johnstewart.com

This past weekend, we crammed bikes, a trailer for the boy, and camping gear into our station wagon and headed to Peninsula State Park for three nights in Door County.

Here’s the photo album:

And some video:

(Post by Susanna) This Thanksgiving, we continued the years-long tradition of traveling to Dallas to be with Susanna’s aunts, father, brother, grandmother, and cousins for the holiday — but this time, because we had an infant and because airfare was sky-high when we checked it, we decided to drive. And since we were driving, we decided we might as well add a stop on the way there and on the way back to visit other family and friends. Augie was 5.5 weeks old when we left.

On the way to Dallas, we spent two nights in Kansas City to visit with John’s aunt Pat and Uncle Tom and cousins Ryan and Beth, and his maternal grandfather Mo. It was fun introducing Augie to the family — and Pat and Tom doted on him. They gave him a bath, and Tom brushed his hair, and they looked after him from 5:00 a.m. to 9:00 a.m. one morning, which meant John and Susanna slept a longer stretch than they had in 5.5 weeks.

The second night in Kansas City, we visited with family from John’s father’s side, including his aunt Rhita and Uncle Phil, and almost all his cousins. August met the newest member of the Zaroor family, Aixa, who was only 2.5 weeks older than he was.

The drive from Madison to KC was about eight hours, and it was another eight hours to Dallas. In Dallas, August met his great-grandmother, Nana, his uncle and maternal grandfather and step-grandmother, and both of his great-aunts. He spent a lot of time sleeping in the arms of his extended family (and a ltitle time sleeping in the arms of a waitress at a barbecue restaurant). We spent four nights in Dallas, including Thanksgiving day.

The longest leg of the trip was from Dallas to St. Louis, to see our friends Curtis and Matt. They gave us Vietnamese food and beers and made us waffles and held Augie and laughed at his funny faces and compared him to a billiken, the SLU mascot. We have since called him Little Billiken.

The full photo gallery is here:

Thursday

My dad ("Pops"), bro-in-law ("Nickles") and I headed to Vegas for the weekend, heading out at noon on Thursday.

We got flights on Allegiant out of Rockford for $220 round trip, direct. Not bad. The Rockford airport was just as easy to get to from Madison as is Milwaukee, and has free parking to boot. Definitely a thumbs up there. On the flight over, the flight attendants run a "dollar game". Everyone writes their seat number down on a dollar bill (or more), puts it in a bag, and whichever one they draw wins the bagful. They ran it again with fives. Down $9 and I hadn’t yet set foot in Vegas. It was a harbinger of things to come.

We got checked into the Flamingo. It’s got a nice central location on the strip, but the ol’ Dirty Bird has definitely seen its prime many years ago. Still, for $100 a night average, who cares if the hotel room doesn’t smell quite right?

After dropping off our bags, we headed down to the poker room, which had a new 1-2 NL table opening up. Nickles and I had finally convinced the old man that poker was the way to go in Vegas; you at least aren’t guaranteed to lose in the long run, like every other game available. So we all sat down and played, and the Stewarts started drinking. They at least had Sam Adams on tap; a step above some of the crappier casinos.

Apparently all Harrah’s properties now charge a $5 max rake on their poker tables, which I find ridiculous. I’d never seen any more expensive than a $4 max, ever. Apparently some part of it goes towards a bad beat jackpot, but it wasn’t clear how much of that extra $1 did (as do most bad beat jackpots). Anyway, screw that noise. I’m there to play poker, not play the damn lottery.

After 5 hours at the table, Pops and Nickles were up a bit, and I was down $350 or so… the worst night of poker in my entire life. About $100 I could attribute to a half-drunk, stupid hand where I chipped off my stack with top pair, second kicker with AQ. I’d read my opponent as not having AK, which turned out to be correct. What I hadn’t noticed is the three diamonds on the board; whoops! As for the rest of my losses, I was just getting cold decked (and probably chasing my losses with a little too much investment in crappy starting hands and marginal flops).

Nickles called it a night, and Pops and I headed next door to find $5 single deck blackjack running on a couple of tables at Bill’s Gambling Hall (formerly the Barbary Coast), an old little casino which would look more at home on Fremont Street downtown than the middle of the strip. I somehow don’t think it’s long for this world, and the cheap blackjack allowed us to get proper drunk without having to think about how to play poker. They also had a live band, which wasn’t too hard on the ears, despite their repertoire consisting of Lynyrd Skynyrd covers.

The dealer gave out beads every time you hit blackjack, yet I couldn’t convince the ladies at the table that they also were by rights supposed to flash their boobies to get beads. I think I pretty much broke even at blackjack, which always counts as a victory.

Friday

The next morning, Nickles and Pops went off to golf at an ungodly early hour. They said it was the nicest course they’d ever played. After sleeping in and some breakfast (using my $5 in comps at the Flamingo diner… yay; 1.5% of my money back!), I monorailed it down to my favorite Vegas card room at the MGM Grand. A nice big room (not cramped and in a corner like most casinos) with nice tables and an endless stream of tourists.

The rodeo was in town over the weekend, so there were more cowboy hats and flannel in Vegas than I have ever seen. I knew something was up because on our flight out the person I sat next to waiting in the airport, I kid you not, smelled like horse shit. I wonder if it comes in cologne form?

My memory is hazy, but from my comps I know I spent 17 hours at the MGM the next couple of days, and I won back what I’d lost at the Dirty Bird. Thankfully so, because I was nearly out of cash and really didn’t want to hit an ATM… all of which on the strip have a FIVE fucking dollar surcharge.

One recollection I had of my MGM sesssion was this cowboy sitting down immediately to my left and just going apeshit maniac. In the two hours he was there, if it came to him preflop unraised, he bumped it up to $10… quite literally every single hand. He also called most raises and was a maniac on every street. He was tossing $4 tips at the dealer after looking at his hole cards (he tipped probably $75 in his two hours there). It worked for him, for a while. He chipped off a couple of people betting into him when his crap hands would spike a straight card or something. I waited and waited, hoping for premium cards to go to war, but never got my opportunity. I was sad to see him leave; he pissed off a lot of players (especially the couple he busted out), but I was damn entertained.

Hit a 200-1 quinella on the Sigma Derby at the MGM. It’s this ancient horse racing game… 10 people can play. You put in quarters and bet which two horses are going to finish 1-2 of the five in the race. Each pair has an associated payout. It’s a great way to kill some time cheaply and get free drinks. I only had one quarter on the 200-1 horses; but $50 ain’t bad. It’s near the poker room; definitely check it out if you’re ever there. Who knows how long it’ll live. One crusty old blackjack dealer at the Tropicana said he remembered playing that machine in the 70’s… they used to be all over Vegas.

The Tropicana is the place to play blackjack on the strip, especially if you need a break from the poker at MGM… the stairs right next to the poker room will lead you across the footbridge to the Trop (not that the have any signage to this effect, of course). The Trop allows doubling after splits and surrenders, and $5 games all the time, so it’s pretty much the best you can do odds-wise if you’re not counting cards.

I always, always, pull out my blackjack strategy card when I’m at a table. Even experienced players are usually making mistakes on the marginal calls, giving the house a huge edge instead of the 1% or so you’re giving if you’re doing everything right. I printed one out years ago from some website. Wikipedia has a table you can print out, but you can buy these in pretty much any gift shop in vegas. Best $2 you’ll spend if you play blackjack.

One of the plays I always do when I’m supposed to is a surrender (you get half your bet back). You’re supposed to do this with a 15 versus a 10, and a 16 versus 9, 10, or A. I was even taking shit from one dealer at the Trop who’d never seen it before, but hell if I’m going to give my money away for free, dammit! People would be curious about the card when I pulled it out, but it would not take long until people were asking me what to do and praising the wisdom of the card.

Saturday

On Saturday morning, Pops and I headed out to the Gun Store. I’d been meaning to go the last few times I’d been there, but since we had a rental car this time, it was easy to do. I sort of expected a half-assed operation, but these guys were fast-food efficient. We walked in, they called out "You guys here to shoot?" "Yes." "Sign that waiver and come pick out your weapons."

It was like a Taco Bell menu, except with lethal metal instead of lethal burritos. We each picked out 100 rounds with an HK MP5 and 25 rounds with an AK-47. With our ears and eyes covered in safety gear, we were on the range within ten minutes of walking in and shooting bad guys on paper seconds later. You gotta love Vegas.

I was pleasantly surprised at the accuracy of the AK. Despite its erratic behaviour in Counter-Strike, it performed very well. The high velocity, low caliber rounds left neat little holes in the target, as opposed to the 9mm rounds of the MP5, which tore ugly patches of the paper away. You can see why the weapon is used by armies and thugs all over the world. Reliable, powerful, and cheap.

The last night, Pops kicked off early and Nickles and I went to the Wolfgang Puck restaurant to use up our MGM comps. Neither of us was very impressed, alas. We played some more blackjack at the Trop, then he went off to bed around 9:30. We had to leave from the hotel at 3:30 the next morning to make our flight back, so my plan was to just stay the hell up.

I headed across the street to the Caesar’s card room and played some 1-3 NL (their lowest stakes game). The place is a lot nicer since the last time I played a couple of years ago (just after they’d opened it). Previously, it was pretty much just like the inside of a mid-quality hotel conference room. They’ve since really decked it out with a lot of awesome, huge, sports photos (including one of Vince Lombardo and Bart Starr cheering a victory), nice fixtures, and all around nice furnishings. They also bumped up their low stakes game from 1-2 to 1-3 and reduced the seats per table to 9 from 10. All in all, very nice.

They still have a $5 max rake since it’s a Harrah’s properly, but unlike the rest of the Harrah’s card rooms, that extra buck goes to a high hand jackpot instead of a bad beat jackpot. Either way, I’d prefer to be paying $4 like at MGM, but at least I felt like I was playing at a nice place instead of a shithole like the Flamingo. Plus it’s a totally separate room from the rest of the casino, so you’re not getting all the smoke coming in like at most of the card rooms in Vegas.

I was happy enough to be even in my poker at that point, having battled back from my hideous night at the Dirty Bird on the first night. My goal was mostly to just stay even and stay awake for the next five hours and bought in for my usual $100. Instead, within 15 minutes, I was all-in three times.

The first came against a French dude, playing the maniac. There were a couple of callers around to me, and I looked down to QQ. I popped it up to my usual raise of $10. It came around to him and he raised me all-in for the rest of my stack in a $20 pot. I figured no one with AA or KK would be looking to scare away action that much, and called. The queeens held.

I know another called all-in held up soon thereafter (forgetting the hand now) and I was up $350 or so, enough to pay for the trip. I could have taken it and gone to bed happy, but I didn’t want to hit the sack at 10pm on the last night in Vegas.

A few minutes later, I popped it up with AK, and French maniac pushed on me again. I let him goad me into a call, and he showed AA. Ouch. I was back down to $80 or so after that; a painful swing.

After playing with the crazy French dude (and his brother, also at the table), it became clear that they were both solid players, but acted a good aura of craziness for the benefits to their action. A few hours in with money shifting in small amounts, it had gotten pretty tight.

About 2am, up hundred and change, I limped with 66 in the small blind. A dude from Southern California to my left in the big blind checked it, and three of us saw the flop. The flop came 10 6 X, me hitting my set. I checked and SoCal bet $20. The other player folded, and I made a call.

The turn brought the second diamond, and I checked again. SoCal bet again, something like $35, and I made a call saying "Well, I came to gamble."

With a blank on the river, I pushed for another $100 or so. SoCal tanked and I tried to act like I was bluffing on a blown flush draw. He was definitely leaning towards folding. He showed me his hole cards, Q 10, asking if he should call. Upon seeing his cards, I made an Oscar-caliber comment, "Oh, you’ve got TOP pair.", which pushed him to call, and I showed my set.

I was up $350 or so after a five hour fight, and with a plane to catch, I soon departed for the hotel to toss my shit in my bag.

I lazed out and reused my Flying Spaghetti Monster costume from last year.

Here’s the gallery of pictures from this year:

And here is a rough cut of some footage I got on the camera, much of it people’s responses to my FSM costume.

This is, I guess, the 5th Triples Rally I’ve been to. And I never even made it with a Triple. The first time was in 2003, and that was my first big trip on a bike. It was unbelievably cool to hit the cow roads of western Wisconsin. A little gravel here and there, but it definitely got me hooked.

In 2004 Greg and I hit it again, this time in West Salem, where it has been since.

Alas, I seem to have not put up pictures in the intervening years, but I’m pretty damn sure I’ve not missed one since… the last two with Tim.

This year, I actually planned the route for Saturday’s group ride; quite an honor!

Google Maps version is here and a better hard-copy version (constructed from the Wisconsin Gazetteer) is here. I ended up modifying this route… we ran a great road at the beginning that we’d hit coming in (and loved), and then on the south leg we ended up hitting gravel and had to detour south.

This, to the best of my knowledge, is the route we actually took on Saturday.

I was damn nervous to make sure we didn’t do anything too gnarly (sadly, a year before I first hit the NCR, someone actually died), but really wanted to show off the incredible scenery and roads in the Driftless Area up southeast of La Crosse. I think it turned out pretty well, despite the unbelievable heat (in the mid 90’s each day).

Holy crap… I’m not sure if this was a bug or a frickin’ hummingbird, but look at the bloody pulp he left on my helmet on the way home.

I didn’t take many pictures this year, but here’s what I have:

NCR 2007 Pictures

Bonnaroo. The word elicits in me both terror and delight.

There is no place like it in the world. Think about the freakiest part of the freakiest city you know. Now go freakier. It’s an amazing amalgam of 80,000 dirty stinking hippies, dozens and dozens of great bands, lots of illicit drugs, and a strong dollop of Tennessee June heat and copious amounts of choking dust or mucky smelly mud, depending on the year.

This year was my third. I’m a glutton for punishment.

A buddy of mine and I drove down together (his second ‘Roo) and hooked up with some of his brothers-in-law and assorted friends, seven cars in total. It was a superb group of folks to hang out with and get funky.

We scored a most excellent campsite (for those who were there, right by pod 3 and not far from 3rd Avenue and 3rd Street). We could hear both of the big stages very well from the campsite, which was helpful for pacing myself (a key to survival in the Tennessee sun).

Music I checked out (in addition to dozens of other tents I wandered into and out of at random, one of the awesome things about ‘Roo):

Xavier Rudd
Very pleasantly surprised. I’ve never seen him before, and this dude can play. It was mostly just him, sometimes with a drummer, playing guitar, didgeridoo, and harmonica, amongst others. Definitely a great show.

Ween
These guys simply rock. Dean Ween on guitar engages in musical masturbation on stage (and I mean that in the best way possible). Gene is a great showman. They were tight, and they rocked the house. It was at my first Bonnaroo in 2005 that I first saw these guys playing a midnight show, and it made me into an instant Ween fan. This show didn’t disappoint… except that it was during the afternoon, and I had to leave early to make sure to acquire an excellent vantage point for the next band I would see that night…

The Police
I love these guys. I think they are hugely influential and made some of the best music ever, mixing up styles and genres masterfully. It was these guys headlining at Bonnaroo this year that made me definitely want to go. Too bad they fucking sucked.

Stewart Copeland was great on drums, coming out with an infectious energy. Andy Summers was more than adequate. Sting, however, was a total wanker. In the 30-45 minutes before I left the show, he was completely forgetting lyrics, missing cues, and generally fucking up. They also had an annoying habit of extending the song with the same melody droning on and on. Jamming is great when someone is changing a familiar riff into a series of jazzy interpretations. It is pathetic when you simply play the same notes over and over again.

Also annoying was when Sting tried to get the crowd to all clap in unison. There were eighty thousand people there. The main stage is massive. A little googling on the speed of sound will tell you this shit just won’t work in that venue. Go back to your VH1 easy listening crap and get off the stage.

If this had been their first show since breaking up, that would have been one thing. This looks to have been the 11th date on their tour. No excuses for this. These guys may have been an incredible live act in 1979. Thirty years later they are not. Save your money if you’re planning on shelling out $200 for tickets.

(I probably wouldn’t follow that advice, myself. I would have to take the opportunity to see them.)

Fortunately, I was able to hear them very well from the campsite (and actually, they weren’t bad from there), where I spent a couple of hours resting up for the midnight shows.

The Flaming Lips
Another band I knew bupkus about until I walked into their show. They’re known for one catchy hit in 1993, She Don’t Use Jelly, and that’s all I knew of them.

Musically, the show was not always very accessible and sometimes droned on too long. However, they put on an incredible show to go along with the music. Their stage includes a UFO into which the band ascended to end the show. The show also apparently started (I missed it) with the lead singer being passed around the crowd in a giant gerbil ball. They also passed out thousands of laser pointers and later had the crowd light up a giant balloon with them, which was pretty freaking cool. I’ll definitely check these guys out again if I can.

Wilco
Just fucking great musicians. They showed how a band can play a big venue well (unlike The Police). They simply got up and played their asses of, competently. Just really a very good performance.

The White Stripes
A very popular show on the last night, on the second largest stage. The place was packed, and they played a good show. Meg White is an adequate drummer… perfectly appropriate for the sparse, simple, rock they play. Jack White is a great guitar player. No one was up there but those two, and they did a great job making enough noise.

Photos / Video
As for media I gathered, here is a very small slice of some of the Bonnaroo scene. Unfortunately, I ventured out armed with the camera only during the day and only for short jaunts, so the pure wonderful weirdness and orgy of music is hardly captured herein.

The photo album of my snapshots is here:

This is a hastily-edited cut of some shots on the way there, the campsite, and inside:

And this is a clip of a grifter running the shell game. I’m pretty sure I saw this same guy back in 2005 as well. Notice the earpiece he’s wearing; I’m sure he had lookouts around keeping an eye out for the man.

Hey, if you’re one of the folks I met down there, send me an email (and/or leave a comment!)

A little video I edited of our footage in Big Sky last week.

Since the inaugural trip in 1999 for Brett’s bachelor party, we’ve been going to the Flambeau River every year.

Some years it rains, some years people break toes. Always too much pork is on the menu. Almost always it is cooked.

There often are fashion mistakes made in the name of pelvic safety.

And here is the video I edited together from this year’s footage. If you want the high-quality version, right-click here and save.

We went down to visit Susanna’s father and girlfriend this weekend (pictures here). This is Maya, one of her dogs and one of the sweetest little pooches you’re likely to meet (as puppeteered by her brother).

Click the picture to play the movie.

Susanna and I are definitely going to be in Carmignano (near Florence, in Tuscany) for a week, at this villa.

We definitely plan to spend some extra time in Italy before we get to the villa, and rent a motorcycle.

We just spent the weekend mapping out possibilities, and here’s our current itinerary. There are some long days on the bike, and we need to make sure these are reasonable choices. We’re willing to have some long days on the bike, especially when bookended with light days. Plus, we will have a week in Tuscany with no riding (unless we want to). Going to be quite a whirlwhind when we’re not at the villa, though.

We pick up the bike in Milan, and then head north, stay a night in Varenna on Lake Como. We head north through the mountains to Glorenza (Glurns). From there to Castelotto for a couple of nights. From there we take the mountain road down into Venice (one of our long days).

That is our first leg, and here’s the map: Milan to Venice.

After three nights in Venice, we head to Rome, with one stop on the way (two long days both) in Assisi: Venice to Rome.

Then we take the slow route back along the coast towards Tuscany, with a stop in Grosetto (we know nothing yet about this place other than it’s next the Parco Naturale dell Maremma.

From there, we head up to our villa near Florence, spend a week, then head to Milan and home.

Here’s the overview map with directions plotted: Milan to Milan.

Are we crazy?