Ft. Lauderdale/ Miami

Miami: Home to geriatrics, gators, a ginger cop who too heavily relies on crappy puns and sunglasses to act, and the new home of LeBron James' talents.

After that bitch of a 14-hour long drive the day before, we decided to take a break from sight-seeing.  We stayed with Bill, my stepmom’s dad, and his partner Chris in Ft. Lauderdale.  We lounged around their house and took a much needed nap next to the pool.  Bill asked us if we did anything other than be lazy that day.  “I went outside to take a nap,” Ayk remarked.  “It’s not like I did nothing.”

Pictured: Doing "something".

Miami Beach

Bill and Chris recommended we walk around Lincoln Road, an outdoor shopping mall in Miami Beach.  It reminded me a lot of the Santa Monica Promenade.  Such a shame I didn’t have enough room in my suitcase to do a little bit more shopping.

It was 65 F that night and they had space heaters out.  Buy some jackets, you pansies.

La Carreta

The vacation from our vacation day was actually on Valentine’s Day.  Ayk and I don’t particularly care for the Hallmark holiday, so we decided to do something low-key.  We figured we’d try a Cuban restaurant, not only because of the large Cuban diaspora in Miami, but also because we went to a Cuban restaurant on our first date.  That’s kind of romantic, right?

Chris recommended that we try some Cuban food on Calle Ocho, the Cuban neighborhood in Miami. One of his friends suggested La Carreta.  This chain restaurant has both Spanish and English menus, which turned out to be helpful considering Cuban cuisine isn’t a main topic one studies as a Spanish major.

The first time we had Cuban food we were underwhelmed.  This time we were utterly disappointed.  The food was absolutely awful and bland, yet the restaurant was packed.  It didn’t help that our server gave me the stink eye and made a point to be unhelpful after we asked her for English menus.  Puta.

The mojito was all wrong: it had a lemon instead of lime, and the mint was barely crushed instead of being properly pulverized in granulated sugar.  At least Ayk got to gnaw on some sugar cane.  Too bad that even sucked.

We both love yucca fries, but Ayk makes better yucca than La Carreta’s.  And Ayk buys his frozen.  The croquetas, one of my favorite dishes while studying in Spain, were just so bland and mealy.

I ordered a pork dish, which was drenched in a pool of grease with obscenely large and tough onions.  My side of black beans and rice were dry and chalky. The so-so plantains were sadly the best part of this meal.

My dish was comparatively better than Ayk’s.  The fish was rubbery and fishy, as were the shrimp.  The peas were mushy, a sign of being stuck in a freezer for too long, and sitting atop of a flavorless sauce clearly made with canned tomatoes.  At least they could've simmered the sauce instead of just heating it up in a pot or microwave.  The just-barely-moist-enough rice was the best dish here.

Drive to Ft. Lauderdale

The near 900-mile drive from New Orleans to Ft. Lauderdale was an exhausting 14 hours. To put that in perspective for you, that’s more than half of the length of the US Gulf of Mexico Coast.  It’s almost as far as Nashville is from Baltimore.

We both dreaded this drive –- especially because we didn’t want to leave New Orleans -- but at least one good thing came out of it: after visiting Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama were the only two states that I haven’t visited.  I can finally say I have been to all 50 states!  I definitely deserve those bragging rights after those torturous family road trips.

Pensacola Beaches

We made a pit stop at the Pensacola Beaches.  Ayk said we knew we'd be getting to Ft. Lauderdale late when a park ranger greeted us with “Good afternoon.”

Some of the whitest sands I've seen.

That sand looks just like snow.  We have a picture from South Dakota that looks just like this.

Boredom

We were so bored we resorted to watching Reading Rainbow on my phone.  That was actually the highlight of this leg of the journey – aside from the beach.

And you thought you wouldn't see Ped-radio after our Austin post.  Muwhaha!

For food we went to a Waffle House.  I forgot my camera in the car, but I can assure you that you’re not missing much – aside from indigestion.

At 1 AM we finally reached Ft. Lauderdale.  Ayk’s parents were actually worried, since he hadn’t updated Twitter yet.  This concern was a novel concept to me, considering I had to call both of my parents a day after we started for our road trip to tell them remind them we had left.   Parents.

Drive to New Orleans

Shiner Brewery Tour
Shiner Brewery is the smallest brewery we visited on our trip.  It's a shame we weren't allowed to take any pictures of the tour, because it’s really the best we saw.  It’s a small facility, but that’s what makes it so great.  Unlike the tours of brewery behemoths like Miller and Coors, could see the whole entire production line in action: bottling, capping, labeling, and boxing.  And of course the sampling was fun.  I got a little tipsy and told our life stories to the bartenders. Should’ve just told them to visit the blog.

The only traffic light in the small town of Shiner.

We might not have gotten a picture inside the brewery, but no one is stopping us from taking a picture outside of it.

Just a staged shot, but man that would've been awesome if we could pour our own drinks.

Whataburger

Ayk had way many more zingers for Whataburger than I did, so I asked him if he wanted to write this post.  He gladly accepted:

Fifteen miles past downtown Houston, we felt a sense of relief (as we were glad to be out of Houston's traffic), but also a sense of hunger. The previous time I had visited Houston I was on a job interview.  Another candidate had told me about Whataburger and I was interested in dropping by at some point during our southern excursion.  Houston happened to be the place.

Houston: The Bypass City

Whataburger combines the poor quality of McDonald's with the indecisiveness of ordering at Five Guys.  That is to say, we didn't care for it.  It may have only been our particular cashier, but placing an order was a test of wills.  Much like Five Guys, you can order your burger with any toppings you want.  Except for one twist: the cashier will make you second-guess just about every decision you make.  For example, I started my order with "I would like lettuce, pickles, onions--"

  "So, no tomatoes?" the cashier interrupted.  Then, a pause.

  "Yeah."

  "So you want tomatoes?"

  "No.  No tomatoes."  

Repeat some variation of this dialog for each topping.  Karmen's order was switched from onions and grilled jalapeños to jalapeños and grilled onions without her consent.  It took about a minute of back-and-forth before Karmen gave up.  After that grueling process, our order was complete and we awaited our meals.

Each sticker denotes a hard-fought battle.

Verdict: Awful.  The meat was dry, as were the whole-wheat buns.  The lukewarm fries were more spongy than either crispy or soft.

It looks like they boiled the meat patty.  And yet it was still dry.

At least Whataburger made a lasting impression:  the lingering stench and greasy film won't leave your hands and face until you scrub them both with a Brillo pad.  Also, indigestion.

Whataburger?  More like Whateverburger.

Louisiana

After that long drive, our Texas adventure was over.  We drove across the Atchafalaya Basin Bridge, one of the longest in the world, and later the Mississippi River before arriving in Baton Rouge.  We found a sketchy motel (aren't those the best?) in New Orleans late at night.  We really wanted a quaint B&B in the Garden District, but they were all booked up for Valentine's Weekend.  Oh well.  Our romantic month-long getaway sure beats those couples' weekend getaways.

Our "saintly" savior...New Orleans awaits!