St. Louis, Part Three (We Finally Reach St. Louis)

So after two hours of thrift shopping, we headed back to the interstate and on to the city. Our hotel was next to the airport, and even though it was what should have been rush hour, we had a smooth ride all the way. The directions, via Mapquest, required something like six right turns at the end. We called ahead to the hotel to confirm the directions and got a non-native English speaker on the already spotty cell phone.
"It's a left at Linder," the b.h. said, hanging up.
Several exits passed.
"You mean "Lindbergh?"
"Maybe."
We all laugh.
We exit at Lindbergh, get completely turned around IN the airport in a matter of seconds. We're all punchy and a little tired. From the Park and Ride lot, we see the highway. On the highway there is a sign:
"Linder Street, 2 miles"
We laugh more. Though we are within spitting distance, we crawl through several lights before finding the entrance ramp. We exit at Linder and turn right.
"Now you're going to make a right on Peeley."
"Do you think it might be Seeley?"
"Maybe."

When we finally reached the hotel, we were all famished and wanted to eat right away. One of the reasons I was sold on this particular hotel was the Indian restaurant ("Voted the Best in ST. Louis!") on the eleventh floor. We ordered like it was our last meal. Everything was fantastic. Since the b.h. likes to cook and is very good at it, I often find myself disappointed at restaurants. Not this one. We ate a LOT of food. They served a fantastic spiced tea (chai-like, I suppose, but not exactly chai) that was really amazing. Just when I thought I couldn't eat more, they brought us complimentary Mango Pudding. It was awesome- not too sweet and just a taste. I thought I might die.
After we ate, we waddled back to our room for a nap.
Now with two beds,the sleeping was even better. We got ready about an hour later, and got on the internet to get directions to the club.
The highway was dark and under construction, so the ride was a little hairy. We had to stop and get cash and batteries for the camera, and ended up in a scene straight out of Larry David at the grocery store: thirty people in line, two checkers, and one poor old guy who just wanted some chocolate milk. Of course, there wasn't a price on the chocolate milk, so while we were all waiting (mostly) patiently for the woman with the bad perm and the fake nails to ring us up in express, we were treated to a verbal lobby between the stock guy and the other cashier over the loudspeaker about where the chocolate milk was and whether or not it was in fact still on sale. Fascinating stuff.
When we finally got out of there, we raced over to the Schlafly Brewery, only to find that the show that evening was at the Schlafly Tap Room. And the guy behind the counter at the Brewery didn't know what Twangf3st was and couldn't tell us how to get to the Brewery. When he finally found somebody who knew, they gave us the wrong name of the exit. The good news is that ST. Louis, like so many Midwestern cities, is built on a grid and is easily navigated by simple logic (unlike say, Atlanta, which was obviously designed with the help of hallucinogens).
We got there during the first band, whose name I do not remember, since I only saw a couple of songs. I of course needed a beer immediately, because no matter how zen I try to be, getting lost in a strange city and driving around fearing that you are missing a band you drove nine hours to see is a bit stressful. I turned to the bar, which was about eight feet long and manned by two guys. There were twelve thousand people waiting for beer.
The beer was excellent. Centro-matic was present. We said hello and chatted with them a bit. I ran into a couple from Rotterdam, whom I have now met three separate times in three different cities (in three different rock clubs) over the past five years. C and C are obviously as insane about music and the b.h. and me. The show was transcendent.