Planes, Trains, and Automobiles: March 2009 Archives

During our last visit to Maui (which sounds like we visit Maui all the time doesn't it - I wish), we checked out a number of restaurants, because well, we like to eat. We're strange that way. Like Kauai, we were pleasantly surprised by the quality overall of the restaurants we sampled. First and foremost, we didn't have anything that was truly awful. Oh, there was an occasional mediocre, one or two so-so's and perhaps a couple of meh's. On the other hand we had several meals that ranged from pretty decent to awfully damn good. I don't think we managed to find a meal that achieved perfectly astounding, but then it is an island paradise, it would be unfair for them to have that and spectacular restaurants also.

Via, Jaunted, there comes a report on something so revolutionary, so earth shaking that I'm almost at a loss for words. Or I would be I didn't have this handy on-line thesaurus.

 

It seems a minor league team has developed what could be the most obscene ballpark treat since, well, ever. It's called the Fifth Third Burger (named after the ballpark's sponsor - Fifth Third Bank). It contains one and two thirds of a pound of beef (five thirds, get it?). And that's the healthy part. It also contains chili and believe it or not, Fritos, along with salsa and sour cream. Oh, and some lettuce and tomato, but I'm sure that has to be a mistake, since to my knowledge the latter components are completely devoid of any calories derived from fat..

 

Supposedly, this dish is intended for consumption by four people missing both taste buds and a healthy fear of arterial cloggage. But you know multiple people, all right, men, will be tempted to eat this all by themselves. And the ballpark isn't even being coy about it since they're offering a T-Shirt to the individual who completes the burger in one sitting.

 

I wonder how many beers it would take to wash something like this down? Or should we be talking gallons?

It's time for another installment of the Frugal Hedonist by Mary regarding our recent trip to Las Vegas. This time she outdid herself, saving enough cash to allow us to purchase a couple of tottering commerical banks in New York.

Mary:

When it comes to hedonism, few American cities can rival Las Vegas. Perhaps New Orleans and Miami come close, but that's about it. And right now, Vegas is one of the best places to go if you want an upscale experience at bargain prices.

 

Our recent visit to Las Vegas was spurred by a phenomenal offer from American Express Platinum: two FREE nights at Wynn Las Vegas - one of the top hotels in the city - with full Fine Hotels and Resorts (FHR) benefits included. The FHR benefits at Wynn are daily breakfast (in the form of a $30 per person credit, per day, limited to 2 persons); one lunch per stay (in the form of a one-time $45 per person credit, limited to 2 persons); room upgrade on arrival, if available; and guaranteed 4:00 pm late checkout. (This offer is still available - see the end of the article for details.)

 

So Hilton Hotels has announced that they are developing a new line of luxury boutique hotels. Gotta love 'em. Worst economic downturn in eighty-some years and their going to build more high-end hotels, because the market isn't saturated enough, apparently. That's brass, baby, brass.

 

The website for the new chain is just too precious. Apparently, the world, well at least the small and currently shrinking portion of it that can afford to stay at a Denizen hotel, can be divided into a limited number of categories such as the Nocturnal Socialite (Motto: she lacks the indefinable charm of weakness), and the Self Realized Maverick, for example. What the hell is a self realized maverick anyway? It looks like it helps if you have a personal motto. I have a feeling I'm not going to fit in because 'Bartender, another beer!', while a fine motto, may not be cool enough for Denizen. How can it compare with indefinable charms of weakness and the like?

 

The site's tagline for the chain is 'the antidote to attitude'. When you're trying to attract people like the Self Realized Maverick, I'm thinking that you've already lost that battle., So far no real concrete details have emerged but it looks like it might be amusing to continue to watch the birthing pains and gently poke a  pokey finger of fun at the hotel.

 

One of the many things I love about my wife Mary, is that she isn't hung up on convention. Holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and the like, are not the types of things that have to be slavishly adhered too. There are some things set in stone, of course, like opening presents on Christmas Day and ritual consumption of the turkey on the fourth Thursday in November, but pretty much everything else is open to modification. Even birthdays. Although gifts should be exchanged on that special day we slid down the birth canal on our first ever E-Ticket ride, getaways and restaurant reservations can be made for another more convenient day.

 

Which brings us to Valentine's Day, one of my least favorite holidays. First, you don't get time off from work. Second, there's no ritual feasting involved. Third, there's no sporting events on TV. OK, granted, I don't actually watch sporting events on TV any other time, but it's the principal of the thing. Mary agrees that Valentine's Day is not something that's very important in the greater scheme of things so we can celebrate it when we want to and not when the overlords of the greeting card and floral industries decree.  This also means we'd have no trouble getting a restaurant reservation, flowers would be significantly cheaper, and displays of heart shaped boxes of chocolates would no longer be available having been replaced by waxy faux chocolate Easter rabbits and marshmallow Peeps.

Hats off to the Marmara Manhattan hotel for one of the more innovative specials I've ever seen. They are offering the Suddenly Splitsville package to those that find themselves out on the street after the significant other found out about that little dalliance with a co-worker. Add this one to the evil genius category.

 

For the lowly sum (well lowly only in Manhattan anyway) of $7000 per month you can rent a fully furnished one bedroom suite and they'll throw in a host of other goodies:

 

A one-year subscription to Divorce Magazine

A pint of Haagen Daz ice cream

A bottle of Champagne

A complimentary pass to the 92nd Street Y 

A complimentary copy of "Confessions Of An Online Dating Addict"

A one-hour consultation with a real estate agent to start searching for a new place to live

 

First - only a pint? And Haagen Daz? Really? Your marriage just ended, you're paying $233 a night for a room and all you get is a pint? Sheesh!

 

Second, Divorce magazine and again - really? .

 

I might question the timing of the release of this offer as several articles I've seen recently contend that in an economic crisis like the present, the likelihood for divorce declines. Especially if you're going to have to pay seven thousand smackeroos for a room for a month. Apparently forgiving and forgetting has a price tag.

Although we found Nederland, Colorado, to be a fun little town, the most important adjective here was little, and thus surprisingly somewhat lacking in four star hotels, room service, and French restaurants. On the other hand, Boulder, Colorado is only fifteen miles down the road from Nederland and has all those things. So we stayed there while attending the Frozen Dead Guy Days.

 

This was our first trip to Boulder ever. We've been saying for years that we ought to drive up state sometime and visit Boulder but it wasn't till we decided to attend FDGD that we had a good excuse to go. Perhaps it was something to do with the perception that Boulder is the world capital of people who don't live in the Bay Area but still like to wear Birkenstocks. Granted the perception is apparently all my own and not shared even by my wife, the traitor. Still it's important to go with your gut, even in the absence of any valid evidence whatsoever. That said, empirical data indicates that Boulder and the surrounding areas are a hot bed of beer brewing innovation so I said Northwards, Ho!

Frozen Dead Guy Days, or as the cognoscenti refer to it, FDGD, is a celebration about Nederland, Colorado's most famous resident. Actually, I'm not at all sure if he qualifies as a resident. See, he's dead. Dead and frozen. On ice, dry ice to be exact. Our dear departed frozen dead guy is a Norwegian citizen (or ex-citizen - the legalities are beyond my understanding) who is not exactly buried, more like entombed, yes entombed works, in a shed high in the hills above Nederland. Bredo Morsteol, is the moniker of the icy fellow, and he was put in the deep freeze by his grandson. There is a plan or the glimmering of a plan, anyhow, to thaw and restore good old Bredo to rosy cheeked life, at some point in the future, once all those pesky details about unfreezing and reanimating dead frozen guys have been worked out. I understand there's a Manhattan Project sized effort underway in secret government laboratories under the Mojave Desert as we speak. Oops, I've said too much.

 

Anyway, apparently the major festive event in Nederland until recently was Nedfest, or the Nederland Music and Arts Festival. But that occurs at the end of August and by the first week of March that must have seemed a long ways off, and up there in the mountains of Colorado you still have a good three months of snow to look forward to; so thus a seed was planted, germinated, grew into a mighty tree, cut down, and sawn into planks that were used to make a sign for Frozen Dead Guy Days.

Yesterday I posted that Sir Richard Branson has completed his plans to encircle the globe with his mighty fleet of aerospace transports. Mary reminded me after I posted that schemes are afoot by His Lordship to construct a flotilla of sub-orbital spacecraft to transport the idle rich into space. Can massive laser armed orbital battle stations be far behind? Stay tuned.

V Australia, the newest addition to the mighty Branson aerospace empire has started service between Sydney, Australia and LAX. With that, the last link in a chain of airborne aluminum is completed, encircling the globe. You can now fly on Virgin airlines completely around the world. London to LAX on V Australia, LAX to London on Virgin Atlantic (or alternatively LAX to New York on Virgin America and then on the London on Virgin Atlantic). And finally back to Sydney on Virgin Atlantic after a stopover in London for a couple of pints and a packet of chips.

 

I like the Virgin product, so I'm a happy camper. Those with a low tolerance for soft blue mood lighting will probably not be as pleased.

Well, Las Vegas is on the prospective trip list again. Apparently the deals on hotels in Vegas are so good that even Mary can no longer ignore them. So we're going to try Sin City in a few weeks if all goes well. Mary is studying the sweet science of craps now and I figure there's going to be three possible outcomes to this:

 

 

 

1)       Mary will play for around fifteen minutes and get bored with it and quit (and this would be exactly 10 minutes more than it's taken her to get bored with every other form of gambling).

2)       Mary will be drawn in by the excitement and an early run of luck which will then dissipate and she'll end up back in the room with markers totaling more than our remaining assets after the stock market did its little emulation of a Acapulco cliff diver last fall.

3)       Mary will be drawn in by the excitement and have an early run of luck that will continue for sixteen hours straight, at which point she takes her chips and cashes in, and we retire to the south of France and dabble as bibliophiles specializing in early editions of Jane Austen.

 

I'm betting on Option 1. I, of course, can be found in wagering the big bucks at the video poker machines (where $1.25 a hand can be considered high stakes indeed for yours truly) and nursing a beer.