Compare that to California:
|That tree line is where the water used to go up to. None of this desert-looking business.|
|Look how green!|
|Mt. Shasta. It isn't actually this red, but the sun was setting.|
|It was extremely windy here, and now I have dust in my ear again.|
Back by Yosemite, even though you are miles away from any real town, you will still pass a sign that says "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS" for a "Gentlemen's Club." Why do they call it that? Do you think we don't know what you're doing in there? Like we think you're just having tea sandwiches and discussing the '74 Lafite? Why do they not just say strip club? Is there an actual difference? Do gentlemen's clubs hand you a top hat and monocle on the way in? You've already advertised GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS, so I think the classy ship has sailed. I do not understand this euphemism.
The first motel we stayed at (Maverick Motel) had free wifi AND gave us this basket of goodies (all complimentary!).
Take notes, Westin St. Francis. You're getting your ass kicked by a cheap roadside motel in hospitality. I had to ask them to give Cathy free wifi in her bridal suite. The suite that has two entrances (one for guests), a kitchen, dining room, living room, office, guest bath, and master bedroom with ensuite bathroom that is itself larger than my bedroom. The Queen has stayed there, and it is now called the Windsor Suite. Are you shitting me, Westin? Who is staying in the Windsor Suite who is getting charged for wifi? The answer is zero people. Why do you not just include it? It's the difference between, "Oh, good, wifi is included," and "ARE YOU SHITTING ME HOW IS WIFI NOT INCLUDED?" But at least they didn't spend five minutes explaining to me that they weren't obligated to do this for me, and that soon enough they wouldn't even need guests like me. Yes, Courtyard Marriott-University Area, Austin, TX, I remember you. Hint: You're never getting off the shitlist. Either of you. Unless Ernie, the front desk clerk who helped me out at the Westin, becomes general manager and is good at it.
The wedding itself was incredible. I already know it's the best one I'll ever attend, and Cathy is the first of my close friends to get married. She did the worm in her wedding dress! I may also have fallen in love with the father of the groom. Ken may have as well, so it's ok. The photographer looked shocked when I described Cathy's previous wedding (to me, in Vegas, after bribing a hotel manager to use their chapel for our "ceremony"). I'll probably have to do a whole other post on the wedding, though probably not here. Maybe I'll just write it for myself for posterity.
Relatedly, mani-pedis are a process. I had no idea. I thought someone just painted colors on your nails. But no. There are massages and lotions and oils and doing something with your cuticles and multiple coats and foot baths and crazy things. I tipped way too high, but I am not accustomed to having someone spend so much attention for so much time on such small body parts. It is weird. I also kept staring at my feet, because it was like an alien had taken over my feet's appearance.
Anyway, meanwhile in Oregon, people keep staring at us because we speak Chinese. (Or because we are Chinese? Unclear.) They also seem very hesitant to interact with us. Not other travellers, but locals (e.g., waitresses). Also, their version of carding is to ask, apologetically, "Is everyone here 21?" Obviously they are asking me, because I'm travelling with four people in their late 50s, and while they could pass for younger, I don't think they could pass for 20. I just said, "Oh. Yeah," and that was it. Pub/restaurants also seem to play a lot of Keno. As far as I can tell, this is just bingo without letters, but I'm basing that solely off of the cards that are provided at each table.
My dad is snoring and sounds like Chewbacca.