Travels with Marty

Back in February, Dmo took a new job that required him to move down to Raleigh, North Carolina for a few months for training. I'd been there once, 11 years ago, and always wanted to go back. So I decided I'd use up all my vacation time to take a week off and pay him a visit. We settled on the week after the Preakness, since he would be coming up with friends and I could just follow them back down. Of course, getting to the Preakness proved to be a problem in and of itself.

Since there was such a large group of us attending, no one really had any room to accomodate us. Eventually we decided on getting a hotel room in Edgewood, MD, about a half hour north of Baltimore, and nowhere near Edgemont. As the only one with the day off, I was given the task of driving down ahead of time and checking into the hotel. But first I had to drop Melissa off in the middle of Baltimore, since she was coming down to visit some friends. This meant I would have to drive past the hotel and then turn around and come back. A small price to pay, for though her running diary skills were quite lacking, Melissa was excellent company for the ride down.

After checking into the hotel, I embarked on a quest for booze and food for the race, which consisted of me driving up and down the main strip of Edgewood. This is notable only for the fact that I had no idea where I was going, and no idea how I would get back if I got lost. Remarkably, I managed to not just make it back to the hotel in one piece, but with 3 30-packs of beer and 5 Subway sandwiches in tow.

I didn't have to wait long from the time I got to the hotel till when the rest of the mooncrickets arrived. Staying in the hotel would be myself, Mar, Rick, Anfron, Moro, and Moro's obsession with all things Terry.

Since I couldn't possibly do it justice, you can read about everything that happened from their arrival to their post Preakness departure in Rick's running diary. An excellent job of capturing the events of the weekend. However, I would like to add a few points.

First off, I am truly retarded for leaving my beads and suntan lotion in the hotel room. Luckily I was able to rely on Chubbs to bring some suntan lotion, however the lack of beads in all likelyhood contributed greatly to the lack of titties. Second, prior to this year the earliest we had arrived was 9am. As a result I consciously tried to pace myself so I could last the whole day without getting so drunk I managed to inflict bodily harm on myself. It turned out I paced myself a bit too well, and I wound up not even getting that drunk, which led to my ceding most of the running diary space I normally would have taken up to the Preakness virgins, Brock, Anfron and Moro. Although even at my most shitfaced I doubt I would have been able to compete with Moro's unending Terry obsession. Finally, as far as the bout with Brock goes, yes, he did manage a solid victory, but in fairness I couldn't stop laughing at his pathetic display of offense long enough to put up a fight. Next time he won't be so lucky. To close out the Preakness section of the vacation, it was a highly enjoyable time, but it did feel as if it was lacking something. And I'm not just referring to Rick's $100 bill.

The day after the Preakness was a travel day, as the rest of the mooncrickets returned to Rockland and I had to drive to whatever podunk town Brock's mother-in-law lives in to meet up with Dmo and the NC crew. Then from East Bumblefuck, MD we had to drive to Fredricksburg, VA to drop Brock off before heading down to Raleigh.

When we finally hit Raleigh it was around 430 and I was excited to head straight to the pool. My excitement was tempered a bit once I realized I had forgotten to pack a bathing suit. Undaunted, I threw on a pair of Dmo's basketball shorts and went for a swim. As was the case on the majority of days spent in Raleigh, there was quite a nice selection of slimmies poolside. As was also the case on the majority of days spent in Raleigh, I lacked the onions to actually go up and talk to any of them.

Aside from taking the time to enjoy some fine southern cuisine unavailable north of the Mason-Dixon Line, not much else really stood out from my time spent in Raleigh. Although I did get to enjoy the sight of Dmo running up and down the court playing basketball for his company team, the Sharks With Friggin Lasers on Their Heads. It was as hughmorris as you would think. After a minute or so of actual gameplay, he would resort to shuffling up and down the court like a white Benoit Benjamin. Still, its understandable, as it was about 90 degrees out, and he was winded.

The highlight (or lowlight) of the trip came when we tried to go to Sonic for dinner. Neither of us had ever been, as they are nonexistant in the Northeastern United States. According to their website, there were several in and around Raleigh, so we picked the closest one and followed the directions there. It turned out to not really be that close, and after quite a hike we were treated to a nice surprise when we got there:

It was closed.

And not closed as in closed for the night, but closed for renovations. The guy who told us was a real douchebag too. If I wasn't so winded from the drive I would've gotten out of the car and kicked his ass. But instead we drove back to the shopping center across from Dmo's apartment complex and decided to go to the Brazilian steakhouse.

I don't know if you've ever been to a Brazilian steakhouse (or who you are for that matter), but its really quite an experience. Its basically all you can eat, only they bring skewers of all different kinds of meats to your table on an endless rotation, only stopping when you flip your coaster from green to red. And the meats are unbelievable; top sirloin, garlic steak, bacon wrapped fillet, chicken legs, even alligator. Quite the sumptuous banquet. But be prepared to open up your wallet. Its easy to see why the one in the Palisades center had to close, as the price for the meal was astronomical. It was by far the most I had ever spent on a meal for myself. But it was absolutely worth it. Its just not someplace you could afford to eat on a regular basis, unless you are Jim$ who probably eats at one twice a day. Still, a definite must visit if you enjoy having all different kinds of meat in your mouth. . . . . . . . . . . no homo.

The next day I departed town for our nation's capital, where I would be staying with my cousin and her husband in their luxurious apartment in the middle of downtown DC. I got there around 4 and was told to help myself to some beer from the fridge. I didn't hesitate. It wasn't long before my cousin's husband, "Barney", arrived home and began boozing as well. My cousin got back a little after five and we left to head to some of the local watering holes to enjoy a few beverages before dinner.

The booze (and conversation) continued flowing throughout the meal, which took place at Clyde's, your basic run of the mill pub. I was told they had excellent burgers and wings, and was not let down.

After dinner we strolled down to the Potomac waterfront, where I enjoyed the view of both the infamous Watergate hotel and the numerous slimmies piling in and out of the bars that lined the way. Having never been to DC before the abundance of fine slimmies came as quite a shock. It was also quite a shock to hear my name being called from one of the bars. Having spent my fair share of time a few miles away in College Park, I shouldn't have been that surprised. Yet of all the people I might have expected to see in DC, the one who was calling my name was not one of them; Murph, the owner and proprieter of Luna Lounge in Nyack, and the man responsible for many a night spent crooning "Don't Stop Believin'"for all to hear. He was in DC for Rolling Thunder, a biker rally supporting the nation's POWs. We chatted for a bit and quickly parted ways, due to the fact that I was in no mood to get Luna Lounge drunk in front of my cousin. She was actually ready to call it a night, but Barney decided we should hang out for a bit, and seeing as he was paying for everything, I certainly wasn't going to argue.

I noticed two distinct groups populating this particular bar; hot chicks, and douchebags in button-down dress shirts. Needless to say I stuck out like a sore thumb in my blue barbed wire skull shirt. But in a town like DC, its good to have something that lets the chicks know you're not like everyone else. Still, I was a bit overwhelmed by the whole scene, and as a result unable to get anywhere with any slimmies. I even failed to capitalize when, on the way out, Barney approached two hotties and asked them if they recognized Dan Ostrowe, the Tight End for the Carolina Panthers.

It was around 9 when we got back to the apartment, and Barney was in no mood to call it a night. Frankly, neither was I. So we met some clients of his at Camelot, one of the classier strip joints I've been to. Although to be fair, I haven't been to many outside of Lace and the Big S. But I knew I was in good shape when we got there and displayed on the outside was the Jim$ $eal of Approval. After several drinks and several pairs of titties, we hit one more bar before calling it a night. It was only around 1130 when I passed out, which came as a bit of a shock when I woke up the next morning. But when you take into account the fact that I had been drinking since 4 on an empty stomach after driving for 4 hours, I guess it made sense.

I slept in the next day to avoid any potential ill effects that might come as a result of the combo between the previous night's adventures and the sinus infection that seems to have made itself a permanent home in my body. After waking up and going about my usual morning routine, I decided to take the opportunity to view some of the monuments that call the city home.

Now, I'm not the kind of person who gets choked up easily, but there's something about seeing all those monuments up close that really stirred something up. If you have any sense of pride in this country, I defy you to take it all in and not feel something.

After a relaxing afternoon I departed DC around 8pm, figuring that would be late enough to avoid traffic on the ride home. It was a definite misstep on my part as the roads, while not mobbed, were far too crowded for my driving tastes. And of course, it turned into bumper to bumper traffic as soon as I hit Delaware, the country's capital of Suckitude on the east coast. It was around 1230 when I finally got home, and I immediately passed out due to fatigue.

The trip as a whole, while a good time, left something to be desired. I originally compared it to going into a movie with high expectation, and when them movie doesn't live up to them you wind up disappointed no matter how good it actually is (I like to call this "The Old School Analogy"). But the fact of the matter is that I was too distracted, by numerous things, to really allow myself to enjoy the trip. And for that I have no one to blame but myself. Its just too bad that I'm not going to get a chance to do it again, the right way, any time soon.

EDIT (6-11-07 8:20PM) : I've spent the past several hours messing around with the html so that people can click on the monument pictures and view them at full size, but I still can't get it to work, so fuck it. Its too bad too, because the pictures are pretty good if I do say so myself. Stupid blogger.