My Own Private Idaho

The wife and I spent the weekend gallivanting around Boise, Idaho and visiting with family. Some highlights:

  • Taking your intermediate level skiing wife down a run called Widowmaker first thing in the morning does not help her psychologically for the rest of the day. It just scares the bejesus out of her.
  • My wife’s grandfather, aged 97, to me regarding the Boise State Fiesta Bowl victory: “It was the best thing to ever happen to this town.”
  • A hotel room sink packed with ice can hold a twelve pack of Alaskan Amber nicely.
  • My wife’s grandfather, aged 97, to the jabbering ladies on stage during Robbie Burns Night: “Get on with it!”
  • Haggis and Scottish shortbread cookies make for a fine meal.
  • If the United Nations would only listen to heavily intoxicated, foul-mouthed artists and German citizens working towards Ph.D.’s in brain cancer research than this world would be a much better place.
  • I was recognized as “That guy from the Boise State┬áparade” twice in the same night. Once next to the urinal in the men’s bathroom at the Bittercreek Alehouse and once outside the Bittercreek Alehouse by a throng of intoxicated college girls.
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Boise: The Jewel Of The Gem State

The future wife and I spent the past few days in the bustling metropolis of Boise, Idaho. We visited with grandparents, caught some early bird specials (unfortunately Perkins was one of said early bird specials), attended an Idaho Steelheads game and walked around Hyde Park, Boise State and the downtown area. All you need to know about big happenings in Boise is that they usually revolve around the P.F. Changs.

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