G-g-g-ghosts?!!!

At least from my own experience, trying to get a standby seat on a direct flight from Newark to Los Angeles is a near impossibility. Out of the previous five times I have been in New Jersey visiting Nicole, I have ended up in the jumpseat five times. . . including one time where I had previously been awarded an economy-plus seat only to have the plane grounded for maintenance just after it pushed from the gate. Anyway, Nicole found herself in New Jersey once again, and knew that I was going to be overnight in San Antonio, Texas. She felt her odds were good if she met me there and then flew with me back to LAX the next day.

The hotel we stay in is well-located on the San Antonio riverwalk, but is apparently haunted. Now, most of the time, such a claim wouldn't faze me, and I have stayed at this hotel multiple times without giving it much thought.

The hotel is over 100 years old and has changed hands a few times, and is now the Sheraton Gunter Hotel. San Antonio itself has a lot of history, so I feel like there is a lot of, "Ah, this place is old, therefore it's haunted!" There are stories of ghosts of Alamo fighters, the spirits of 1920s flappers, and just about everything in between. I consider myself to have a healthy dose of skepticism about such stories, but then I made the mistake of reading the background of why people believe the Gunter is haunted.

Back in the 1960s, some guy checked in to the hotel, brought in a woman of unknown profession, and then murdered her with a knife, butchered her, and tried to dispose of the body by flushing it down the toilet and down the drain of the bathtub. It was the bloodiest, most gruesome murder San Antonio had ever seen. Since then, guests and staff alike have reported seeing a woman roaming the halls and other strange happenings.

This all took place in room 636, and I recounted this story to Nicole before she arrived so that she could mentally prepare herself for all kinds of paranormal activities. Room 636 was her first destination upon arrival at the hotel. She reported back that she saw, felt, or heard nothing. Phew. I don't need any ghosts following me back to my room. Nobody has time for that. I can't sleep with someone watching me.

Miraculously we made it through the night and the only thing that disturbed my sleep was a very noisy air-conditioning unit that kept going on and off. Ghosts? º_º

When we woke up, we sought out some breakfast. It must be the end of tourist season because the riverwalk was absolutely desolate. Ghosts? We ended up eating breakfast at La Panaderia, and spent a few minutes looking at the numerous selections of fancy baked goods.

I settled on a cheesecake-flavored pastry as well as this key-lime cruffin. What is a cruffin you ask? Why it is a hybrid croissant-muffin. The worker behind the counter described it as "stupidly good." I feel like that is a fairly accurate assessment. It is an item that shouldn't even exist, yet it was delightful.

Afterward, we strolled along the river, and although the central area of the riverwalk was quite empty itself, we wandered away from the restaurants and bars to find a calmer, quieter portion to walk along. It was very relaxing and a nice change of pace from the times I have been here and frustratingly wondered how many people get pushed into the river every day.

After reversing our course on the opposite side of the river, we walked up to the Alamo to find some shade in the courtyard under a pecan tree. Some birds had decided that they also liked the pecan tree and kept pecking at the branches. Every few seconds, a nut would come crashing down nearby. We felt it was only a matter of time before one hit us on the head, yet miraculously it never happened. Ghosts?

Nicole bought a souvenir pin in the shape of a bottle of BBQ sauce from the Alamo gift shop, then we walked back to the haunted Gunter Hotel.

All in all, I think we made it out of there without being followed, but who can know for sure?

When Nicole tried to check in for her flight online, it said there was no record of the booking or that perhaps she had booked a paper ticket. Paper tickets? What is this 1992? Strange happenings, indeed.

Inside the Bo-Zone

As a result of my new-found ability to bid for schedules I want AND actually get what I ask for, I have not been doing a lot of multi-day trips, and thus no overnights. I have not had an overnight in months. Months, I tell you! Furthermore, any days off have been taken up with going to weddings, baby showers, bridal showers, dental appointments, etc. These would have been totes lame to blog about. Nevertheless, I have returned with an overnight in Belgrade . . . Montana! You see, I have a very early report time tomorrow, so we are just a short distance from the airport and rather than actually being in the much better-known Bozeman, we are in Belgrade. It is not exactly central to . . . anything.

This did not stop me from exploring Belgrade. I went for a walk through what I thought would be downtown Belgrade. I saw a street called "Main," and reckoned this would be real cute and have saloons and gambling halls and such. It did not. In fact, it was primarily grain elevators and warehouses. There were no sidewalks. I was the only pedestrian.

On Main Street, there was a place called the Madison River Brewing Company. It was actually kind of hidden among the other warehouses, but my keen vision aided me in my quest. I sampled two of their beers and I was able to enter the establishment without any records scratching and curious gazes. That being said, I was the only patron who was not part of the illustrious "Mug Club," where one has a permanent mug hanging on the wall. In spite of this, the service was friendly and my bill for two beers was a mere $7. Mmmmm Montana.

It is my hope that my photos have accurately captured the spirit of Belgrade. As this is Big Sky country, I really tried to showcase this fact. Can you see it? It is as big as they say. After the brewery, I made a stop for dinner at McDonalds and made my way past the graveyard of old farm vehicles and back to the Holiday Inn Express.













Later this month, I will have another overnight in San Antonio, but until then you will have to satisfy your cravings for Flyin' Brian with these pictures of beautiful Belgrade, Montana. And the worst part is that, despite being at a Holiday Inn Express, we will be leaving over an hour before they start serving breakfast. No cinnamon rolls! Sad face. 

Bricole Take On Guanajuato

 After months of tired and outlandish excuses like, "I have to work...," Nicole finally gave in and joined me on a red-eye flight to Léon, Mexico.  Nicole, incidentally has been to some pretty interesting places around the globe ranging from Sri Lanka to Albania and Bosnia. Until last week, she had not been to Canada. And until this weekend, she had not been to Mexico. How about those apples? . . . or should I say manzanas.

After catching a few winks, we went into town and walked through the historical center of Guanajuato. Nicole snapped this wide-angle shot of the iconic church, which I believe goes by the official name of "Big yellow church" which is far easier than the unofficial name of "the basilica Colegiata de Nuestra Señora de Guanajuato." We continued our stroll through the streets and went to the Mercado Hidalgo to do a bit of shopping for some kind of memorabilia.

Nicole ended up buying a hand-made spoon rest and drip catcher thingy. Do they have an actual name? You know what I'm talking about, yes? We made our way out of the market and had some drinks in a nearby plaza where musicians kept coming to us like magnets.

A stray dog was also drawn to us, but soon clashed with the musician, whom the dog did not find to be terribly appealing to his ears. We slowly made our way to catch a taxi to the hotel. We then walked down to the tried and true BrasiTacos, which Nicole is standing in front of here. I shall quote her when she said, "You made it seem like much more of a hole in the wall." Unbeknownst to her, Nicole has changed a lot these last few years. Brasitacos, I believe, is the definition of a hole in the wall, seeing as though it is in fact missing a wall and its roof is corrugated metal. Nevertheless it has reliably good and safe food (*cough* Applebee's *cough*) and Nicole had a pair of chorizo tacos for dinner. After this, we relaxed at the hotel by watching American films poorly dubbed into spanish. We tried to go to bed around 9pm local time despite members of a school group running through the halls, yelling, and knocking on doors.




At approximately 1am, the fire alarm went off. Immediately assuming it was a fake, Nicole and I ignored it, though were now very much awake and our hearts were beating quite rapidly. Then it went off a second time. And a few minutes later, a third time. Begrudgingly we got dressed and walked into the hallway where somehow I became the leader of about 40 Mexican schoolchildren who appeared confused. After going down the fire escape and through the parking garage, we ascertained that this was in fact a disorganized mess and while everyone crowded in the lobby looking confused, Nicole and I went back upstairs to bed.

From its famous overlook at Pipila to shopping at the mercado to tacos and a fire alarm, I do believe Nicole had the full Guanajuato experience and I hope she had fun.

Brian's Day Out in Marfil

Where is Marfil you ask? Is that some new overnight? Well, I've been at this location probably 20 times in the last two months alone. Marfil is the technical location of the crew hotel for the Guanajuato overnight. The whole setup can be confusing because the airport is labeled as "Leon" on the departure boards, while the airport is actually in a city called Silao, and the hotel is in Marfil despite its own description as being in Guanajuato. Muy complicado. Anyway, I feel like I have done pretty much every museum in the city of Guanajuato, so I couldn't motivate myself to get in a cab again.

I elected to stay in Marfil, which unlike Guanajuato is not a UNESCO heritage site, but is home to various car dealerships, convenience stores, and an Applebee's (which I have been repeatedly warned to never eat at). Quite often my lunch consists of some packaged carbs purchased at the Oxxo mini mart.

After my "lunch," I decided to walk around the neighborhood a little bit, just to get my legs moving and hopefully encourage my body to be tired enough to fall asleep early enough to prepare myself for another early morning flight tomorrow. While the buildings in Marfil do not possess the same kind of colorful architecture as its neighbor, it is not completely without its charms. I eventually stopped at a small park outside a church to sit for a spell before heading back to the Holiday Inn Express.

It was a mostly safe walk except for a tunnel I had to walk through. The sidewalk did continue inside the tunnel with ample room, but I was more concerned about the ventilation as I did not see any fans to move the air around. Luckily it was a short tunnel and I was soon paralleling the Carrera/highway by the hotel once again.

For dinner I stuck with the flight crew staple of tacos just down the street. It is a very unassuming place. The kind of place your mother would frown upon, but it is quite safe.

The kitchen is within full view and despite having just three walls and a tin roof, it is kept quite clean. I do not know anyone on a flight crew who has gotten sick from eating food in Mexico, unless it was Applebee's.

The captain and I were offered meals during the red-eye last night and immediately declined. Airline food can be a gamble sometimes, and I speak from firsthand experience. I was taken out by a beef wrap a few months back. As the captain later stated, "I feel a lot safer eating street food in Mexico than the salmon in the first-class meals."

Words to live by.

A Relaxing Workday

After a stressful week during which Nicole and I had to figure out how we were going to move out of our current residence due to some pretty intense fumigation of the entire complex. With that and wedding planning stress building up, I had a trip with a long layover in Palm Springs and found it a perfect time to get away from it all and just enjoy the 90 degrees and sun while the rest of the country gets snow dumped on it.


Nicole accompanied me for this trip and after arriving late last night, we got breakfast at Sherman's Deli across the street for some omelettes. After that we walked around the downtown area for a bit, checked out a couple of the stores, and then walked into the Palm Springs Museum of Art, which was simultaneously marked "free" and also "$12." We ignored the second sign. We didn't spend much time in it, but checked out the Andy Warhol section. Nicole has always been partial to Campbell's Soup.

From there we checked out the rest of town, which seemed to consist of elderly folk and young kids roaming around aimlessly. Nicole stumbled across a statue of her idol, Lucy Ricardo. Lucy was also the namesake of Nicole's childhood guinea pig.

After returning to the hotel, we sat out by the pool for a while and came to the conclusion that nobody is in school today. There were a lot of kids for a Tuesday. Evidently spring break is still happening.









After this very taxing day of sitting in the sun, I had to go to work. Somewhat surprisingly, the most direct way to go from Palm Springs to Los Angeles in the evening is through San Francisco. Nicole narrowly got on the plane. I assume we can thank some geriatrics who were struggling to get their rascal through security and missed the flight. Nicole got the last seat on the plane.

Then in SFO, we had a three hour layover to do some more sitting. While we were eating a dinner from Klein's Deli, we spied Chris Christie, former governor of New Jersey, ordering a pizza next door. He looked like a sad shadow of his former self. The imagery of a large man in a fleece ordering a pizza in Terminal 3 is disheartening enough, but knowing that he was once one of the most powerful governors in the country is sad. I actually felt bad for him. But we musn't let former NJ governors bring us down. Nicole and I had a fine trip to a city that is a mere 2 (maybe 4?) huor drive from LA.

BJX From New Eyes

Well here I am again in good old Guanajuato. For the first time since I've been coming down here, a few crewmembers expressed interest in going into town. If I must be honest, I kind of prefer to fly solo around here because I have a bit of a routine when I go into town, but I was open to see how other folks did things.

We hopped in a cab and took it to the Pipila, the monument overlooking the city center. This saved everyone the trek up the steps, but it seemed like cheating.

From the Pipila, we walked down into town and into the University of Guanajuato. It would not have been a normal stop in my itinerary, but I suppose it's good to see new things.

The captain showed us a few places he liked to eat. For the most part, I made a note to not return to these establishments. They were overly touristy and/or only served pizza. In the captain's defense, he eats vegan, so his dietary restrictions don't do him any favors in a place like Mexico.

After walking into a few churches and mulling about, we ate at a restaurant in one of the secluded squares away from the chaos of the main pedestrian zone.

The flight attendant and captain were both somewhat concerned with what to order. Both were vegan and both were nervous about the water, as they discussed how one shouldn't order a salad. Mexico dining 101 really. About 5 minutes after this conversation took place, they each ordered a plate of fruit and a smoothie.  I sat there befuddled. The human mind is a curious thing.

I'm sure they'll be fine, but I just found the progression from, "I brush my teeth with bottled water!" to "I'll have the mango smoothie!" to be a bit nonsensical, but maybe I'm missing something. The streets were very crowded in the main pedestrian zone, and it really wasn't fun. With the easter holidays looming and a flower festival going on, the timing wasn't ideal. I don't like being sandwiched between a lot of people. I've also decided I prefer exploring Guanajuato by myself. This is nothing against my fellow crew mates, who were very friendly and pleasant, but I've clearly become accustomed to doing things my way.

If I had come across the crowds above and I was by myself, I would have hailed a taxi and left. It was torturous being in the crowds and knowing I didn't have that option without seeming antisocial. I persisted.

After what seemed like hours...because it was, we took a taxi home. I noticed that for both directions, the cab fare was 10 pesos more than what I have paid in the past. Were my cab-sharing gringos the cause for this price hike? We will find out next time I go into town.

Something else we will all find out tomorrow . . . how did that mango smoothie go down?

San Antonio for "Spring Break"

I'm a few days late in posting this, but I am ... what's the word . . . ah yes, lazy. Anyway, I once again had an overnight in San Antonio for the first time in a while. Unlike my previous visit in December, it was not cold and rainy. In fact, it was quite pleasant with temperatures in the 80s.

As a crew, we went out for food and beverage. It was nice to be able to sit outside and relax a bit. This was in stark contrast to my previous visit where I was attempting to blow warm air onto my hands to keep them from freezing.

Now the unfortunate downside to this improvement of weather, further exacerbated by the time of year which coincides with many a spring break, there were a lot of people. This made for a lot of slow walking behind people who were lost/drunk/annoying/choosing to walk 6 abreast/oblivious.

I was devilishly thinking to myself about how easy it would be to start pushing people into the river. How many people fall in during a day? I think 17.

One of my greatest pet peeves in life is slow walkers. It's right up there with people who stand real close to me in a line, and people who take longer than 15 seconds to drive away from a parking spot after getting into their car. Maybe I'm not good with people.

When the crew all returned to their rooms, I ventured out for what I hoped would be a relaxing stroll around the river walk. It was still wall-to-wall (or river to restaurant) people. I eventually had to go up some steps and walk on surface streets because the slow walkers and abrupt stoppers were driving me bats (which were also getting in my way, particularly below bridges.)

It's kind of a catch-22 for someone like myself. When the weather's good, the people come out and ruin the atmosphere. As a result, Nicole and I have been forced to travel in off seasons. London in February. Peru in the rainy season. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe San Antonio on a rainy December's day was more photogenic and enjoyable.

Las Momias!

Well here I am, back in Guanajuato, a UNESCO world heritage site, and home of the Museo de las Momias (the mummy museum). I had tried to go a few months back, but it was a Saturday and the lines were out of control just to buy tickets. As today is a Tuesday, I had better luck and was able to see this unique place. I went in not knowing much about the mummies of Guanajuato, so it was a bit of a surprise to discover that this is all a relatively recent process. Evidently, you cannot be interred forever unless family members continue to pay a tax.

 So to make space for new bodies, those that went unclaimed or hadn't paid the tax ended up in a storage building next to a cemetery, which is now the museum. As most bodies in this town were kept in dry, air-tight crypts, the decay was slow and thus mummified these corpses. How this all ended up being a museum is the more intriguing part of the story. And it really just seems to tie in more to the fact that Mexican culture is far more embracing of death as a normal cycle of life than its northern neighbors. The macabre displays are treated with more fascination and reverence than horror.

I have been to many museums showcasing mummies from ancient egyptian times or viewed displays of people who were preserved in the bogs of england, or in lava cavities in Pompeii. For some reason, those exhibits interested me and I did not have a feeling of unease like I did here in Guanajuato. For the historical exhibits I mentioned, there was a feeling that the displays contributed to greater scientific or historical understanding. In Guanajuato, I was viewing bodies whose families simply didn't pay a tax. These are bodies from the 19th and 20th centuries, not ancient periods of time.

The clothes were still visible on many of the bodies. Some were just babies, dressed up as saints because it was believed it would make for easier passage into heaven.

It was absolutely bizarre to see these kinds of things. Based upon the timeline, the child's parents could hypothetically still be alive. Should we go pay a visit to the cemetery to see little Pedro? Oh that's right, he's not there anymore. Do you have 60 pesos, so we can pay him a visit in the museum?

Another section showed the body of a woman lying down with her hands up over her face. It was believed she had been unintentionally buried alive due to a rare medical condition that made her heart appear to stop. Based on the movement of the arms, it was deduced that she was not actually dead, but unfortunately now finds herself in a museum . . . very much dead.

It was all . . .  interesting to say the least. The museum ended with a photo op with empty coffins and one with a mummy in it (labeled a replica, but it would not have shocked me if it wasn't). After the photo op was a gift shop featuring skeleton t-shirts, mummy dolls to hang on your rear-view mirror, and other curiosities.

It was different than most museums I have been to in recent memory. I learned more about Mexican culture than I did about the mummies themselves. The other visitors gazed closely at the mummies with a respect and fascination whereas I was more bewildered by the whole thing. I have much to learn about the rest of the world.

Desert Snow Birds

 It was an unusual flight to be on - Orlando to Phoenix considering neither place is our home, but it was a bit of a last minute decision to help Nicole with a bit of research for a script she is working on. On this flight, Olympian Michael Phelps was riding in first class. Nicole and I were in the last row, so we never saw him again as it took about 30 minutes to deplane. Our time in Phoenix was brief as we immediately rented a car and began driving south toward Tucson.

Nicole is working on a script regarding missileers, the crews who are in charge of America's nuclear weapons, and Tucson is the only remaining Titan II missile site in existence (albeit deactivated per nuclear treaties from the 80s). As we drove around the Tucson area and checked into our hotel, got dinner etc, we discovered that we were about 30-50 years younger than everyone we encountered. Traffic moved . . . slowly down the roads. Most of the luggage on the airport conveyor belt consisted of golf clubs. The Q-tips were in down, and in large numbers.

This age gap did not change when we got to the missile site itself. There were 25 people on the tour, and all but 3 (including us) were over the age of 65. Nevertheless, they were active enough to be capable of walking down the many steps to reach the base of the missile and the missile control room. It was good to get some insight into the inner workings of a missile site that contained the most powerful warhead in U.S. history. Apparently the explosive power would have been 650x that of the atomic bombs dropped over Japan. So that's some food for thought considering the U.S. still has 450 land-based missiles alone. It is a bit overkill, but what do I know. Anyway, on our way back to the city from the missile site, we stopped at the San Xavier del Bac Mission.

There we encountered more Q-tips, but enjoyed the sunshine and deep blue skies that flanked the mission. After that we spent a brief amount of time in downtown Tucson for some tacos and tortas and headed back to the Snowbird Inn to relax for the rest of the evening.

All in all, it was a relaxing time in Tucson despite the old folks oggling us and making us feel a bit out of place. Come March, I presume things will normalize.

Wichita is Closed

For the first time since New Years Day of 2016, I found myself overnighting in Wichita, Kansas. On that previous visit, Nicole and I braved 20 degree temps as we remarked on how deserted downtown Wichita was. We assumed this was due to it being New Years Day. Flash forward two years and little has changed...

Since I had a pretty long layover, I looked into museums or other attractions to see. It's then that I discovered everything's closed on Sunday. Nevertheless, I put on my jacket and hat and decided to go for a walk.

As I walked along the riverwalk, the only living creatures I encountered were geese who were too stupid to migrate. They had left a good amount of their poop on the trail to remind me who owned this part of town.

With the exception of a homeless man propped up against a veterans memorial, I saw zero people.

I approached an area with a bridge and a cascading fall that led up to a statue of sorts. I thought to myself, "Well that's at least interesting. Let me check it out..."

 No such luck. The pedestrian bridge was somehow also closed. Sunday is real serious business in Wichita. I gave up. From there I went into downtown Wichita and old town. It was noon now and I thought it best to try and find a place to eat. To date the only restaurant I have eaten at in Wichita is the restaurant attached to the hotel.

The creepy statues were my only company on downtown's streets. As I have previously speculated, it's to give downtown the illusion of being active and vibrant. I'm not sure if this town is a has-been or a never-was. Perhaps they are yearning to make America great again, like when cows roamed the streets and stores were open. But without exaggeration, I saw one place open during my entire walk. The rest were for lease or simply closed.

I found a Quizno's nearby on my map, so I walked toward it only to find that it too was closed. Things weren't looking good. When I returned to the hotel, I did a search to see what was available in the Wichita airport terminal to eat. The only thing that seemed quick and easy was a Chick-Fil-A. It's like a sick joke. I could starve to death here! At this rate, I'll have to wait until I get to Denver to eat. Pray for me. There's a church around the corner, and it's the only thing open today.