Flying Monkeys, File Cabinets, & Watergate-Era Politicians: That’s Vermont!

First, the bad news from my excursion to the second least populous state in our union: I failed to locate/spot/trap the Lake Champlain monster. The several pieces of bread I tossed into the water from the rocky coast of Burlington only attracted a few hungry ducks. My patented Champ mating call also failed to produce the alleged prehistoric beast (there’s $19.95 I’ll never see again). I hereby denounce this cut-rate Nessie, his followers, and the entire field of Cryptozoology.

Aside from that crushing disappointment, Vermont was pretty rockin’. Here now, a recap in pictures:

Burlington may be Vermont’s biggest city, but it has a decidedly small town feel. It also has a few creepy flying monkey statues that appear to be giving professional football signals. I think the critter above is calling for a Button Hook. Click the photo and tell me if I’m right.

Beautiful (and monsterless) Lake Champlain. The water was surprisingly clear (almost as clear as the fact there’s no monster in it).

You know, I don’t care where you’re from – the lush hills of Vermont, the concrete jungle of New York City, even the cracked desert of Utah or Arizona – there’s one activity/pastime that unites us all: ignoring the homeless. Actually, I can’t say for sure whether or not the guy in this picture is homeless or just some earthy hippie. I had that problem with many of the folk I encountered in Vermont. A good rule of thumb, I think, is if the person is wearing fifty dollar sandals, they’re probably not a bum.

Behold, the world’s tallest file cabinet! This is the real crown jewel of Burlington, a tribute to the ingenuity and daring of mankind. It’s also a notorious hangout for yellow jackets, so be careful or you’ll get stung.

Here’s a close-up view of the file cabinet. Real artsy, huh? And to think, I never got higher than a B in high school photography class.

A trip to Vermont just wouldn’t be complete without a stop at the Ben & Jerry’s ice cream factory in Waterbury. Three bones gets you a behind-the-scenes look at the empire built on cow by-product, hosted by an impossibly bored teenage tour guide. Put up with your host’s lack of enthusiasm and your fellow attendees’ stupid questions (”How often do they clean the machines?”) and you will be rewarded with a couple of free scoops. Don’t forget to check out the Flavor Graveyard, where you can pay your respects to such long gone taste sensations as “Economic Crunch” and “Ethan Almond.”

Less tasty but equally interesting: the Vermont Teddy Bear factory. For a buck less than Ben & Jerry, you can burn thirty minutes of your life watching people assemble toys that aren’t all that cute or interesting. Don’t forget to check out the wall of radio personalities who hock VT TBs all across the country. I nearly sharted when I spotted G. Gordon Liddy’s mug among the fray.

I wouldn’t buy a bear from that guy. I wouldn’t buy anything from that guy, except maybe a used mustache comb.

Here’s the lobby of Hawthorn Suites, where I stayed. It was a nice compromise between traditional bed and breakfast and Holiday Inn. A lazy cat was hanging around the front desk area at all times, but there was a flat screen TV in my room. I can live with such juxtaposition.

Other junk I didn’t get photos of: the Scruffer, one of Burlington’s finest steak/seafood eateries; various moose crossing signs; rows and rows of canned Moxie in the local supermarket; the air, which was cleaner than any other air I’ve ever breathed in my life.

Final score for Vermont? Four out of four tie-dye shirts. I’d go back in a heartbeat (even if their so-called “sea creature” is a bigger load of horse shit than that Country Bears movie).