WHS 50 The Notebook

Reds_Cheerleaders_1.jpgTHE NOTEBOOK
Ohio is written, all I, II, and III of it. Some stuff just didn”t fit, but was too precious to ignore. Here it is.

The Reds have Cheerleaders! There are three and they dance on top of the dugout between innings. I don”t recall any organized cheering. Rah Rah Sis Boom Bah, Go Reds!


I saw one Prius in Ohio. Of course there are more, but it is obvious that trucks (including SUVs and the giant “minivans”) outnumber cars by at least two to one.

How come it is that in the Chicago O”Hare Airport my plane unloads at gate C 2 and my SF flight is at gate C 29 at the exact opposite end of the C concourse?

How come it is that in any airport my gate is at the very end of the concourse, coming or going?

How come it is that in the Chicago O”Hare Airport at the Starbucks a small coffee costs $1.75 and a small water costs $2.75?


that’s Kentucky across the River

My first day in Columbus, I thought I might get a pint of Scotch or Bourbon for my hotel room. After lunch at the White Castle in Short North, I did a spin up and down High Street to find a Corner Store. In San Francisco a Corner Store exists on nearly every block of a commercial area such as Short North and is usually, but not always on the corner of a block. A Corner Store sells wine, liquor, tobacco products, sundries and canned goods and sometimes fruit or flowers; a convenience store. No such thing. Then I remembered, Ohio has State Liquor Stores. I can”t believe they still have those. I stopped at Kroger’s for some V8 Juice and asked the checkout lady where I could buy a bottle of Scotch. She gave me very explicit directions: Go on High to 5th Street and turn right… no left at the light. Go three lights and it’s right there. I did that to find myself in an industrial wasteland approaching a huge highway interchange. So I tried the other side of High Street… three lights and I was in Victorian Village. No sign of any store. It was not to be. So I went to my hotel in Dublin.

After the “dry” Pizza Party, I had a real drink in the hotel bar. I asked the bartender where to get a pint of Scotch. He gave me explicit directions to a place on the other side of the river, after Old Dublin—not that far—and drew me a map. The next day, after lunch in German Village, I followed those directions and found the ABC store. Closed. Not just closed on Saturday afternoon. Closed. It was not to be.



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