Louisville Magazine

AUG 2013

Louisville Magazine is Louisville's city magazine, covering Louisville people, lifestyles, politics, sports, restaurants, entertainment and homes. Includes a monthly calendar of events.

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Inter-office MEMO School starts soon. (Sorry, kids.) Which means students will be asked the inevitable: "What did you do over summer vacation?" Lake, camp, beach? Or, c'mon, own up, was it really TV, video games, Instagram and texting? Thought so. But you know what makes a summer vacation really memorable, kids? It's when things go horribly wrong. You'll get a lot more mileage out of any summer vacation story if you can add some real-life drama to your faux experiences online. — Kane Webb Editor What was your worst summer vacation? Went up north in my home state of Wisconsin during August about 15 years ago. Rented a (very) rustic cabin in the middle of a paperbirch woods alongside a lake. Sounds ideal, I know. But we'd packed for warm weather and the cabin was unheated and a freak cold spell — highs in the low 50s, with spitting rain — made the stay mucho uncomfortable. Plus, in an attempt to have fun, we took out the owner's fshing boat and bent the motor propeller. Wasted a lot of time and money hunting down a new one while remaining chilled to the bone throughout.   Jack Welch Senior editor I once chugged four bottles of water in my family's rental minivan and proceeded to pee my shorts while waiting to ride a Hulkthemed roller coaster at one of the Universal amusement parks in Orlando. Never give up your spot in line. Josh Moss Managing editor To explain my worst vacation ever, I'll use Kathie Lee Gifford's Carnival Cruise commercials circa late '80s/early '90s: If they could see me now out on a fun ship cruise. I'm 12. In the morning, in the evening, ain't we got fun? Nope. The pool is regurgitated 50-degree seawater.  The food is great here and never a bill! Well, Kathie, I'm pretty sure my mom paid for all this "nautical spa diet" food. Oh, and it really sucks being assigned to eat with strangers.  We'll stay up late, dear; let's not miss a thrill! Can't stay up late. I'm 12. And your low-budget, high10 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 8.13 kicking Reno-style shows don't interest me. Damn it, the television doesn't even work in our moist cubicle.  Sunny weather, all together! My sister's crying. There's a massive storm tossing this bulky beast. We're about to die somewhere off the coast of northern Mexico.  We've got the fun!  I just threw up. So nauseous ... Anne Marshall Staff writer When I was in middle school, my family and I traveled to Dauphin Island, Ala., to stay for a week. My dad told my two cousins and me that the island really wasn't that long and we could easily walk from our beach house to the end. My cousins and I were gone for about six hours hiking in the sand, no cell service, and eventually lost all sight of civilization. At some point, one of the cousins found a small TV and decided to drag it along the entire way. At the end, we were exhausted and sunburned. And the TV didn't even work.  Sara Price Editorial intern Our annual 16-hour trek up north to visit family in Minnesota is never a fun drive, but one summer, right as we got on I-65, a giant piece of cardboard fell off a semi and punctured our tire. We ended up with two adults, three kids, and a dog stranded on the side of the interstate just outside New Albany. Not an auspicious start. Shea Jennings Editorial intern They say you always remember the bad stuff and never the good, so I guess that means I had a pretty good childhood because I really don't remember much of it. (Or maybe I lost one too many brain cells in college. Could go either way.)  I do have one vivid memory of being on a vacation with my family when I was maybe four or fve. As we were getting in the car to drive home from a trip, my dad started the car and began driving before I had my seatbelt on. This ignited a full-on meltdown from me because I had been brainwashed by my parents to think that if I didn't have my seatbelt on, I was going to die a horrible and agonizing death. I cried, screamed in fact, for hours in the car. I think I had issues as a kid. Still do. Mandy Wood Advertising account executive A friend of mine and I went to Michigan's Upper Peninsula for a weeklong canoe trip. It rained every day. By day three, we were going crazy. We decided to get out of the downpour for a day or two, packed up camp, paddled to my truck, and headed down the road. About 15 minutes later, just as we approached a billboard announcing Marenisco as the Gateway to Vacationland, the car started screaming like a tortured possum. I pulled into the town's only service station and found out my truck needed a part that would not arrive until the next day. We were stuck. The town was one street long, with maybe six sorry and sagging bars, a giant tree stump with a sign announcing it was the county's biggest tree, and one restaurant. At a loss, sick of each other's company and tired of playing cards, we headed to the only bar open for business. We stayed until closing. As I understood it, a different bar was open each night, and our bartender, Bobby, a Sasquatch in blue jeans and ball cap, worked each bar in turn. The natives were fascinated by us — apparently they didn't get much company — so we never bought a drink. In fact, I believe I am still owed a few drinks from that night. When people started playing Beatles tunes on the jukebox, Bobby sang. Then everyone began singing. Bobby had a hell of a voice. After awhile, it didn't matter that no one else did. When the bar closed, someone directed us to a campsite nearby, so I drove the screaming possum truck down a foggy, winding road and pulled into a campsite. My subconscious was working a lot more effectively than the rest of me, apparently, because for no reason I can think of, I hit the brakes so hard all the camping gear slammed into the front seat. When I stepped out of the truck I saw I was about a foot from driving into a lake. The next day, the guy at the garage said he could fx my car without the part. He did. It was still raining. We gave up. The sun came out as we hit the Mackinac Bridge, heading back to the Lower Peninsula and civilization.  Jenni Laidman Contributing writer I've always had homogeneously fair summers. Steven Dana Graphic design assistant Corrections: In the fall/winter issue of Louisville Bride: • The Belle of Louisville does not offer weddings-on-the-water packages, does not have an on-staff wedding coordinator and requires deposits of more than 20 percent. Also, its ballroom deck seats 200; parking is at the Joe's Crab Shack lot. • The Kentucky Science Center was incorrectly listed as the Louisville Science Center. • Two dresses in the "Bride & Bloom" photo layout were attributed to the wrong dress shop. The Swiss dot tulle gown on page 37 and the dress on page 41 were provided by Couture Closet, not by Amanda's Hyde Park Bridal.

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