Washington D.C. Hearts Public Transportation

After a 28 year hiatus, I have weirdly found myself travelling to our nation's capital twice in the past six months. To be fair, that 8th grade class trip really wiped me out. The Smithsonian is so big.

I barely knew anything about the place before, except that Washington D.C. is filled with trinkets and expensive monuments meant to make me proud to be an American (and something about terrible public schools and mayors who do drugs), but I'll tell you what I have really come to appreciate: the public transportation system. The WMATA seriously kills it, and clearly other proud Americans think so, too. That's why you can easily find this handy guide to staying at hotels near train stations (and you can fast forward to the map to compare to your hotels.com searches if you're saving up those free room points). In fact, you can easily visit all the patriotic stuff (I joke, it really is some breathtaking stuff) on the Metro, tour many of the area's colleges (which is how I was able to string together a whole recital tour without ever renting a car), and plan your meals based on Metro stops.

If you are planning a trip to D.C., I implore you to take advantage of all of the amazing public transportation available to you. It's convenient, easy, and driving in that town is totally stressful if you're not familiar with the crazy street system. In my off hours during my last visit, I jumped on and off trains and tried to cram in as much national culture as I could.

Triple B Fresh, a Korean deli in DuPont Circle

Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, L'Enfant Plaza

Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Foggy Bottom Station

Clyde's of Gallery Place

Nando's Peri-Peri in Chinatown

'Tis the season...how to hate the airport a little less (hopefully)

Most of my travel in any given year is to go somewhere and perform a show, maybe give a master class, maybe give a talk on music entrepreneurship.  This kind of travel is OK; I end up in the airport during the week, generally between the hours of 9am and 4pm, and most of the people waiting to go through security with me are individual business travelers.  Now, they can be pretty tedious, always shouting into their phones and jerking out their arms to sigh at their wristwatches, but they do know the drill, and that makes everything flow a lot smoother for everybody.  There is also the fact that you simply have numbers on your side; there are no large families and no national guilt trips driving everyone to the airport at the same time to eat the same overcooked turkey, if you get my drift.  Denver International Airport, my home base, is quite large and often very busy, but it's a pretty serene place on a Thursday at 2pm.

When I do travel for the holidays, it is like being swung around rapidly by a total stranger and then punched in the face. Hard.  It doesn't matter how slick I think I am at the airport, it is a completely different place the day before Thanksgiving. It is an ugly place.  People who travel so infrequently that they are mesmerized and confused by all the directions at security and small children who can't carry anything or even take off their own shoes are particularly hard to be behind in line, but that's about all I ever see this time of year. Everyone at the airport hates being alive in the days leading up to and immediately following a major family-oriented holiday, from security to the gate clerks.  Here's how I try to cope (and I beg of you, fair readers, if you have any other tips, please share them in the comment section below.  There is no such thing as too many coping techniques this time of year.):

GETTING WHAT YOU WANT. There is no guarantee that you will get anything you want this holiday season, but I can guarantee you will be treated like a criminal if you show an attitude.  Repeat the mantra "I'm so lucky this isn't my job" over and over in your head while you are dealing respectfully (and pityingly) with harried airport personnel, and try a little play acting by adopting the "Kindly Brontosaurus" posture. (I've been using this a lot, and it really works, even if it looks silly.) Above all, DO NOT act like a head case who's about to throw a temper tantrum.  You will be seen as a violent enemy of the state. 

DISTRACT YOURSELF. You're stuck waiting in a crowded, noisy, uncomfortable seating area near your gate.  People who sound like they are literally swallowing the microphone scream what sounds like pertinent information, but you really have no idea how to decipher it.  Everyone who has ever procreated in the last six months anywhere in your state is taking the same plane as you, and they all think the aisle between rows of seats is a reasonable place to change a diaper.  What can you do? 

• PLAY WITH YOUR PHONE. I'm an android person, so pardon my non-Apple-centric advice here.  If you can tap into free WiFi at your airport, you can watch YouTube for free, or Hulu, Netflix, Amazon or Google Play movies for a fee.  Podcast apps abound (I like Podcast Addict and NPR Podcast), and so do news apps, which help you avoid the constant CNN running everywhere overhead (try Ted Conferences to get sucked into something inspiring on a long wait, Slate for a little junk food while you're waiting to board the plane.) And of course, don't forget to load some appropriate music before you leave the house. 

• EAT, DRINK, AND BE MERRY. Airports are not known for their great prices and competitive dining, but they're trying to do better.  And honestly, your aunt's Christmas meal is still going to be worse, and your grandparents don't have a liquor cabinet.  I blogged a while ago about some honestly good places to drop your money in some of my frequented airports; share some of your own in the comments section below! 

• GET SOME REST/EXERCISE. Those prayer rooms tucked away in major airports don't get used all that often.  Be respectful, but if the place is deserted, this is a great opportunity to do some stretches, yoga, breathing exercises, or even some jumping jacks and push-ups to avoid atrophying while you wait. Stretching before wedging yourself into your airport seat makes the recovery time on the other side of your trip much shorter.  (Pro tip: I've practiced my flute in these spaces before when in dire need.  Just keep an eagle eye on anyone else entering the space to actually use it the way it was intended.) Many airports are even adding yoga rooms so you don't have to risk offending the truly pious! 

When I travel to see family, I like to treat myself for behaving once I get there.  In Chicagoland, it might be a stop at White Castle (which we don't have out West) or a request for Brown's Chicken for dinner that night, because while this is total and utter junk food, it reminds me fondly of my childhood. Judge if you must.  If we go down South to see my in-laws, I would like very much to arrange a trip for crawdads and oysters. Generally family are happy to oblige, especially when you are stingy with your visits. It's not the same as sitting in my own living room enjoying a glass of wine in my pajamas, but it's still an improvement over the airport.  

Happy holiday season!

More tales from Italy

A couple of weeks ago, I flew to Milan (via Reykjavik, Iceland, which might have the quirkiest airport in the Western world), where I somehow managed to get out of  Malpensa Airport and find a Metro train to my hotel, cleverly hidden on the second floor of a block-long building in a modest residential neighborhood West of the city center.  At this point, I hadn't slept or eaten (seriously, Icelandair doesn't feed you on overnight flights.  Not one peanut or pretzel from Denver to  Reykjavik)  for over 24 hours.  I flopped my stuff onto the glorified cot of my decidedly non-air conditioned little room, schlepped down the hall to the shared bathroom (water closet, or WC for short), and it was time to turn around and head to the main train station to meet my husband, who was coming in from Austria.  It was about 95 degrees and incredibly humid, and as I reached the hot mess of writhing bodies that is Milan Centrale, it struck me that I was a little hungry.  I had big plans to take my husband to the Ciao! cafeteria at Piazza Duomo for dinner, but I wanted a little something to tide me over.  There are far more high-end fashion boutiques than there are restaurants in Centrale, but I managed to find a little shop selling healthy salads and sandwiches.  I grabbed a curious-looking (and the cheapest) salad from the refrigerator comprised almost entirely of white rice and farro (we call it spelt).  It was simple and delicious, and I found farro all over northern Italy the rest of the week.  It's a staple grain used in salads and soups, and it packs an impressive nutritional punch much needed in a world full of white bread, white rice, and white pasta.  I've become a convert, and now I make the simple salad that saved me at the train station and keep some on hand for days that are too hot for cooking.  

Milanese Rice and Farro Salad

Serves 4

½ cup farro

1 cup white long grain rice

½ cup frozen peas, thawed

¼ cup frozen corn, thawed

1 medium tomato, chopped

¼ cup mixed olives, roughly chopped

Small handful fresh basil or parsley, finely chopped

Salt and black pepper to taste

Extra virgin olive oil for garnish

Cook the farro: soak farro overnight (if you forget to do this, just keep an eye on it as you cook--it will take a little longer and perhaps need the addition of some water over time, but it will turn out fine).  In a medium saucepan, add the farro, 1 ¼ cup water, and about a teaspoon of salt.  Bring to a boil, reduce heat to a simmer, and cook covered until tender, 20-30 minutes.  Drain if there is any leftover water and cool.  (This step can be done a day in advance, or you can cook a big batch and store in batches in the freezer for quick use in recipes).  

Cook the rice: Bring the rice and 1 ½ cups salted water to boil.  Reduce to heat to a simmer and cook covered until tender, about 15 minutes.  Drain if necessary and cool.  This can also be done ahead and refrigerated or frozen like the farro. 

When you are ready to assemble the salad, place rice, farro, and all other ingredients in a bowl and combine thoroughly.  Season with salt and pepper, drizzle a little extra virgin olive oil on top, and serve cold or at room temperature.  

  

Milano Centrale

Travel tips from a screw-up

Well, that may be a little strong, but my decisions were not all perfect on my recent trip to northern Italy. My plan was to fly in to Milan and spend a couple days hangin' in the city (a couple of days is fine--it's not that big of a place), then head down by train to the Cinque Terre, five little villages along the Northwest coast of the Ligurian Sea, then fly back out of Milan, staying at a hotel near Malpensa Airport up in the 'burbs.  The Pisa airport was a little more expensive, but probably would have been a better choice for a return ticket; getting back to Milan made for a tedious day (though I don't regret the hotel I booked for that night). If you are heading to either of these areas, here are my tips for you, in Faulknerian stream-of-consciousness style:

Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II at Piazza Duomo, Milan.

Did you know that virtually nothing is air conditioned in the crowded, polluted city of Milan?  It's even hit-or-miss on the trains, both the subway and above-ground systems.  And the businesses that do have air conditioning are just barely running it, so you can sit in a restaurant for an hour and not know for sure if it's on.  I guess what I'm saying is, don't go in July like I did.  I am an idiot.

The Metro (Milan's subway system) is efficient, well-organized, and easy to navigate.  The roads are not.  Don't drive. Ever.

I think people overlook Sforza Castle in Milan in favor of Duomo, but it's really amazing.  They say you need a ticket to get in, but then they just let everyone wander through.  Go, and then eat in the neighborhood at Da Rita e Antonio.

Sforza Castle, right in the center of town in Milan.

When you purchase train tickets for a long trip and reserve specific seats, you may or may not actually get those seats.  Don't worry, you'll get some seat (you won't have to stand), but you may be in a different train car from your companion.  And If someone is sitting in your seat when you get there, double-check your ticket, then kick them out.  Train tickets are oversold, and people without reserved seats will try their luck at finding a free one.  Make them stand.  You paid more.

The high- and medium-speed trains run on time, are comfortable, and get you to your destination quickly (by American standards).  The Regional trains (the slow ones) leave whenever they want, often publish schedules with the wrong tracks listed so that you have to run like hell to get to the right track when it comes in, and take a pretty long time.  Oh, and they're less likely to be air conditioned.  They're still worth taking, but don't try to keep a tight schedule while using them.

Malpensa airport (the largest in Milan) is more interested in providing high-end shopping opportunities than getting you to your next destination.  Drink heavily at the airport bars.

The groggy, jetlagged view from
bed at Gambara.

For a scrappy, 1-star hotel near a Metro stop in Milan, I was perfectly happy with the neglected (in online reviews) Hotel Gambara.  It is very simple and cheap, but it's clean and the service is helpful.  Be wary of their claim that they offer "concierge services" from their "multilingual staff", however.  Mostly it was old dudes shrugging their shoulders when I asked, "parla Inglese?"

Cardano!

For a funky hotel with excellent service (and hard core air conditioning) near the airport, go to Cardano Hotel Malpensa.  The free airport shuttle is very fast, the free breakfast buffet is actually amazing, and you'll feel like you're on the set of a James Bond movie circa 1965.





There is no such thing as a Cinque Terre town that isn't touristy, no matter what Rick Steves says.  Be prepared for stupid shops filled with sandals and ugly jewelry in every single one of them.  However, it's clearly worth the trip:

Restaurants are pretty equal in quality no matter how much (or little) you spend.  Pizzerias and cafeterias are cheaper than upscale restaurants and make great food with fresh ingredients. Try everything.  It's not like eating at Popeye's.

When choosing your international flight, the price is most important.  But food is pretty important when you're held captive for 8 hours in a big metal tube in the sky, too.  Icelandair doesn't serve any food (they'll sell it, though).  Scandinavian Air, however, serves a big meal and a small one while heading across the ocean, and you can help yourself to the beverage cart whenever you want.

The shops at the airport in Copenhagen accept American dollars and Euros (paper money only, no coins), but they actually operate on the Danish Kroner.  What's that about?  I thought they had to use Euros.  At any rate, be prepared to fumble around a little and get your change in useless Kroners.  They do have cool holes in the coins, though...

If it doesn't squeak, is it still a cheese curd? Taking in the sights in Wisconsin's capitol city...

I recently had the good fortune of travelling to Wisconsin's capital city for some concerts in May, and I did indeed eat my proverbial heart out.  Non-Midwesterners may scoff at the idea of looking for fun and good food in Madison, but those from the Great Lakes region know it's a great college town with fresh produce stands all over in the summer, not to mention the locally made artisan cheeses and ice creams.  It's worth the drive if you're already in the Chicago or Milwaukee areas, and if you're in those areas to visit family this summer, it's a great short-term escape from Grandma's guilt trips and casseroles.

The view from Lake Mendota on UW-Madison's campus. 

Travel:
The cheapest way to get there is to fly in to Chicago at O'Hare or Midway (O'Hare is slightly closer to the Wisconsin border) and take the shuttle up to Madison.  Coach USA runs a bus with stops at both airports and the Amtrack terminal (union Station) in the heart of downtown Chicago, dropping you near two stations with multiple "L"  and Metra lines, if you decide to go that route.  They run an on-time (or early) ship and it's $58 round-trip/ $29 one-way.

[By the way, I'm not going to waste a lot of time saying nasty things about airlines in this post; I've done enough of that already.  But I would just like to warn you, in case you didn't know, that Spirit Airlines charges $35 per carry-on.  I did not know this when I booked my tickets through Priceline, and if I had, I wouldn't have thought they were the cheapest deal.  So don't forget to check baggage fee policies with the company before booking through an aggregate sight, kiddies!]

Activities:
Mostly I practiced and performed, but I can give you a few tips.  Frank Lloyd Wright spent many years in the area, so if  you're into that sort of thing, check out his handiwork near campus at the First Unitarian Church, which he built in 1951.  Monona Terrace Convention Center was not built while FLW was alive, but he did draw up the plans, and it's also where they record Michael Feldman's NPR show, Whad'Ya Know?, every Saturday.  There is a fee to be in the audience, but the free coffee and doughnuts are pretty tasty.

Monona Terrace

Olbrich Botanical Gardens are free to the public from dawn until dusk and contain the only Thai Pavilion in North America.  It is beautiful, and the gardens are really stunning (plus they're a fun way to learn what grows in this part of the country).

Did you know that University of Wisconsin has a big, honkin' LAKE right on campus?  For a reasonable fee, you can rent a sail boat from the boat house on campus and act all fancy.  Or you can just wander along the mostly wooded trail that rings the lake and enjoy the many Gothic-inspired buildings on the heart of campus for free.  If I had attended this school, I don't think I would have done much homework.

This is the student union building at UW-Madison!
There's a good ice cream shop in here, too. 

Eating:
This is the most important activity when visiting a town, isn't it?  It tells you so much about whether or not that town deserves to exist (the town where I reside, for instance, probably does not).

The Dane County Farmer's Market is the largest producer-only farmer's market in the US.  Wander around the charming downtown area every Wednesday and Saturday in the summer and eat your weight in fresh cheese curds and other artisanal cheeses, homemade salsas, samples of locally raised meat, and so much more.  There are food stands, too, so you can get a more balanced diet if you want.  This is actually a great place to go for lunch.

If you don't make it to a farmer's market, Brennan's Market is your next best choice. These sort of overgrown roadside stands are all over town, and they carry loads of local produce, wine, beer, and some groceries, along with a deli counter and another lifetime's worth of Wisconsin cheese (and yes, you can eat your weight in free samples here, too).  Local cheese, locally made wine, and a big loaf of crusty bread can all be purchased here and brought to any one of the several lakes in town for a perfect picnic lunch.

Lao Laan-Xang at 2098 Atwood Ave. offers beautiful Laotian food in a slightly gentrified Capitol-area neighborhood and a reasonable price.  There's a little outdoor seating, but it goes fast during Madison's short summer.

Across the street, get your dessert at Monty's Blue Plate Diner (that is seriously what we did).  They actually have a terrific-looking menu, with tons of egg dishes and healthier, often vegetarian versions of diner classics, reminiscent of Sweet Melissa's in Laramie or the Chicago Diner.  But I only went for the homemade pie, which was glorious in every way.

There is a lot more to do in this diverse, education-rich, politically active town, I'm sure.  In the short time I spent there, I was overwhelmed by how much fun I had every single day.  Madison is a great place to hang for a weekend as a 20-something, 30-something, or as a whole family.  In mid-May, the weather was near-perfect every day, and there were plenty of places to go biking and running (in fact, you can rent bikes from the city for sight-seeing).  I highly recommend a visit.

I ate and drank in St. Louis. It was OK.

I had some time to kill before flying out of lovely Lambert International Airport not long ago, so I decided to learn something about the respectable, hard-working city of St. Louis.  Now, I only spent a few hours there, so St. Louis fans, feel free to chime in with your suggestions.  What I found is that people like American food and lagers.  

Aya Sofia

I was looking for something a little more exotic than barbecue, so after slogging through about 10 American restaurants on opentable.com, we landed on Aya Sofia for some Turkish food in Midtown.  Good luck finding parking.  The food was perfectly fine, but there was nothing unique or surprising on the menu. They used quality ingredients and prepared the dishes capably and portions were large. Very large.  I had what ended up being a wrap sandwich (whoopee!), and my husband had a huge pile of buttery, comforting Moussaka.  Service was fast but a tiny bit on the snooty side, as if the restaurant could pretend it wasn't populated by diners with country accents and John Deere hats if they just acted posh enough.  I preferred the John Deere hats, actually.  And the noise level with relatively few people in the restaurant was quite loud. I cannot imagine how overwhelming it must be when filled. It's a beautifully decorated, laid-back little place with nice food. I'd go again if I lived there, but I won't make a special trip for it.

Moussaka at Aya Sofia

Community garden in Lafayette Square

         


Then we headed over to Lafayette Square, A national historic district, an area with a gorgeous park, a bunch of expensive-looking Victorian houses, and a few boutiques and hip-looking restaurants.  We went to Square One Brewery and Distillery for after-lunch drinks (and to numb ourselves a bit for the pending irritation of airport security).  The long list of beers presented nothing inventive, just the usual line-up of lagers, ales, stouts, and an IPA.  My husband, the IPA connoisseur, was not pleased.  It did have a bitterness at the front end, but dissolved quickly into a very bready flavor you would expect from a kolsch or other mild summer beer.  Weird.  


I always like to try craft beers, but I knew I could only drink so much before my behavior might run the risk of getting us both arrest at the airport, so I decide to test the distillery instead.  These guys make a massive number of grain spirits--flavored and unflavored vodkas, tequila, rum, and more, which I thought was pretty exciting.  I ended up getting a vodka flavored with gin and sweetened with agave syrup on the rocks.  It was delicious.  If my tolerance was higher (or if I lived in St. Louis), I would definitely go back and try more of their spirits.  Not so sure about the beer.   And the neighborhood is adorable--you should go if you're in town.  Only 10 minutes or so from the airport.   

He didn't look as happy after finishing his IPA.

By the way, you know how I've been slowly trying to compile places to bide your time while trapped in airports around the country?  Lambert International Airport has not been added to that list. 

Surprise reader contest: what is this thing?
I found it on the side of the road in St. Louis.
Best answer before September 15 gets a free t-shirt.
Enter your answers below! 

Guide to edible airport food

I do a moderate amount of traveling, and I rarely bother to pack snacks anymore, although it is in my Midwestern blood to carry sandwiches everywhere and generally be a cheapskate.  It's just not worth the frisking at security, and those guards are never attractive.  Never.

Here's what I've found so far that's edible.  Feel free to comment and your faves, too!


Top picks at DIA (Denver International Airport):

Boulder Beer Tap house   Jeppesen Terminal West, Level 5  One of Colorado’s premiere microbrewery (and the first in the state, back in 1979), Boulder Beer serves up some tasty staples like lagers and porters, and a special collection for connoisseurs, like Hazed and Infused (a hoppy, bitter ale).  The food’s good, too.

Lounge 5280 Wine Bar  B Gates  This stylish, contemporary bar seems like it could be in LoDo, and the wine list really is top-notch.  What’s really special, here, though, are the signature cocktails using fresh herbs and fruit juices.  Ask your bartender to recommend appetizers that will compliment your drink--they’re great at pairings here.

Mesa Verde Smoking Lounge A Gates  I hate cigarette smoke, but their Mexican-inspired dishes are terrific.  Ask to sit on the "patio" and you can avoid the lung cancer.  For a hearty brunch before a long day of travel, try the chilaquiles and a cup of coffee for as satisfying of a meal as you might get at your favorite neighborhood joint.




New Belgium Hub  B Gates  Famed Fort Collins brewery New Belgium has finally set up shop at DIA.  Get a sandwich and sample some of the beers that have earned them cult status in the West.

Paradise Bakery and Café  B and C Gates  Of all the coffee shops in DIA, this is my favorite, because the baked treats are sooo good.  The muffins are a real treat.  The breads they use in the sandwiches are homemade, as are their soups; it’s a great little deli experience in the middle of the airport.  Oh, and the coffee is fantastic.

Rock Bottom Brewery  C Gates  Just like the locations around the Denver area, this chain has a good selection of beers from around the world and a great burger to fill you up for the plane ride.

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MSP (Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport):

California Pizza Kitchen  Concourse F  These guys really do bake up a great pizza.  The crust is buttery, crunchy on the outside and fluffy inside, and just the right thickness to hold up to the generously portioned fresh ingredients they use.  Get the chicken and roasted garlic--it’s fresh roasted garlic and high quality white meat with a light white sauce and sweet red onions.

Caribou Coffee  Concourses A, E, F, G, Terminal 2-Humphrey  The local favorite really does serve the best cup of coffee in town (including MSP), and their sandwiches and salads are just fine.

Great River Market and Deli  Concourse G  I’m not usually too keen on the fast-food sandwiches (boring and dry), but this menu really does boast some great ingredients and tasty, fresh-baked bread.  For a comforting breakfast that will last you all day, get the Hashbrown Casserole.

Itasca Grill  Concourse A  Like the popular restaurant in the Minneapolis area, the airport location serves up some artful breakfast/ brunch dishes like cinnamon vanilla French toast, an enormous breakfast burrito, and a bevy of omelets.  For lunch, the turkey apple wood bacon ciabatta is divine, as is the lime-infused grilled chicken and brie sandwich.

Maui Tacos  Concourse C Great fish and fresh salsas top fresh-made corn or flour tortillas for a healthy, flavorful meal I never imagined I could get in an airport.

Northern Lights Grill  Concourse D  This restaurant celebrates local cuisine, from simply cooked wild rice soup to broiled walleye and good old-fashioned Midwestern pot roast.  A great wine list offers something to compliment each dish, and the atmosphere, if you turn yourself the right way, makes you forget about the airport chaos beyond.

Rock Bottom Brewery  Concourse C  As stated above, this chain has a good selection of beers from around the world and a great burger to fill you up for the plane ride.  Good place to bring kids (childless beware: people bring their kids here!).

Skol Café and Bar  Concourse A  This bar is beautiful (That's it to the right)!  Scandinavian design accents the Northern European-inspired snacks and drink available.  Do like the locals do and stick to the vodka--it’s incredibly high quality and a perfectly clean palate cleanser with the smoked salmon toasts.



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Sea-Tac (Seattle-Tacoma International Airport)

Anthony’s  Central Terminal  Like their locations around Washington and Oregon, Anthony’s in Sea-Tac specializes in fresh Puget Sound delicacies like oysters on the half shell. Alaskan King Salmon, and their signature blackberry cobbler made with fresh, local berries.  Local microbrews and wines complete a menu that will give you one last great dining experience before your trip home.

Bigfoot Food and Spirits  North Satellite  This popular Seattle chain is little more than a sports bar: BBQ sandwiches, big burgers, and beers. Along with a few brunch selections and an ample dessert menu.  But it’s all really tasty, reasonably priced (for an airport), and will fill you up for a long time.  Great comfort food.

Ivar’s Seafood Bar  Central Terminal  An iconic name in Seattle, Ivar’s serves up beautiful, perfect fish & chips, as well as just about any other local seafood you can imagine craving.  The northwest chowders are fantastic, and their grilled prawns, halibut, and salmon are as dreamy a meal as you’ll find anywhere in Seattle.  Clams, calamari, and scallops make a tasty snack, too.




Maki of Japan  Central Terminal  Well-made sushi and authentic noodle dishes with pork are your best bet here, and the price is right: 8-piece sushi rolls start at just $4.95.

Mountain Bar Room  Concourse C  The burgers and beer are fine here, but this place is best for breakfast.  Belgian waffles and a “Big Cheese” ham and cheese omelet are more special than they sound.  Anything can be prepared to take on the plane if you request it when you order.

Pallino Pastaria  Central Terminal  The wait can be a bit long for this fast-food stand, but it’s worth it.  Perfectly-cooked pasta is topped with your choice of  freshly made sauces for a meal that would put Olive Garden to shame.  The personal pizzas come in a wide variety of flavor combinations, and many of them can be made into sandwiches, as well.

Seattle Tap Room  Concourse B  This is beautifully prepared gastro-pub fare.  The beer-braised bratwurst plate and meatloaf are both terrific, and the beers on tap represent local breweries from throughout the Northwest (and occasionally the Rockies).

Vino Volo  Central Terminal  This tiny space offers high-end wines poured by the glass and sold as full bottles to take home (they’ll also ship for you).  Not sure what you like?  Get a taste flight and chat up the server--they are well-trained in matching you to your perfect mate.

Coffee:  You’ll have to pick your team here, just like you have to in Seattle-proper.  Seattle’s Best, Starbucks, and Tully’s the three local giants, are all equally represented here.  Good luck.  (I choose Tully’s.)

I Went to the O.C. and I Didn’t Even Get a Lousy T-Shirt

Nor did I get any exercise. These people really love their cars! I stayed in Costa Mesa, exactly two miles (but one town) away from my concert. The weather was nearly perfect for walking, but there generally were not sidewalks. Well, sometimes sidewalks would exist along one side of one street, but then they would dead end at a pile of dirt and broken glass. Occasionally a sidewalk would take me all the way to a busy intersection, but with no crosswalk and light to defend me, I lost the courage to attempt to cross. And often sidewalks would end in very stern-looking signs that said NO PEDESTRIANS ALLOWED. I got the feeling that pedestrians were not welcome.


All of the areas I experienced in Orange County were situated off of the busy freeway; even town streets acted and felt like an interstate road. I could drive for five minutes on I-405 and see three different town signs with no other clue that I had changed city limits except for the slightly different color scheme of the strip malls. But this highway-loving culture doesn’t love you if you don’t own a car, so there is also virtually no public transportation available. And so, to travel the two miles to my gig, I had to take a taxi. If you are from California and you are reading this, that probably seems normal and you are asking, “Why have you written two paragraphs about this very commonplace situation?” But I assure you, the majority of the country thinks you’re weird.

Oh, and you people are beautiful. Not a chubby, awkward, or overly hairy one in the bunch. I would enter a restaurant with my wild, wavy mop of mousy brown hair (and yes, those silver highlights are natural, thank you very much) and people would look around to see whose driver had arrived for them. Although you clearly must be spending thousands of dollars to look like that, since you must have a gym membership to get any exercise. And I refuse to believe that I am the only one with chin hair and eyebrow hair growing down onto my eyelids. Yes, I am sure that’s perfectly normal.

But while you may be the Mecca of cars here in Southern California, the flying thing doesn’t seem to have quite gotten figured out. With all of the fabulously rich people in this area, I expected a functional, adult-sized airport. What I got was the John Wayne Orange County Airport. Perhaps there was another one that was better, but I certainly wasn’t going to pay cab fare for the 40 mile drive from LAX.

The airport is a long hallway of sorts with a small collection of ticketing counters and a weird little space for security tacked onto the front of the building like an embarrassing sports bra-induced uniboob. I was flying a slightly smaller airline, and so when I arrived no one was working the counter. There was a sign saying that a representative would show up 90 minutes before the next flight. There was also no self check-in kiosk anywhere, but surely, I thought, there was another flight before mine going out, so I’d just check back shortly and it would be fine. (I’ll save you the shock: there was no other flight going out before mine.)

My plan, post-hotel check-out, was to get to the airport early (where else did I have to go—on a walk?), grab an overpriced lunch, and wait. Or maybe shop—isn’t it about time I started collecting cheesy souvenirs from my trips? Maybe something classy like spoons?

Sadly, all of the (four + Starbucks) eateries were on the other side of security, that magical land impossible to penetrate without a boarding pass. So I wandered along the narrow corridor that made up the non-secure side and found a few benches. Well, it’s a small airport, so I can tell you that I found exactly six benches. Not surprisingly, they were all filled, as several (all but one) airline counters were taking a noontime siesta at 10am. So, I found a cozy spot on the concrete floor and curled up with my magazine, Food + Wine. Big mistake, because I was a HUNGRY HIPPO! HUNGRY HUNGRY!!!! Even the airport food was starting to smell good to me from my sparse side of the hall.

The desk finally opened exactly 90 minutes before my flight. I obtained my ticket and stumbled the three feet to the quaint little security line. I figured this could go one of two ways: small airport filled with tourists = not so much action, ∴ laid back security. OR, rather few people to secure + lots-o-time before shift ends = overly fussy security. Guess which one it was?

I willingly admit that I invite aggravation by trying to stuff everything I need into a carry-on rather than spending $250,000 to check a bag. So, I have tweezers in my carry-on (with eyebrows like these, I’m doing SoCal a favor). I have deodorant in there. Is that legal? One never knows from one airport to the next, or from one day to the next, what is necessary to keep us safe from terrorists. But I did not expect to get stopped for a tampon—that was a first for me. Really, guys? Were you not taught to identify these in your hour of training? Have you never lived with a woman before? Actually, from the looks of these three, that was a possibility; at the very least, I will venture to guess that they hadn’t gotten laid in a very, very long time.

This would have mortified me a decade ago, but I am now 36 and I could care less if people know I am currently in the process of shedding my uterine lining. So, after explaining an abridged version of the Birds and the Bees for my middle-aged interrogator and repacking my bag because he seemed rather baffled by it (and how did all of my dirty underwear end up strewn along the table, anyway?), I struck out to the Other Side in search of FOOD.

Here are your options, should you wish to visit, when you are spending time in the John Wayne airport: McDonald’s, something called Creative Croissants (and they didn’t look too creative, folks), the “Sports Page Pub”, a Wolfgang Puck’s Express kiosk (wrapped sandwiches and boxed salads that cost more because they say Wolfgang Puck), and another something called “Oasis Bar and Grill” where there are four booths and the salads start at $14. So, I paid $9 for a little cup of salad. But it was a designer salad.

For your shopping pleasure, you may choose from a vast array of two Hudson News stands, a nameless magazine/ newspaper kiosk, and South Coast News, a Hudson News with neck pillows and slippers. So much for my new spoon collection, but I will say, these people like their reading material.

rental car adventures, part 2

Driving back down to the capital in the dark the next morning, I discovered some charming character traits of my sweet-ass rental ride.
1. The inside light doesn’t come on when you open the door.
2. The dashboard lights don’t seem to have a corresponding knob to turn them on.
3. There is no ice scraper anywhere.

Completed with the facts that
1. The sun doesn’t rise until 7:30, and it is currently 6:15, and
2. There is frost on the windows, because it is October 4th in the northern Midwest,

this means that
1. I can’t see to read my map to get out of this weird, twisty neighborhood where all the houses look the same,
2. I can’t see how fast I’m driving until an hour into my trip, and
3. I have to use my driver’s license to scrape the windows.
Oh, and did I mention the fog? It’s alright, it had all burned off by the time I reached the airport.

In the airport, there are no screens announcing departure gates. But it’s a small airport and no one else seemed concerned that they were drifting aimlessly, so I just went with the herd to the security screening area. I had long ago given up checking bags, despite the 3-1-1 liquid and gels rule, so I knew I was running the risk of being frisked or arrested at any point for my anti-poofing hair creme. What can I say? I hate the frizz. In fact, I did get stopped, but only for that blasted jar of pickles Marian apparently thought I had to have. I did not, so no loss, but it is perhaps ironic that while searching for, and eventually confiscating, the terror-loving pickles, the little security dude (complete with “Look, Mom, I’m all growed up!" peach fuzz ‘mustache’) missed the cosmetics bag full of toothpaste, hair creme, face creme, liquid soap, and a 6-ounce bottle of perfumed hand creme floating around in my carry-on. It’s a good day for beauty.

****************

Now I am sitting at my gate (as it turns out, you just keep walking in a straight line until you see your arrival city on a sign) with a woman talking loudly on the phone to someone at home who is apparently in charge of loading the dishwasher, and he seems to be having trouble. I am also sitting back-to-back with a woman holding a small dog-ish creature, so inbred it can’t open its mouth normally or breathe. (A pug? Or some tiny bulldog? I don’t keep up with these things.) She very much loves this little furry beast, and coos things like, “No, you ain’t goin’ nowhere, you rascal!” Madam, I want to say, this thing cannot even handle the task of breathing in and out easily; it cannot understand you.

Nearby there is also a husky-voiced, salt-of-the-earth woman who insists on loudly and gleefully narrating every move and assumed emotion said beast is experiencing. She, too, loves this stranger’s dog. She loves it so much she is talking to no one about what a “pistol” he is. There is also a small child nearby who is apparently being murdered from the sound of things, or else his/ her parents are trying that whole “let it work itself out” tact. I don’t think that works.

But, here’s the weird part: I’m pretty sure I’m sitting next to John Waters. Of course, he really does belong in this scene. Classic. I want to tell him how much I loved Pecker (I’ll forgive Dirty Shame–he’s still brilliant), but he doesn’t look like he wants to be bothered. So, I hope he will appreciate my silence and complete lack of eye contact. Someone as nuanced as him is bound to notice. And the fact that I have showered and am not talking loudly in speech peppered with curse words and double negatives–or would he prefer that?

I sneak a peek while he’s texting– oh yeah, that’s John Waters with that pencil mustache in those red skinny jeans and oversized pinstriped blazer. Who else could it be? This guy is weird! And I’m not going to say a word to him. Playin’ it cool. Just as I am silently patting myself on the back for my decorum, I sense that he is turned my way in my peripheral vision. He is, he is! Be cool. I look up and smile, half-heartedly, the way they must do at cool-person parties ( I am guessing because I have never been to one), and I see he is looking down at my plastic, scuffed Payless pumps with an expression that is part pity, part fascination: "I love your shoes".

Does anyone else hate Southwest Airlines?

Southwest Airline's recent public relations debacle inspired me to dust off this little tyrade I wrote last summer after a particularly enjoyable trip with them...



I’m sorry to come on so strong, but there’s no way around it: Southwest Airlines sucks. They really suck. They take conventions which work perfectly well, tried and tested procedures, and discard them for chaos. I do not like chaos. I particularly do not like chaos when I am trying to get from a point A to a point B, and at the end of the line are my retired parents patiently waiting to pick me up from the airport. So, I write this as a cautionary tale, and so you can learn from my mistake. My mistake of flying Southwest Airlines.


My 4:50pm flight had been delayed until 5:15pm. This not a big difference, though, so I tried to ignore the sense of mild doom that was growing like a fungus in the back of my brain. I tried not to be a cynic, even though I had just been treated like a bomb-carrying criminal by airport security, then surrounded by wiggling munchkins on the shuttle to my terminal. I remained calm and cheerful in the face of a $4 bottle of water (most likely from someone’s tap in Mississippi) and an $8 plastic-wrapped hunk of dry bread with a thin slice of “cheese” and a generous wad of iceberg lettuce oozing out the end, making it look like it had been in someone’s back pocket for hours.

But I am slowly learning not to trust these airlines, not to have my heart broken anymore by promises of certain takeoff and arrival times that never seem to happen, of enough legroom or smiling flight attendants or space in the overhead compartment for my modestly sized duffel bag. And so I was irritated, but not surprised, to watch 5:15pm come and go with nary a sign of our plane.

When it finally appeared at 5:50, I predicted that we would not, most likely, make our departure time of 4:50pm. I’m not clairvoyant, but I get lucky like that sometimes. And I just hate being late. Especially when I have paid a hefty sum to an airline carrier to take me to my destination at a certain time. The situation was made more charming by the dearth of seating in the waiting area; there might have been enough chairs for one third of the plane’s passengers, at best.

And do you know why there was no seating to speak of in this waiting area? Southwest does this hip, new, revolutionary thing with their seat assignments on the plane: they don’t assign any. I know, this sounds like a bad idea, right? It’s worse than that. Because instead of fully herding us like cattle to our final sitting place, we are left to spin the roulette wheel ourselves. But it’s not a fair game of chance–some people get first pick. And those people are never concerned about those further down the line.

So here’s what happens: every boarding pass has a boarding group printed on it (“A”, “B”, or “C”), and a number to designate your place in line (1, 2, 3, etc. You know what numbers are.) When the announcer says “go”, you are supposed to line up with your group in order, relying entirely on the honor system to trust that no one is skipping line or entire boarding groups. Then you get to pick your very own seat on the plane, which sucks no matter where it is, because it's a plane.

This works in places like Germany, where people regularly do the right thing without supervision (train tickets are purchased from a machine and never checked by a guard. Can you imagine that here?). We don’t do things that way for the Chosen Country. We are all very, very important and busy people who want to get to our equally important destinations regardless of anyone else’s needs-–in fact, it is a legal right, I think-– which means it’s OK to elbow your way through the crowd and cut in front of the 95-year-old in the wheelchair so you can have the best seat. You deserve it. This is the system Southwest has fostered.

Large swaths of floor space are dedicated to this clusterfuck known as boarding a Southwest plane. There are at least four rows of seats that have been taken out to accommodate this “system”. And those in the know start milling about in their general areas a good hour before the process begins. Or, if they are in groups “B” or “C”, they stand almost where they belong, not quite aggressively enough to warrant complaints of foul play, but not far enough out of the way to allow group “A” people to get to their spots.

And no one is talking to each other, because there is this latent sense of hostility and competition for seats (which all suck), so no one really knows where they’re supposed to be. And the announcements are totally garbled, like all gate announcements, because they all bleed together, so very few people even know what group has been called. I suspect that no one knows, but some people look confident no matter what stupid thing they are doing.

If you are not in the know, like me, you stand around dumbfounded, not aggressive enough to push your way up to your place in line, but slowly becoming more aware of, and more incensed by, the inevitability of getting total crap for seatmates. I was traveling with my husband, with whom I normally like to sit on a plane (he always has gum and lifts my luggage above my head for me), but by the time we were fortunate enough to walk onto the plane and scanned the seats before us, everyone had cleverly arranged themselves with spaces in between (person-seat-person-aisle; seat-person-seat-aisle), making our togetherness a challenge.

We did finally spot a woman all by herself and squeezed in to the two adjoining seats next to her; they were the only two left, so I’m pretty sure the other couples and families behind us were quarantined from each other. I think the gimmick behind this Total Chaos Theory of Seating™ is that you get more choice, but honestly, I feel like I have more choice when I select my specific seat, next to my partner, on the computer when I am purchasing the tickets. And a chair in the waiting area is nice, too.

Rather than using a drink cart to serve the complimentary beverages and Smurf-sized bag of peanuts, the flight attendants don pad and paper to take our drink order, then return much later with little round trays that hold a couple rows' worth of drinks at a time. They go to a section of the plane in teams, take a few orders, scurry to the back to prepare drinks, then negotiate turbulence while balancing their little waitress-like trays to bring that section their orders, go to the next little section of the plane, etc. It is very inefficient.

Another person comes around with a basket full of the snacks, which is much more efficient, so we sit, eagerly fondling our peanut bags in anxious anticipation of beverages to make said peanuts palatable. I suppose it keeps the flight-waitress-attendants busy longer, which might be a plus for them if they don’t like being bored or looking at clear aisles that allow people to get to the bathroom, but I couldn’t quite see the use in it. Again, Southwest scrapped the pre-approved system (drink cart which holds drinks stable and delivers them with the fewest number of trips and in less time) for their new, corrected system. Hip! Edgey!

In case you think that I am being unfair to Southwest, I will tell you that the landing was very smooth.