Saturday, January 14, 2012

Branson, MO : The Vegas of the Midwest

In August of 2009, my then fiance, now husband and I went to Branson, MO for a weekend getaway. We rented a car and drove 2 1/2-3 hours from Kansas City. The rental car had satellite radio so we flipped through all kinds of cool stations on the drive. We had purchased our package through a timeshare offer we found online for about $100. It consisted of 3 days/2 nights at a hotel, 2 tickets to a show and a free dinner. We were also given a free coupon book upon arrival. Our accommodations were 3 star at best. It was clean and comfortable, but definitely no frills. Let's put it this way - it wasn't the Bates Motel, but it was miles away from the Ritz.
After checking into our humble home for the weekend we flipped through the coupon book that was full of  coupons for entertainment and eateries in town. We found several coupons for mini golf so we chose the one closest to us. We played a round of mini golf and he beat me because...well... I totally sucked. I have a good golf swing, but it is just unnatural to have windmills, fake mole hills and have to get a shot through a tunnel made of ugly, green carpet. OK, so I'm a sore loser. So what?! We left there and drove up and down the "strip" taking in the sights before deciding where we would have dinner. There were as many theaters for country musicals and shows with variety acts up and down the "strip" as there are casinos in Las Vegas. We finally decided on a place called The Plantation. They had a lot of comfort food and the lemonade was to die for (or killed for, depends on your mood.) After stuffing ourselves silly we went back to our room to watch TV before turning in.

The next day we headed to breakfast at another buffet called BaldKnobbers. It felt very homey and country kitchenesque. Someone came by and took our picture and put it in a movie reel frame for $10. It was cute. We do look pretty hot at 8 in the morning with our faces stuffed full of biscuits and gravy. We left there to meet with the timeshare folks. It was a hard sell, but in the end we declined. I mean really, I only came for the weekend getaway. I did not come to be separated from several grands of hard earned money. After leaving with all of our money, we decided to stop by the Table Rock Lake Dam. It is a massive structure. I am terrified of heights and was having a small heart attack while driving over it. We parked and got out to get a look from a closer vantage point and a stroke might have crept in there, too. Afterwards, we went back to our room to clean up and get ready for dinner and the show. We had chosen the Chinese Acrobats at the Shanghai Theater and cashed in our free dinner voucher at a buffet called Whipper Snappers. It was actually downstairs from the place we had dinner the night before. It was set up so that you could eat at both places if you paid for the one downstairs. Whipper Snappers had a seafood buffet that included whole lobster ( my fiance was over the moon) and crab legs. After eating until we were practically in a food coma we left for the theater. The Chinese Acrobats were absolutely amazing. In between each acrobatic act there was an all girl team of drummers that had the place rocking. We were riveted by each performance. Some of the acrobats simply defied the laws of gravity. Some of them defied the laws of anatomy because I am sure they did not have bones.

The following morning we checked out of our digs and went to breakfast at...you guessed it...another buffet. This one was called Dockers and it was really good. We declined the picture offer and headed to the Branson Landing for some shopping. It has lots of outlet stores and some pretty cool shops with unique items. We left there and went to a small Mom and Pop store so I could get a shot glass ( I collect those) and then hit the highway for home. By the way - don't ever listen to the comedy stations on satellite radio while driving on the highway. We almost literally died of laughter. It is just unsafe to laugh that hard while traveling at 75 mph.

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