The Drive In

Weeks ago, I had a dilemma: do I pack all my earthly belongings into a truck and drive it out to New York? Or do I ship some cherished items and replace mostly everything else out once I'm out there? Based on the fact that I love my bed and mattress and that I got a good deal on a truck from Budget, I chose to haul ass through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Ugh.

If you are ever driving across three states, you would be hard pressed to find worse ones than Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio. The only worse drive I've done is through Iowa, Kansas and Oklahoma, but that's just boring; Illinois has the added benefit of having horrific Chicago traffic at almost any time during daylight hours. I had my Mom to accompany me, so I was able to not go completely insane listening to the same NPR shows throughout the drive (all stations play the same shows, but at different times. I think I listened to an episode of The Writers Almanac with Garrison Keillor three times). At least Pennsylvania and the westernmost part of New Jersey were pretty, though most of the trip was entirely uneventful. 

Trying to enjoy gridlock

That is, until we got to New York. Numerous sources suggested going to Brooklyn through Manhattan, over the Brooklyn Bridge. I liked the idea of that, so we went into the Holland tunnel and came out to bustling Manhattan. With a GPS unit that didn't really work. At 3:30 on a Friday. In total gridlock. First, the GPS failed to inform us of a right hand turn onto Canal Street, which would have taken us to Lafayette Street, which would have pretty much gotten us right to the bridge. Not a problem, I'll just make a couple right turns and it'll bring me right on to Lafayette. It turns out that the GPS's omission had brought us right into the heart of SoHo, a trendy shopping neighborhood with quaint boutiques, quaint restaurants, and quaint cobblestone streets - in which, when filled with rush hour traffic, it was nearly impossible to easily maneuver a 16' moving truck.  We trudged along for 30 minutes, maybe going five blocks. 

Busted headlight and a dinged up fender

Finally we reached Lafayette St. Just as the light turned green with no cars blocking the turn, the truck was rocked by a collision. HOLY SHIT THAT TAXI JUST HIT THE SIDE OF MY TRUCK. What happened, as far as I can tell, is that a truck - parked on the curb and just starting to pull out into the street - hit a cab that was trying to shoot the gap in between our two trucks, driving it into my truck. Good ol' Mom had insisted on buying me the total damage waiver when I rented the truck, so initially I wasn't so much worried as pissed that someone had hit the truck and inconvenienced me, when I had just completed a long trip and was on a deadline to meet my roommate to-be. When I got out of the vehicle to inspect the damage though, I was surprised to find that there really wasn't any. Somehow the taxi had only hit the wheel, and not the bumper, door, fender or anything else. The only evidence of a collision was some yellow paint on the wall of the tire. Of course, while trying to survey the damage, I had a cabbie and two teamsters yelling various things in my ear. I pulled the truck around  to the curb to hash it out with the other parties involved. 

The "damage" to my truck, which is to say, none

The incident suddenly turned out to be a predicament for me, and me alone. The other truck only had some scratches on the bumper. The taxi had a dinged up rear bumper and a busted headlight, which he said was not an issue for him. They both pointed out that there wasn't really any damage to the truck and just wanted to drive off. Meanwhile, I had a truck that wasn't mine, someone to meet, all my possessions to unload and a mother - whose Midwestern tendencies to play things by the book - had suddenly become a problem for me. My mother fully expected me to phone in the incident to the police so that they could file an accident report, something she fully believe Budget truck company had a right to. Not only that they had a right to, but an obligation I owed them. I however, was with the other drivers - I could see there wasn't any real damage and didn't really care to get the police involved. I knew this would upset my mom, and when I told her I was inclined to call off the police, whom she had already insisted the cab driver call, her mouth tightened and brow furrowed. She was very upset. Though nothing in any of the documentation I had been provided mentioned how to address an accident when covered by the total damage waiver, she insisted that there need be a police report. Though I tried to explain that 1) the Mother's Guilt was not helping me and 2) the relief to get on with the move and leave might be worth the Guilt, she continued to insist that we wait for the NYPD. I was in a bad place - leave and make the rest of the evening bearable, or risk ruining my entire weekend with a sour mother. I had planned to go out with her to dinner that night, plus a morning and lunch in Manhattan before her flight the next afternoon. A predicament indeed. 

Meanwhile, I felt bad for the cabbie and the teamsters. They obviously had places to be on a Friday and this whole mess was unnecessarily going to cause them problems. Once the initial frenzy had subsided and they realized that I had literally just come into the city, the three were actually all fairly helpful in explaining to me the realities of the situation: there was no damage to my truck, they didn't care and wanted to leave, and that the NYPD was on a shift change and could take hours to get there. I did not want to wait long for the police to arrive, much past an hour and I was sure the grief I would get from my mom could not be worse than the stress of being stuck there and unable to get on with my trip. Luckily for me (and likely unluckily for the teamsters) a squad car arrive less than an hour after the accident.

As I expected, the wait was futile. The police took a look at the wheel and instantly declared "there's no damage here, I'm not writing up a report for that." Though initially dismissive, seeing that I was brand new to New York, the officer offered up his contact info in case Budget Truck had any issues. This solved my issue with my mother, however, I still had gridlocked traffic to deal with.

A welcome unlike any I expected, the event seems so ridiculous now, just a day later, I can barely believe it happened. I was actually surprised by the helpfulness of the people involved - the other drivers, the officers - although that helpfulness only came after they realized I was not one of them ... yet. 

Stranger in a new home

My latest travelling has been at least semi-permanent: after years of living in Wisconsin, I have completed a move to Brooklyn, New York, in order to attend graduate school. As I expected, New York City is much different than I've been used to. I've written about trips to NYC before, so  for the next few months, I'll be writing about new experiences in New York. Think of it as sort of a "not for tourists" style guide to New York.

Best of Photos

Finally edited all the photos from the trip. Here are the best of them:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/65679277@N02/sets/72157629809358637/

... And then it's over when the clock strikes midnight

Three weeks after I departed, my trip came to a close at midnight when I rolled into Madison after a fifteen hour drive from Denver. Lots still to write about but it's a little hard to believe I don't have anything planned for tomorrow or somewhere to be.

Colorado beer run!

Arrived in Denver and went on a beer run with John and Craig at argonaut liquor. All Colorado microbrews, all the time. Attached is a picture of all the beer in the fridge of our rental condo; while at the store I had to say "we are gonna need a bigger boat."

It's going to be a good week.

We have:
Odell (my second favorite brewery) - cutthroat porter, red ale, five barrel pale ale, easy street wheat, 90 shilling ale
Oskar blues - gubna imperial IPA, dales pale ale
Upslope - craft lager, pale ale, IPA, brown ale
Great divide - Titan IPA
Boulevard - pale ale
Left hand - milk stout, black sack porter, stranger APA, 400 pound monkey IPA
BRISTOLS - laughing lab scotch ale

First World Problems: How Much Pow?

This morning I have the white person problem of deciding whether to go to Alta and it's 24" of fresh snow - but is at least an hour away from my hotel - or Snowbasin and it's 12+" which are only about 30 minutes away.

Update: apparently I'm not the only one who decided to go to Alta- I'm not even on the main road and traffic is at a complete standstill.

Oddities: Nevada and Utah

Nevada: where prostitution is legal and every gas station has a casino. I also saw my first "Mom and Pop" casino. It was in a strip mall, where you might see a Subway, but instead it was definitely a casino. Nevada's mountains are gorgeous, by the way.

Utah is interesting. Their road signs, rather than warn against drunk driving - it being Utah and all, with the Mormons and all - instead warn against driving while drowsy. I suppose that since the Mo's can't have coffee or tea this is a bigger problem than drunk driving. They also had a "speed check" system where they first showed a sign that told you how fast your car would theoretically be going if driven at the speed limit - 48 seconds per miles at 75 mph. Then came a series of mile markers showing you how much elapsed time should have passed 48 seconds for one mile, 1 minute 36 seconds for two, etc. As if 1) they weren't aware speedometers existed or 2) they assumed you would actually start a stopwatch. Perhaps it was a passive agressive way to guilt trip speeders. I almost wanted for there to be a cop at the end of the five mile stretch who would stop me, so I could explain "sorry, officer. I mistook it as a challenge to go faster, the signs seemed to be mocking me. It won't happen again" only to do my best Craig Breedlove impression as I zoomed across the salt flats.

Tartine, or, Lots of Dough

San Francisco is a special place. Within San Francisco, the Mission district is a special place. And within the Mission is a special place called Tartine.

Tartine might be the best bakery I've ever been to. If you're looking for universal acclaim, this place has it; almost everybody I spoke to who had lived in San Francisco said that this place was a must see. After going there on a rainy Tuesday, I saw why. And then I saw more why on Thursday when I stopped by again for a loaf of bread. But I digress.

My first trip I went a little nuts. I ordered $17 worth of baked goods, all of it worth at least that much. First up was the Banana Cream Tart. You can pay less for a slice of banana cream pie elsewhere, but you won't want to once you have this masterpiece. First off, it's big enough to share. I ate it all by myself, but that's just me. Imagine a banana cream pie (if you've never had one, get thee to a bakery). Basically Tartine's Banana Cream Tart just takes the classic pie - crust, bananas, custard, cream -  makes it awesomely and makes it even more awesome by adding surprises along the way. The surprises come at different depths and with different degrees of obviousness. I won't ruin the surprises for you, but I found myself saying "holy shit this is good" out loud, several times. Pro tip: don't read the ingredients before hand, on their website or on the menu, it's better to go on a journey of self-discovery.

Banana Cream Tart topped with the first of the twists

Additionally, I got two of their croissants: a pain au chocolat and a ham and gruyere filled monstrosity. At $4.75 they're almost a bargain, also big enough to share. But they're so good you'll want to eat the whole thing. After savoring the tart, I tasted both croissants, fully intending to save most of each for later. That idea dissipated quickly, especially after tasting the ham and gruyere. Again, depth is the key word. The outer layer of buttery goodness had a distinct dark but not-yet-burnt, flavor and good crispness; the inner layers almost melt in your mouth, probably containing only a perfunctory amount of flour. The filling is equally good. A touch salty to go with the slight sweetness of the butter, ham and cheese are equally as smoth in texture as the flaky dough. There is a lot going on, but yet you can completely forget it all in the bliss it brings to your mouth. The pain au chocolat is superb, but not as good as the ham and gruyere, in my humble opinion.

As I mentioned, I was so impressed by Tartine that I went back several days later for their bread and I was not disappointed. The loaf is huge. And just really damn good. Even four days later, as I write this, I have some left over still with a soft, chewy interior. The bread is as all great french style bread are: perfectly crusty on the outside and yet soft on the inside. Again, depth is the best feature of this bread. Being a wheat bread, it has a bit of a darker taste to it, along with a slight sourness that accompanies the inside. Delicious on its own, it makes one of the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I've ever had. Probably the only negative is that the loaf is a little hard to cut, being so big, but thats really not important.

Tartine is bakery nirvana. No trip to San Francisco should be made without a stop here. Even if you're diabetic, while this place might kill you, it might also be worth it.

A Heavenly Day at Tahoe

In the months leading up to this trip, I thought that I had chosen the worst possible year to go on a big ski trip. While that may be true, I couldn't have picked a better possible time this year to do it. Exhibit A: 40+ inches of snow at Heavenly Resort on the 17th. While it may have been St. Patricks day and the Jameson and Guinness were flowing, champagne would have been more appropriate; the snow that came in the night was some of the driest and fluffiest I have ever skied on. People on the lift were saying that much of the lower parts of the mountain had been mostly brown just a day before, but that day, there was nothing but gnar to be shred.

The Heavenly View out to Lake Tahoe

Salomon Shoguns

I had promised myself that if in fact I did get an epic powder day on this trip, I would splurge and rent some demo skis. I like my skis fine, but given the opportunity, I wanted to see what fatter ones would be like. Seeing my opportunity, I was set up with some Salomon Shoguns, and by 8:30 am I was on the lift. I made the mistake of not consulting a map. Had I done so, I probably would have headed straight to the Powderbowl instead of starting out with the Face, a steep, long double-black diamond run that ran from the top of the first lift to the California Lodge. Not knowing what else was there, I did it again, since the snow was still fairly untracked. Only once I went up to the Powderbowl did I understand my error: untracked pow pow through manageably steep glades as far as I could see. The trees were far enough apart that I could really fly through them, which I found out was almost a necessity, as you don't want to be caught going too slow through thigh-deep powder - you'll just get stuck. Once, after falling down, I lost a basket at the end of my pole in the struggle to get up. I found it annoying to ski without it, so I had to head down to the lodge to get a replacement - back down the double black slope.

Skiing The Face/Gunbarrel three times not only took time out of my morning, but strength out of my legs. By the time I got back up to the Powderbowl, much of the snow had been tracked over, and my quadriceps were killing me. After one run where I biffed a few too many times, I took a much needed break for lunch.

Originally I had planned to go to Tahoe with my brother, Chris, and his girlfriend. However, the girlfriend couldn't make it at all, and Chris couldn't until Saturday afternoon. But he showed up on the mountain in his best approximation of ski clothes - running gloves, and a fleece with a rain jacket over it (he is not a skier). I then gave him a crash course, trying to remind him of all the things we learned in the few times we went downhill skiing growing up and everything about skiing downhill on cross-country skis. After a few trips down the lazy slopes of the green runs, we moved onto a long blue route that took us all the way up to the top of the mountain. Up there the trees were short, needless, and plastered with snow. I regret I did not take a picture. He handled the mini-moguls well, while I would dart off into the woods in search of pow, only to pop out and rejoin him farther down the slope.

After we were done skiing, we checked into the hotel room at the Timber Lodge in Heavenly Village, which I had paid for with 30,000 Marriott Rewards points. It was nice, but all I really needed was a hot tub. After a good 7+ hours of skiing, my legs were shot and my lower back ached. After a good 40 minutes in the hot tub, Chris and I went out for dinner at a pizza place, which seemed to be the only place other than a completely empty taqueria (seriously, we didn't even see the staff) that didn't charge $20 a plate.

It being St. Patrick's day, we thought ourselves remiss if we didn't at least try to go out, even if both of us were dead tired. Since South Lake Tahoe is right on the border of California and Nevada, there are many large Casinos on the East side of town. We went into Harrah's to check out the scene, but quickly left. Though I love drinking, I don't particularly like St. Patricks day. It's annoying in the same way that Olympic years bring out thousands of people who are suddenly experts in judging diving or gymnastics along with actual experts who seize upon people's willingness to finally listen: it glorifies alcoholics in such a way that those who aren't pretend that they are, and those who are pretend that it's not annoying. That leaves litte room for people like me who have their serious drinking under control. The clientele at Harrah's this particular night did nothing to motivate me to party: lots of dudes I know I wouldn't be friends with hanging on lots of girls I know I couldn't hold a conversation with. Apparently penny slots there don't actually take pennies and you can't actually just lay down the keys to your car at the roulette table. At least the blackjack dealers had really low cut shirts. Chris and I instead got a six pack, some pizza rolls and went back to the hotel room to watch South Park.

This was supposed to capture how awesome the snow (and view) was

Hangin at the Timber Lodge

Heavenly Gondolas coming into the Timber Lodge

EPIC POWDER DAY!!!!!1!!!

Holyshit I'm so excited. Just woke up in Carson City Nevada, about to go to Lake Tahoe for another day and Heavenly, where my next hotel is, just got 48 inches of snow last night.