House Rules

30 minutes or less.

In the time it takes you to get a Domino’s Pizza.

You too can tour The White House.

That’s all it takes.

30 minutes.

Well that and a great connection.

I guess you could stay a little longer.

Or you could certainly breeze through.

In about five minutes.

But if you’ve got a half day set aside.

Don’t.

Of course, you have to get in first.

And that’s no small feat.

Fortunately we knew somebody.

Who knew somebody.

Yada yada yada.

For 30 minutes, we saw how the other half lives.

About two weeks ago we learned that our request for a tour had been accepted.

We were a lock.

What could possibly go wrong?

I hadn’t looked so forward to a tour since David Lee Roth got back together with Van Halen.

Then the big news of a few days ago.

Obama-1, Osama-0.

And with that, our big day had disappeared.

Or so we thought.

Thankfully that was not the case.

Everything went off just as planned.

We were given a whole set of rules before we got in.

And like Jerry taught George.

You’d better play by the rules.

“Hold out your money, speak your soup in a loud, clear voice, step to the left and receive…It’s very important not embellish on your order. No extraneous comments. No questions. No compliments.”

Well that was how to order soup from the Soup Nazi.

But the White House is no different.

We got in a single-file line, as requested.

In alphabetical order.

We were allowed one camera.

They checked out the license of each adult.

They checked out the name for each kid.

And just like Studio 54, you’d better be on the list.

Or you ain’t goin' nowhere.

If you pass all those tests -- presto chango -- you’re in the building. 

The first stop is a hallway.

Loaded with old pics.

That hallway leads up to the east wing.

Where you are greeted by a sign.

“This is a Self-Guided Tour.”

And they are not joking.

Let your eyes be your guide.

That and a little pamphlet.

Nobody is telling you what this is or what that is.

Well there is a sign in each room, telling you what the room is.

And what it is used for.

Fortunately we were tipped off ahead of time that the guard in each room is actually a secret weapon.

Not only are they there to watch the room.

And watch you.

But they are also there to answer every single one of your questions.

All you have to do is ask.

No asky, no telly.

So ask we did.

I learned that John Adams, Prez #2, and Thomas Jefferson, Prez #3, had a $1 bet.

Like Randolph and Mortimer Duke.

Except their $1 bet was to see who would live longer.

And the winner is.....

Neither.

They both died July 4.

1826.

The same exact day!

Did you know....

When our commander and his first lady move into that little white house, they get a $100k allowance.

To remodel the place.

Well I learned today that they a) get an allowance.

And b) the Obamas refused to use that money.

Because of the economy being what it is.

They decided to use all of their own money to make their changes.

I also learned that each new President gets to pick any 50 pieces of art.

From any U.S. art gallery.

To put in the house while they are in office.

I learned The White House doesn’t have a front and back.

They have a North and South entrance.

They don’t ever want it to be said that a diplomat was brought in through “the back door.”

I learned that the East Room faces East.

And it seats 100 more people than the State Dining Room.

The Green Room has green walls.

The Red Room has red walls.

But the Blue Room has white walls.

And it's also the home for the White House Christmas tree.

All-in-all, it was amazing.

Amazing, but a little empty.

I’m not sure what I was expecting.

But it didn’t quite get there.

Now if you ever get the chance to go.

GO!

But ask A LOT of questions.

Wicked Awesome

Saturday night I did not win the New York Lottery.

I didn’t even buy a ticket.

But I did enter a competition with a prize package so exciting, it would make Bob Barker blush.

It’s called The Wicked Lottery.

As I learned Saturday, two hours before every production of Wicked, the legendary Broadway play, they hold a lottery where they award approximately 20 tickets to lucky fans.

Location of the seats?

Orchestra.

Front of the stage.

Cost?

$26.25 per ticket.

Say What?

Just click your heels three times and cross your fingers... and toes.   

To get as close to the Wicked Witch as Dorothy did, all you need is $26.25, in cash, and a little luck.

Well, a lot of luck.

I just happened to be walking by the Gershwin Theater, between 50th & 51st, around 5:50pm Saturday night.

I saw a crowd of what must’ve been at least 200 people.

So, like any tourist, I stopped.

As I got closer to the main entrance, I noticed a line at a table.

So I waited in that line.

When I got to the front, I put my name on a green index card, along with the number of tickets I would want if I win.

One.

Now this is not just any play we are talking about here.

This is Wicked.

The 17th longest running show in Broadway history.

HISTORY.

And at the rate they are selling tickets these days, its not gonna stop there.

More than five million people have seen the show on Broadway since it opened in 2003.

The show grosses more than a million dollars every week.

Last November, Wicked became the first show in Broadway history to gross over two million dollars in a week.

In all, Wicked is only the third musical in Broadway history to pass five hundred million dollars in total gross.

That’ll buy a lot of brooms.

Back to the lottery.

So I show up at the table to fill out my index card.

You would’ve thought the Soup Nazi was running the show.

Or Corey Hart.

This guy, wearing sunglasses at night, was barking out instructions like he didn’t want us to be there.

“Fill out the card.   Your full name and number of tickets you want.  You need cash and an I.D. with you..   When you are done, stand behind that green line.”

“YOU NEED CASH AND AN I.D. WITH YOU.”

He said it twice.

Everybody got the same exact treatment.

“Fill out the card.   Your full name and number of tickets you want.  You need cash and an I.D. with you..   When you are done, stand behind that green line.”

“YOU NEED CASH AND AN I.D. WITH YOU.”

Then at 6:00pm, SHARP, he closed the double glass doors to stop anyone else from entering.

Prepped the lottery wheel, which contained all of the index cards, and started spinning.

About five minutes later he came out and yelled at us.

“THANK YOU FOR COMING.   IF YOUR NAME IS CALLED, COME UP AND STAND TO MY RIGHT WITH YOUR I.D. AND CASH IN HAND.”

“IF YOU FILLED OUT TWO INDEX CARDS AND ARE CAUGHT, YOU WILL BE ESCORTED OFF THE PREMISES.”

Wow.

He’s just plain wicked.

Thank you, thank you very much.  

One-by-one, the names are announced.

And one-by-one, a sharp screetch is heard coming from somewhere in the crowd.

About three minutes later, the last name is called.

Without any mention of me.

Or at least 190 others.

At this point, all of the losers look around and mutter something like, “I never win these things.”

Meanwhile, a handful of people are standing in front of us with smiles so big their face is about to crack.

The winners await their golden ticket, while the rest of us move on.

Waiting for the next show.

And the next lottery.

Eat, Pray, Love, Eat Again

It's been an amazing run of late for sirbacon123.com.

I've enjoyed telling the stories of my new life and I've really enjoyed hearing from so many of you that my stories are still interesting.

And I thank you for that.

The response has blown me away.

Exhibit A -- in the last week, my blog has been visited from Greece, Ireland, England, Spain, France, Mexico, Finland, Malaysia, Philippines, India, Bhutan, Japan, Australia and New Zealand.  

Plus readers from 34 of our united states (35 if you count D.C.) and of course, there is still that love affair with Canada.

If it sounds like I'm bragging, that’s because I am.

In a good way.

Not bragging at all in the ego/cocky/look-at-me sense, but rather, I’m just celebrating the fact that you are still there.

Honestly, I'm not sure how you found me, but I'm thrilled you did.

You have inspired me more than words could ever express.

It still brings chills down my spine when I see a new reader, from a new city, reading my stories.

I was surfing the internet at 1:49am a few days ago when I noticed that somebody I’ve never met from Sayville, New York was reading 23 of my previous entries.

That will always bring a smile to my face.

I guess its fitting that the new reader is from New York, because New York has brought a lot of joy to my life in the last month.

The other day I was taking a little saunter through Manhattan when I accidentally landed at one of the great landmarks of the 90s.

The Soup Nazi.

Actually I think the place is called The Soup Man, but he will always be The Soup Nazi.

Unfortunately it was closed, so there was NO SOUP FOR ME.

Ok, that was too easy, sorry.

I was actually there a few years ago.   The soup was excellent, a bit overpriced, but the rent at 55th Street and 8th Avenue can’t be cheap.

I remember waiting in line, in the rain, with a friend of mine and at least 25 others.

We got to the counter, made our order, took a step to the side, paid our money, got our soup and left.

I don’t remember if he gave me bread, but if he didn't, I wasn’t going to ask.

This time around there was no soup, so I just kept walking.

I headed south towards Times Square.

Around 49th street, I noticed a piece of green paper on the sidewalk.

Taking a closer look, it was no ordinary piece of green paper, it was a $20 bill.

I quickly grabbed it and went on my way.

I was on the phone at the time with a close friend so I couldn’t help but share the exciting news.

And just at that moment, I just happened to be walking past one of the few remaining strip clubs in Times Square.

My friend tried to convince me it was a sign from above that I should walk into that club and spend my newfound fortune.

But I passed.

Instead, I used it on something that really turns me on.

Barbecued ribs.

I found this BBQ restaurant by taking one of my many walking trips through Manhattan.

Across the street was an Indian Vegetarian Restaurant.  

Not an Indian Restaurant.

Not a Vegetarian Restaurant.

But an Indian Vegetarian Restaurant.

This city has everything.

At the BBQ place, it just so happened to be all-you-can-eat ribs for $27.95.

Or using my math, $7.95.

Cha-ching.

So I got my table for one and went to town.

They had three types of ribs -- Northern, Southern and Something Else -- because in New York, one is not good enough.

When I ordered the special, my server asked what kind of beer I wanted, Bud or Bud Light.

Water please, I’m watching my weight.

It was then she informed me the special was not only all-you-can-eat, but it was also all-you-can-drink too.

All for $27.95, I mean $7.95.

So she brought me a LARGE pitcher of Bud Light to keep me happy.   And keep me quiet.

I asked which of the three ribs I should get and she said why don't I just bring you all three.

Who said New Yorkers are not nice?

I informed her that I had just moved here and she said that some of her friends were coming by if I wanted to hang with them.

Is this a BBQ restaurant or did I just fall into Barbara Eden's bottle?

The ribs were amazing, the beer was cold and this is a really bad sign.

I'm just hoping the pitcher of beer erased my memory of where that restaurant is located because this could become a really bad habit.

Did I mention the sweet potato fries or candied yams?

Ouch.

Now if I can just figure out where that $20 came from.