W.W.w.W. III

We rejoin our intrepid adventurers as they set out for the reason they went to Pittsburgh in the first place: The Grandview Saloon.  I am a little bit of a steak snob, so finding a steak place other than Ruth’s Chris that I won’t find any fault with is rare (see what I did there?).  But DAYUM, the steaks at this joint are SOOOOO GOOOOD… so good, in fact, that Chuckweasel and I spend part of each visit pondering whether the reason they’re so good is that it’s actually people-meat.  If so, I say bring it on — with extra au jus!  We had the porterhouse (a trick we learned from Ruth’s Chris, by the way, when the waiter told us to order that instead of a filet and a NY strip separately — it’s the same thing!) with roasted red skin mashed potatoes, then valiantly restrained ourselves from ordering dessert since we had a car-car ride ahead (we did stop for ice cream later, but that was LATER).

But I cannot mention The Grandview Saloon without telling the tale of the first time the Weasel took me there.  Now, being of the male persuasion, CW is (of course) what you might call… directionally-challenged.  And, because he’s of the male persuasion, he won’t admit it.  This resulted in what I still refer to as “The Death March.”

Allow me to set the scene:  The Grandview is located on Mount Washington, right next door to the Duquesne Incline.  Remember that name, it will become important later.

I had never been to Pittsburgh at that time, so CW was very excited to show me the inclines, which are admittedly extraordinarily cool.  Our plan was to ride up one and ride down the other… those of you who are familiar with Pittsburgh will see where this is going…

The Grandview is located beside the DUQUESNE Incline.  We rode up the MONONGAHELA Incline.  Which you can’t even see from there.  But remember, I had never been to Pittsburgh, so when CW said the restaurant was “right by the incline,” I had no idea he was talking out his ass.

This resulted in The Death March, during which CW kept trying to prevent his death by assuring me the restaurant was “just on top of the hill.”  Which it is… but not the FIRST hill… or the second… or the sixth… But at least when we arrived at the restaurant, he was able to restrain himself from pointing out that it was indeed beside the incline… the OTHER one.

Which we rode down, thinking we’d avoid Death March Part 2, only to discover the only way back to our car was to walk along the river… through the creepy construction site… basically at the corner of Rapeton and Youshotmeburg.  And I, having consumed mass quantities of Iron City (hey, I was dehydrated from the Death March!), REEEEEEEEALLY needed to pee.

CW suggested I pee anywhere I liked, as the area was deserted and it was dark.  I was however wearing a SKIRT, as was fairly sure I would either pee all over myself or fall in the river if I tried.  Then I saw it.

A Porta-Potty.

The skies opened, the angels sang, and I scuttled toward salvation… and you know what?

IT WAS LOCKED.

And yet, the Weasel remains alive to this very day.

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18 Comments

Filed under Chuckweasel, La Vida Loca, On the Road Again, Twu Wuuv, WTF???

18 responses to “W.W.w.W. III

  1. cinemasugar

    Who locks port-a-potties?? What, are they afraid someone’s going to “mess them up?”

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  2. Hahahah. The fact that you didn’t murder the crap out of him is a testament to your compassion.

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  3. Dear Sweet Mama

    Hey, if I can hang off the side of a mountain in Alaska grabbing a tree so I do not fall back into my own deposit, you can crouch behind a porta pottie. Probably men had been using it and they always miss, anyway – they would have figured it was just natual seepage. Or, take a wide legged stance as preferred by the men in the Republican party.

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    • I am usually a champion Pee-er-in-Outdoor-Places, but as I said, I was wearing a skirt — and I couldn’t figure out how to go about it without flashing my EN-tire ass at the good people of the Steel City!

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  4. I have had my fair share of death marches on a full bladder. But I have only myself to blame, as I am more directionally challenged than the average… Seriously, whatever way I think it is, it is the opposite. And if I try to think to myself, “Leauxra, you ALWAYS go the wrong way, go the other way!” it is the one time I was going the right way to begin with.

    They lock port-o-potties around here all the friggin time. Like they’re too good for my shit or something. Or to keep the homeless from sleeping in there, I don’t know.

    P.S. This is an expreiment to see if I can comment again.

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    • Hooray, you commented! And I have NEVER seen a porta-potty that even the grodiest bum would consent to sleep in, so I don’t know what they think they’re “protecting.” And I learned right quick to trust my sense of direction MORE than Chuckweasel’s… but LESS than Mapquest!

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  5. The Death March! Oh, how I snorted. That story is comedy gold.

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  6. You know, I didn’t know that there were two Inclines either… which one is the one by downtown, that you always see when they have a national broadcast of the football game?

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    • I’m fairly sure that’s the Duquesne — it’s closer to the stadiums, et al. The Monongahela is down by Station Square… which is a LONG. DAMN. WAY., let me tell ya!

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  7. I have been on more than one Death March, but fortunately not twice in one night. You are truly a loving and giving girlfriend.

    They lock our porta potties here too, sometimes at the same time we’re using the fields for things like soccer practice and baseball games. I think “fascists” is too kind a name for those people.

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  8. So, if you were wearing a skirt for the Death Marches, were you also wearing heels? Because that would be awful.

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    • No, thank the Little Baby Jeebus I had on summer-type flats… still not good, but heels would have resulted in Chuckweasel’s immediate demise – stabbed to death with a fuck-me pump, how sad! ; )

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  9. My sides hurt from laughing. Rapeton! Youshotmeburg!

    You need to practice your peeing outside. It’s a skill that really comes in handy.

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