Atlantic City, Part Two

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Wish you were here… well, no, I don’t.  I wouldn’t wish this trip on anyone.

As much as we wanted to get away, and as intriguing as AC can be, this trip was not one I’d like to relive.  Brown water in the hotel.  An hour wait for a required timeshare information session – property we won’t buy even if it’s free because of the nasty, nasty agent who “served us” with attitude and frustration when she couldn’t figure out we weren’t that Mr. Smith. Rain intermittently all morning.  (You see my hair, right?  Add wind to wet and viola!)

But hubs and I did get to gamble a bit.  Yessir, invested $20 into those slots and watched the money dwindle.  Big risk takers, we are not.  The funnel cake and diner breakfast were divine (but did they have the same water issue when making my coffee that we had upstairs? Eww.)  All you can eat? It was okay, but we’ve certainly had better for far less. And the shopping?  My goodness, I love the way those hookah pipes look even if I can’t smoke from one.

The lady in the store shopping intently for her son – FOR A KNIFE – might’ve heightened my parenting concerns a little.  I mean, you bought the elementary-aged kid a switch blade with a jagged edge knife?  Probably not the best decision made.

We left in the still-dark evening as my 36th birthday ended.

If we go back? I have to find that little diner on the side streets between the AC Express and the NJ Turnpike. Ah-mazing.

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