On the road again (kind of. Does Clark street count?)

I was supposed to depart for Kansas City on Friday, but Thursday I stayed up late, and woke up with a hangover and Aunt Flo in town, and just did NOT have it in me to leave yet.  I mean, I could NOT get my shit together.  It was TOO hard to get out of bed.  TOO hard to run to the bank.  These clothes I have to fold are so HEAVY. 

I did run to Aldi to get good travel food (Apples!  Granola Bars!  Energy drinks!  Nuts! Bugles!   Cheese!  Fake Cheez-its! Kefir!)  

Pickle had a weird purple growth on her belly, so I took her to the vet and they sliced it off and sent it for a biopsy.  It's probably something totally benign---but if it gets nicked, it bleeds like crazy.  I didn't know what kind of rough, tall vegetation our western adventure would hold, and so I opted to get that thing removed.  That was all on Friday, too.

I have a bunch of gift cards that I am spending right now to save money—so I went to Binny’s liquors and got 3 bottles of thank you wine for my hosts along the way. 

So, I didn’t leave on Friday.  I hung out, got shit done and met Megan out at the new place in Andersonville—Bar Roma. OH my god—the meatballs were so darn good.  And the vibe was really friendly, and décor was a delight.  Megan was heading to Paris, and so we were both brimming with excitement for our adventures.  Unfortunately, the bartended made Megan a bourbon drink (old fashioned?) instead of a gin drink, and then when we asked, he was insistent and blasé that it was a gin drink.  The lady next to us was loudly extolling the virtues of Andersonville to her Lincoln Park visitor friends “I’m a regular here---this place is my local” (it’s only been open a month, chill out lady) and recommended a certain drink to Megan (it’s frothy, it’s not too sweet, it’s very refreshing—you are gonna LOVE it”.  So, she ordered it.  She took a sip, and handed it to me to taste. It was all of those, but not GREAT.  Megan shrugged and we ordered our meatballs. I snuck in some baby fried artichokes because I was still feeling the hangover and nothing soaks up bad drinking stomach juice like fried food.

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I then came home and had a good night’s sleep.  Sleep has always been really important to me, and I love a good nap.  But over the past few years, when I was super sad about some stuff, I prioritized sleep like never before, and though my hairs turned grey, I think I stayed relatively healthy because I completely insisted on getting a good nights sleep.  That, and cooking more meals at home.  Anyway, sleep is my favorite DRUG.

Rotisserie Chicken

Park City 1

We got in to town, checked into our condo, and headed to the box office to get acclimated.  I got to see the “Chase Sapphire Lounge”, my favorite hang out at Sundance, where, if you are a MEMBER, you not only get a sweet water bottle, but you also get COFFEE!!!  Free local food like duck tacos!  Wine tastings with chocolate from 3-5!  A place to charge your device!  It’s right in the middle of Main Street, and it’s AWESOME.

We got screening tickets via a waitlist system and it works out for us almost every time.  There are a number of way you get tickets to Sundance screenings—you can buy a pass, that guarantees admission to every screening, or buy tickets that guarantee entrance to certain “films”, or you can hope that some bigwigs with passes don’t show up, and you get their seat for $20.  That’s how we do it---you log in to the very easy e-waitlist system, and throw your name on the list 2 hours prior to screening. You are then randomly generated a waitlist number (or numbers if you linked to a friend).  Then,  you arrive at the venue, wait in line, and hopefully get in.

Why do I tell you this?  Well, if my blog really takes off, maybe someone will come here via the keyword search of “Sundance without tickets” and I’ll make some money or something.  Oh, and maybe I want to help my fellow human.  CHASE SAPPHIRE CHASE SAPPHIRE

We did get in to a BUNCH of movies, we went to the Chase Sapphire lounge, and we had a very nice meal at Bodega, which is a tapas place.  We also tried to go somewhere for just a glass of wine and were NOT at all HUNGRY but that place doesn’t exist. In Park City, on the main drag, it’s either restaurants, where you have to order food with booze, because of the mormons, or sports bars that are turned into CLUBS during Sundance.

That first day, we also went to the Fresh Market grocery store--and picked up some eat-at-home food.  Last year, I had insisted on getting a rotisserie chicken, and like every time I suggest that food item, everyone scoffs.  But, this lady didn’t grow up in a large family who travels and not pay attention. 

Every winter, ye old Eldridge family would go skiing to the greatest ski resorts within driving distance of Elyria, Ohio.  Holiday valley!  Peek and Peak!  Before we’d go, my dad would gear us up in our snow gear, grab the old-fashioned rake, and teach us how to use the J and T Bar for the rope tows.  He’d drag us through the snow, and we’d hold on as he pulled, simulating the experience of going up the hill in our backyard, getting us used to balancing on our skis, holding on to our poles and the handle of the bar.

It was supposed to teach us so we didn’t waste time falling on the rope tow.

We always drove in the old Shasta Motorhome, and my mom would pack up some fried chicken. 

We’d roll in to Holiday Valley in New York, and Bruce would park the Shasta in the parking lot, and we’d eat our fried chicken.  The next day, my mom would pack it up in a cooler, and we’d leave the cooler in the general BYOFood/Canteen area of the resort, and munch on that for lunch instead of the resort chalet pizza and salty hotdogs. 

It felt like a punishment at the time, sitting in our hand-me-down ski pants, and used ski boots, watching the “rich” kids chow down on fountain drinks and nachos.   

But I now crave chicken in a group snow setting.    And who’s the poor kids that we got to go skiing?  We were fucking lucky to have that opportunity and that our dad had a job.

Plus, old Bruce was always running a scam—he’d by a few lift tickets and attach them to a safety pin or paper clip, and then attach that to a zipper.  We’d pass them back and forth between us, but inevitably, the older three got to ski a lot more, while Kitty and I would guard the chicken cooler, and pretend to enjoy ice skating on the tiny rink.

But, we learned well from old Bruce—and to this day, I am a terrible skier, but I’m really good on a rope tow.

Frump it up

Salt Lake City

I’m sitting in the airport in SLC, waiting for my pals to land so we can head to SUNDANCE!!!  Sometimes on planes, I don’t talk to anyone.  But, this plane was packed with bearded hipsters in beanie caps, flying from LA to SLC so I gabbed it up!  All real sweet guys---friendly, nice and primarily dudes.  I made a new facebook friend!

And now, I’m sitting where I sat last year, and am waiting for the LA folks to stream off the flights, with a parade of uggs, fur vests, swoopy Kardashian wool hats and LV totes.  I love people watching when I am frumpy as hell and don’t give a shit. 

(Or, I probably do give a shit, or why else would I notice that I was frumpy?  HONESTY!!!)