No Pull-Tabs No More
The last time I saw a pull-tab was in a package bar in Nisswa, Minnesota, as part of the gambling game played in dark lounges in the Upper Midwest, especially in the Land of 10,000 Lakes in 1992–at least in Read More …
Champagne In First
I can’t recall a time, when offered one of those plastic pearly flutes of sparkling wine (so rarely actual Champagne, unless it’s Air France or Emirates or maybe Cathay) …I can’t recall ever saying, “No, just a water, thanks.” And Read More …
Colorado Native
Oh the bluebird-sky days of winter have returned as I sneak away to the slopes on a buddy pass and stolen time. The joy of living in Colorado versus traveling there to ski lies in choosing your mid-week day to escape, Read More …
Blue Moon & Mandarin
My plane was late landing in Nashville, and they couldn’t find me the right rental car. Gone midnight by the time I made it to the Gaylord Massif otherwise known as Opryland–a hotel so far bigger than necessary that it Read More …
Kölsch: The Beer That’s A Language Too
I took a late run in the day, when the train from Frankfurt dropped me off earlier than I expected in Köln (Cologne to the Francophiles and Englishmen). The rain had darkened the plaza and the Dom itself, not just Read More …
The Bitch And The Burj
From this angle it looks like an icicle fashioned from obsidian, one stolen from the entrance to a fantastical mine and levered from the earth to pierce the clouds. As the fountains shoot up light against the sky settling into Read More …
A Heineken In Every Corner
It’s 2 a.m. body time, and I’m checking into a faceless, charmless hotel room hermetically sealed from all life outside. An air-conditioned box where I can let fall away all sense of time or place. I set out my things, Read More …
Taking Port Into DXB
The bottle was a gift from new partners, and certainly not worth any more than the $25 limit imposed upon one by the policies of most corporations. I say this with conviction, because, unless it’s a rare vintage or from a Read More …
Sagres For Sour Stomachs
I keep the balcony’s sliding glass door open to the breeze, which washes up from the Atlantic down the hill. Thank goodness they aren’t picking me up til 6 pm, I think, as I roll over again in the stiff Read More …
The Mayor of Dublin
I came into Dublin for the first time alone, on the beginning of a business trip, in the midst of February rain. I had the name of a pub, The Clarendon Inn (a friend’s dear departed mum knew it as Read More …