On November 15th, Kyle and I celebrated the completion of our 3rd year of marriage. Most years we can barely manage to squeeze a celebratory dinner in between work; in face, last year we spend our anniversary working 16 hours of a Shinedown show. I don’t know about you, but hauling 50′ of feeder cable is not exactly the romantic commemoration that every bride has in mind. I’m just saying, sweat and tour gunk don’t make you feel particularly sexy, and pushing road cases isn’t particularly romantic. So when we looked at our work calender for the month and saw that 3 of our 5 days off this month were an anniversary sandwich, we HAD to jump on it. Which is how we found ourselves on November 14th driving west towards Niagara Falls for a long, (hopefully) romantic weekend.
We stayed at the Stirling Inn & Spa, which is situated about a block or so off the main drag, and I was definitely apprehensive at first sight. The surrounding neighborhood didn’t inspire much confidence in anything but the certainty that our car would get jacked. The hotel itself used to be an old milk bottling plant, which explains the weird milk bottle-shaped tower in the middle, but it wasn’t very well lit and that gave it an ominous feel. So the picture of our room that my imagination was painting was not a pretty one.
Luckily, I was dead wrong on that one. Holy luxurious monkey balls, you guys, this room was gorgeous! It was nicer than the room we stayed in on our honeymoon! it was a single large room, with a gian four-poster bed and a lovely sitting area with a fireplace. (The fireplace turned out to be fake, which, incidentally, was a good thing when we accidentally left it on all night.)
The bathroom area featured a glassed-in shower the size of our bathroom at home, a gorgeous glass vanity and sink that has to be fucking impossible to keep clean, and a monstrous Jacuzzi tub that could easily accommodate a crowd.
The thing that was
awkward awesome is that when I say “bathroom area” I do so because the bathroom had no walls separating it from the room. I mean, obviously the toilet was a separate room with a door. (Though the door was frosted glass, so even if you couldn’t see the details you could definitely tell what the person inside was doing. Which is why we had to impose a, “Don’t look at this side of the room while I’m pooing,” rule.) But the bathtub was pretty much in the middle of the room and the glassed-in shower gave anyone watching tv on the couch a fantastic view. Pretty much the entire room screamed, “BOW-CHICKA-WOW-WOW! IT’S SEXY TIME” So it was perfect for us. (Though I can see how it could be pretty fucking traumatizing for a family of four.) The best part? (That I’m willing to talk about on the internet, that is.) We could soak in the tub and watch Canadian Adult Swim. You guys, until you’ve sat in the tub and watched Robot Chicken you have not lived.
We walked down to the falls numerous times during our trip, since they seem to think that the privilege of parking within a mile of the falls is worth $14, and our walk took us right down the main tourist strip. I don’t know exactly what I expected the Niagara Falls tourist area to be like, but it was definitely not this.
Called Clifton Hills, it looked like it was trying to follow the 1950’s resort town formula: tons of arcades, haunted houses, head shops, and wax museums. It was like Coney Island on crack. Walking down the strip, e-ver-y-thing was covered in neon lights, and each place had either music or fake screams accompanied by a ghoulish voice blaring in an attempt to grab your attention. It was totally bizarre. There were few restaurants, no clubs or bars to be seen, and even souvenir shops of any variety were few and far between. It was just haunted house after wax museum after head shop. I guess they expect you to be so bored by the running water after a day that you’ll spend the rest of the week looking at bad Justin Bieber replicas. It’s like the city had tacky business tourettes. My favorite?
A haunted house called Screamers that boasted live hangings every-other-Friday night. Fucking crazy.
So, yeah, that was pretty much our whole anniversary: sexy hotel rooms and trashy haunted houses.
(Well, not about the first one. The sexy hotel room was definitely a big part of our weekend of anniversary, ifyaknowwhatImean…)
Stay tuned to find out if we ever actually left our hotel room long enough to look at the water!