Missing out…

I realized yesterday that the unremitting focus on finding another job and launching my escape from Memphis has had yet another unexpected victim. This is usually at this time of year when I’m in the final stages of plotting a trip that will take me somewhere with warm sea breezes, palm trees, and a rum economy. With the unknown costs of a long-hoped for move to consider and the more recent threat of a government shut down, it’s probably for the best that I overlooked this annual ritual. Still, though, there’s something about those trips that’s good for the soul. Or maybe it’s just the breakfast mimosas on the beach, rum punch and bushwhackers on the pool deck in the afternoon, and a bottle (or two or three) of good wine at dinner that helps slow the brain down a bit and lets the relaxation set in.

It’s too late for this winter, but here’s hoping that the six directions I’m going in currently will settle themselves into a new normal by this point next year and I’ll get my toes in the sand sooner rather than later. In the meantime, I still have an escape left to plan… and maybe I can sneak away for a long weekend in Vegas. It’s not exactly relaxing, but it’s always fun.

Home, James…

I get to indulge in the most satisfying of trips… The one that takes you home. Sure, I’ve got to cross a third of the continent, but every mile is worth it. The longer I’m away, the more I want to be there. I guess there’s nothing fading about my brand of homesickness. I’m even becoming more generous with what I think of as “home”; a phrase that now encompasses wide swaths of Virginia, DC, West Virginia, and Maryland.

Any trip back east is a cause for celebration, but this isn’t a normal trip home. I get the extra perk of seeing one of my oldest friends getting married to a truly classy guy. Now I’m not usually a proponent of weddings as a rule, but this one is getting my personal seal of approval. Congrats, Sandi and Jon!

Bible belt identity crisis…

The south/mid-west, for good reason, is largely known as the bible belt. If you’ve ever spent any time here and have seen the epic size of some of the churches they build, you know it’s true. This morning I had the opportunity to spend five hours driving from Memphis to St. Louis… and what I noticed most strinkingly was that every couple of dozen miles there was one of two billboards… the first were advertisements for what can only be described as a prolific density of “gentlemen’s clubs” and adult novelty stores. The second billboard type were more of the “sinners go to hell” or “end abortion now.” I wasn’t counting, but I’d estimate that easily 1/5 to 1/4 of all billboards along one 50 mile stretch of I-55 were for one or the other of these. Apparently the bible belt has a bit of an identity crisis, as I suspect at least some of the same butts in the pews on Sunday are the ones in the VIP room on Saturday night. I’m not making a values judgement there, by the way. I don’t care one way or another where someone is on Saturday night or Sunday morning, as long as they’re not at my house.

I hate to break this to both sides, but your signs aren’t making much difference (but the guy leasing the space appreciates your efforts). The wanna be pimps at the clubs aren’t going to change en mass because of this media blitz, that given the fading I saw on those signs, has been going on for a while. At the same time, the holy rollers funding those big new churches aren’t going to suddenly decide they need edible panties while driving down the interstate. You’re arguing past one another because neither one really gives a damn what the other side thinks.

I propose a compromise; a truce if you will. There’s room enough for all of us here and plenty of space for reasonable human beings to have a difference of opinion even on what seem like important issues. Truth is that I’ve got maybe 40 or 50 years left on this rock and I’m going to do what I want to do, signs or no signs. Some days that might be going to a club and other days that might be educating myself on the dogma of the faith. Life’s too short to think that it has to be all one way or all the other. In the immortal words of Rodney King, can’t we all just get along?

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Garden spots…

The navy is at home in places like San Diego and Pensacola. The army seems to have run to the other extreme and peopled the most inhospitable parts of the country. How else do you explain Fort Leavenworth, Kansas and Fort Polk, Louisiana? Of course those exotic locales are for the “big” Army. My little part of the great green machine has managed to set up shop in pretty much every major urban center in the country; LA, New York, Chicago, San Fran, Honolulu. How then do I manage to draw the trips to places like St. Louis? The only redeeming quality seems to be that I can drive there in less than five hours. Then again, perhaps coming from Memphis, I should consider it an even trade for the week. Regardless, I’ll be on the road for a few days and that generally makes for more interesting blogging. As soon as the foolishness begins, you’ll see it here first (well, second probably since Facebook is easier to update from the driver’s seat… or possibly even third in the event I get really froggy and start updating Twitter).

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Boat Drinks…

I love the islands. There’s something in the sea breeze and blue water stretching away in all directions that I, like most others, find remarkably appealing. For the most part, what I’m thinking about from the time I leave the tropics is what I need to do to get myself back there as soon as possible. When I hit that Powerball jackpot, you’ll at least know the general latitudes where you can start looking for me.

Since I haven’t yet figured out a non-lottery related way to get there permanently, bringing some of the islands back with me becomes pretty important. I’ve been working on nailing a rum punch recipe off and on for about a year now. It’s pretty straight forward boat drink, but the proportions can throw you off a bit. This afternoon, though, I think I hit on a recipe that works for me. Here’s the skinny… You’re gonna need some juice… and rum:

1 part light rum
2 part amber rum
2 parts orange juice
2 parts pineapple juice
1 part lime juice
.5 part lemon juice
.5 part grenadine

Garnish with pineapple slice and a cherry and you’ll have the closest approximation I’ve been able to concoct to my favorite boat drink ever. It’s great on a hot, humid evening like this one…

Bolongo Bay review…

This was my second stay at Bolongo Bay Beach Resort. This trip was about pure relaxation; no shopping, no site seeing, no bar hopping… Just sitting on the beach or by the pool, enjoying some of the islands best adult beverages, having a wonderful dinner at the Lobster Grille, and crawling into bed sun-drenched and exhausted.

The transfer to the hotel was easy ($16 for a shared van) and I was greeted in the lobby with a much-anticipated cup of rum punch and smiling faces. Check in was a breeze, where I was given an all-inclusive wristband and a schedule of events for the five days I’d be staying. I was in the room in less than 10 minutes, despite a number of other check-ins and phone calls the front desk was fielding. I reserved an ocean front room and was not disappointed. The room was recently renovated and the mattress was actually better than the one at home. The shower was a bit tight, but if you’ve traveled to Europe, it was still bigger than many I’ve encountered over there and plenty good enough to wash the salt off and get ready for the evening. The room was about 20 steps from the bed to the water. It’s not a white sand beach once you’re past the tide line, but there’s plenty of sand for lounge chairs, towels, and spreading out. Because of the rocks, I found the snorkeling to be very good right in front of the hotel.

Iggie’s is the place to be for a very casual meal and a great “beach bar” flavor. Had dinner there the first night and then switched between there and the Lobster Grille for meals the rest of the stay. Lobster Grille tends to be a little more “formal”, although for us that mostly meant putting on something other than swimwear and knocking the sand off our feet. The second night, I had the filet and lobster combo and was very, very impressed. An excellent meal and very large portions; one of the best-prepared steaks I’ve had anywhere in my travels. There was live entertainment (ranging from steel drums to a rock trio from Boston) every night we were there. Eric Stone has a nice Jimmy Buffett flavor if that’s your thing. I enjoyed his sets quite a lot. The bars close up around 11-12 most nights, so if you’re looking for somewhere to drink and dance all night, this might be a strike against Bolongo.

The bar at Lobster Grille doubles as the swim-up bar for the pool and better bartenders would be hard to find anywhere on the island. They were like old friends by the second day and knew what you were drinking, but would mix it up for an occasional “surprise” drink now and then. The pool isn’t large, but even when 20-30 people were milling around on the pool deck and in the water, it never seemed crowded.

Overall, I was very pleased with the hotel, staff, and location of the resort. Last year, I had an ocean view room (balcony) and did not have the all-inclusive plan. After this year’s stay, all-inclusive and ocean front is definitely worth the extra cost. If you eat and drink well and plan on staying on-property most of the time, it will save you money in the long run.

Things to know before you go: It’s not the Ritz Carlton (that’s on the other side of the island), but it is clean, quiet, and very well maintained; It’s a bit of a drive to Red Hook or to Charlotte Amalie. If you plan on spending a lot of time in these places, the cab fare adds up quickly or you’ll need to rent a car; Once the sun goes down the place gets very quiet unless you’re at Iggie’s and that sidewalk rolls up around midnight, so if you’re planning on partying all night, you may want to look elsewhere.

With that said, Bolongo Bay is exactly what I look for in my beach vacation – the opportunity to be as active or lazy as I want to be on any given day. With customer service that was top notch from start to finish, I don’t have a single complaint about my stay. The next time I’m on St. Thomas, I’ll be staying at Bolongo Bay. Check them out at www.bolongobay.com or on Facebook.

Get back…

Between vacation and a few days on the road for work, I’ve been gone for almost two weeks. Time was that I would eat that kind of road stand for breakfast and ask for more, but the truth is that I find it all rather wearing these days. It seems that at the house with the dogs is the only place I really want to be for any extended time. Being a hermit by nature, that’s not really surprising, but it’s something that’s become more pronounced over the last few years. I wonder if it has something to do with picking up a few more birthdays or if seeking “home” is something we’re just hardwired to do. No real theories on it, just an observation made from one more hotel room on one more Thursday night on the road. Hopefully I’ll be able to clear out of here early enough to pick up the dogs tomorrow evening and then settle in for the weekend. Here’s hoping.

They all look alike… usually

When you spend enough time on the road, most hotel rooms have a tendency to blend together to the point where it’s hard to tell a Marriott, from a Hilton, from a Holiday Inn. For the average road warrior, the only part of a hotel you really notice is whatever it is that isn’t working in the room you happen to be in that week. Occasionally, though, a hotel really stands out… and not in that “Eww… there’s a hairball in the tub and a dead mouse under desk” kind of way.

Being first and foremost a lover of history some hotels simply have better stories than others. The best of those are usually reserved for the grand old hotels in the downtown of major cities. Some of these places are past their prime, but some of them have endured as symbols of elegance from on generation to another. It’s been my good fortune to spend the last two nights in one of the latter.

The Hilton Fort Worth was built in the 1920s as the Hotel Texas. Built at a time when cattle drives still ran through the heart of downtown and Fort Worth was in the process of became a center of the Texas oil boom – with money comes political influence… and where there’s influence, there are politicians looking to earn or cash in on favors. On November 21, 1963 President Kennedy arrived in Fort Worth as part of a five-city swing through Texas. The presidential party booked out two floor of the Hotel Texas, with the grandest suite looking out over downtown Fort Worth and Main Street.

On the morning of November 22nd, the president addressed a crowd that had gathered in the early morning rain before delivering formal remarks in the hotel’s ballroom. Following this breakfast speech, the Kennedy motorcade departed the Texas, following an agenda that would carry the president to a scheduled speech in Dallas at noon. Kennedy never made that speech, of course, and the Texas became inextricably linked with one of the darkest moments in American history.

I’ve enjoyed the opportunity to spend the last two nights at the Fort Worth Hilton, though I can’t help but think of it a the Texas, and I am deeply grateful to the kind staff who allowed me to visit the Kennedy Suite and have a few brief moments of communion with real American history. There was something about it being a hotel room, albeit a ridiculously well appointed hotel room, that reminded me that despite the pomp and ceremony, presidents aren’t anointed; they’re elevated from the people and will return to the people at the end of their term as they have in unbroken succession since the beginning.

I had a moment today. I don’t get those very often any more… and I kind of wish I did.

Counting down…

The countdown is on for the second of what has every likelihood of becoming an annual trek across land and sea to the beautiful island of St. Thomas. It’s not a party mecca like Cancun or a mega-resort like Atlantis, but if all you really want to do is sit on a secluded beach with a stack of good books you’ve been meaning to read or belly up to the pool bar for a few rounds of Cruzan rum punch, this place fills the bill very, very nicely. For five days at least, the only plan is to eat well, drink well, sleep well, and repeat as necessary.

If I’m feeling adventurous, it’s a night of bar-hopping in Red Hook or the search for duty free local booze and rum cakes in Charlotte Amalie. For the record, Bolongo Bay Beach Resort isn’t anything flashy and it’s about as far from the Ritz as you can get… literally and figuratively. It’s low key and a little dated but the beach is only three steps outside the room, the tiki bar is maybe 30 paces past that, and they have one of the best steaks I’ve had anywhere in my travels at their Lobster Grill. If your expecting luxury, I wouldn’t recommend it, but if you really just don’t want to give a damn about anything, this is the place for you.

One of the real perks of the USVI is that it’s a “domestic” trip. That means no passport necessary. You’re not going to be subject to foreign laws, you’re not going to get caught between warring drug cartels, and if the worst does happen, you’re still protected by American law. Running into those issues has never been an issue for me, but knowing it’s different-but-not-foreign is actually a little comforting. For all good things, there is the inevitable down side. In this case the first of them was the gang-rape I was subjected to at the hands of Delta Airlines. I won’t go into details, but will say that my AmEx now has a smoking hole in it thanks to two tickets from Memphis.

The problem with the travel bug is that it can be a painfully expensive disease, especially when you’re use to doing your traveling on Uncle Sam’s credit card. Because it’s an island, anything that can’t be grown natively has to be brought in by air or sea… and that means everything is expensive. The all-inclusive package mitigates that for dinner and booze, but if you want a snack “on the economy” you’re going to pay big for the privilege. In most places in the Caribbean, tourists benefit from a relatively strong dollar when compared to the local currency. Since St. Thomas is a US Territory, their currency is the dollar. What that mostly means is that you’re not going to get the bang for the buck you would get going elsewhere. For me, the few extra dollars are offset by the fact that everyone speaks English (more or less). You can still find some deals at the duty free shops and if you’re planning to keep most of your gluttony on the resort, you won’t spend that much anyway. Long story short… I’m not quite to the point of counting days, but Mid-May can’t get here soon enough. I fell better just knowing there’s a mark on the wall out there and that good things are coming.

Getting what you ask for…

The trouble with asking for all the training that you are technically supposed to have is that when the stars align just right, you’re actually approved for all of it. The issue there being that then you’re going to be expected to go sit through all of it.

So now it’s looking like I get to spend a week of quality time in Huntsville, Alabama in September and four weeks back here at beautiful Ft. Belvoir in October. I suppose that means my fall is pretty well planned out for me, with August being the only month in the foreseeable future that doesn’t have me wandering off across the eastern part of the country for one reason or another. It’s probably not a good sign when bars and restaurants in cities where you don’t live start knowing what you’re going to order. Or when you are able to pick favorite exits on the interstate because the gas station there has the best snack selection and coffee that you like.

So that’s your cautionary tale for the evening… Be careful what you ask for, kiddies.