We were sitting in the St. Louis airport about ready to pay too much for some unfortunate airport food when we decided to do something different and check out American Airlines' Admirals Club.
Honestly the food and drink situation inside was just adequate, not amazing. There were some light snacks and soup available. I was especially bummed about the bar. It was fully stocked with top shelf stuff but that was all extra. Only a few beers, wines, and well drinks were available. The serenity of the place was its best attribute in my opinion.
A day pass would have cost $50 each but a month pass was $100 for one person and 2 guests so the choice was clear: I'll be slurping free soup around the world for the next month.
I spotted a Southwest plane rocking some State of Missouri livery.
We had a monster layover in Phoenix and after soaking up more snacks, drinks, and internet at the Admirals Club we took the light rail system to Chase Field to watch the Arizona Diamondbacks play the Padres. Never was there ever a team whose nickname (d-backs) sounds so much like "d-bags".
We ain't in St. Louie no more.
I was prepared to get heckled while rocking my new Cardinals hat but everyone was cool. One of the old timer worker guys told me he was born 2 blocks from St. Louis' famous Crown Candy Kitchen.
It was cool to go to another team's stadium. It definitely made me appreciate the Cardinals more. It's clearly difficult to get grass to grow in the desert, as the turf was nasty. It was browning in spots an there were multiple different colored patches where it looked like they gave up, cut up the sod, and put new stuff down.
I could see that the Cardinals were stomping faces in a far off location.
I had wondered where Jon Jay ended up.
One cool thing was the Hispanic cultural influence. I found this tiny little tamale stand in the park that is owned by a dude who used to be a janitor at the park. One of the upcoming game day giveaways was a sombrero.
Our flight to Miami was an overnighter, but at least we were in business class.
One of the best parts of sitting in the fancy classes is watching the proletariat march by with their dirty faces and their crushed dreams. At least once I've had the pleasure of watching one try to sit up front and get booted.
During the flight I heard a commotion in the back of the plane and peaked one eye through the curtain. Undignified! How did they fit those fiddles in their carry-ons?
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