Meet me in St. Louis

I recently took a work related trip out to St. Louis and thought that since this blog is supposed to be a reflection on life as a twenty-something working professional, I'd actually write about something work related. So here are my thoughts of my 26 hours in St. Louis. (Actually, I worked out of Clayton, MO which is a suburb of St. Louis, but let's not get hung up on the details.)

- I took a puddle jumper (read: small ass plane powered by a 9-volt battery) from Cleveland into St. Louis. The Cleveland airport is set up to have the puddle jumper terminal separate from the normal sized plane terminal so that a.) the small ass planes don't get jacked up by the jet streams of the big ass planes and b.) so that the passengers taking the puddle jumpers are forced to walk into a different county in order to board the "aircraft". I chose to wear a suit on the plane so that I could wear it the next day for my meetings and not have to pack an extra one. But in my packing logic, I never counted on the fact that I would be walking through an unusually muggy airport for a half an hour. I suffer from Sweaty Polish Disease, whose symptoms are sweating whenever any type of physical activity is involved. Hence, I was left making my own gravy in my Hanes boxer briefs prior to a 90 minute flight. Not a good way to start the trip.

- When I got to St Louis, I realized that Monday Night Football was in town when I noticed the plethora of Ditka loving Bears fans roaming the airport. Since Todd and the Superfans decided to be in town the same time I was, I wasn't left with too many rental car choices. My company had reserved a mid-size for me, but they were all out, so I was left to choose between a mini-van or an SUV. I obviously went for the SUV.

Big. Mistake.

This thing - a Chevy of some sorts - was about 4 feet wider than my '99 Honda Accord (what's up, ladies?) and I was forced to navigate the streets of St. Louis like a 90 year old man in a '78 Cadillac. If you need to rent a car, rent one that you can actually drive; not the one that middle aged men drive to compensate for some of life's other shortcomings.

- A former colleague of mine just transfered to the St. Louis office, so we met up for dinner and drinks that night. The great thing about traveling is being able to expense your meals. Since my company has a $75 limit per meal, you can treat co-workers to dinner without going over the limit if you play your hand right and go to a middle-of-the-road bar and grille. That's exactly what we did and we enjoyed some local brews (not Budweiser) and some good food. There's no joke here, so don't go looking for one.

- My buddy took off after dinner, so I went out to a local pub to watch the MNF game. One of the downsides of traveling alone is being forced to drink alone. Yeah, I know I could probably have just gone up to my hotel room, but where's the fun in that? I headed out to an Irish bar and drank a few Guinness while watching the Bears put a beat down on the Rams. Afterwards, I went back to the hotel bar and had a few more pints there.

If you've never been to a hotel bar, they are nothing like what is pictured in the movies. There are no interesting people down there, only middle aged business men looking to find the one business woman who they might be able to flirt with a little bit. And when there isn't a business woman down there, these guys will try striking up a conversation with you. If you don't slam your beer right away, be prepared to hear about their entire life stories for the next 3 hours. It's a mind numbing experience, so you should probably just stay away from hotel bars.

- While at the hotel bar, I started digging into the snack mix in front of me. A few bites in, I realized that what I was doing was the equivalent of eating out of a toilet bowl since it was a communal bowl of snack mix. Even though I knew this, I kept on eating it. I have no idea why, either. I wasn't even hungry. Needless to say, I brushed my teeth at least a dozen times that night.

- I fell asleep with the TV on HBO and I woke up around 2:30-ish to what I thought was an, ahem, adult film. There were two women in a swimming pool showing each other some, um, affection. Thinking I had a.) lucked out or b.) accidentally ordered a porn I watched for a few more moments. My luck quickly ran out when the scene cut to Steven Baldwin and Pauly Shore on the side of the pool watching these two women and I realized that HBO was showing "Biodome" at 2:30 in the morning. Great. Thanks for nothing, HBO.

- Oh, and I did some work stuff, too. But you guys don't want to hear about that.