Holiday in Omaha

I arrived at the Megabusstop early enough, about 20 minutes before departure. Only thendid I decide to check out my iPhone Megabus app.Unfortunately the bus was running nearly two hours late. Time Icould have spent sleeping in, but likely anxiousness would haveprevented that.

I briefly considered BurlingtonTrailways as an option, but at that time I couldn't walkfast enough with my wheeled duffel in tow to get to the station intime to catch it. Eventually the need to give-and-take someliquids compelled me to visit Amici Espresso to hitthe head, fill up the travel mug with some decaf and grab abreakfast sandwich to get me through the morning.

Left Des Moines over two hours late. With the spate of Megabusaccidents this summer I opted not to take any chances and buckledin, seated in the rear of the lower deck. A few things I took notice ofalong the way: the wind farmnear Walnut, and the artwork adorning the 24thSt. Bridge over the interstate passing through CouncilBluffs.

Arriving at Omaha near the corner of N. 72nd and Cass close toten, I quickly trotted the block south to Dodge and in minutes I'maboard a Metro bus bound fordowntown. It's only a few blocks to walk down 13th St. through thedowntown park and favorite homeless hangout – Gene LeahyMall – to get to the OldMarket district.

It was too late to get breakfast at the 11-Worth Cafe, about ahalf-mile way, and still accommodate lunch at La Buvette. Killingtime I find a public restroom, then wander about the few blocks ofJackson St. east of 13th. I'd normally visit Hollywood Candy forcandy bars infrequently found elsewhere but on this occasion I amcontent to sit in the shade and relax.

Seated outside at LaBuvette I perused the menu on the chalkboard and settled forgazpacho and a buffalo mozzarella plate with an appropriate drywhite wine as suggested by my server [see blog post].

Things would have stayed around this high point of the day if I hadstayed downtown and found a coffee shop to settle in for theafternoon. Or at the least called ahead to the Durham Museum to see if Icould visit with my luggage in tow. But instead I slugged up thelong incline of the S. 10th Bridge to the museum and found out thehard way that security would not allow me to stow my duffel asidewhile I perused the facility. A shame.

For one the museum once housed the Union Pacific's Union Station,and part of that history was the spacious main hall and a consistof rail passenger cars including a steam engine, a Pullmancar, a lounge car and caboose. I could have spent hours whilingaway the time here. But more significantly, it was a hot day withtemps in the high 90s and I dreaded a walk back downtown with theeventual return uphill in the evening.

I continued on up the bridge andfound myself halfway up the bluff south of downtown. Spent, Irested a spell in the shade to contemplate my options. The nearestbars open were equally a half-mile away, one back downtown, theother at the Bohemian Cafe. I chose the latter but found a rise toclear along the way.

I was seriously beat by the time I reached the calm confines ofthe Bohemian Cafe, alandmark Omaha restaurant famous for its Czech fare and hugeloaf-sized dumplings, served as thick gravy-laden slices, pairedwith such meaty main dishes like jaeger schnitzel, sauer braten orgoulash.

I've frequented the Bohemian Cafe only but a few times over thelast two decades, and never had I took the occasion to visit thelittle sidebar up front behind the cashier. It's quite an intimateroom, best suited as a place of relaxation for the staff withoutsome sweaty stranger barging into its confines. I slake my thirstwith a mug of PilsnerUrquell and several glasses of ice water.

The quiet, laid-back atmosphere was restful enough but theselection of TBSsitcom reruns on the primary TV left something to be desired. Jeopardy!followed by the local news was a welcome relief. A few pours of Jim Beamfinished my time at the Bohemian.

5 o'clock came and I left to snag a bottle of water for the tripand settled in at FlixxLounge, only a couple of blocks from the train station forlibations in a more liberal setting. I polished off a few gin andtonics while perusing Wheel of Fortune on the idiot screenfollowed by Wipeout, a particular favorite of the barkeep.

I held off on dinner and planned on getting a carryout pizza fromOrsi'sItalian Bakery around the corner a few blocks down PacificSt. before they closed at 8 p.m. I had thought I had negotiatedwith the barkeep to leave my luggage behind while I snagged acombo pizza large enough to share. Back with a half-sheet panpizza my duffel was safe and sound but neither the barkeep nor anythe assembled patrons were eager for a slice.

Crestfallen for purchasing so much to go to waste I take what'sleft down to the Amtrakstation hopeful for some homeless hanging around the adjacent butdecrepit BurlingtonStation to pass my repast on to. Finding none I forced downone more slice before depositing the two-thirds remaining in thedumpster.

The station opened, and with tickets in hand I loitered about theplatform in anticipation of the westbound CaliforniaZephyr and a night's rest in a sleeper. The train arrivednearly an hour late, and it was a few minutes past midnight before Isettled in for the night.

Photos from the Picasa Web Album: Labor Day Trip 2012