We made it to Milwaukee!
Got to BWI two hours early, parked the car, waited almost 20 minutes for the shuttle to the terminal, lugged my big pink suitcase and little green suitcase and GB’s two suitcases up the elevator but couldn’t find the Midwest counter. I (not Genieboy) finally asked someone (men don’t like to ask, they like to figure things out for themselves) and the guy said Midwest? That airline doesn’t fly out of here. OOPS wrong airport! Oh no-o-o-o! So we FLEW back down the escalator, grabbed a taxi back to the extended parking area, FLEW down highway 195, then highway 295, then highway 395 now on an empty tank of gas, called Midwest wildly begging them to wait wait please wait, rolled stopping and starting into a gas station buying $5 of gas to make it down the GW Parkway, parked in a wild sweaty frenzy in daily parking what the hell just get us out of this truck, took the elevator to the wrong floor of the parking garage, ran around confused dragging and crashing suitcases between cars looking for the way out, took the elevator back down again, RAN huffing and puffing the mile to the Midwest terminal, made it through security and got to the gate AS THEY WERE BOARDING THE PLANE.
We like Midwest. Big fat leather seats, tons of legroom, hot chocolate-chip cookies.
You have to rent a car to get to this hotel – it’s an hour’s drive from the airport, in a resort area of the state. I think. I think it’s a resort area, that’s what they said, anyway. It was pitch black.
The sheets don’t go to the bottom of the bed. Either your feet or your face have to be on the mattress. It’s warm here! Today is a gorgeous 80-something and sunny. But the thermostat doesn’t go below 80, so it’s rawther stifling in the room. You can have heat if you want, but you can’t have air-conditioning. They don’t turn that on until June. One soap in the bathroom – guess they figure you can carry it back and forth between the sink and the shower, why waste two soaps – a problem I remedied this morning by taking 10 soaps off the housekeeping cart.
On the plus side – we have a balcony with a lovely view of the lake and fountains and it is breezy, sunny, and beautiful out today. The bell-boy (you have to have a bell-boy with a dolly cause there are no elevators and the rooms are up steps and several miles away, through corridors and halls and interesting 60’s-style split-level landings) told us that this place was built by Hugh Hefner as a Playboy Club, in the early 60’s. Kinda feels like it, although the indoor and outdoor pools which used to be filled with bouncing Bunnies and jet-setters have now all been replaced by ballrooms.
Last night at the bar (where we waited for two full hours to get GB three mini-hamburgers, the kind you take from the freezer and put in the microwave) we saw a bunch of Houston people (including Angel, Victor, Terry, Peggy (BUT NO HEATHER WAAA where’s my Heather) and the cute Stefano’s. There was dancing but by the time we got the three mini-burgers we were ready to just hang it up, unpack after our harrowing day and go to bed.
This morning I kept wondering why everyone in the restaurant was yelling instead of talking, laughing so much and so loudly, and all complaining about the food. Until I noticed on the menu “lox and bagels, with cream cheese, a slice of tomato, and a thick slab of onion,” and thought, ohhh, I get it and I looked around and saw that every single table in the place was old Jews. I’m thinking this area must be like the Catskills, a 60’s-era Wisconsin Borscht Belt. Cause otherwise the menu would have said “smoked salmon” not lox, and it would have been served on white bread. With mayonnaise. And the place would have been QUIETER.
Now we are off to Piggly Wiggly. That is a supermarket, not a porn shop.
Tonight is Strictly’s.
We missed Reno last weekend, but heard it was GREAT. Kelly says it is now her favorite comp.