This last month I was granted two weeks’ vacation or something from my current job. I say granted, but they decided to put two weeks of vacation on my calendar, whether I wanted it or not, due to constantly and consistently threatening to quit in a joking manner. It’s gotten to the point where no one can tell if I’m joking or not, including myself.
So, a vacation for two weeks is not something I’ve had the adult luxury of ever in my entire life. That is unless you count being unemployed for a few months, which I don’t count as a vacation (selling plasma and shopping at the food bank aren’t really what I’d compare to happy, fun times at a pool). My partner just so happened to be working in New York for a month, so we decided to fly me out when they were finished working and road-trip back to Oregon. This article is a bit of what occurred on this road trip and a couple of places you should try to visit.
**Please note that out of this entire trip, the most draining state to be in, whose scenery actually lulled me to sleep, was Ohio. There won’t be much to talk about there.
I first went to pick my friend Linda up from the train station, as they had decided to join me on my flight to New York. I took her to one of my favorite joints, Devils Point, at 7 p.m...on a Thursday. So, not much was going on at that point. Cheap whiskey and a couple of Stripparaoke T-shirts were purchased. Everyone is always amazing there, so whether it’s 7 p.m. on a Thursday or midnight on a Saturday, you’ll always have a good time.
Once we actually got on the plane to New York, I swear I heard hamsters. Someone had hamsters on that plane. That’s what flying Delta gets you. Squeaky, squirrelly rodents on the motherfuckin’ plane.
Linda started taking notes of things for me to write about or remember to have memories of, and hamsters on a plane were one of them. Along with the fact that I had brought my rubber cat mask with me and some Chappagetti noodles on the top of my clothes in my suitcase, to hopefully deter anyone from stealing what little I had in my bag.
Once we were in New York City, we met a friend of mine who graciously allowed us to stay with them for a night. It would have been two, but being the trash creature I am, I proceeded to get everyone fucked up on edible gummies I had purchased in Portland, and the rest of the night was all but forgotten.
New York was fine, filled with things to do and children off their leashes that I wanted to punch in the face. There’s nothing much of note, other than the fact that they have the most amazing bagels and cream cheese and a place called ’"The Lasagna House," which serves—you guessed it—lasagna (which is also amazing).
After New York, we trained to Boston, where a dozen dollar-oysters and some really good chowder were eaten. The bar from Cheers was visited and did not disappoint. Do not buy any pumpkin beer ever; whether you’re on the east or west coast, they all taste awful and will only give you buyer’s remorse. We were also able to find the only punk bar in Boston and watch a show where I purchased their cassette tape. That’s right, support them arts.
We went to Salem, Massachusetts, which was cute, touristy, and filled with $5 "museums" you could go into. The best one (that’s worth your time) is the Salem Witch Board Museum, where there exists a man that knows more facts about the talking board than your dad knows about beer. Sexy, interesting, fun facts.
Lots of train rides were taken until we decided on a car from Portland, Maine, onwards. I ate 8 pounds of lobster rolls and 3 more pounds of chowder. The Atlantic Ocean also smells different than the Pacific. I’m not sure what that is all about. Death and pee, I think.
From Maine, we went through the first of a few "beautiful" Midwest states on our trip (Ohio), which was also the best few hours of sleep of my life—the only state that actually lulled me to sleep. We passed through here just to get to Chicago, where I decided I want to live one day. We also found another punk club called Liar’s, which deserves an honorable mention as one of the most awesome punk establishments I’ve been to in a long while. The bartender there, Gary, is amazing and has loads of stories only a punk bar owner would be able to divulge, and everyone reading this magazine needs to give them a visit when you’re in Chicago.
Chicago-style pizza was also consumed. But my favorite things to eat there, in the short time I was able to, were the hotdogs from Maxwell’s, where along with a dog, you also get a huge bag of fries for free, and Italian beef sandwiches from Portillos, with all the nacho cheese and hot peppers they can stuff on it. Goddamn, delicious.
From Chicago, we made our way to Missouri to see another good friend where catfish was eaten, cheap drinks were had, and I was able to live out my dream of visiting a grocery store in the Midwest and purchasing a bag of German-flavored potato chips.
Fun fact, there are more flavors of milk than chocolate and strawberry. Try root beer and cotton candy milk next time you go to a Hy-Vee’s. I don’t think you’ll regret it.
After fun in the Midwest, we landed in Texas to visit another friend, where my body was physically requesting me to just leave the state. It was my partner and I’s second anniversary, however, and he was able to somehow, once again, find the hole-in-the-wall bar called the "777 Club," whose door read "A friendly place to meet." Inside was a bartender named Amy, who is amazing and absolutely needs to be met. They do all their own Halloween decorations outside and inside their house and apparently have huge Halloween parties. Go meet Amy and ask how it went.
At the time of my writing this, I had only gotten to Texas and had not yet finished the trip. Our editors here have these things called deadlines, so I’m being a reasonable adult and going to say, "the rest of the trip probably went okay," and hope that I didn’t, like, just jinx myself. If you don’t see me writing next month, you’ll know I didn’t make it out of Texas or Oklahoma and was possibly pushed into the Grand Canyon. Please look for me.
Hannah One Cup can hopefully be found safe at home at the time this is published, looking up people to write good reviews for—or curse at. They feel more worldly now and were able to figure out how to drink whiskey while wearing a rubber cat mask. They can be found on Facebook by their name.
