Travellers From Multiple States Converge On The Very Heart Of Darkness

Minnesotans from as far away as Houston, Boston, Minnesota, and Manhattan converged on Manhattan last week for a journey into the Heart of Darkness: the Bronx, or more specifically the new Yankee Stadium.

Our Colonel Kurtzes were not rogue military officers, however, but rather A-rod, who loves steroids, and Jeter, who may or may not be a peter eater. And in this version it was the colonels who hacked us to death with their machete bats vicariously through our hometown nine. But I'm getting ahead of the story a bit. The Boston delegation of Liz and myself started our trip through the jungles of western Massachusetts via the river of the Mass turnpike, where we passed the highest point (1,724 feet) on I-90 until South Dakota en route to Schenectady, NY. It was also Liz's birthday. We went there to attend Liz's cousin Lauren's senior photography exhibit at Union College. Her work has been described as "gritty" and "in black and white" and "good." Her pics should be up here soon if you want to check them out.

I don't know if we were told any other tales of old Schenectady, although we found out that the Erie Canal used to run through it, and also that the Erie Canal had been moved. The next day we drove into the Finger Lakes region, so named due to giving someone the finger having been invented there. Or because they're long and narrow. Whatever. There are seven of them so that explanation doesn't make sense unless you're a super-Mennonite. The important thing is they make good wine there, especially Riesling since the climate is a lot like Germany's. We headed south along lake Seneca, stopping at several wineries recommended by Liz's uncle Dick, Riesling connoisseur and frequent visitor to the region. It was pretty country and we left with a trunkfull of tasty white.

The next leg of our journey involved an early morning drive to a commuter rail station about an hour outside of NYC. We took a train to Harlem, where we met Drew at Minnesota's own Missy and filthy Canadian Rob's deluxe apartment. NY governor David Paterson lives in their building, but apparently he has a hard time seeing the benefits of living there. We dropped off our bags, donned our Twins gear, and took the subway to the ballpark. The stadium itself was universally panned. It had zero character save for the picket fence arches or whatever they're called that were also present at the old park. It was a fitting venue for the best and most soulless team money can buy to play their home games (upon further thought I believe that only A-rod, Teixeira (a two-time violator of the I before E rule), Sabbathia, and Burnett fit the bought player stereotype, but I'm not one to let facts get in the way of some good Yankee bashing). Unfortunately, the stadium's lacklustitude was exceeded only by the level of play exhibited by the Twins, who failed to put together anything in the way of offense. It was hat day, so at least I did my share to bleed the beast.

After the game, we rendezvoused with the remaining members of our expedition party, Ross and Gina, who, having seen A-rod's grand slam sink the Twins the previous night, had spent the day visiting museums while we swilled 12$ beers. We then went on a whirlwind walking/eating/train riding/buzz management tour of NYC, which culminated in a late night all-access VIP trip up the Empire State Building made possible by the executive card Missy obtained while doing real estate business with the ESB folks. I believe she's trying to sell all or part of the landmark, but considering today's economy and the spate of giant gorilla attacks of late I see it sitting on the market for awhile. Anyways, the views were nice.

The next day we walked around the city some more, during which time Lady Liberty was viewed, Ground Zero was somberly noted, Times Square was pointed at, Central Park was partially walked through, Anthony Bourdain's restaurant Las Halles was sat in, and Glee's Jane Lynch was walked past but unfortunately not high-fived. After that we loaded up Drew and drove back to Boston for the 3rd and final leg of the journey. Once on our home turf, we golfed, visited Cheers and Old Ironsides, made Drew eat oysters, and witnessed another sad Twins loss to the slightly less evil Red Sox. Not knowing when to quit, Liz and I completed the trifecta of Twins suckage last night. On the bright side, the first Twins victory we witness live this season will have to be on our first visit to target Field.