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 Hi, I’m Tim, but most people just call me Smitty. My girlfriend Jessica and I went to Chicago to visit her parents towards the end of April. We left Nashville a day early though to give us a chance to run around and play in Chi-town. Below is a few things we checked out:
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 Okracoke Island |
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 A hotel rating of 3 stars conjures up images of more comfort that your
average run - of - the - mill hotel. You would probably expect a king
sized bed, enough space to not need to stack your luggage, and staff
that is competent and english speaking. You probably don't expect firm
mattresses with down pillow tops, a half dozen pillows of various
density (including down), a room the size of your average living room,
or those cool curved shower rods that give you elbow room while
lathering up your locks. |
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Dives. The word itself conjures many different images. Greg Louganis knocking his head on the diving board at the 1984 Olympics. Jacque Cousteau diving down in his little submarine looking for new sea creatures. That biker bar on route 6. But for me dive means "i'm willing to take a chance on this place because chances are they care more about the food than aesthetics." |
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“You want massage?” the smiling lady with the husky hands asked me for the fifth time that day on the beach. I was about to kindly say no again, as I had said previously to the pineapple seller, sarong peddler, and bead hawker, when I suddenly realized how nuts this was. My fear of staggering off the beach, dripping in sarongs and pineapple juice, while the hawkers hi-fived each other, wasn’t proving rational. The sun was setting over the water, the price was certainly right (maybe $2), and after all I was on a beach in Thailand.  |
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