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Premium Grain Belt Beer/Grand Falls Casino

6/29/2014

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In May, my friend Andre and I did a cross-country trip from his hometown of Detroit to Los Angeles. The idea was to poke along, driving no more than around 8 hours a day so we could enjoy the sites and not die when one of us falls asleep behind the wheel somewhere in Idaho.

Having woken up late in Madison, WI with a righteous hangover on Day 2, we made it as far as the border of Minnesota and South Dakota before deciding to stop for the night. If you've ever been to this part of the country, you know there are not a lot of options for lodging and late night entertainment. However, before losing cell reception 30 minutes earlier, we were able to locate an Indian casino just south of interstate 90 across the Iowa border. Given that we had spent the better part of our time in Detroit at casinos and their bars, it seemed like a safe bet. We exited county Highway 75 and cut south on a two lane back road that we hoped would get us there. 


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One may think that the convergence of three exciting states like Minnesota, South Dakota and Iowa (I'm sure referred to in local parlance by the news affiliates as the "tri-state" area) would create some sort of vortex proven to balance your chakras and give you a diamond cutter for a hard on. That would be wrong. There's nothing but miles of dark road, shacks with cars on cinder blocks and cornfields. Lots of cornfields

After 30 minutes off the freeway in pitch black with no cell service and a grim feeling we were completely lost, we finally started having The Discussion. Namely, who would take it up the ass after being run off the road by a pickup truck while the other ran for help. It was beginning to get heated when we drove over a hill and found the Grand Falls Casino sitting in the middle of a cornfield miles from civilization. No joke, in the middle of a cornfield.

At check-in I noticed the flyer for the upcoming casino events. If Engelbert Humperdinck is making the trek all the way out here, it can't be that bad. 

We dropped the bags in the room, hit the ATM, and sauntered up to the bar. 

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"Good evening. What can I get for you?"

"I'll have a Jack, neat and a beer, please," I tell the bartender who did not look the least bit happy to see customers at midnight on a Tuesday.

"It'll be one or the other. Maximum of one drink per person every 20 minutes."

Apparently there are drink restrictions at a casino in the middle of nowhere. Is this a fucking joke? How do they expect to rape and eventually murder me at craps or blackjack if they won't let me drink myself ballsy with my own money? Let's be honest: how many Indians limit their drinks to three an hour? 

...And how do they track that? I looked around the bar expecting to see at least a couple dozen digital kitchen timers counting down with post-its stuck to them describing the alcoholic they're moderating. Nothing but a crabby old man tapping his fingers, impatiently waiting for my order.

"Ok, ok," I say, "how about a double Jack?"

"Nope, one ounce liquor per drink."

"Really? How much do you put in a Martini?"

"I just told you: one ounce of liquor."

"Jesus Christ. Is it free?"

"8 bucks," he replies, not looking the least bit amused.

"Right then, I'll have a beer," I tell him, scanning the bottles on display. “A Grain Belt Premium."


I've never heard of Grain Belt Premium but, as it looks like generic local brew, I can safely assume that it will get me drunk quicker and cheaper than 8 dollar snorts of whiskey or vodka and will at least keep my hands busy when I want to fidget before belting out a line by REO Speedwagon (I only bring up the last bit because shortly before arriving at the Grand Falls casino, I'd had another one-sided conversation about how great REO Speedwagon is based on one song: ‘Take It On The Run’. I have only one ally in this argument, Max, whom you'll hear about via Lompoc).

3 dollars later I receive this:


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Had I not taken advantage of the casino's sluggish wifi to look this beer up, I would have figured it was bottled in a broom closet somewhere in the building with last night's swill bucket and dishwater. This shit's horrible. According to the website, it's brewed in St Paul, MN and is marketed as "The Friendly Beer". What the fuck does that even mean? Friendly like the fat girl at the bar with ashtray and sour beer breath that's eager to make out at the end of the night? Oh gee, thanks for the mouth herpes, Schell Brewing Company! That said, I still drank like 6 of them...

They do have a pretty cool hoodie on their website though.

I give Grain Belt Premium beer and the Grand Falls Casino a big limp one. 


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Purple Orchid

6/19/2014

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Although the post WWII tiki bar craze has died down a bit (Trader Vic's in Beverly Hills and the bastion of seven seas garishness, Bahooka in Rosemead, CA, have both padlocked their doors), there are still a few treasures around. In the past few months, Alyssa and I have both been swept up by the island spirit and have started viewing fruity rum cocktails and the bars that serve them as a great way to spend an afternoon (or weekend, as served up by the Ventiki Challenge).

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Tucked away just off the main drag in El Segundo, near LAX, you'll find a great spot called The Purple Orchid. The "PO", as it's know to regulars, is a decent sized space with all the proper trimmings: ample bar and table seating, some pool tables, a small stage, blowfish hanging from the ceiling and enough bamboo to build yourself a couple of huts on your favorite beach in Tahiti. Great attention to detail with hand painted trim and flickering tiki torches on the wall. There are giant wooden tiki idols for sale should you find yourself drunk enough to desperately need one in the passenger seat for the ride home. This place totters perfectly on the edge of sleeze and dive. 

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According to the bartender, it was a scuzzy biker bar until about 10 years ago before being converted to the Purple Orchid. Clearly its earlier life has soaked into the foundation. 

Versions of all the classic cocktails are available with the bonus of most being available as volcano bowls. Who doesn't like a big ol' volcano bowl?

We arrive shortly after opening around 2 o'clock, cozy up to the bar and order a Mai Tai volcano bowl. I don't pretend to be any kind of expert on tropical drinks but it was
delicious: big, fruity and full of liquor. In the summer months they offer a version of the Mai Tai with fresh watermelon purée (my 2nd round) that's really quite good. 


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After a bit of effort and a phone call to the owner, the bartender finally gets some tunes on the stereo. Although there's an "old school" CD juke in the joint, I was just fine with the house playlist on a Sunday afternoon. It was a good mix of lounge, classic rock and a contemporary oddity thrown in for good measure. Kudos to Alyssa for figuring out it was Cake covering the Muppet Show classic Mahna Mahna without the use of Soundhound. Sacramento natives must all be vibrating on the same frequency...

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Word is that the place gets pretty packed on Friday and Saturday nights but the crowd on a weekend afternoon is pretty chill. A few old timers coming and going for a drink or two and only one crazy. Not bad.

They also have official Purple Orchid mugs for sale at 12 bucks a pop and some nifty Don Ho glassware. All told, The Purple Orchid is absolutely worth a trip to El Segundo. I hope to see you there.


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