake t-shirt. Even though I have a bachelor’s degree in engineering I may end up in West Kansas running some kind of freak show, it is the curse of the shirt, so I will leave my kind alone.

Kansas City here we come

This all occurred a week ago but I felt it was still worth talking about …

We had to leave Minneapolis at 5 in the morning in order to get to Kansas City for a day game. This was the first time on the trip we had to start driving so early it was dark. I drove through one of, if not the worst, storms we have seen on the trip. There was hale the size of golf balls and lighting flashed several times a minute. At one point I saw a bolt of lighting hit a hill on the other side of the freeway. The thunder that followed sounded like a propane truck exploded and it shook the windows of the van. Time to get out of Minnesota.

We stopped for gas in Iowa where 89 octane fuel is actually cheaper than 87 octane fuel. Can you figure out why? The place we stopped for gas was called the Kum n’ Go. I’m not making this up.

We rolled into KC a little before game time and headed straight to the Veneble household. Eric Veneble has pretty much been our silent partner on this trip hooking us up with places to stay, scoring us tickets, and about 3 years ago he was the man who gave me the idea to write the teams to try and get tickets from them. He came to play.

Eric drove to the game, which was a delight, and he picked up his boy Marshell who joined us for the Royals game. Marshell, I believe, is the biggest Royals fan in the world. He actually knows that this team exists whereas most of Kansas City and the world have completely forgotten that a baseball team plays in KC. The highlight of the game, I must say, was when the Royals’ pitcher was in trouble and their pitching coach came out to talk to him about it. Why was this the highlight? Because the pitching coach for the Kansas City Royals is none other than Orel Hershiser. Marshell and I were going nuts, yelling at him, cheering for him, hoping he would give us a wave – and you know what, after his second trip out there we got a little nod from the Bulldog. The MVP of the 1988 World Series gave us a nod. That is the magic of this road trip.

It is important to note that the only reason we got said nod was that Veneble hooked us up with seats only a few rows behind home plate – ridiculous. Another highlight of the game (yeah, multiple highlights at the Royals game) was that the Royals, who boast the worst record in baseball, scored 17 runs and had over 12 hits. Any time the Royals get 12 hits everyone in attendance gets 12 free Krispy Kreme donuts! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next couple of days. Plus, any extras we might have we can just shove into our gas tank – I heard that if road conditions are just right it is possible to get 20 miles per donut, not too shabby.

After the game Eric took us to George Brett’s restaurant. It was there that we witnessed the poorest attempt of parallel parking in the post World War II era. Just outside our window was a vacant street spot about 30 feet long. A man, he was a man, in a Dodge Stratus drove up. Now, the Stratus is not the ‘economy size’ car, but it isn’t exactly an Escalade either. Geoff watched him try and go in head first for about 2 minutes before he pointed it out to Eric and me. By the time I began watching he had his wife or sister (not his girlfriend, because no women without a wedding ring would stay with a man with full function in all limbs that was this bad at operating a motor vehicle) out on the curb directing him. She wasn’t helping him at all. Seven minutes have passed since he started, I’m not making this up. He is now in the spot, but about 28 inches off the curb. He gets out to inspect and stands on the curb next to his wife or sister. Both stand with their hands on their hips and look confused and stare, speechless, at the car and then at the curb, and then back to the car. By now the three other tables in our section are watching this scene. A girl is even on her cell phone giving a play by play. Just as we all thought he was going to accept the parking job he hops back into the Stratus and makes a hard left and whips out of there. Defeat. Failure. The restaurant erupts in laughter and cheers.

Eric got us some beer pint glasses with George Brett’s signature on them but telling the manager about our road trip. That was it. No money was exchange, he never even asked for anything, he just told the manager how much we love baseball and we came back with the glasses. Veneble is like a superhero and his special power is getting things out of people without being a beggar or mooch. It is really a sight to see.

Later in the day we enjoyed some tasty Kansas City BBQ served to us by the sleaziest guy in the Midwest. All the parents out there heed my warning, do not send your daughters to Kansas University – trust me, it is just not worth it.

Following dinner we had some frozen custard. I know, it sounds disgusting. At first I thought I would rather have soy bean yogurt but I was wrong, frozen custard is delicious. And, to my surprise, it isn’t chunky or anything. Completely edible.

We closed the night out by sitting in Eric’s backyard smoking cigars and trading stories. It was a beautifully warm Midwest night. It was simply perfect, there was no place in the world I’d rather be.

In the morning Pam, Eric’s wife, cooked us a tasty breakfast and loaded us up with snacks for the road. In case you couldn’t figure it out, the Venebles were absurdly nice hosts. They single-handedly made us enjoy Kansas City. Plus, even though he is a Giants fan, it was really nice to see a friend who I haven’t had the chance to hang out with in over a year.