Navigating Napa - May 2015
5/23/15 – Trekking Up Knob Hill
Some time ago my friends Lauren, Jesse, and I decided to
maximize the opportunity and spend some time in the San Francisco Bay Area on
account of Jesse having a conference in the city for work. Jesse, a newly
minted Physician’s Assistant (PA), had a work conference in downtown San
Francisco for a number of days. While he, his wife Lauren, and myself had all
been to San Francisco before, Lauren’s mom Diane had not. We all thought it’d
be a great opportunity to take this motley crew the West Coast for a week or so.
Man did we have a good time!
I arrived without incident to the San Francisco
International Airport a couple hours after my friends. Once I threw my luggage
in our hotel room just off of Union Square, Jesse and I decided to take a walk
and let the girls take a nap. We ended up hiking up Knob Hill, smack dab in the
middle of the city. This gave Jesse and me opportunity to reorient ourselves in
a city we both have grown to love. On our way back to the hotel, we stopped as
at a neighborhood crêperie for a snack. While enjoying the afternoon sun and
sipping on a beer, I heard a distinctive, “Noel?” Oh hell, who knows me in this
city? It turned out to be my weekend job’s (I work at a winery in Northern
Virginia on the weekends) general manager/winemaker’s step-son, who evidently
moved out to San Francisco six months ago to study at a local film school. What
a crazy reaffirmation that it’s a small world!
While walking downhill to the hotel, Jesse offered up
another positive reaffirmation to me: “this is exactly what I wanted to do this
afternoon,” he says. What a great way to start a vacation. That night, the four
of us ventured out into the Mission, which is San Francisco’s hipster/trendy
neighborhood. My crew and I were in search of a restaurant called Gracias Madre
(the madre, in this instance, isn’t the woman that birthed you, but rather
Mother Earth). This is a vegan, Mexican restaurant. While I thought the food
visually was appealing, my black beans were a little flat (on account of no fat
back). With that said, it astonished me to see the variance in restaurant
patrons: you have the local hipster neighborhood kid (more likely to be gay
than not), men in formal business attire, as well as families with children that
happily eat vegan food. I don’t know a better way to sum up San Francisco than
that!
5/24/15 – Chinatown
The next morning, the girls and I decided to go on a walking
tour of nearby downtown. We wanted to take Lauren’s mom, Diane, through
Chinatown. While Diane’s familiar with the sizeable Chinatown in Philadelphia,
the Chinatown in San Francisco is its own experience. I remember once, after
eating at a great little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, my server kindly informed
me that they only accepted cash. I figured I could find my way to an ATM pretty
easily, but after realizing that no one on the street spoke English, I found a
U.S. Post Office building (thinking that federal employees must speak English, right?) Apparently not. After wandering around
for multiple blocks, I did find a cash machine and made it back to the
restaurant. That story illustrates the cultural homogeneity of the
neighborhood.
So Lauren and I take Diane through Chinatown. We all found
some amusing souvenirs at various shops, but the fun began when we decided to
stop and grab a snack. We stood in line for a local bakery, but then we
discover they don’t have one of the specific things we’re looking for, so I’m
sent into the restaurant next door to find some steamed bao (vegetable or meat-filled buns). I found my favorite, a
shredded port-filled balloon of dough, and happily bought it for less than $1.
I got outside to share in my trove of goodies, and so I reached inside the bag
for my pork bao. Evidently, the shop keeper asking me if I wanted the bun
“cold” should’ve translated to “uncooked.” I was holding a ball of raw dough,
probably some not-quite-cooked pork, all on top of a banana leaf ready to
share. Yeah, that didn’t turn out quite as expected.
We did have some delightful sesame-coated bread balls, so
not all was lost. We met Jesse at the Ferry Building, a short walk through the
center of town from Chinatown. The Ferry Building, interestingly enough, is
where you can pick up multiple ferry lines that take you throughout the greater
San Francisco Bay. Our destination is the coastal town of Sausalito, in Marin
County, on the north end of the bay. Before going there, however, a note about
the Ferry Building itself is in order. My first encounter with the Ferry
Building was in the summer when there are farmers’ markets that wrap around the
entire building. Picture an old-school train station complete with art nouveau
architectural elements throughout. The building faces out into the bay with the
Port of Oakland facing back at you. To the north along the water are various
warehouses, and you can eventually get to Pier 39/Fisherman’s Wharf after a
bit. Equally distant to the south of the building is the righteously impressive
Bay Bridge. This whole area in downtown San Francisco is known as the
Embarcadero.
From the Ferry Building, we took a 20-minute or so boat ride
over to North Bay and disembarked in the town of Sausalito. My first impression
was that it’s rather crowded, since a lot of people are trying to fit into not
a lot of sidewalk space. We found a higher-end restaurant that served generally
American food, though with well-timed and informative service by the restaurant
staff. I was craving a burger and a beer, though in retrospect I probably
should have chosen something more like Diane’s Coq au Vin, which she shared
later that it was her favorite meal of our trip. The couple square blocks of
Sausalito are unremarkable in that there’s not much going on, and beyond the
touristy shops and handful of cafés and restaurants, the only remarkable thing
about the area is the fact that hundreds of beautiful homes dot the hills that
soar upward from the coast.
The ferry ride back to San Francisco was relaxing, though
cold. The waves roll you back and forth, and if you stand outside you can smell
the rather frigid Pacific Ocean on just the other side of the Golden Gate
Bridge. The boat stops at Fisherman’s Wharf for passengers to get out, but we
stayed on the boat to return to the Ferry Building, since our hotel was
[relatively speaking] within walking distance of that stop. That night we hit
up a hole-in-the-wall noodle house where everyone could get a plate of noodles
of their choice. It was rather cheap, quick, and a perfect way to end an
eventful day in San Francisco. I knew we had another day planned for tomorrow,
which excited me because I’d get to see some good friends out in East Bay.
5/25/15 – East Bay Mexican Food
While in the city, I had a couple of friends who lived in
the area that I wanted to see. One couple, Brian and Meghan, live in Walnut
Creek. Brian went to Berkeley for undergrad, so I figured we could generally
meet around there and wander around campus. It was decided that I’d meet them
in Walnut Creek for lunch, and then later we’d head over to campus to walk
around. I was hoping that some of my travel buddies would want to join along,
but this was the day they decided to take Diane to Fisherman’s Wharf and Golden
Gate Park. Since I had no need to be there, it made the most sense that we
could all just meet up for dinner later in the day. As luck would have it, a
friend from grad school, Maggie Peters, was willing to drive up the two hours
from Monterey and meet us in Berkeley for our wander around campus.
Before that trek, however, a note should be thrown out there
about Mexican food. I’m a big fan, and as I’ve shared this with Brian and
Meghan on past visits, Washington, DC doesn’t generally have good Mexican food.
Brian remembered this and decided to take me to one of their favorite local
Mexican places not far from Walnut Creek. I’m especially a fan of Californian Mexican food (think Tex-Mex,
except Cali-Mex) after having visited my aunt and uncle years ago in the San
Diego area. We went to their neighborhood Mexican place for dinner one night,
AND IT WAS THE BEST MEXICAN FOOD I HAD EVER EATEN…including what I’ve had in
Mexico! Anyway, lunch was good, but the trek around Berkeley was fantastic.
Brian, Meghan, and I met up with my friend Maggie in
downtown Berkeley right near campus. After wandering a couple blocks into the
main drag where all the college stores are (used CD stores—yes they still
exist—college gear store, etc.), we went through campus to essentially make our
way to the other BART station in Berkeley, since that’s where a lot of the
nicer bars and restaurants are. On our way through campus, two things of note
come to mind: 1) walking through a eucalyptus grove with Maggie at my side
(having this girl next to me while inhaling the heavenly aroma of these old
trees was amazing), and 2) getting an opportunity to check out the view from
the top of the Campanili. Modeled after a similar structure in Venice,
Berkeley’s Campanili was a gift to the university by a female benefactor at the
beginning of the 20th century. In fact, it was 1915, because they
were celebrating their 100th year while we were on campus. I liken
the experience of seeing out of the top of the Campanili to that of going up to
the top of the Washington Monument—it really allows you to get a bearing of
your environment and see what’s around. One thing I need to do on my next trip
to the Bay Area to go wander around commercial downtown Berkeley, it looked
like a decent place to check out.
Since the 25th happened to be Memorial Day, the
final adventure for the day was the most fitting. My travel buddies and I
decided to meet up in the Castro, which is the gayborhood of San Francisco. I
had a fantastic time walking around getting to the Castro from East Bay, which
included learning of a restaurant called the Meat Factory. After mentioning
this to Diane, Jesse, and Lauren, we decided to have dinner there. On our way
down the main drag (pun intended), I started hearing Aretha Franklin playing:
“we’re goin’ ridin’ on FREEEEWAY of love in my pink Cadillac…!” While I fully
support the playing of Aretha at any time, I was wondering where the music was
coming from. Not long after did we see a guy dressed in a proper Army uniform
dancing on a corner with his boom box blaring the Queen of Soul. I’d call him a
street performer, but really he was just dancing at an intersection, and
happily danced with anyone who would come over to celebrate Memorial Day with
him. After wandering through the Castro a bit, this made me fall in love with
San Francisco all over again. That was, in fact, also the moment when Diane discovered
her love for San Francisco, The way she put it, Union Square is like downtown
Philadelphia: there’s an abundance of homeless people and the city isn’t
particularly clean. Walking from Golden Gate Park (via the Haight) to the
Castro, Diane discovered the real personality of San Francisco.
5/26/15 – The Golden Gate Bridge
Few things are more iconic than the Golden Gate Bridge.
Beyond something like the Statue of Liberty, nothing signifies a city more than
this magnificent structure. After playing in the city for a few days, it was
time to start our journey up to wine country (hallelujah!) Needless to say,
Diane and I were excited to get up there and check out some amazing wine, but
before that there were plans to stop off in an equally amazing place called
Muir Woods (named after John Muir, the naturalist and explorer who essentially
created the National Parks system). I had been here before, but this time it
was like coming back to an old friend that was just as loveable and radiant as
ever. I was concerned, given the current long-term drought that’s hitting
California, that Muir Woods wouldn’t be as spectacular. But really it was just
as amazing, and I discovered new trails I hadn’t been on before during this
trip.
I have to come clean: the real reason we came to Muir Woods
wasn’t to show anyone the spectacle that it is, though that was a nice
side-effect. The real reason we showed up here is because Tyler Florence, a
well-known celebrity chef on the Food Network, had shared that his favorite
grilled cheese of all time was at their small restaurant. We all bought the
Tyler Florence combo, which included a sandwich, cup of tomato basil soup, and
a drink. They make the sandwiches to order, and I must say that my sandwich was
pretty damn good! What made it special for me was the fact that they had hunks
of a Brie-like cheese added in for the gooiness factor, and then the
[sourdough] bread had roosted pumpkin seeds in it, which gave the whole thing
an added crunchy texture that wasn’t expected. Ultimately, I’d say our trip to
Muir Woods was successful, though I’d love to hear Diane’s thoughts of the
place—was it as spectacular as it was for me my first time there?
Getting to Santa Rosa, the county seat for Sonoma County, we
decided to explore “downtown” Santa Rosa (as it is), for a bite to eat. We
landed on a Chinese restaurant, which didn’t have a soul in its dining room
when we entered. This is a tell-tale sign, though this experience taught me
that nothing is for certain; a restaurant with an empty dining room can still
produce some stellar entrées. Diane and I both had stellar meat-based Chinese
dishes, whereas Jesse had a plate of greens (and sautéed garlic) and Lauren had
a fried tofu dish that was divine. Jesse and Lauren left us to visit the used
bookstore across the street, so Diane and I ordered another carafe of wine to
start our adventure in Sonoma. That night we played Cards Against Humanity
(Diane’s first time) and drank more. Traveling is fun, especially when you can
let loose with your traveling companions. I think we all needed a breather to
enjoy the next day’s adventure.
5/27/15 – Crossing Into Napa
Our first real wine exploration day is here! After stopping
by Target and acquiring far too much wine already, it was time to show these
folks the beauty that is Napa. The first place I wanted to hit was the Mumm
tasting room, which I had taken my parents to years before. Mumm is just down
the road from St. Helena, which is centrally located in the valley both north-to-south
and east-to-west. To get there we had to travel on a two-lane road over the
hills that separate Napa and Sonoma Counties, which dropped us on the northern
end of the county near Calistoga. Pretty immediately you’re then driving
through rolling hills of vineyards with the sun shining brightly down. Yeah,
it’s a good way to start.
To actually get to the Mumm tasting room, you have to go
through their retail space, which just puts you in the right mood (having to
wade through cases of sparkling wine to then drink the stuff, I’m okay with
that). The tasting room itself is outside, and a server comes over to explain
the procedure. Like any fine dining restaurant, there’s a great utilization of
timing to have the guests get situated in their space and take in the awesome
view of the valley before anything begins. Our server had been there for over
ten years, and in fact she was a grape grower herself (syrah and chardonnay).
In fact, that was the most popular question I got, “oh, what do you grow?” when
I mentioned that I too worked in the industry. But back to the bubbles. We all
selected a premier flight, because that’s how you do it, and sat back for the
wine to begin flowing. While the wine was superb, after four half-flutes of
incredibly delicious sparkling, I was feeling a little peckish, and luckily I
knew the perfect place to hit after our first stop.
Before going out to wine country this time, I did a little
online sleuthing. Rather than searching for “best wineries in Napa” knowing
that there are too many to count, I localized a few searches to towns that I
knew we’d be traveling through. And as luck would have it, one of the wineries
on my list from these searches was also recommended to me by Meghan (of Brian
and Meghan that I met up with in Berkeley a couple days before). V. Sattui
Winery is actually one that their friends had gotten married at, and there was
a huge selection of hot deli items once we arrived. With the knowledge that
food was close-by, Diane and I decided to do a tasting at V. Sattui to see if
there was a bottle or two we wanted to buy to have with lunch. We had a great
server who kept pouring things off the menu (it didn’t hurt that I let her know
I also worked at a winery and was passively interested in their club). I ended
up joining the club, which worked out when we wanted to buy more wine at the
end of our stay in their tasting room—it was the one winery on the trip that
wouldn’t comp me something as being part of the industry. “We only comp
California wine industry,” the cashier replied when I asked. But being a newly
minted member gave us a discount on the half-case that we were shipping back.
After lunch (and after a
couple more glasses of wine), we started our journey back toward Sonoma
because we eventually had dinner plans with our friends whose dad’s house we
were staying while on this leg of the journey. Before dinner, however, we still
had some time to hit another winery or so. Lauren had once worked in the
restaurant industry, and she recognized a higher-end winery from those days, so
we stopped. Like V. Sattui, Markham Winery can trace its story back to the
1880s with a Frenchman originally from Bordeaux coming over and planting the
first vines on the property. Not only were their wines superb (you know it’s good
when you don’t want to finish the last sip in your glass because you’re
enjoying the bouquet from the wine too much!), but one of the regions in Napa
where they source their grapes is a place called Oak Knoll. I asked to see a
map to confirm that I heard our server correctly, and sure enough Oak Knoll
exists! I laughed and told him my name is Noel Oakes, so obviously that’s where
I need to live out the rest of my days! Needless to say, I joined another club.
After unsuccessfully trying to find a wine shop that I had
visited on my last trip out to Napa (the wine garage is sadly permanently
closed), we headed back to Santa Rosa for dinner with our friends. Since they
don’t get out much on account of them having two small children, we let them
choose a place. Sushi was the final decision, which worked totally fine for our
group. After dinner we went next door to an ice cream shop that’s run by
magicians and hosts magic shows from time to time. The space itself looked like
a gutted theater, so I imagine there’s ample space in the back for
performances. As we were enjoying our ice cream, one of the employees came
around and performed a couple magic tricks for our group. While we spent most
of the day doing adult things like day drinking, having a magician come around
and entertain us for a moment reminded me that: a) California is a weird and
wonderful place, and b) there’s joy wherever you go—you just have to seek it
out and live in the moment.
5/28/15 – Le Méthode Champagnoise
Because it worked for us so well the previous day, we
decided to start the day off with some bubbles again! This time we were playing
in Sonoma all day, so we headed over to Korbel. Yes, that Korbel, the one you find at 7-11 for cheap. I heard their tour
was rather informative, since they highlight for you the story of the winery’s
founding and the traditional methods they use for making sparkling wine. Their
address is on River Road, which is a road that tracks the Russian River, one of
the preeminent regions within Sonoma County. The ride there was gorgeous,
mostly with winding roads through forests. While I knew there was a lot of wine
around us, you couldn’t see a lot of it from the road. Once we got to the
Korbel Winery, however, vast tracks of vines were evident. The tour guide did a
really good job of telling the fascinating history of the Korbel brothers
coming over from what was then Czechoslovakia and following the gold rush craze
to California. The demonstration of their old equipment and bottling practices
was rather awesome. I decided that if I were Oprah, my theater room would have
walls lined with sparkling wine that you could pull at any time to simply open.
Here’s something I learned on this trip concerning the terms
“sparkling wine” and “champagne.” According to our tour guide, the trade
agreement we signed with France that prohibited our use of the term champagne
for any sparkling wine that was made in the United States was signed during
prohibition. If there were any wineries open during prohibition that were
making sparkling wine, they would be grandfathered into this agreement and
could continue using the term champagne. As luck would have it, Korbel was one
of just a handful of wineries that were legally able to stay open during
prohibition, making wine for sacramental and medicinal reasons. So Korbel, to
this day, calls their wine California Champagne.
We lunched in the charming town of Healdsburg, which is
right near Dry Creek Valley, another well-known region within Sonoma County. We
had some great Californian fare at a place simply called The Shed, though it
was heaven for us foodies. With lunch a had a glass of wine from a local
winery, and it impressed me so much I suggested we go visit it, since it too
was in Dry Creek Valley. Having to get to this winery, we drove all through Dry
Creek Valley. I saw some 100+ year old Zinfandel vines that were gnarly, old
bush-like things with leaves and branches growing in every possible direction
from these trunks that looked like arthritic trees. These bushes-o-Zinfandel
weren’t trellised at all, yet they were strong enough to support their ancient
grapes (that turns into some inky goodness)! It gets hot in these areas, and
there’s a whole lot of sunlight beating down on those grapes.
Preston Family Vineyards was our destination, and it was
great to see what this established winery was doing with biodynamics. We headed
into Dry Creek Valley and continued on one of the major thoroughfares until the
very end, and that’s where our winery was. We pulled up to this large-ish, old
farm building and wandered around. The first thing I noticed is that it’s
significantly warmer up here than it was in Healdsburg. We saw signs for produce,
and invariably there were animals milling about. What a great and unexpected
destination! The woman pouring our wines inside told us that they’re certified
biodynamic, which is a whole level above being certified organic. Not only is
there no use of unnatural chemicals to care for their crops, there’s a whole
self-sufficient ethic that goes along with the movement. What I mean is there’s
ideally no outside influences (beyond weather) to a biodynamic farm—the cows
produce natural fertilizer, which can be used in the fields, and the plants and
vines are grown in a responsible way allowing for years and years of
cultivation. Some of these vineyards have been doing it for years.
After wining for most of the day, we had to get going in
order to make our dinner reservation down in the very other end of the county. The
Girl and the Fig is a well-known restaurant in the town of Sonoma, and Lauren
had requested that we check it out since she and Jesse had had such a good
experience there the last time. I had heard about it through the food writing
I’ve read, so I was more than fine with the decision. The restaurant is on the
edge of a cute little town square in an old hotel. What used to be the lobby is
now the bar/waiting area, but we had a reservation so we were whisked away to
our table immediately. The service was slow, but the food was divine! We
started out sharing a plate of mussels only because the table next to us had
gotten them and they looked so good. We all then went our separate ways into
our own food interests. I did some sort of fig and arugula salad for my next
course and then for my entrée I had a home-made pasta dish with micro greens
and sweet peas. Fantastic! We all knew this would be our last big hurrah
together, so we made it count.
5/29/15 – Solo Travel
I had to get up early the next morning to get on a commuter-type
bus shuttle to head down toward the city and find my flight back at SFO. The
ride down from Sonoma into Marin and then across the Golden Gate Bridge was
rather pleasant in that everyone generally kept to themselves and zoned out. I
started gathering my thoughts about the next chapter of this adventure, but
really, I was sad to be leaving California again. I had rediscovered my love
for the place, and I have always felt comfortable there. My next big move may
be to go back out west, because I really do enjoy it so much. I mean, hell,
there’s an Oak Knoll out there. If that’s not a sign from God that I should be
living in the middle of California wine country, I don’t know what is!
Not knowing what to expect for a Delta flight, I downloaded
a movie to watch on my Kindle. That turned out to be unnecessary since every
seat had its own infotainment center. While I poked around on it a bit, I was
more than content to watch my movie, listen to music, or read a book during the
relatively short flight to Detroit. While Delta had the normal infotainment
system that I’d expect on a transcontinental flight like this, I was surprised
at how United had addressed the issue on the way out here. Instead of spending
the money to put LCD screens in for each seat, they moved the compartment where
you normally would keep the magazines on the back of the seat in front of you
up to the head rest. This allowed for a good couple more inches of legroom in coach,
which is always appreciated. While the infotainment system wasn’t available,
United apparently has created an app you can download that allows you to stream
video through the plane’s wifi system. A pretty impressive solution, I thought!
Unfortunately, I have an old Kindle that wouldn’t allow me to download the app.
Traveling alone doesn’t bother me. In fact, after the rat
race that had been the last week I welcomed some decompression time. I knew I’d
have to be charming and on my best behavior once I got to my next destination,
so heading back east without anyone else to have to account for was perfectly
acceptable. I had a layover in Detroit for a couple of hours, so once I got to
the airport I wandered around a bit. Luckily my heavy bag (the one packed with
a half-case of wine) was checked, so it wasn’t too much of an issue to get
around the airport with my multiple carry-ons. The main concourse at the
Detroit airport is one massive hallway that stretches out about five city
blocks. There are news kiosks, stores, and restaurants clustered throughout the
concourse, so you never have to walk far to find just about anything. I knew I
should grab a bite to eat during this layover, so I was generally on the search
for food. I came across a Longhorn Steakhouse—a far cry from my dinner the
night before—and saddled up to the bar. Having the ability to read my book, sip
on a beer, and generally not worry about the trip was heavenly.
Although it’d ultimately take longer for me to travel from
my point-of-origin to my destination, stopping over in Detroit’s airport
allowed me to do two things: 1) it broke up a longer flights into two
completely manageable legs, which ultimately made the whole travel experience
more enjoyable, and 2) it allowed me to check out another airport. I’m sure
I’ve flown through Detroit before, but it had been years since the last time I
had been there. The main concourse was fairly mundane, in terms of shops and
food selection, but I definitely enjoyed the opportunity for people watching and
generally wandering about that my couple hours there afforded me. On top of all
this, a ticket with a layover is usually cheaper than a non-stop flight. I may
have to rethink the way I travel.
5/30/15 – Wedding Day
I arrived to the Pittsburgh airport without incident. My
friend Richelle, whose sister was getting married this weekend, came and picked
me up right on time. The morning of the actual wedding, her mother had already
left the house by the time I woke up, so Richelle, her dad, and I went out to their
local town (about an hour north of Pittsburgh) for breakfast at the local
diner. I liked how Richelle’s dad, Rich, knew the server from high school and
greeted a group of older ladies who I’m sure had been coming to this place for
years. This was definition small town Americana at its finest. After breakfast
it was back to the house to get ready for the big event. While I wasn’t in the
wedding (I hadn’t even met the couple getting married), I was in this nebulous
place of being a so-called date for a member of the wedding party. It was an
odd role to play, but that’s why I’m invited to such things!
Richelle left early to help her sister, Lauren, get ready
for her big day. A little while later, her Dad and I drove to the chapel for
the big event. Amusingly enough her Dad was [understandably] nervous as hell,
so we talked about what we saw driving by: the difference between what corn and
bean sprouts look like when they’re first coming out of the ground (this is
rural Pennsylvania after all), growing up on a farm, all of that fun stuff. We
made it to the wedding chapel in time for me to meet the groom and groomsmen
(henceforth referred to as “Hans and the boys”). They were discussing the
proper method waterproofing fancy cowboy boots, since that was the dress code
for Hans and the boys. I didn’t have much to contribute to this conversation,
though it was an amusing learning experience about what rural life in
Northwestern Pennsylvania considers “fancy.”
The wedding was pleasant enough—short and sweet—and as the
guests were leaving the chapel we stopped by the new bride and groom to offer
our congratulations. This was the first time I met Lauren, so shaking her hand
(or giving her a hug) I’m sure I said something along the lines of,
“Congratulations! By the way, I’m Noel.” Awkward. But it was just fine. The
wedding party (and dates of said wedding party) all piled onto a rented
passenger bus, which was already stocked with large amounts of really cheap
beer. Oh dear, I thought, since I generally don’t drink crap beer. When in
Rome…so we all were triple-fisting Bud Lights for a good long while, playing
drinking games on the bus, and stopping at Hans’s father’s house for pictures
of the bride and groom in a horse pasture while the two held hunting rifles. An
odd choice indeed, but it made sense to them. The boys (of Hans and the boys)
and I generally sat around drinking beer and belching in each other’s faces. A
good time was had by all.
The reception for this wedding—for which we were rather
late—was held in a small country club and fed us well. The most intriguing
thing about the guests is that we had a couple Amish families in attendance,
since Hans employs a couple Amish guys on his construction projects. I was
afraid I was going to get belligerently drunk and start screaming random modern
German words at them, but they generally kept to themselves. Interestingly, one
of the younger guys would walk up to the bar, order a beer, take a sip out of
the bottle, and nonchalantly slip the open bottle into an inside vest pocket.
He kept this up all night. So when it was time to leave he was bloated with
open beers, and you could hear him very clearly clinking as he waddled out to
his presumed horse and carriage. My understanding is homeboy was going to drive
back home while enjoying the multitudes of free beers before he got back. As
long as he can keep himself from falling off the buggy, I say more power to
him.
Epilogue
Richelle and I left on the earlier side the next morning,
mostly because she had been home for more than a couple of days and wanted to
get the hell out of there. I was more than happy with that, though I was ready
to not be traveling anymore. Along the way we stopped at a highway rest stop
called Breezewood, where the Pennsylvania turnpike intersects Interstate 70 (in
west-central PA). Richelle was all excited to stop, which I didn’t get because
to me it looked like a collection of truck stops put together. Then I
remembered my love for South of the Border on the NC/SC line, so I had to give
her some leeway in what random things she loved along the way home from DC, or
vice versa. The whole trip itself worked out well. I loved seeing Diane
discover the greatness of San Francisco, and I LOVED playing in wine country
for a few days. I’m pretty sure one of these days Noel Oakes will be living in
Oak Knoll, CA.
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