On the Arch, heroin, milkshakes, and intimidating an NFL badass

The last time I updated this neglected site was to report on a trip to Indianapolis….there must be something about the Midwest that inspires me to write (the corn? the flat? the mullets?) because I find I have some more to share with you.

On average, St. Louis is less averagey than Indianapolis. Indy has a feeling of bottomless banality, a suburb that just kept growing and growing until it achieved city status. St. Louis is a hardscrabble place that feels real….it clearly had a soul once. Unfortunately where the soul used to be is now mostly heroin.

But first....my trip started with a short train ride to BWI airport. Amtrak has “quiet cars” where all loud conversations are discouraged. I unknowingly ended up in the “cliché car”….nine Japanese tourists spent the entire trip taking photos of each other, no lie. Also, a Hispanic woman birthed three children during the 30-minute ride.*

While in line to board my plane I heard a conversation behind me, from two 50-ish woman with red-dyed, pillowy hair and soft southern accents. After expounding on how new and avant-garde cranberry juice is (?) they provided evidence that science education and gender-selection abortions are not carried out effectively in this country.

Woman 1 – I’m finally taking that Italy trip next year
Woman 2 – Neat. Aren’t they like, a day ahead or behind us or something?
Me – (groan)
Woman 1 – Something like that. Maybe even two days.

Two days!! Two days! Under our current one-sun solar system how on our earth is this even possible? Think of potential ramifications of this. Just one example - Alaska is our western-most state AND our eastern-most state (the Aleutian islands are across the international date line). That means one state could be two days ahead of itself! Think of how much you could get done, just jumping back and forth over that line. You could even plant things to surprise yourself when future you got it two days later. “Hey, where did this delicious seal pie come from (you’re an Aleut, remember)?? Must have been me again!” You could conversely go back two days to attempt to prevent disaster (“Hello, McCain campaign office….DO NOT let him select our governor as your running mate! I know it sounds crazy, but trust me…he’s thinking about it!”).**

Here is your first St. Louis tip – cab service is unpredictable, as is the violence. I’m pretty sure my cabbie took the long way to my destination from the airport (which perhaps was simply the standard tourist drive-around fare-run-up they do). I spent some time at the St. Louis Art Museum (motto: “Really…what else are you going to do here? Drink Budweiser?”). I spoke for awhile here with a pleasant security guard whose first name was “Celebrity.” She moved recently from Los Angeles (nach) and was telling me that the gangs in LA have nothing on the thugs of St. Louis and that St. Louis gangs have fewer border confinements than their LA counterparts. That was reassuring. After spending a few hours looking at corn-, Mississippi river-, and mullet-themed art, I was ready to leave. I called for a cab and waited 50 MINUTES for the thing. Then, later that night after dinner (corn chowder, refinery-tinged bisque, corn-fed beef and jello [corn]), my colleagues and I waited a good 30 minutes for a cab. So….you’ve been warned.

Now…allow me to let you in on a secret…it’s one of the biggest scams propagated in our country since a dead Franklin Roosevelt was re-elected president in 1944. All those pictures you see of the St. Louis Arch, making it look so grand? All the people you’ve talked to who have traveled here and claimed how fascinating it is? All lies! The thing is 24, maybe 25 feet tall, tops….all the photos are a result of camera tricks and forced perspective! When you enter the city you are coerced (under penalty of forced St. Louis residency) to sign a document stating that you “will hold true and constant to the widely-held belief that the Arch is 630 feet tall. If you lead fellow Americans to believe otherwise, the terrorists have won.” So yes, your family and friends have lied to you. But I don’t care…I’m ignoring the threats and the monitoring of electronic communications. The truth must be known! By the way, in spite of its smallness, there is a Starbucks at the top. And a guy selling heroin.

Several years ago in an effort to appear “green,” hotels began to allow you to decline having your linens cleaned every night. This saved them money, and honestly seemed like a good idea. I don’t wash my sheets at home every night, after all. I discovered that Sheratons, or at least the St. Louis Sheraton – again, couched as being “green” – allow you now to even entirely decline maid service. I’m not sure how not making my bed, not wiping my bathroom counter, or not collecting my bloody towels (don’t ask) is somehow reducing carbon emissions, but “green” is in, of course. Putting immigrants out of work is also in, I guess, and I don’t need my room cleaned every day AND they offered a $5 voucher at any in-house merchant if I declined maid service, so I said yes. I mean, no. I declined maid service is what I’m trying to say. Note – this $5 will get you an 8-oz coffee at the in-house Starbucks. Surprised at the cost? Well, how about this fact, which I swear I am not making up – a bowl of cold cereal and glass of juice from room service cost $16. Plus an 18 percent “service charge,” PLUS a $3 delivery fee, neither of which, the menu reminded me, went toward the tip. The guy who delivers it may well try to sell you heroin, depending on who is on that shift.

On a tip from a friend (thanks, Joel) I went to Crown Candy Kitchen, a place that’s known for having kept its charm over the years as an old-fashioned malt-shop and looks like it’s straight out of the 1950s, except now black people can eat there. Crown has a food “challenge,” recently attempted by Adam on the show “Man v. Food” on the Food Network. Drink five 24-ounce milkshakes/malts in 30 minutes and win fame and acclaim and your name on the wall. Only a few have accomplished it...I had one and was very full but think I could probably do three. My waitress told me one guy, after seeing the show, flew in from Las Vegas with the sole purpose of taking on the challenge and drank all 120 ounces in just over 11 minutes. Wow. I can only guess he must have been drinking the heroin shakes.



Left: Me, pretending to have beaten the challenge. Note that each glass in front of me holds about 10 ounces, so one would have to drink about 12 of those.


Lastly, on the flight on the way home I had to rough up a former NFL player. As I boarded the plane the guy in the very front row decided to stand up and take his sweet time taking off his coat. He was holding up not just me, but about 40 people behind me and ultimately, the entire plane from taking off. I just sort of stared at him with an “are you kidding me” kinda look on my face. After he was done with his coat he was STILL taking his time and as he meandered into his seat I brushed by him, putting a shoulder into him a little bit…sending him a “message.” After I sat down a few rows behind him I heard a male flight attendant asking him about his playing days, in that stereotypical way that gays get sports wrong (“Were you on one of those teams that killed the Cowboys in the Super Bowl?” A. the Cowboys have never been “killed” in the Super Bowl and B. the person in question played for the Redskins, who cannot play the Cowboys in the Super Bowl.). This piqued my interest and I started to crane my neck to see if I could recognize the thick-headed, square-jawed, slow-coat remover. I did not recognize him but as I got off the plane (he stayed put, as he must have been continuing on) I saw that his very nice Redskins coat had “Dave Butz” embroidered on the sleeve. Butz was a former first-round draft choice, pro-bowler, member of the NFL all-80s team and a recent recipient of a Nathan shoulder bitch slap. Take that, Dave Butz.



* Obviously, an exaggeration. It was two.

** I recently read in Smithsonian Magazine that the Aleutian Islands are across the international dateline. I was fact checking this after writing the above and found out this was NOT the case. But I had already written that paragraph, and I thought it was funny, so I didn’t change it.