I believe I threatened promised to regale you with the stories of my visit to New Jersey to see Pops Sparkles over Fathers Day weekend. It's been almost a month since I went. Goddamn I'm slow. Anyway, here are the highlights:
I almost died on the flight up there. Yes, it's true! Ok, not really but it felt like it. My flight from Nashville to Philadelphia was very ordinary, although I do feel compelled to inform the citizens of that city that they need to clean that bitch up. We all know that the real estate surrounding metropolitan airports is usually less than the best a city has to offer, but all things considered I still understand why my friends call it Filthadelphia. It could be so nice, Philadelphians! Please stop hating on your city and try to remove at least one layer of the grime.
So I landed in Philly and made my way to the gate of my connecting flight. I was flying into the Allentown/Bethlehem PA airport so I wasn't expecting a 747, but I also wasn't expecting a propeller plane that last saw action during the goddamn Battle of the Bulge, either. When I saw the ground crew "secure" the props with a big red piece of elastic I got a bit antsy, and when we had to stop on the runway to manually start one of those propellers my stomach threatened to revolt. Fortunately we managed to reach our cruising altitude of eight thousand feet (!!!) but fate punched me in the face again when I learned that no refreshing adult beverages were available on that plane. I don't normally drink on flights but I was willing to make an exception in this case. After all, it's not every day a girl gets to ride shotgun in a 1922 Spitfire.
Long story short (too late!) I landed safely, snagged the ugliest rental car in history, and toddled off to Pops' house. Shortly after I arrived we made a run to the local liquor store. The parents needed to restock since people would be coming and going all weekend, so we lugged a few bottles of wine, some gin, vodka, and whiskey to the checkout aisle. The clerk chuckled and asked what the occasion was, and my father told him that there was no occasion, we were just trying to cut down.
Saturday we went on the biannual Hackettstown historic home tour. This was right up my alley because I love to look at old houses. Also, I'm nosy and like to snoop. But anyway, I found it fascinating to see the insides of the huge old Victorian houses, and it made me even more resolute in my decision to find the person who installed a dropped ceiling of acoustic tiles in the upstairs of our house and kick them in the crotch.
After the home tour we decided we wanted lunch, so Stepmother Sparkles clued us in to a local company that was hosting a customer appreciation day where there were going to be free burgers and hot dogs. We beat it down there to partake in the complimentary snacks. The only snag in this otherwise perfect plan was that it was a livestock feed and supply company hosting the event. I should probably say here that my father owns no livestock and as such is not much of a customer of this feed store, but if you think that was going to keep us from enjoying free hot dogs you're out of your mind. We just waded through the paddock of goats and chickens to the barbecue where we proceeded to load up on whatever they had to offer. Then the three of us huddled under the eaves of the warehouse, doing our best to steer clear of the farm animals and the pouring rain, scarfing down as many of the free hot dogs we could hold.
So, in summation, we have ridiculously large liquor purchases, snooping in nice people's houses, and standing in the pouring rain two-fisting some free weenies. (Dirty!) That is what I did on my vacation. And that, my friends, tells you everything you need to know about me and my family.
I almost died on the flight up there. Yes, it's true! Ok, not really but it felt like it. My flight from Nashville to Philadelphia was very ordinary, although I do feel compelled to inform the citizens of that city that they need to clean that bitch up. We all know that the real estate surrounding metropolitan airports is usually less than the best a city has to offer, but all things considered I still understand why my friends call it Filthadelphia. It could be so nice, Philadelphians! Please stop hating on your city and try to remove at least one layer of the grime.
So I landed in Philly and made my way to the gate of my connecting flight. I was flying into the Allentown/Bethlehem PA airport so I wasn't expecting a 747, but I also wasn't expecting a propeller plane that last saw action during the goddamn Battle of the Bulge, either. When I saw the ground crew "secure" the props with a big red piece of elastic I got a bit antsy, and when we had to stop on the runway to manually start one of those propellers my stomach threatened to revolt. Fortunately we managed to reach our cruising altitude of eight thousand feet (!!!) but fate punched me in the face again when I learned that no refreshing adult beverages were available on that plane. I don't normally drink on flights but I was willing to make an exception in this case. After all, it's not every day a girl gets to ride shotgun in a 1922 Spitfire.
Long story short (too late!) I landed safely, snagged the ugliest rental car in history, and toddled off to Pops' house. Shortly after I arrived we made a run to the local liquor store. The parents needed to restock since people would be coming and going all weekend, so we lugged a few bottles of wine, some gin, vodka, and whiskey to the checkout aisle. The clerk chuckled and asked what the occasion was, and my father told him that there was no occasion, we were just trying to cut down.
Saturday we went on the biannual Hackettstown historic home tour. This was right up my alley because I love to look at old houses. Also, I'm nosy and like to snoop. But anyway, I found it fascinating to see the insides of the huge old Victorian houses, and it made me even more resolute in my decision to find the person who installed a dropped ceiling of acoustic tiles in the upstairs of our house and kick them in the crotch.
After the home tour we decided we wanted lunch, so Stepmother Sparkles clued us in to a local company that was hosting a customer appreciation day where there were going to be free burgers and hot dogs. We beat it down there to partake in the complimentary snacks. The only snag in this otherwise perfect plan was that it was a livestock feed and supply company hosting the event. I should probably say here that my father owns no livestock and as such is not much of a customer of this feed store, but if you think that was going to keep us from enjoying free hot dogs you're out of your mind. We just waded through the paddock of goats and chickens to the barbecue where we proceeded to load up on whatever they had to offer. Then the three of us huddled under the eaves of the warehouse, doing our best to steer clear of the farm animals and the pouring rain, scarfing down as many of the free hot dogs we could hold.
So, in summation, we have ridiculously large liquor purchases, snooping in nice people's houses, and standing in the pouring rain two-fisting some free weenies. (Dirty!) That is what I did on my vacation. And that, my friends, tells you everything you need to know about me and my family.
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