The Manhattanite ventured to St. Louis last week.

I hadn't been to St. Louis since Josh Weinstein and

Tim Quirk and I rumbled through in our U-Haul

Winnebego fourteen years ago. I remembered the place

fondly, though -- on the advice of a St. Louisian we

met while fueling or parking our Road King we'd

headed to Laclede's Landing, in the old gaslight

district, and spent the night at a bar listening to a

fellow singing pop songs. The waitress was friendly,

the beers big and cold. A good town, we reckoned.

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