Zman Travels the Hershey Highway
Ah, the family road trip. Since the economy blows, instead of spending a fortune on airfare and some tropical far away money pit, we decided to see the nation’s capital a few weeks ago, and right now as we speak, I’m scribing this wonderful bloggy from a Hampton Inn, on the outskirts of chocolately Hershey, Pennsylvania.
I’m actually sitting under a tree at 8pm, on the side of the hotel, smoking a delectable Don Pepin Blue Lancero. On the way here we drove through Amish country in Lancaster, PA, and made a stop at Demuth’s Tobacconist, where owner Jack was so kind to present me with this treasure of a smoke. Demuth’s was established in 1770, making it the oldest tobacconist in the United States. It’s a gorgeous and nostalgic little shop and I could have stayed all damned day if it weren’t for the fact that the wife and kids were waiting impatiently in the car, on the street.
So we’re here in chocolate town, USA, and we spent all day Sunday in the amusement park – walking, and walking, and walking some more. Hershey is simply a beautiful place to visit – so clean, friendly, and the park features eleven roller coasters, not a one in which I partook in. Oh my kids, 14 and 18, rode every one over and over, but their dad just happens to be a vile wuss, one who despises vertical drops, loop-de-loops, and uncontrollable bouts of centrifugal force – which in turn causes his uncontrollable loosening of the bowels. TMI? Maybe – but factual, none the less.
I have always hated fast and furious amusement rides. When I was a little kid my dad stuck me on a roller coaster that terrorized me so fiercely that I instantly needed a psychotherapist and a clean pair of shorts. Today I watched the kids on Farenheit, the steepest vertical drop coaster in the world., and I nearly soiled my Underoos just watching those two masochists, who were loving every damned second of it.
Whoa, my good brutha, this Pepin is the bomb… delicious flavor, perfect draw, tons of smoke – the perfect ending to an evening in Pennsylvania Dutch farm country.
Say… did I forget to mention that the park is chock full of more hot moms than you can shake your Reeses Pieces at? My God, it’s a milf hunter’s buffet, and as you might expect I’m making a very obvious jackass of myself. At least I had on my extra-dark sunglasses, and I had the Linda Blair head rotation thing down to a science. (Um, could someone please help to remove the grotesque “L” that’s embroidered on my forehead? The kids get oh-so embarrassed when people spend the day pointing and staring.
Road trips with the family – something you remember for the rest of your life. When I was a kid, we drove in a VW Beetle with no air conditioning, vinyl seats, my brother and I beating the piss out of one another – and dad smoked DeNobilis – the equal to cat shit rolled in tar paper. Trust me when I say…who could ever forget that?
Tomorrow we arise for our complimentary breakfast and do the big park all over again. Hottie cougar mommas be prepared, the stogie-sucking Polack from New Jersey will be making the rounds once more.
Well, that’s it for now as the Pepin is winding down and the indoor pool is calling my name for a pre-bedtime dip. So, until next week,, I bid you farewell from my chocolate induced stupor from the confines of the Keystone State.
Later all,
Tommy Z.
JR CIGARS Blog Wiht the Zman
