I'm packed. I'm showered. My hair has been done up and I would even argue that I'm well rested. In twenty minutes I'm about to leave to pick up the twins and we're going to start our road trip. God help us all.
We've finally made it to St. Louis. The drive here was not brutal. We started the morning out strong. 20 minutes later then expected. Pumped gas. Listened and sang to a string of hit CD's ranging from Taylor Swift's 1989 to Fall Out Boy's American Beauty/American Pyscho. I'd say the drive up went well. The Mayor spouted declarations of heat exhaustion in the backseat. A few friendly games were played. All of which I lost.
Our first stop in St. Louis was at war hero and president Ulysses S. Grant's Missouri home. That although named White Haven was in fact painted green with an even darker green finish. I've never felt much one way or another about my favorite Gilded Age presdent.
In other news. We checked into our hotel to find out that protests are taking place Downtown.
The protests happening downtown altered are plans. Originally our plan had to been to walk around downtown, find a good place to eat, see the arch, spend too much money going to the top. The usual day for tourists new to St. Louis. And, then a state of emergency for St. Louis was issued.
Are well timed trip had supposed to have been to Atlanta to visit. Thunder had just moved there with her fiancee (!). The twins mother was worried about race tensions.
We had to calmly remind her that she had wanted us to change our trip to St. Louis. My parents were oblivious.
In true upper middle class fashion we escaped to a suburban retreat and obliviously drank our blackberry caramel frappuccino's while Natalia Kill's crooned over the loudspeaker at the Coffee Cartel that never closes.
The area we were in is called the Central West End. The name just screams luxury. We confined ourselves to the Maryland Plaza where most of the shopping was located. It was boutique shopping. It was decadence.
There was not a single thing we could afford. Our first dalliance was at the Lululemon Athletica. Based out of Canada with a logo eerily reminscent to that of Coco Peru's it offered sixty eight dollar tennis skirts and a plain striped shirt you could buy for $20 at Target for a marked up $54. It was the bargain.
This area is better then my entire existence. I can't express how necessary it was to price check every restaurant before we even considered stopping in it.
AG was the most interesting boutique. The woman behind it is a contributing editor of Vogue. Adriano Goldschmeid. She's been a host on some show on MTV or VH1 and now she's decided to dip her hand into the world of high end fashion. No, I don't want to spend ninety dollars on a beanie. Her style could be described smart and polished, but I think the words “boring” and “predictable” are more applicable. After this I truly expected to finding a Gucci flagship store next door.
The waitress was a tatted LeAnn Rimes and one of her fellow waiters defined bro. He had twenty dollar knee high Nike socks. It was a look. The food was amazing. Our waitress completely sweet. I got the grilled cheese caprese and the twins finished two burgers with potato buns. My entire existence led up to eating this meal.
By this point it was almost dark (gasp) and this low rent Taylor Swift drove back to the our every stylish America's Best Value Inn.
We took an hour break from human interaction with another. Followed it up with a bag of Cheez-It's two rounds of Zero. Miss Sara Bellum won the first round, me the second. Then, we played Blokus and I won. Fumbling through Tinder we casually had Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen on. I realized I was Lindsay Lohan and the twins were her best friend. Miss Sara Bellum flirted with a boy with tattoos. He was a mix between Pearl and Violet Chachki and he had a certain porn star quality about him.
That's what love is built on.
I've been asleep for less then three hours and I've never been more awake in my life. I'm now locked in the bathroom updating my social media. From what I can tell the twins aren't sleeping that much better either.
The twins groggily ignored their alarms at 8:30. I hadn't slept much better after crawling back into bed at 4:00 in the morning. We showered. Put on our scandalous bathing suits and enjoyed our first continental breakfast at America's Best Value Inn.
The waffle batter was empty. The coffee was proclaimed to be a St. Louis tradition and I had no idea how to work the toaster. Miss Sara Bellum threw a hot chocolate packet in her coffee. Another guest came in and did some deep breathing exercises. I updated my social media. It was productive. A wonderful morning wake up call.
I have taken the twins virginity.
After breakfast we drove up to Six Flags over St. Louis, which isn't even in the same county. It was a pleasant drive. The line to get in was extensive. It's the last week of school before the native St. Louis children are going back to school. It was a joy.
This is one of the few times you will ever see a picture of me with my hair a mess. Much like Gotye's heart. One of the draws behind Atlanta was not only visiting Thunder, but also the water park there. The twins were the students in the Lizzie McGuire Movie who took a 24 hour bus trip to a water park instead of the eternal city of Rome.
On this proud day I took their roller coaster virginity. They had never been before. We took them on the wooden coaster American Thunder. They have both vowed to never ride another roller coaster in their life. Although, the Mayor did make it onto the Pandemonium for me. I hate doing anything alone.
Most of our day was spent in the water park. Disappointingly enough there was not a single attractive male. There was one exception of the Under Armour hugging twenty year old. He was gorgeous, although it's always so hard to tell when people have on sunglasses. Gorgeous women abounded. Even without our glasses on we could tell.
Six Flags doesn't disappoint. I hate to admit that there was a special place in my heart for the Lazy River. I could have spent all day there. Just not eight dollars for a tube rental. It was a little steep.
It was at the end of the day I raced onto two roller coasters. The before mentioned Mine Train and The Boss. Little did I know that The Boss is one of the fastest rides there and also the longest at three minutes and ten seconds long. The twins most certainly could not have handled it.
Oddly enough one of the attendants was this sun kissed blonde. I was dressed conservative for me. At this point I had on board shorts over my swimsuit. And, he stretched out his hand. Thanks to the preparation of my heterosexual coworker I was able to respond appropriately. I fist bumped him.
The stop at our hotel enabled me to fix my hair before we went out for dinner. We went to this restaurant called Rooster. It was modern. We drank out of mason glasses, presumably to help the upper middle class relate to the poor. Our table was one solid connected unit of table. It screamed professionally designed and more importantly it was fabulous.
Apparently all male waiters in St. Louis are muscular. Ours was very pleasant. He suggested to the twins that they should ride Mr. Freeze at Six Flags. This ride goes upside down, shoots you backward. It was not filed under anything they could do. They struggled with the ferris wheel.
In order to convince the staff that we never stop eating. We came home with a box of Insomnia Cookies. Tragically they don't deliver where our hotel is located. I've already convinced the hotel staff we're crazy by yelling at Hilary Duff to “slay” and “be a queen” when she was on The View in the lobby.
Insomnia Cookies are an institution. Fresh baked cookies. Warm. Moist. Orgasmic. A little revolting if you have Miss Sara Bellum express her love for them. They might be perfection. Jesus might make them on the midnight shift. My entire view of the world has changed, because of the food in St. Louis.