Alaina’s Awesome Adventure…Featuring Weezer, a yappy dog, zitty teens, and a big ass hole in the ground
Its been almost a month since my last blog entry, and with good reason — I have been super busy — I was flitting about the West Coast for a few weeks, and recently I have been flitting all about New York City.
At any rate, I’m sad to report that summer is officially over, although apparently someone didn’t get the memo since its hot as you know what around here. So below I’m going to relive my final days of summer….
Beverly Hills (or rather West Hollywood)…That’s Where I Wanna Be…
Weezer was all about it, and I can see why. The last time I was in Los Angeles, we stayed slightly outside of the city in South Gate. I’m a New York City girl and I’m not used to driving at all, much less driving in traffic. The constant driving back and forth trying to see everything, and the driving from downtown to the West Side, to South Gate and back again kind of wore me down. I was pretty anti Los Angeles after that. But this time I stayed in West Hollywood, and did barely any driving (except when Juanny and I went to Santa Barbara — more details later)… I’m seeing L.A. in a totally different light. I’m busy concocting copious plans to move there.
'Tis the Season Pancakes from The Griddle
My visit consisted of the basics: eating enormous pancakes at the Griddle (7916 Sunset Blvd., Los Angeles, CA), beaching in Santa Monica (I don’t care what people from L.A. say, I love the beach, and the sun came out for our visit), and hanging out at Barney’s Beanery (8447 Santa Monica Blvd., West Hollywood, CA), the Abbey (692 N. Robertson Blvd., West Hollywood, CA), and St. Nick’s Pub (8450 West 3rd Street, Lost Angeles, CA).
Gardens at Old Mission Santa Barbara. (c) Juan Valles, 2009.
Vineyards. (c) Juan Valles, 2009.
On my last day in town, Juanny and I drove up to Santa Barbara and we explored the Old Mission. There’s just something amazing about Old Santa Barbara. I love the Spanish architecture, and I adore how its nestled in the middle of the Santa Ynez Valley’s wine country. Juanny and I ended up the day by going to two wineries – the Gainey Winery (3950 E. Highway 246, Santa Ynez, CA), where I got a fantastic 2007 Riesling, and the Melville Winery in Lompoc, CA (5185 E. Highway 246, Lompoc, CA), where I got a special reserve Pinot Noir also bottled in 2007. We attempted to go to a third, but they had already closed for the day. Truly, its for the best. I am an extreme lightweight, and I would have been spitting my wine out anyway as I was driving home.
On the way home we stopped at what Juan calls the “most cloyingly cute town in the world”….Solvang, CA. Its an old Danish town that is now an awful tourist trap. I’d maybe feel better about it if it were a real working town instead of something that people just went to for touristy purposes. But because nobody actually lives there, I feel like it lacks authenticity.
Solvang Post Office. (c) Juan Valles, 2009.
To all of you Angelenos out there — Eunice, Eunice’s friend Dan, and Juanny and I had dinner at this amazing tapas style Italian place called Barbrix in Silver Lake (2442 Hyperion Avenue, Los Angeles, CA). I understand that driving to Silver Lake is somewhat like taking the L to Williamsburg, but hear me out — the tapas were truly amazing, and not very expensive ($ 4 – 13), and they had a terrific wine and beer selection (including several German craft beers and Baltic wines — I mean, wine from Croatia is not the first thing I think of when I think of a delicious bottle of red) I had the squash blossoms which were decent — they were stuffed with ricotta cheese, battered and deep fried. They could have used more flavor. The hamachi sashimi was also fantastic, as was the sliced strip steak covered with shaved parmesan and an arugula salad. I’m think Silver Lake is fabulous, and I would definitely go back over the whining of my West Side LA friends.
Airplane Etiquette and Other Such Matters…
After my long weekend in Los Angeles, I left on Tuesday. I left a little present consisting of a bottle of Stoli Raspberry and various snacks on Eunice’s countertop and headed to the airport for my short hop to Phoenix. Kelly was going to meet me at the airport and my father was coming in the following day. Of course, I underestimated both the line at Target, and the traffic on the 10, so I was running extremely late. I was unfortunately greeted by various asshats who proceeded to make my life as difficult as possible. I’ll just give you a few examples for your reading pleasure, before launching into a general overview of my awesome trip in America’s hottest oven…I mean, in Phoenix.
So I arrive at the airport, and I am, of course frantically running late after dropping my car off at the Alamo Rental Car lot in Inglewood (I have to say – despite the fact that the Biloxi Mississippi Airport is a barn, it is the best airport I have ever been to for this exact reason — the rental cars are in immediately in front of the airport, and there is zero line. The entire airport is in what appears to be a barn, but that is besides the point.) Thankfully the line is short for both the check-in and the bag drop, so I figure I’m home free. Au contraire, my friends, au contraire. Whenever I get to the airport there are always a million asshats who must not have a) been to an airport in the last 10 years, or b) read anything about air travel or watched the news since 9/11. Everyone knows that you have to take your shoes off, take your keys out of your pocket, no liquids, etc etc etc. Otherwise you are holding up the line and it is rude. Especially when there are those of us who fly by the seat of our pantalones here.
So this woman, whose face is mostly obscured by sunglasses despite the fact that we are inside and there are no windows, is holding what has to be the world’s most hideous dog (who is, by the way, not in a carrier) and a 1.5 liter bottle of Fiji water. When the security guard tells her that she can’t bring in her enormous bottle of water she has the audacity to act surprised. ”But I have a dawwwwwwggggg,” she says. At this point I am tapping my foot impatiently and my eyes are rolling around so much in my skull you’d think I was stroking. At the point that the woman proceeded to let her dog lap water out of her Fiji bottle I had had quite enough. I took my backpack, placed it on the belt in front of her, and went around. And then the unthinkable happened…. she removed my backpack and said, “Excuse me, I have a dawwwwwwg.” I, Alaina Morgan, was at a loss for words. You would have thought she had farted in my face.
Anyway, once I finally got through security, I thought my various dealings with idiots were done for the day. Unfortunately, my faith in humanity was too strong. I approached my seat on the plane, and unfortunately a zitty teenager had plopped herself down into it. Sign number one that the flight was going to go horribly wrong. After politely asking her to extract herself, I settled in and opened up the latest edition of Travel + Leisure Magazine. Somewhere in the middle of their feature article about the 100 best hotels in the world, we began to taxi down the runway, and that is when, to my horror, I heard someone’s cell phone ring. My horror turned to distaste, when I realized that the cell phone belonged to one of the zitty teenagers sitting next to me, who then proceeded to attempt to answer the phone. Now, I understand that the danger to the passengers in a plane caused by an errant cell phone is minimal, but it was really the blatant disregard for the rules that ticked me off more than anything. At any rate, as one of the zitty teenagers tried to place a phone call while we were taking off I yelled at them and told them to put away their cell phone. They probably thought I was old and crotechety, but I don’t care, it was the principal of the matter. The nerve of some people!
I Don’t Care if It’s a Dry Heat… Its Still Hot as Hell in Here
One of my favorite things when I land in a new place is disembarking from the plane and feeling the air from outside seep through the gap between where the jetway meets the plane doors. I got off the plane and was met with a gush of hot, dry air. Welcome to Phoenix.
Steele Indian School Park, Phoenix. (c) Alaina Morgan, 2009.
I collected Kelly by the rental car, and after a fight with the woman at Enterprise over the benefits of NOT “upgrading” to a mini-van, we were on our way to the suburbs of Phoenix…Gilbert to be exact.
Grand Canyon. (c) Alaina Morgan, 2009.
Let me be frank – there is not a whole lot to do in the suburbs of Phoenix, but we did go to a couple of very nice restaurants and bars in the Willo area of Phoenix, and in Scottsdale. Our first day we left to take a four hour drive to the Grand Canyon. The Canyon is amazing. If you find the right spot devoid of tourists, you can find the perfect balance of serenity. August is not one of the more crowded months, but it was still crowded. I can’t imagine what its like in early summer. Kelly and I hiked the Rim Trail, but didn’t go very far into the Canyon because we didn’t have a lot of time, and she was afraid of heights. Later that night, we checked into our hotel, the Yavapai Lodge, which in daylight looks like a creepy motel, but at night with desert foliage framing it, soft lights reflecting off of its walls, and the stars twinkling down on it, looks positively charming. We dined at the Arizona Room, which is located at the Bright Angel Lodge. It is supposed to be one of the better restaurants at the Grand Canyon, and I suppose after a day of hiking, walking, and hanging out with mules you aren’t too picky about your food. My baby back ribs were nothing special, the chipotle sauce lacking both that smoky kick that I was expecting, and a fall-off-the-bone flavor. The only truly fantastic thing on the menu was a peach summer berry streudel which was fantastic served with vanilla ice cream.
Sunrise at the Grand Canyon. (c) Alaina Morgan, 2009.
I didn’t come there for the food, so I wasn’t too disappointed. Besides, while we were waiting for our table to be ready, Kelly and I enjoyed a Fat Tire draft on the front patio and unexpectedly saw an Elk, in the middle of his rut, try to attack several passersby.
The next morning, Kelly and I woke up early to watch the sunrise. I attempted to run along the Rim Trail, but was unfortunately thwarted by the extremely thin air, and the fact that I embarked on a one mile vertical climb for the first ten minutes of my run. Fantastic.
Kelly and I left the Grand Canyon shortly thereafter, and headed for Jerome, Arizona, a ghost town known for its multiple haunted establishments, and its old copper mining history. Although we traveled to pretty much all of the “vortexes” in town trying to catch glimpses of ghosts, we didn’t catch any. On the way home we stopped at Prescott, Arizona’s Whiskey Row, which is supposed to house a collection of historical saloons, but was really just a disappointment.
Two Squirrels on the Edge of the Canyon. (c) Alaina Morgan, 2009.
Jerome, AZ. (c) Alaina Morgan, 2009.
About 40 miles from home Kelly and I got a flat tire. Like a serious flat tire. Like a – I was riding on the rim going 75 miles per hour and I’m lucky I got into the shoulder – flat tire. Anyway, we were trapped in a boiling hot car on the side of Interstate 17 ignoring each other like old lesbians. I really wish I had a picture — both of the flat tire and of us ignoring each other.
The rest of our trip was filled with just hanging out. We went to Steele Indian School Park (300 E. Indian School Road, Phoenix, AZ) to check out the open air art and fish pond. We paid a visit to the Phoenix Art Museum (1625 N. Central Avenue, Phoenix, AZ), which I have to say is an amazing art museum that rivals many of the ones in Manhattan, and might even be superior to some of the good ole’ boys. The PAM has much better signage, so when you are looking at an contemporary art piece, there is a very clear explanation of the artist’s intent, or where the artist fits into a greater movement, which allows for a much greater appreciation of the piece itself. I find that that is generally lacking in museums today. It might be snobbery or laziness, or it might clutter the display aesthetically, but I find that if I have to do my own research before or after I see an exhibit I get very displeased.
We ate bruschetta and crispy salads (try getting a vegetable in the Southwest, just try!) at My Florist Cafe (534 W. McDowell Road, Phoenix, AZ)in the Willo District before heading to the Diamondbacks game. I guess I didn’t put two and two together that baseball season is in the summer time and summer time is well over 100 degrees every day in Arizona, but the stadium is INSIDE. AND air conditioned! Most comfortable baseball game I’ve ever been to!
We had a family BBQ on our last night in town and Kelly and I headed out to Papago Brewery (7107 East McDowell Road, Scottsdale, AZ), which brews their own beer, and has a delicious Coconut Coffee Stout on tap. We then headed over to American Junkie (4363 N. 75th Street, Scottsdale, AZ ) in Old Scottsdale where we finished off the night. I like American Junkie because it is preppy but edgy, like me. Its like wearing a leather biker jacket and fashioning a bow out of some strapping leather for fashion’s sake.
Giant Tacos Running @ Diamondbacks Ballpark. (c) Alaina Morgan, 2009.
I always love seeing my family, but traveling to Arizona and spending time in Gilbert is like spending time in the suburbs… and to top it off, its a suburb where I don’t know anyone and can’t escape. Next time I go I’m spending more time in Scottsdale. Total mistake on my part.
Anyway, I am back and its going to be a great fall! Are you ready?
Review: Speakeasy at the Museum of the City of New York
Last week, the Real Estate-trix and I went to the Speakeasy at the Museum of the City of New York. Initially, I was going to make this another two-fer entry with a review of the exhibits at the Museum, and a review of the bar and drink set-up, but it made more sense to do it separately. I do love a two-fer, but I love being coherent more.
The Speakeasy is in a word, cute. I expected more of an enclosed space, but the Speakeasy is pleasantly situated on the Museum’s open air patio. There is a CD playing 20s style Harlem jazz and big band music. The place lacks a decidedly “speakeasyish” feel, however, as it is in a hardly secretive location directly on Fifth Avenue. Its not even set back a little bit from the road.
Included in the $12 admission was a free signature drink, which included any of the their signature cocktails which the Museum touts as “inspired by the era”. I had a Cosmopolitan, which I am pretty confident was invented sometime in the recent past, and popularized by the television series Sex in the City (or at least this is the case according to Wikipedia, where I go for all of my authoritative information). The Real Estate-trix had a Planter’s Punch, which was a sort of fruity rum punch. It reminded me more of Ocho Rios circa 1995 than the 1920s. Both were very strong. Be forewarned.
I perhaps the Speakeasy is more of a secret than the location would suggest, because there was a sparse crowd. I suspect as the summer plods along the Speakeasy will get more and more crowded as reviews are published and the word gets around.
The truth is, there are a ton of patio/rooftop bars in Manhattan, and I can (but rarely do) get a Cosmo anywhere. The best part of the Speakeasy for me was the free admission to the Museum of the City of New York. I had been wanting to see the Mannahatta/Manhattan Natural History Exhibit all summer, and I finally had an opportunity. The museum also has an exhibit on contemporary Dutch artists, and on Henry Hudson’s historic exploration of the New York area.
I would definitely go once this summer to the Speakeasy, but once is really all you need.
The Speakeasy at the Museum of the City of New York, 1220 Fifth Avenue, Wednesdays July 15th-August 26, 6:00-9:00PM. Admission, $10 for members, $12 for non-members, includes one drink and admission to the first floor galleries of the museum.
Weekend Update: Upper East Side Bars, Row Boating, &c.
So I just looked at the list of my posts, and I realized that I haven’t blogged in almost a week. Unacceptable. I have to apologize, and unfortunately I have absolutely no excuses except for the fact that I am a delinquent.
Now that that’s out of the way — this weekend was pretty low key. Friday my friend Sharon and I guest bartended to raise money for our Triathlon (Ah! 12 days until the big day) at Dylan Murphy’s (1453 Third Avenue @ East 82nd Street). We had “The Nook” in the basement which is absolutely adorable. With its wood paneled walls and cozy sitting nooks it reminds me of my parents living room. I like going to Dylan Murphy’s because its low key, its not a meat market, its super close to my apartment, and I love the owners (Blake Dillon and Jack Murphy — get it Dylan Murphy’s). I’ve known them for a few years now, as Blake used to bartend at Trinity Pub which is on my street.
Later that night we went over to Jock Tamson’s Bairns (in Scottish Gaelic it means “Everyman’s Children”) (1609 Second Avenue bn 83rd and 84th Streets). This is a new Scottish (Yes! Scottish!) bar that just opened about 6 weeks ago, in the space formerly occupied by Bar Vespa (which I actually loved very much and was very upset to hear of its demise, but this will do as a replacement). The bar is owned by my friend Gavin who also used to bartend at Trinity Pub (are you sensing a trend here?). The bar is decorated beautifully with rich black colored walls and chandeliers. It has a very pubby feel inside in the sense that it is very friendly and warm, but it doesn’t look like a pub — more of a lounge, which the Upper East Side NEEDS desperately. There’s also a fireplace in the back. Before Bar Vespa took over, the space was occupied by an antique shop, and this certainly contributes to the architectural feel of the place. My only complaint is that there was a surly woman sitting in the corner that demanded that I remove myself from her seat. I complied because I was afraid of getting punched in the face. That, however, is certainly not the fault of the management that I attract attention from surly women.
(c) Alaina Morgan, 2009
Saturday Kelly, Joe, and I went to Central Park and went row boating on the Lake. We initially waited on a line that looked deceptively long (by the time I went to the bathroom and came back we were already at the front), and paid $12 total for one hour ($3 each additional fifteen minutes). The lake is surrounded by lush green trees, (including my favorite, the weeping willow), with mallards and turtles inhabiting its shores. The water is a bit suspect, but as I am swimming in the Hudson River later this month, I am not really that concerned about the water quality. Joe did splash me a couple of times, and I haven’t grown any extra appendages or anything, so it must be okay. The Lake, is a reminder that even in the middle of high speed, hectic New York City, its possible to take a moment to relax and enjoy nature (even if it was planted there by the Central Park Conservancy).
(c) Alaina Morgan, 2009
(c) Alaina Morgan, 2009
Unfortunately for everyone else, we brought our own tunes (courtesy of my iPhone), and subjected everyone to New Kids on the Block, Biggie Smalls, and Michael Jackson for about an hour. You know you’re from New Jersey when you can’t even get in a boat without bringing your own mix tape.
The rowboats can be found next to the Loeb Boathouse (enter the park at East 72nd Street and turn right). They are $12 for an hour, and $3 for each additional 15 minutes. 4 person maximum per boat.
So what’s on the agenda for this week?
Tomorrow (Wednesday, July 12th) I am going to the opening of the Speakeasy at the Museum of the City of New York (1220 Fifth Avenue, $10 for members; $12 for non-members; 6-9PM). The price includes access to the first floor galleries of the museum, and one drink. I’ll probably use that as an opportunity to report back on the museum for my Museum of the Week column.
Other than that, I haven’t begun my search for an “Office” yet, so I will be doing that starting tomorrow. Friday I’m swimming a mile in preparation for my triathlon (eek!), and Saturday I will be going to Coney Island for our group swim. I might also attend the Siren Music Festival (Coney Island Boardwalk b/n West 10th Street and Stillwell Avenue; 1PM-10PM) while I’m out there. Click the link above for more information, including the line up and directions.
Looks like there’s not a ton on the agenda for the week. But the great thing about freedom is — you never know what’s going to happen…
Relatively Inexpensive: The Speakeasy at The Museum of the City of New York
Speakeasy – definition – a secret, illegal establishment where liquor was served during Prohibition.
The Speakeasy at the Museum of the City of New York (formerly The Terrace) is not much of a secret, but who cares? Its a great way to celebrate art, culture, and the greatness that is New York City in the summertime. And tomorrow it opens for the season with a bang — $12 gets you into the Speakeasy, includes a drink, and gets you access to the museum’s first floor galleries. That’s a three for one right there — socializing with new and old friends, booze, and culture.
I’m only giving this a “Relatively Inexpensive” classification because you and I both know you’ll be having more than that one complimentary drink they give you (wink, wink).
Here are the details:
The Speakeasy
Museum of the City of New York
1220 Fifth Avenue
Wednesdays from July 15-August 26, 6:00-9:00 PM
Admission: Museum Members: $10; Non-Members: $12 (includes one drink and access to the first floor galleries)
