Day Two, which means that I'm cooler than you.

Day two in Cleveland may have been one of my favorite days of the whole vacation. But then again, it was vacation, so all my days were favorites. After a quick breakfast and checkout, we proceed to the place where cool lives. (Do the kids still say cool? Groovy? Neat-o? Gah, I'm old.)

Located on Lake Erie is the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. And folks, I was there. I got the pictures to prove it. And about a hundred dollars worth of stuff from the gift shop. And when I say pictures, I mean that the ones some punk forced The Man and I to pose for before he would let us in. And then proceeded to charge us twenty bucks to take them home.

But back to the story...this place, full of all it's wonderful things, well, it had me at hello (from the ticket counter). I stood next to John Lennon's piano and marveled at the wax dripping down the side from the candles he liked to burn while he played. I oohed and ahhed over Patti LaBelle's beaded and jeweled dress. I swooned for Les Paul's guitars. We laughed at pictures and remembered album covers that we hadn't seen in twenty-five years. I said a silent thank you to the powers that be in front of a Janis Joplin display, and was saddened by a black fedora and sparkly glove worn by Michael. I have laid my hands on Johnny Cash's tour bus and read hand-written lyrics scribbled on scrap papers and cocktail napkins from Jim Morrison. I know now just how tiny Mick Jagger is because I stood next to his stage clothes from tours past.












One wall is posted full of correspondence that passed between Hunter S. Thompson and Rolling Stone Magazine. It's worth the trip just to read the wit, sarcasm and uncensored talent from his pen. I felt surrounded by talent and music and joy. There is no way that I could relate all the fantastic things that this place holds, and I encourage everyone to make the trip. There is truly something there for every music fan. I left with a full heart and a smile on my face.

A mere forty-five minutes south of Cleveland is Canton, OH. For those of you not in the know, I am a huge football fan. Pro Football. None of that college crap. Or Arena Ball. Or especially soccer. I mean good ol' American NFL Sunday afternoon and Monday night football. Always have been, always will be. Amen.

In Canton is the Pro Football Hall of Fame. This might not mean much to most of you, but to me it was damned near better than bourbon. The Man and I walked through the hallowed halls with the images of those that we watched as kids and remembered as heroes. One particular section contains the busts of all the inductees. This is where the trouble started. And by trouble I mean that I may have rubbed myself on the bust of Joe Montana to the point that The Man threatened to leave me there. Or have me arrested. Or started filming sports porn. Hard to say.









After prying me away from the display, we toured the rest of the building (only getting lost once) and made our way out. After taking some obligatory pictures of the field outdoors and The Man in front of the building, we tore ourselves away and headed towards the next adventure. Where you might ask? Hell, we didn't know. We had general direction in mind and that was it. Our not-well-laid-out-plan took us to Pennsylvania. Down towards Pittsburgh we headed, still chatting about all the great things we had seen and no real plans for the the next day. Pittsburgh came and went and still we headed eastward. It was getting dark and storm clouds were starting to form ahead of us. It was time to find a room. But none were close by according to our GPS. Whatever would we do, dear readers? Well, our shelter for the night is a story in itself. So I think I'll save it for tomorrow. Stay tuned.










Total Mileage - 548 miles
Condition of Ass on a 1-10 scale - 8
Total Number of Time The Man called someone to come and get me - 1