Jersey? Sure!

10/16/2008

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Gas prices be damned! The two hour drive Matt and I recently took to Atlantic City on a whim was well worth the $100 fill-up each way. I know what you’re thinking – you’d spend a less depressing weekend in that town where they filmed The Deer Hunter – but AC literally blew my mind.

First of all we stayed at the $1.1 billion Borgata which, even by Vegas standards, is no hole in the wall. Sure it’s not the Wynn, but the rooms are great and they have a pretty decent selection of restaurants (helmed by Wolfgang Puck, Bobby Flay, and Michael Mina if you’re into that stuff.) But the thing that made me ask Matt if we could come back once a month was the shockingly killer spa. Spa Toccare has an incredible pool, a fabulous lounge and hot/tub sauna, and they delivered the most effective deep tissue massage (with surprise hot stones thrown in) I’ve had in years. The icing on my epidermal cake however, was a 30% Glycolic Acid Facial which completely removed the top layer of my skin and left me looking three kids younger. After asking Matt 47 times if he could see a difference, he agreed that I looked great.

Matt and I don’t really gamble (although he did win us $300 playing the crackheady Wheel Of Fortune slot machine) so after a lunch at The Continental – an inexplicably awesome restaurant who’s interior design puts The Standard Hotels to shame – we explored the new Pier Shops at Caesar’s on the boardwalk. We dipped into Gucci, Louis Vuitton, and IT’SUGAR (for Pop Rocks and Red Vines) before heading to “The Walk,” the Atlantic City outlet complex where we hit Nike, J. Crew, H&M, Adidas, and a million more and scored big time. Matt even got some “dope Air Tech Challenge II sneakers” that he “saw on some European blog for like $400.” Whatever that means, it kept him off my case for most of the shopping-filled afternoon.

Perhaps the best thing about Atlantic City isn’t what you do there, but what you don’t. You don’t go to the airport. You don’t dress up for dinner. You don’t deal with people from LA, and you don’t see anyone you know. Yet.

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