Monday, June 27, 2016

Drawing Ducks

We made a couple of weekend trips to St. Louis while I was a wee servant. The first one, which I barely remember, had us staying at the Breckenridge Inn in LaDue. It's now a Hilton.

Conveniently located across the street: a Schnucks supermarket, which conveniently had a Schnucks Station restaurant attached. As a little boy, I found it a little weird for a supermarket to have its own restaurant next door. But what did I care -- they served peanut butter sandwiches. It's now closed.

A few years later, we stayed at a Sheraton at West Port Plaza.

It had a nice little restaurant and shopping section, and it still does.

What isn't there any more is Delaney's, an Irish restaurant that served delicious ham sandwiches. We went there twice in one day. I wanted to go up in the glass tower next door.

"That's just offices," the Queen Mother advised. We didn't go there, but it would've beat sitting around the hotel room while the Royal Father attended yet another meeting from yet another convention.

A large pond sat behind the chalet hotel -- one with ducks.

The Queen Mother kept studying a vending machine located near the bottom of the stairwell, looking for something to feed to feed to them without poisoning them. She bought some potato chips, and my brother and I took turns tossing them into the water.

She later got us some wipe-off boards for drawing.

"Let's see you draw a picture of a duck," she said.

I drew what probably looked more like a chicken. Those clucking birds fascinated me as a child, something I attribute to The Muppet Show.

It kept us occupied and out of that room, buying Mom time until we were back together again on Sunday morning, when we visited the Gateway Arch.

We'd heard about a tram that took you up to the top of it, but it sounded more like a roller coaster, and Mom and Dad knew I wasn't ready for that -- not until I was older.

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