Can't belive I've forgot to mention this, but from the night in Flagstaff on this guy would show up and have the pesky kids in fits of laughter at every turn, don't know what you'll make of it...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbsSeVr5NSI
I'm just disappointed it isn't called a Masterweight...
Saturday, October 16, 2010
USA chapter four, the one where the gang pop guns
Before I type any more, I'm going to introduce you to the pesky kids embroiled in these adventures:
Steven (Me)
Mark 1
Angus
Lynsey (sister of Mark 1)
Mark 2 (boyfriend of Lynsey)
Katrina (sister of Mark 2)
Martin (Katrina's boyfriend)
In Arizona we stayed with and visited the amazing family of Mark 1 and Lynsey
After the Grand Canyon I decided to repay my body some overdue sleeping deficits.
The next day I arose bright and early headed out for burritos and coffee. With coffee and eggs swilling in my belly I prepared for the day's activities - heading out into the desert and shooting vagrants.
Okay, it wasn't vagrants - it was cans and bottles and targets we popped caps in.
Preparation for heading into the desert means wearing long trousers to protect your legs from scorpion stings and rattlesnake bites. It's the ABCs of life:
Apple Jacks for breakfast
Brush your teeth to defend against evil DK and his cavity-causing armies
Cover your legs to protect against assorted venoms
Me being protective of my clothing though, I opted not to go with a pair of my good jeans and instead donned a pair of 3/4 length black trousers and football socks pulled up to ward off Sammy Snake and Sidney Scorpion. One look at my modified, sporty armour and they'd be off to the hills looking for a less well-prepared target.
Like a breakfast steak with two over-easy eggs on top. Human race - 1, creatures - 0.
Firing guns was a lot more fun than I thought. Once you get over the loud noises they make. It's like Ian Paisley singing karaoke when the various weapons start discharging at the targets.
For my part I destroyed three plastic bottles and hit my target three times. I'm no T-800 but I'm no Filip Sebo either, when I got a feel for it I took my enemies down.
Before heading to the party we spent $200 on cocktail ingredients.
At the party the locals mostly stayed away from the pool as it was a freezing 85 degrees. Nothing could stop the Scottish invasion though as we donned our swim shorts and splashed for William Wallace, John Logie Baird and Jimmy Krankie.
Two notable things happened at the party:
1. Mark 2 proposed to Lynsey, she said yes
2. I got a bit confused making three gin slings (six shots of gin, three each of sugar water and lime juice) and ended up with a suicide rummer (six shots of rum, one shot each of sugar water and lime juice). Many innocent brain cells were lost to this drink.
*disclaimer, no vagrants were harmed for the purposes of this blog
Steven (Me)
Mark 1
Angus
Lynsey (sister of Mark 1)
Mark 2 (boyfriend of Lynsey)
Katrina (sister of Mark 2)
Martin (Katrina's boyfriend)
In Arizona we stayed with and visited the amazing family of Mark 1 and Lynsey
After the Grand Canyon I decided to repay my body some overdue sleeping deficits.
The next day I arose bright and early headed out for burritos and coffee. With coffee and eggs swilling in my belly I prepared for the day's activities - heading out into the desert and shooting vagrants.
Okay, it wasn't vagrants - it was cans and bottles and targets we popped caps in.
Preparation for heading into the desert means wearing long trousers to protect your legs from scorpion stings and rattlesnake bites. It's the ABCs of life:
Apple Jacks for breakfast
Brush your teeth to defend against evil DK and his cavity-causing armies
Cover your legs to protect against assorted venoms
Me being protective of my clothing though, I opted not to go with a pair of my good jeans and instead donned a pair of 3/4 length black trousers and football socks pulled up to ward off Sammy Snake and Sidney Scorpion. One look at my modified, sporty armour and they'd be off to the hills looking for a less well-prepared target.
Like a breakfast steak with two over-easy eggs on top. Human race - 1, creatures - 0.
Firing guns was a lot more fun than I thought. Once you get over the loud noises they make. It's like Ian Paisley singing karaoke when the various weapons start discharging at the targets.
For my part I destroyed three plastic bottles and hit my target three times. I'm no T-800 but I'm no Filip Sebo either, when I got a feel for it I took my enemies down.
Sadly for Mark 2 though, shooting games revealed why we kept getting a wet bum when sitting on the toilet seat - with six shots he couldn't hit the target once.
 |
| Mark 2: less hits than Victoria Beckham |
After some lunch and a dip in the pool we got dressed up and headed into Phoenix to see some live music in a bar which I can best describe as resembling Dumbo's bedroom.
On every table was a huge bucket of monkey nuts and on the floor were thousands of discarded monkey nut shells.
The first band were usual live music fayre - all the excitement of chewing monkey nut shells. The second band were better, and amused me as the bassist had a face which reminded me of Richard from the game Guess Who? Completely bald head with a thick brown beard running along his chin. Plus he could only meet questions with a 'yes' or 'no' response.
On the following day, Sunday 3 October, we hit the gym first thing in the morning, splashed in the pool and then set off for a barbecue/pool party.
Two notable things happened at the party:
2. I got a bit confused making three gin slings (six shots of gin, three each of sugar water and lime juice) and ended up with a suicide rummer (six shots of rum, one shot each of sugar water and lime juice). Many innocent brain cells were lost to this drink.
Okay, that's another two days and with that I'm out, like M. Night Shyamalan twists.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
USA Part III - Retroactivities
30 September/1 October 2010
The road tripping was set off with a journey north up Interstate 17 to a little town called Sedona, about 70 miles north of base camp in Anthem, on the way passing the Chapel of the Holy Cross, which is situated slap bang in the middle of the red mountains.
Here amongst the red rock surroundings I learned a valuable lesson about the USA - any food can be turned into a breakfast by adding an egg to it. I know this because whilst in Sedona I had the breakfast pizza on a cafe terrace. It was topped with cheese, chorizo and egg of course.
If you don't believe me, why not try one of the outlets which sell sausage and egg breakfast burritos.
Pizzas and burritos just not stretching the stomach enough for you? Then head to Denny's and order this T-bone steak for breakfast: http://www.dennys.com/en/menu.aspx?menuid=13&parentid=40.
Flagstaff is a city with a strong student population and as it was the traditional student night out, Thursday, we felt we should get involved. After finding a real American motel, the type of place where sex-obsessed teenagers meet their bloody doom in Hollywood, we got changed and headed to an Irish bar for some late supper.
We decided to stay when the bar staff told us that all drinks were $1 after 9pm (That's about 75p in Anglo cash readers!).
What transpired was a a messy evening of epic proportions. It was the Lionel Messi of messy nights in fact. Drinking four Vodkas at once is not to be advised. Unless you like vomiting the rainbow the next day.
Following the night in flagstaff, we got dressed for our trip to the Grand Canyon. Sensibly, rather than put the others off their breakfasts in Denny's with my lime-green complexion, I decided to grab onto the world and hold onto a grassy knoll just round the corner. This wee piece of Nirvana was disturbed when the sprinklers rained me off. Where is Cliff Richard and his brolly when I need them?
As for the Grand Canyon, well you could probably fill it with superlatives about the awesome size of it.
For me, I felt proud of our dear blue and green planet as I stood at the precipice. It's a completely natural phenomenon and the scope of it is just breathtaking. To think that something so vast and distinct exists is really something.
The journey back to Anthem was long and a chance to wring some of Flagstaff out of my system.
Next up, more hairy-chest activities and a trip to a bar in Phoenix to see some live music!
For this post though, I'm out like my backside in Flagstaff.
The road tripping was set off with a journey north up Interstate 17 to a little town called Sedona, about 70 miles north of base camp in Anthem, on the way passing the Chapel of the Holy Cross, which is situated slap bang in the middle of the red mountains.
Here amongst the red rock surroundings I learned a valuable lesson about the USA - any food can be turned into a breakfast by adding an egg to it. I know this because whilst in Sedona I had the breakfast pizza on a cafe terrace. It was topped with cheese, chorizo and egg of course.
If you don't believe me, why not try one of the outlets which sell sausage and egg breakfast burritos.
Pizzas and burritos just not stretching the stomach enough for you? Then head to Denny's and order this T-bone steak for breakfast: http://www.dennys.com/en/menu.aspx?menuid=13&parentid=40.
With full bellies from our sit-down in Sedona we continued on up I-17 to a natural water slide. I had no idea what to expect heading up to Slide Rock. I mean I had been told that it was rocky and slidey and that gallons of fun was to be had diving and sliding on the slimey, erm, rocks but with me being more Teddy Grylls than Bear Grylls I was a bit anxious.
 |
| Slide Rock: too much sun could make your skin look like this |
Alas, my first experience of nature since battering and barbecuing a fish in 2001 couldn't have been more fun. Like an excited lemming I plunged into the freezing water (temperatures were in the high 90s but the water comes all the way from the Rockies) from rocks 15 feet high and then led an expedition upstream, fighting the current and over-sized flip flops as my unit reached the top of the stream before drying off and heading further along the I-17 to our next destination.
Flagstaff is a city with a strong student population and as it was the traditional student night out, Thursday, we felt we should get involved. After finding a real American motel, the type of place where sex-obsessed teenagers meet their bloody doom in Hollywood, we got changed and headed to an Irish bar for some late supper.
We decided to stay when the bar staff told us that all drinks were $1 after 9pm (That's about 75p in Anglo cash readers!).
What transpired was a a messy evening of epic proportions. It was the Lionel Messi of messy nights in fact. Drinking four Vodkas at once is not to be advised. Unless you like vomiting the rainbow the next day.
Following the night in flagstaff, we got dressed for our trip to the Grand Canyon. Sensibly, rather than put the others off their breakfasts in Denny's with my lime-green complexion, I decided to grab onto the world and hold onto a grassy knoll just round the corner. This wee piece of Nirvana was disturbed when the sprinklers rained me off. Where is Cliff Richard and his brolly when I need them?
As for the Grand Canyon, well you could probably fill it with superlatives about the awesome size of it.
For me, I felt proud of our dear blue and green planet as I stood at the precipice. It's a completely natural phenomenon and the scope of it is just breathtaking. To think that something so vast and distinct exists is really something.
The journey back to Anthem was long and a chance to wring some of Flagstaff out of my system.
Next up, more hairy-chest activities and a trip to a bar in Phoenix to see some live music!
For this post though, I'm out like my backside in Flagstaff.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
USA Road Trip (the delayed) part II
OK, sorry for the delay. It turned out to be harder than I thought to get access to a computer in the corporate maze of Las Vegas.
So I'll step back in time and re-run some of the events of last week.
On our first full day we just milled about Phoenix and visited the outlets during sun up. The outlets are designer stores which sell out-of-season fashion at discounted rates. I wonder why anyone would bother with the pricey boutiques when these shops exist? I say that as someone who isn't immersed in fashion though, I just wear what I like. Football socks, jeans, flowery shirts, printed tees, girly-coloured undies; the staples of my wardrobe.
As the temperature was simmering in the low 100s we decided that some time by the pool would be ideal, and headed back to the gated community in Anthem, just outside Phoenix, which is our base camp.
There is a country club with a pool, gym and steam room there so we got into our bathing suits and set about relaxing.
In my last post I touched on how uncomfortable air travel was for me - I just feel alien crushed in a flying sardine can, like a giant American spider trying to drive a manual gear-shift Mini Cooper. But oozing vitamin D by the pool with the sound of water lapping and my mind free of cares seemed like the most natural thing in the world to me. Despite the fact that my skin reacts to the sun's rays like humans to the Martians' death rays in War of the Worlds by turning to a horrible red weed, I felt like I had been in this existence forever and that I would continue in the same vein for an infinite time.
Bah.
After the pool time we dodged the obligatory wrinkly exhibitionist and his curious penis and slinked in for a steam room. Though our relaxation in here was still wary that when the steam cleared the nudey man would appear from the mist, like a naked Jack the Ripper, minus the evil intent. "Hello boys!"
After our steam we took advantage of the free Brut and set off across town to take in a high school (American) football game. The 45-minute journey through badlands and along freeways and past suburban areas impressed upon the scale of this Land of the Free. It's like God had the land, screwed it up into a ball, designed all of the landmarks then smoothed out the land laving huge gaps meaning that every journey required the use of a car. The big Ominiscience must be on some kind of fuel commission. Or maybe He finds it funny seeing people bursting for the toilet fumbling for car keys just to relieve themselves.
This huge scale was hammered home by the game, played in a rough 'hood on a Wednesday night, as it had a higher attendance than a Kilmarnock game in the SPL. Our team imploded in the fourth quarter and squandered a two-touchdown lead.
My next post will (finally) include real road trip banter as I tell you about our trips to Sedons, Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon. I hope we avoided talking about sex and then being tortured like the road-tripping teens in those movies Wrong turn and House of 1000 Corpses. Gulp.
Until then, like the inhibitions of Mr Teak-wood, our wrinkled country club obstacle - I'm out.
Big Hugs from the Big Country.
So I'll step back in time and re-run some of the events of last week.
On our first full day we just milled about Phoenix and visited the outlets during sun up. The outlets are designer stores which sell out-of-season fashion at discounted rates. I wonder why anyone would bother with the pricey boutiques when these shops exist? I say that as someone who isn't immersed in fashion though, I just wear what I like. Football socks, jeans, flowery shirts, printed tees, girly-coloured undies; the staples of my wardrobe.
As the temperature was simmering in the low 100s we decided that some time by the pool would be ideal, and headed back to the gated community in Anthem, just outside Phoenix, which is our base camp.
There is a country club with a pool, gym and steam room there so we got into our bathing suits and set about relaxing.
In my last post I touched on how uncomfortable air travel was for me - I just feel alien crushed in a flying sardine can, like a giant American spider trying to drive a manual gear-shift Mini Cooper. But oozing vitamin D by the pool with the sound of water lapping and my mind free of cares seemed like the most natural thing in the world to me. Despite the fact that my skin reacts to the sun's rays like humans to the Martians' death rays in War of the Worlds by turning to a horrible red weed, I felt like I had been in this existence forever and that I would continue in the same vein for an infinite time.
Bah.
After the pool time we dodged the obligatory wrinkly exhibitionist and his curious penis and slinked in for a steam room. Though our relaxation in here was still wary that when the steam cleared the nudey man would appear from the mist, like a naked Jack the Ripper, minus the evil intent. "Hello boys!"
After our steam we took advantage of the free Brut and set off across town to take in a high school (American) football game. The 45-minute journey through badlands and along freeways and past suburban areas impressed upon the scale of this Land of the Free. It's like God had the land, screwed it up into a ball, designed all of the landmarks then smoothed out the land laving huge gaps meaning that every journey required the use of a car. The big Ominiscience must be on some kind of fuel commission. Or maybe He finds it funny seeing people bursting for the toilet fumbling for car keys just to relieve themselves.
This huge scale was hammered home by the game, played in a rough 'hood on a Wednesday night, as it had a higher attendance than a Kilmarnock game in the SPL. Our team imploded in the fourth quarter and squandered a two-touchdown lead.
My next post will (finally) include real road trip banter as I tell you about our trips to Sedons, Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon. I hope we avoided talking about sex and then being tortured like the road-tripping teens in those movies Wrong turn and House of 1000 Corpses. Gulp.
Until then, like the inhibitions of Mr Teak-wood, our wrinkled country club obstacle - I'm out.
Big Hugs from the Big Country.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Road Trip USA 2010, Part 1
 |
| Suspect is hatless |
I noticed I'd left the hat just after checking in my bag.
This minor setback was dwarfed when we sat sipping ciders in the departure lounge at Glasgow Airport. You see everyone else had two boarding passes, one for the flight to London and another for the flight to Phoenix. I only had one.
Uh-oh...
Two BA attendants helped me at the terminal and gave me the good news/bad news routine. One was trying her best to get my bag saved from Heathrow Airport limbo, while the other frowned and huffed. Luckily we did get it sorted and were assured my bag would meet up with me in Phoenix.
I used to hate flying. I was scared the engines would combust, the wings would fall off, or the cockpit staff would all contract food poisoning from the in-flight meal and I'd need to land the plane on a pink wafer as the airport had exploded.
Not anymore.
Down to London was fine, real elementary stuff.
From London to Phoenix was a ten hour flight. Which was delayed because some people weren't happy with their seats. Which was uncomfortable because the woman in front of me insisted on spending the entire journey with her seat fully reclined. Which saw me seated at the window next to two strangers.
In Glesga parlance I am a greetin face b******. I didn't enjoy the flight. I felt as comfortable as Fantastic Mr Fox at a bloodhound appreciation society banquet. Where fox stew was the main course.
It had me wondering, could I ever make the trip over the big pond again? I thought, maybe I'll just never come back, I couldn't do the flight again. Unless I could manage First Class. Anyone who wants to send a donation so I can afford that, comment at the bottom.
Really, I am known as a moaning sod.
But I'm not really like that. I just don't like enclosed, hot spaces and people with no consideration for others.
The funny thing is, that was a long time ago (I've lived about 72 hours in two days) and I'm in a cracking mood at the moment, but I wanted to start this story at the beginning, me being a stickler for convention.
Right now I'm tired and my brain is like a dry sponge, rough and useless, I'm at the end of the first day - and I've had a great time so far. Tomorrow we're heading up to a place called Flagstaff and the Grand Canyon the day after that. When I get back from there, all the good times and banter will be relayed, and you'll see I can be a happy sort.
Hope you read on then...
Like my wet swimshorts - I'm out.
p.s. Have to share this word of warning. Warner Bros. have been misleading us for years - I saw a real roadrunner today and they're the height of a wine bottle. Definitely not the size of a coyote.
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