Today’s post header image is from my first night, in South Dakota. That was an awful long time ago.
If Tybee island was the middle class ocean dream holiday, then Wrightsville Beach Island is the upper classes stuffy ocean dream holiday. Honestly I haven’t seen a ton of it, so I can’t really judge it. But that’s the vibe I got. Also, the hotel room has little cards all over telling you how much the lamps cost if you want to buy one. Or the robe. Or almost anything. Feels tacky.
I was surprised to find the noise from other rooms. I was sitting on the bed writing this and other things, and I could hear the next door TV really well. I couldn’t make out the show, but there was music, and lots of talking. I was getting pretty irritated, especially given the snoot level of the hotel. I was surprised they could have such thin walls. I was about to go complain, when I tried to triangulate the sound. Which side was it coming from? Which part of the wall. The window side of the beds was pretty quiet, actually. Between the beds I could definitely hear it. And the other side of the second bed? Oh My God it was horrible. I could hear their TV as clearly as if there was a.. radio.. on the sidetable. Ok. So the room has this bluetooth speaker / radio thing, and I guess they thought it would be good vibes to have it on when I get to the room. They were wrong. Of course the upside was not having loud neighbors. I surely feel silly now!
Today’s drive was the last of the boring stretches – every stop from here on out is interesting, at least to me. It was one of the longest driving days of the trip, and honestly I worried that I was chasing miles. And chasing time. Two things in the “rules of the trip” that I have yet to publish. The state and interstate highways were fine. Not very pretty, not too busy, not too full of trucks, not too different from any other highway in any other state.
Got to have the top down for a couple hours. I have a feeling that may be the last topless time until April. We’ll see. Maybe I’ll put on the leather and fleece earflap had in Michigan and come up with my own windchill.
I am feeling the post-halfway blues a bit. Excited to see much of my family for Thanksgiving. Concerned for the remaining sections of the trip. Weather is likely to become something of an issue somewhere. I have planned everything so I can remove or swap stops on the trip, either extending or shortening the total days. I have multiple routes for most every section, and a week before the trip I got some crazy awesome tires suitable for rain, snow, heat, and maybe even gravel. I have plenty of winter clothing which I will swap out of the backseat bins when I get to my brother’s, I also have winter jacket(s) of varying intensities, and things like food and a blanket. Heck, the left bin is focused on winter gear and car safety and emergency gear. And souvenir magnets.
I will be detailing the outfitting of the car some time next weekend as I’ll have plenty of non-driving days. The magnet thing is part of my directive of souvenirs and any purchase, really. Keep it small and keep it relevant. I broke the rule twice. Once when I got the baby blue cable knit sweater at Target, since that’s a moderately large item to be adding to packing. And another time when I purchased two books in the Castro. But those go in the backpack, so they had a bit of room to spare. The books were Hemingway’s short stories, and Pink Marine. The latter is the source material for the Netflix show “boots” and it might as well be my story in the Marines, though the book focuses on the boot camp portion, and mine would focus on the end bit.
I’ve missed getting magnets for a few states, like New Mexico and Florida. If I just bolted through a state and didn’t interact with anything unique to the state, I am okay skipping. I do know that my fridge is going to be absolutely covered in magnets when I get home! At the beginning of the trip, when I was at Wall Drug which is arguably the biggest tourist souvenir mall anywhere, I looked at the shot glasses. I don’t drink, so it’s a little pointless to add to my existing collection. However, I thought it would be fun to get the same souvenir in multiple places. Visiting my sister on Mackinac Island, we see all the tourist stuff. But on the way home there’s a gigantic souvenir store, and it has many of the same things, but with just “Michigan” written on them, instead of “Mackinac Island.” Clearly the same plant in China can crank out snowglobes for anywhere. So looking at the shot glasses I found a simple metal (tin? aluminum?) model that I was sure would be everywhere else. I was only half right. I’ve found it a few times, but it’s not as ubiquitous as I had hoped. Should have gone for a snowglobe.
Tomorrow: Kitty Hawk and Roanoke Island after just a 4 hour drive. The following two days are even shorter. Love it!
Deets
License Plates: Nova Scotia, Quebec
States: SC, NC
Departed: 7:36 am EST, 65 degrees
Original ETA 4:11 pm EST
Arrival: 2:45 pm EST (not sure why the disparity)
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: Gray then drizzly and intense fog, then warmer and sunny
Music:
Pop Will Eat Itself – This is the day..
Pop Will Eat Itself – Cure for Sanity
Pop Will Eat Itself – The Looks or the Lifestyle
Pop Will Eat Itself – Dos Dedos Mis Amigos
Pop Will Eat Itself – New Noise Designed by a Sadist
Extraordinary playlist, music from the BBC show
Lady Gaga – Mayhem
Depeche Mode – Music for the Masses
Observations
When there are three lanes, they don’t use the rightmost lane. The slow traffic is in the middle and faster slow traffic is in the left.
Today was the third longest day on the trip at 376 miles. The second longest was from Phoenix to Las Cruces and the third longest has yet to come…
The text I send to family was “It took a lot of driving, but I found another ocean. I don’t think this one is as big.” And here I am, on the other side of the country, staring at a beautiful ocean that I had not previously appreciated. Every other time I saw the Atlantic I think it was with a caveat – usually that there was land in between the eternal ocean and where I was. Like Chesapeake Bay. Totally huge, amazing, made out of ocean. Not going to argue that. But on the other side of the water it isn’t Europe or Africa, it’s more United States. So when you look, it isn’t into the gaping maw of tide and time. Which I require. But Tybee Island provided what I needed tonight.
Tybee Island is quite nice. It’s a standard tourist zone, except I didn’t see any fudge. The gift shops were enormous. Like taking five Mackinac Island neon shirt shops and jamming them all together. The gift shops close early and some of the restaurants don’t even try. It looks like mostly a family deal. Lots of kid safe locations and activities. But plenty of bars for Dad to sneak out to while the kids are on the beach with Mom. Or for Mom to sneak out to.
I knew Savannah was going to be on my wishlist, but I also knew I wouldn’t have a proper amount of time to explore the city. Also, had no idea where to get a hotel. So I thought I’d go with what I like, and find something near the ocean. I’m in a proper oceanside vacation hotel. It’s not new, it’s been refurbished and everything is just fine. But it’s worn. Worn in a way that you can tell even with 50 years of paint layers on it. But it’s better than bad. It just has a lot of other things in the area compete with.
I can imagine (and I think have heard in real life once) the loud volume of childen in swimsuits thumping at a full run down the hall excited to get to the beach and find some water. A similar scenario has happened here so many times. The vast majority of them being following by the “aww mom”s and other noises the kids make when mom insists they put on sunscreen. Stop wiggling.
That leads me to the glorious feeling here. It’s not really even shoulder season anymore. There are Christmas decorations up. It’s like being on the set of Ruby in Paradise (good movie, watch it. Ashley Judd’s first, I think) But it’s like the carnival is mostly up and running, but no rubes for the carnies.
I think I’ve talked about ghosts here and there, and I need to make it very clear that I don’t really believe in ghosts, exactly. For me the idea of ghosts comes more from what used to be, rather than something coming back. One of my frustrations of living in the area I grew up in is all the ghosts. 10 year old me at the main library, 25 year old me downtown Minneapolis, two months ago me in the hospital. It’s your past and it comes with you, little reminders everywhere to let you know you can’t escape who you are or were.
In this cute little tourist town I can see everywhere the tourists would be, but aren’t. I am surrounded by the ghosts of people i would wish weren’t here if they were. (it makes sense to my brain!). Where I see a couple on the sidewalk, I also imagine a crowd on the sidewalk, everyone jockeying for position or rushing to a shop, or just standing blissfully unaware looking at a map right in the middle of everything. I know this is likely a treasured tradition – driving over from Atlanta in the second week of July to the hotel your family has stayed at for decades. Relationships beginning on the beach, growing to come back with kids, and eventually a single person watching the sun set. Kids who cannot stand the idea of coming back again but ten years down the road they’re convincing their new wife why they need to vacation here.
Just like hundreds of little cities and islands and beach communities (and lake resorts and mountain cabins) all over the country. All unique in their own way, except for the fact that there is one model of snow globe that exists in at least one gift shop in all of those places. And if you bought one of each, the universe would collapse under the nostalgic weight of it all.
On top of it all, I swore I heard my name three times, and then my own voice. Til I realized my own voice was just that, my voice recorded accidentally went into playback mode. Or was it an accident? Also, I got this weird anxious feeling for a brief bit on the beach, but I’m chalking that up to high power underground cables. They can do that, you know.
Ok, moving on. It’s not a huge tourist zone near my hotel, but it’s decent. The clerk at the desk told me how to get to ocean after I asked. There’s a public pier and everything. Walked for maybe 10 minutes and there I am. It’s a typical setup. Large pavilion with ice cream vendor, burger and hot dog place, and who knows what else. Oh and loud music blaring. On my way back out I thought it was annoying and why do they have to have it on so darn loud? And then heard myself and realized I was walking by an intentional older kid friendly zone. Nice. Wandered out to the end of the pier, good number of people fishing while I took one picture of the ocean.
Looked down the beach (took picture) and figured I’d go walk down some sand. I cuffed my jeans twice and started smooshing through the sand until I realized there was a huge band of very packed sand which made strolling super comfortable. One or two small familiar, a good bunch of teens, and a few couples were out. Busy enough to feel busy but not touristed. Nice touch where the beach and pier meet the road/sidewalk: It looks like white gravel, but it’s actually a crap ton of seashells.
The sun was going down and I thought I’d watch the ocean and wait for sunset. Sat down and did just that. Eventually the sun turned red and it looked like there were other who had been waiting for this moment. Take a picture and all done. I actually took about 20, but weeded out the good one. On my way back to the hotel I stopped at a restaurant for dinner. Google reviews said reservations were all but required. I had no trouble, and I don’t think the other guy had reservations either. Mediocre burger that will prevent me from going out and getting bar burgers for another three weeks. Great Ginger Ale though!
Story Time – Hurricanes, Hot Dogs, HBO
Hurricane Iniki (/iːˈniːkiː/ ee-NEE-kee; Hawaiian: ʻiniki meaning “strong and piercing wind”) was a hurricane that struck the island of Kauaʻi on September 11, 1992. It was the most powerful hurricane to strike Hawaiʻi in recorded history. Iniki caused around $3.1 billion (1992 USD) in damage and seven deaths. This made Iniki, at the time, the costliest natural disaster on record in the state, as well as the third-costliest to hit the U.S.
In regards to the “Hurricane evacuation route” sign, it reminded me that we didn’t have an evacuation ability in Hawaii. In 1992 I was stationed on Oahu, working in the training office with a handful of other Marines. One of whom had a wife who was 14 or 15 months pregnant. He was Matt. When the hurricane warning came to Battalion, there were disaster plans taken out of dusty binders and put into effect. We had a really cool gunny in charge of us, and Matt asked if he could take off right away to board up the windows on his condo. This was the same gunny that put me in for a Naval Achievement Medal at a time when there was no way the command was going to allow that, but he did it just to stick his thumb in their eye. He did think I deserved one for my work though.
As Matt is grabbing his cover (hat) I gave him a look and he asked gunny if I could come along and help, especially since his wife couldn’t. Gunny wasn’t buying it, but I guess he rented it – he said that was fine if we come right back home after the hurricane. Matt and I were smoking buddies, he was from Milwaukee and I was from Minnesota, so we were darn near related. We hopped into his souped up whatevercar he had and made our way across the island. He made what was a 30-45 minute drive into about 20 minutes. I think everyone else was running around panicking so we could get away with it.
Conveniently, the hurricane showed up on a Friday. When we came back to base on Monday, the story we got was hilarious. Apparently they cut power to the barracks in a preparatory move. That meant the air conditioning was out. I remember something about everyone being told to store water by filling their bathtubs, but we had showers, so.. Not sure. There was something about the mess hall, too, so food was scarce, I guess.
Matt and I arrived at his condo midday on Friday. It was a nice two story thing right on the edge of a golf course, so they had a pretty view of large lawns and palm trees. We thought maybe we would hold off on plywood for the windows just yet. Also, we didn’t get any plywood. We did, however, go to their complexes pool. If you’ve never seen a woman from the air force who’s 15 or 16 months pregnant do a cannonball in a pool, you are sorely missing out. We had a lot of fun. It was getting cloudy but the wind wasn’t bad or anything.
That weekend was awesome! We had hot dogs – in fact they taught me how to microwave a hot dog and bun without making the bun gross. We watched endless movies on HBO, swam, enjoyed the air conditioning, and I think we might have had a barbecue, too. There was a point in there somewhere that it rained, and there was a good bit of wind. One of the branches of a tree on the gold course fell off. It was a lovely weekend. Sorry we missed the hurricane.
Ok, so what really happened? The hurricane hit Kauaʻi really hard, and it was a bad scene. Not trying to make like of that. Oahu really didn’t get hit hard, there were some strong winds (85mph) in some places, and the shore got beat up in a few areas. We were appreciative of the fact that it wasn’t worse.
The very next day on Waikiki they were selling “I survived Hurricane Iniki” t-shirts.
Deets
License Plates: None
States: FL, GA
Departed: 7:15 am CST, 75 degrees
Original ETA 2:15 pm EST
Arrival: 4:15 pm EST
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: More clouds than blue sky, some light rain, then warm (75-80) and sunnier
Music: (as you can see, it was a long driving day)
BT – ESCM
DJ Shadow – The Private Press
Steve Miller – Best of Steve Miller
Pat Benatar – Get Nervous
Everclear – So much for the afterglow
REM – Automatic for the people
Pink Floyd – a momentary lapse of reason
Fleetwood Mac – Rumours
Public Image Limited – Public Image Limited
Soundtrack to the British TV Series Extraordinary
Observations
Interesting signs of the day
“amish stuff”
Hurricane evacuation route – I think that made me feel safer than the Tsunami signs
Speed Checked By Detection Devices – This just sounds like they’re making it up. “Yeah, we have uh, devices, that will, um, detect if you’re speeding. Yeah. Yeah those.”
Water may cover road during high tide – Some people are delayed by train crossings, others by deep snow. Ferry timing, bridges being raised, heat so hot it melts tires – these are all different reasons people are late for work. But tides? That’s a new one to me, and I think it might be my favorite, except the wise boss can tell you to find the tide tables and deal with it.
The downside to state highways: many have no rest stops, so if you have to use the restroom you’re either going to have to risk an empty field, try a church, or stop somewhere and buy something. Usually junk food and pop. (I have worked hard not to use the word “pop” or “soda” or “coke” on this trip, because I don’t want to stand out as a weirdo with pop.
That the interstate was not too bad. Fewer trucks by a long shot, and the cars were (for the most part) driven by drivers who understand the road. Except the guy in the little picking driving 40 in a 75. Yes, technically that’s legal. But not wise.
Saw my first dead armadillo, expected to see armadillos in Texas, alive or dead
Saw a dead boar or black pig, not near a pig farm as far as I could tell. I like wild boar, sounds cooler. Have not been keeping track of roadkill because I haven’t seen much exotic roadkill. Had I come across an Elk or a Dolphin or an Axolotl I would have noted it.
“Thank you farmers” sign. Like “Thank you for your service.” Is this a way to look supportive without actually doing anything? See also Disabled Veteran’s needs.
Bopping along a country road, like Fozzie and Kermit in a Studebaker, and a massive gigantic black SUV went blowing past me like they didn’t just own the road, but like their papa had bought it for them and they didn’t know how to responsibly take care of it. And what do we find two hills down the road? Bright flashing lights. And a massive gigantic black SUV pulled over. Maybe for speeding. And that is speedtrap justice.
Passed 7,000 miles.
At 81 degrees and sunny, the outskirts of Savannah smelled like pine, hot sand, and dead pine needles. It’s one of my favorite smells. It reminds me of the resorts we used to go to as a family. We had one vacation per year and that was it, and it was great intense fun for a week. At the first resort I can remember, there was a concrete tile sidewalk (narrow) going along the shore of the lake for all cabin folks to be able to come and go to the main lodge. I was so little I didn’t even know to hate myself yet, and my grandma and I were walking to the lodge/beach. I stubbed my toe and it was the most pain I think I had experienced so far in my life. I bled, even! And that’s where it smelled like pine, sand, and needles.
Savannah seemed cute. I blew through it pretty quickly. Small streets, boulevards, lots of trees and the trees had that creepy southern moss on them.
Savannah also had complicated one way streets and many traffic directions that I couldn’t read all of and I think I mostly ignored them.
Cotton is so white
The cotton is baled into gigantic truck sized toilet paper rolls with likely plastic around the outside. But when they’re in transit little bits of cotton get blown off, and they end up on the side of the road.
Pictures
Cotton, a picture for my sisterA whole other oceanTybee Island BeachTybee Island Beach, but with me in the picture to show my haircut but also what a convertible does to a nice haircut.Yacht Rock in Photographic Form
A few last thoughts about New Orleans. Managed to get out and get to Cafe Du Monde for juice and coffee. Loved that hotel. The shower was one of those sunflower looking things that mimics rain, except the water falls too lightly to get. a proper shower – but this one had pressure! The controls were on the opposite wall from the showerhead. The room felt royal. No typical hotel tan, and the in room coffee maker had *two* decaf cartridges. Not the standard single. I wasn’t quite as early out the door this morning, so I didn’t get the same experience of watching the city wake up over half an hour. But it was still quite peaceful.
I found the contrast of audiences in the shopping of the French Quarter. In one case there are people who are going to buy Doritos slippers. Having nothing to do with New Orleans. And there are other people who are going to pay thousands of dollars for a large crystal. Two different extremes, and originally I was thinking of that as a negative judgment. But I think instead it just speaks to the fact that different people, classes, types, styles, shoppers are able to find value there.
Also, my car is perfect for the tiny streets of the French Quarter.
It was a day of long driving. Either on the interstate playing the truck game, or on the state highways playing the stoplight game. Did get to have the top down for a bit, but I was getting further frustrated by my hair. I got a haircut before I left but that was some uncountable time ago. But the wind was making it all go straight up and I ended up looking like the Heat Miser. (look it up) So I located a Great Clips and popped in. They have the notes about my preferred haircut on file, which is helpful. I usually let slip I used to work at corporate but not as anyone important. Got a good haircut and headed for lunch.
Which was, of course, the rest of the muffuletta. Complemented by an iced latte, I thought I’d stop at a beach and watch the gulf waves. Except there were no beaches. There were resorts, restaurants, bars, and all sorts of things. But no public beaches. I finally found a state beach a ways down the road. For four dollars entry it was a bargain! Plenty of parking, covered picnic area, restrooms, and a nice long land dock leading to the beach proper. I headed out and planted myself in the sand and began munching my sammich. Not too many people on the beach, but it wasn’t abandoned.
And then he looked at me.
I tried to avoid his gaze, but he was being really obnoxious making all sorts of weird noises and walking toward me in a roundabout fashion. I knew what he wanted and I wasn’t about to give it to him without a fight. Then his friends started showing up. Screeching and jumping about. The first seagull started attacking the incoming friends, as if to establish dibs or something. Meanwhile, the pigeons started to wander over. They were mostly just walking around getting ever so slightly closer. I found it fascinating that the seagulls and the pigeons had rivalries, but were completely separate. The alpha seagull would chase off other seagulls, but it was like he couldn’t see the pigeons at all.
In the end it was my sandwich all the way. The pigeons looked kinda cool though.
Road Report
Again, I don’t like interstate highways. They make me sleepy, they make me play “the game.” (BTW, you just lost the game.). I took the interstate through Pensacola and didn’t see a thing. Not a building, not a house, nothing. So I try to stick to state highways, and so far it had been working.
Today I learned why both of the GPS systems were throwing a hissy fit. The state highway that ran alongside the interstate was indeed interesting. And it had good passing lanes and patterns. And somewhat fewer trucks. But the stoplights? Many. And long. And they interrupt the flow of traffic. And in today’s case there wasn’t any great scenery. I thought it was going to run along the shore. It did, but there were many properties in the way. So from here on out I’ll blow through busy areas on the interstate and take the state highways when crossing desolate lands.
I’m doing okay on my license plate spotting. New England is the sticking point and I think that will take care of itself in a couple weeks. Except for Kentucky. It’s wedged up there right in the middle, and beyond the shoulder season issues of no tourists, I think it just has fewer people in it. Hopefully I’ll catch a break in the middle of the east coast. In the interstate game the trick is to pass as many people as possible. But in the license plate game, it’s easiest to see the plates of a car that is slowly passing you. So I’ve been trying to be mindful, stress less about passing, and keep in mind that the car behind me might just have Kentucky plates..
If you’ve been keeping up, I mentioned a trip to New Orleans with our 18 month old baby. The whole trip is spotty, electrocuted out of my brain. But I have flashes. We stayed in a motel near Jackson Mississippi, and it had a pool. I feel like it was one of the first times we got to take the baby in a pool, and we were all excited about it. Swim diaper and everything! I remember being in the pool, splashing enough that the light would shine through the flying water. I have a strong feeling that I had strong emotions. I think it may have been some sort of extreme joy or happiness. Those days were hard. The baby was still colicky and so there was a lot of stress and frustration in the family. Many of the memories of that time are hard. Unfortunately the memory wipe don’t always pick the memories we don’t want.
We also went to a roadhouse. We were looking for the proper southern traditional restaurant and were told to just drive until we saw one and stopped. So we did. On the way in we mused about what it was going to look like on the inside. My partner’s opinion was red Naugahyde. I thought it might be something that could be easily hosed down at the end of the night. I was right.
The place was not too crowded, and the waitress was wonderful. She was not a server, she was a proper waitress. She was kind and attentive, and spent just the right amount of time distracting the kid. Hush puppies were their favorite, so she brought more. Some of the customers were cliched southern characters, almost caricatures. But everyone was nice, and we were all there for the same thing. Wonderful food. Every order came with a whole load of wonder bread. And of the food all I can remember is the impression of grease. Good grease.
I was a groomsman, and we went to the practice. While I was on stage being positioned here and there, the rest of my family posse was finding ways to busy themselves. And in doing so, our super crawler managed to get backstage and find the hot tub. We thought that was interesting as all get out, we hadn’t been to a baptist church before, but it made sense that they would have one. Not having a river in the church and all.
We were northerners. And even up north we were alternative. Boots instead of high heels. Black instead of neon. Urban instead of rural. Hipster snobs might not be far off. But we worked really hard to be polite and not snobby. But we couldn’t help feel out of place in a southern baptist wedding and reception. And my friend who invited us and asked me to be a groomsman (he was one at our wedding) was great, and made us feel welcome. But when it came down to it we really felt like we weren’t something borrowed or something blue, but something heathen. And we were okay with that.
Deets
License Plates: None new. Did realize the Mississippi license plates state name looks like hair. Curly hair.
States: LA, MS, AL, FL (wow!)
Departed: 8:02 am CST, 72 degrees
Original ETA 1:15 pm CST
Arrival: 3:25 pm CST
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: Pleasant and clear leaning to cloudy at end of day
Music: Smashing Pumpkins – Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, 100 Hits from the 80’s playlist (sucked), Toto – Toto IV, DJ Rap – Learning Curve
Observations
I knew there were a lot of waffle houses in the south, but I had no idea just how many there were. Just when you finally stop thinking about how gross they are, another one shows up.
The sand on the gulf beaches is white and almost powdery. The water is green or blue or something. Aqua, even.See my previous post talking about people describing things and then saying you had to see it in person.
I love off season beaches. I don’t know why. I think it’s the beauty meshed with the loneliness of it all. Throw into it the idea that it’s not just lonely, there are times where the beach is teeming with life. The drama of family and vacation. It makes the absence of people even more pronounced.
Passed a cemetery and there were little flags planted next to the grave stones. Confederate flags.
I’m so road seasoned when I see there are 3 hours to go, I think “Oh, ok, that’s not so bad.”
Downtown Mobile has some pointy buildings
Pictures
The parking garage at the hotel in the French Quarter had a car elevator in it!Kingsway studios were located here. Daniel Lanois studio in the French Quarter. So many incredible albums were made here in the 1990’s.My little seagull friend.
In a city where people smoke cigarettes and greet friends with hugs or bro hugs, I found my soul refilling and my spirit recharging. I found some peace. If this post is a bit woo woo, well, it’s New Orleans and I can hear the bell tolling the hour as I write.
I was walking along Royal street in the French Quarter and thought I saw my brother in law. Though he died recently, I felt his presence here almost constantly. I would pass a voodoo shop and I could see the way his eyes would light up, and that I would likely have been dragged in, eyes rolling. Only to find it an amazing shop will of strange goods and stories from him about his own history. I knew it wasn’t him but this man moved the way Michael did. He had a face like Michael’s. And of course, a shirt that Michael would have worn with pride. I shrugged it off and thought it was a nice hallucination. It wasn’t until later in the day when I was at the Carousel Bar that someone handed the bartender a small box. The kind of box that would hold small cupcakes or macaroons. The bartender looked confused until the patron who handed him the box pointed across the bar. It was the Michael man. With that look he had of being thrilled to give someone a gift, he threw a flourish at the bartender and they both laughed. Clearly, this was a local. It made me feel good to know it wasn’t a hallucination, and that Michael did have a doppelganger who lived in New Orleans – something Michael would have loved – and that I could put corporeal essence to that companion I had been feeling in the French Quarter.
Every bookstore needs a cat
He would goad me into going into just one more bookshop, take the Sazerac despite the fact that that didn’t have a virgin version. Or maybe because of it. And every time I saw something related to the dark arts, I could sense interest and as a result I had the same. So while I wasn’t in my car today with an illusory companion, I had one walking the ancient sidewalks of New Orleans with me.
To begin. I set an alarm for earlier than I would have liked, and got up out of bed, dressed and went outside. It was early enough that the morning light was low. The streets were freshly rinsed and the fog had yet to burn off. I felt alone on the streets of the French Quarter, and that was a blessed thing. The reason I was out this early was Cafe Du Monde. They are the tradition in the French Quarter, selling beignets and chicory coffee. I was there within minutes of their opening and there were only a handful of customers seated at the many tables. Most of the wait staff were sitting looking at their phones, waiting for business. I ordered the standard plus fresh squeezed orange juice. We’ve had their branded coffee at the cabin for a couple summers now, and it’s great, but it was nothing like the coffee I had this morning. Rich and tasty, paired perfectly with the pastries. I brought my current book and read it while attempting (and failing) to keep powdered sugar off the book, myself, the table, everywhere. The beignets come in sets of three and I took one to go. I wandered to the river to watch the fog roll out, then a roundabout way back to my hotel to prepare for a morning call I had with my Psychiatrist.
Technically she’s my med person, prescribing the chemicals that might make me better or at least okay. But we talk about some more of the spiritual things, she references the Hobbit and monomythologies and the hero’s journey. She was a huge champion of my taking this trip and she has been guiding me a bit along the way. What I was thinking was just driving around, she reframed as this journey to overcome obstacles and return home with the experiences that I bring with me. Good call.
After that, I had a nap. I’d been up early and “you know what, it’s my day off.” I was just fine charging up a bit. Then I got up, took a shower and headed to the Central Grocery to get a Muffuletta. Look it up if you don’t know, but it’s one of the best sandwiches ever. I took it to Jackson Square, my mindful place. Sitting on a bench in the shade I enjoyed eating half of the half sandwich, because they’re huge. At some point I was reminded of A Confederacy of Dunces. It’s a book written by a man from New Orleans. It’s a social commentary driven by a hilarious character and all of the people and adventures in his life. Sadly, the author couldn’t get it published. He was a professor at colleges in town, but no matter how close he got, it didn’t stick. And he became depressed. He took a long drive away from home. And in Biloxi Mississippi he took his own life. It wasn’t until his very determined mother hit up every publisher and finally cornered a famous author that the book got published. And then it won the Pulitzer prize. Sad, right? Something something persistence and hope.
In the book the character gets. a job selling hot dogs from a cart but ends up eating all the hot dogs. So I considered getting a hot dog from one of those carts. I may have a deathwish, but even I won’t risk eating a dirty water hotdog. But it got me thinking about the authors challenge, and what if he had hung on for just a bit longer. That’s a tough one for me, but food for thought. It was nice to read about all of that in the place the book described.
I wandered the French Quarter for a while – this trip has been about this part of a much much larger town. It’s meant to allow me to soak in history and a unique culture that still holds on to the older traditions, like smoking. And creative panhandling. When the guy comes up to you and says he can tell you exactly which city and state you got your shoes in, just say “I got them on my feet in New Orleans Louisiana” and watch his face drop. This wasn’t a visit about depth. I didn’t do any museums or tours. I just strolled, sat, pondered.
My ex (I hate that term) fell in love with New Orleans when youth could drink that much. They spent the rest of their life trying to get me, us, the family, but me to understand the love for the city. Museums and swamp tours and strong drinks gave me a sense of the contents of the city. But it never got its hooks into me. Until this trip. I think I just needed to have my relationship with the city in the way that I needed. As it turns out that was early morning coffee, sitting in shade, and hearing the voices on the street, not the music. I will credit you with putting me on the path, if you’re reading this. Thank you.
My afternoon was capped off with another call, this time to my therapist. We talked New Orleans and the spiritual sense of the city. And how each of our experiences here is unique. She was here for an unfortunate family thing. Everything seemed forced and a lot of the culture of the city was experienced as a tour or a presentation. I talked about my previous and current experiences, and the takeaway was about perspective, timing, intent, and circumstance. The call was done at 5, and after dragging my feet I headed out once again to find what I found. Dinner’s goal was barbecue. I understand that the proper BBQ would be in the parking lot of an abandoned gas station, sold from a food truck with a line of more than a dozen people there because they knew it was that good. But there were no abandoned gas stations, so I went with a good casual place that had brown paper towels on a spindle and a couple bottles of barbecue sauce with “mild” or “spicy” on them.
I have a friend who asked me once “If I could do anything, what would it be?” My answer was the kernel that became this trip. He’s been following closely, and he sent me a text telling me to go to the Carousel Bar. From wikipedia:
Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Tennessee Williams, Robert Craig, Truman Capote and Winston Groom (author of Forrest Gump) are among the famous authors who have enjoyed drinks at the Carousel Bar.
Or at least that’s how it should read. I actually went once and it was too crowded, so I couldn’t get a seat. I did go back later, almost feeling like it was an obligation. Apparently the drink to have is the Sazerac, and the web site for the bar said they had virgin versions. The bartender disagreed. It’s mostly alcohol so a virgin would be pretty sad. So I got the real deal. I was reminded of another Thomas Dolby lyric:
I hadn’t touched a drink in over a year But I told myself I’d stop at just one beer I found myself a stool at the bar Woah-oh A blur among the bodies in the store I saw Yelena spinning like a globe She took my hand and led me on the floor, floor, floor
I did stop after a single drink, though the room was spinning by the time I was done. Because it’s the carousel bar. It rotates around the bar. I’m hilarious. I’m sure nobody has ever made that joke there. But it was a great experience and I’m glad I went back.
On my way home down Bourbon street, I didn’t grab a beer or daiquiri or anything, though I felt warm and considered it. Self discipline prevailed for once. I did remember that I needed to get my palm read, so I headed back to Jackson’s Square. Thirty years ago or so I had my palm read there, on a lark. The only thing I can remember is that I was told my life line on my palm was broken. That at some point one life would stop and another would start. I’ve thought about that a lot, especially these last few years. So I wanted to go back and see what the update was.
I wanted a woman palm reader because that’s what I had last time, and I feel like the intuition matters. Ok, sexist, whatever, I felt like someone trying to find a prostitute. They have to be available, and then they have to be someone you feel would be good for the job/attractive to you. This was similar. I needed someone who looked like they were for real, or at least as much as they could be.
I ended up going to a psychic who didn’t read palms, but she recommended this man down the way a bit. He agreed to read my palm, though he was finishing up a hot dog. I took this to be an incredibly good sign. I like hot dogs, and see above for the literary reference. His interpretation was a bit different. What I thought was my life line was my mind line, and the life line was vertical, not horizontal. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. The part I found the be fascinating was how wrong he was. In almost every way. Troubled youth changing to health and happiness. I was a happy naive little boy until things transpired that made me hate myself from a young age. He talked about my mind being sharp and clear, no issues there at all. He talked about my four children. Uh, what? We talked when he was done and it was interesting to hear his response to my feedback. It was a discussion, not a critique or argument.
I also felt connected to him because he reminded me so much of my eldest daughter. Some of the appearance, many many of the mannerisms, and the earnestness with which he explained things all really made me feel this was a reading my daughter would do in much the same way.
I took my thoughts and strolled back to the hotel and came to my laptop and began typing. Tomorrow we experience Mississippi, Alxbama, and Florida. Wish me luck!
Deets
Weather: Foggy, pleasant, then hot and clear, warm but cool after sunset
Pictures
New Orleans before peopleCarousel BarSazeracThis might be my new happy place
The Great Crossing is complete! Not only did I completely cross Texas, but I hit 6,000 miles. Part of that may have to do with the fact that I used state highways almost exclusively. The interstate is just too much. Two brutal lanes of trucks and passing and speeders and minivans. Yes, you get to go 75, but many of the state highways go 70 or 75, and more importantly they have passing lanes extremely frequently. In Michigan the sign will say next passing lane in 15 minutes, and you think “ok, I can hang out for 15 minutes and then pass the RV.” But in Texas it’s in 1-3 miles, and it’s go time!
I stopped in Opelousas Louisiana on the way through because of a line in a song that I misheard for years. The song is “I love you goodbye” by Thomas Dolby.
The line is
“But I will accept a contribution To the Opelousas’s Charity Ball”
But I had been hearing
But I will accept a contribution To the old policeman’s Charity Ball
Which, if you listen, you can’t completely fault me for. The line is at 2:20.
So imagine my surprise when I learned the proper lyric, and then found out that not only does the place exist, but I was about to drive right through it. I tried to find some good photo ops to take a picture, but it was tough. First of all, there is no county. It’s a parish. And there’s a parish seat and pretty building, but none of it says Opelousas. Turns out it’s an awesome old city. The city center is a grid of square blocks and the streets are crazy narrow. All you can do is imagine horses and wagons on those avenues.
It was a very long day of driving, and as I expected I was tired when I got to the New Orleans area, and the traffic was pre-rush hour busy. But I just followed the google and trusted that was sending me on the most efficient path. I think that will have to be my mantra for the whole of the east coast. I will miss the deserts, coasts and mountains when the world gets much more densely populated. But that’s what will make them more interesting. Tradeoffs.
I love my hotel, it’s an old building so close to Jackson Square I can feel it. Car is snugly valet’d away inside their garage, and I won’t see it again until I leave. Tomorrow is walking and sitting and absorbing.
I did know I had to get some food, so off I went. Actually, never mind that. That’s the normal routine. Tonight I wanted to get out and get some amazing food, but also see interesting things. I hung out in Jackson Square (twice!) and sat by the river watching the barges go by. Note to self: I need to figure out which way the river is going.
I looked online for some good restaurant suggestions and picked a popular one. The menu read like a restaurant, not like a New Orleans restaurant. So I threw advice by the wayside and just wandered the French Quarter looking for a restaurant. Found one that had crawfish etouffee on the menu, though I thought I was looking for shrimp etouffee. Turns out they had what I really wanted, I just didn’t know it. I sat and the bar and taught another bartender what a “gunner” is and she made a pretty good one. It’s N/A ginger ale/beer based. Nobody’s ever heard of it, but it’s my mission to preach. And if I find a bartender who knows it (or pretends to) I will tip heavy indeed.
Digression warning!
Near the turn of the century, the family unit (just three of us yet) packed up and took a trip to New Orleans. We had friends down here who let us stay with them, and we spent the days doing tourist things. Our baby was about a year and a half. We spent a lot of time in the sun, sweating and baking. I look back at photo albums and it looked like we had fun. All I can remember are a few moments here and there. We were down there at the time of the Jazz Festival, so we paid crazy money to get in and spend a lot of time trying not to cook our child. I remember getting food at vendor booths and I got Shrimp etouffee. And it was amazing. Best shrimp thing I’ve ever had before or since. We may have tried making it at home but not well. The other moments I remember are being on Bourbon street and finishing my partner’s hurricane after finishing my own and there may have been beer in there somewhere. Also, the next morning when children were running about thumping on my aching head the floor.
That festival shrimp dish has been held in high regard, even though I don’t remember what it tasted like or what was in it. Or if it was soup or stew. Spicy or mild. Honestly, all I know is shrimp and amazing culinary experience. I guess.
So tonight I found crawfish etouffee at some random restaurant on Bourbon street. If you had been sitting near me, you would have seen the rays or sunlight bursting through the roof. The organ playing lofty notes. The angels singing and baby Jesus weeping.
And for the first time in an extremely long time, I annihilated a complete entree. Ate the whole thing, chasing the last morsels around with the spoon. I didn’t have any flashbacks to the Jazz Festival, but the flavor and texture and perfectly proportioned rice and sweet sweet chunks of crawfish glowed hotly with the embers of flavor. I wasn’t sure if it was my hayfever or the spicy level of the dish, but it didn’t matter. Both the temperature and the spiciness were hot enough to be great but not so hot that it couldn’t be shoveled down like coal into a fiery train engine. When I was done I was wholly satisfied, properly full, and honestly a bit exhausted from the effort.
It was a good dinner.
I followed that up with some strolling about on Bourbon Street. It was great people watching, and I liked listening to the music coming from the bars. Pat O’Briens has the hurricane, a traditional quarter drink. We made it for mardi gras parties. You basically take every kind of rum you can buy, mix it up, throw in a bunch of fruit juice, orange slices and cherries and you end up with something that may kill you with alcohol poisoning, but you certainly won’t die of scurvy. So consider a virgin hurricane. They make them. I ordered one. Yes, it tasted like a fruit cocktail, no alcohol burn. Bummer. Walked right out of the bar with it and proceeded to use it as my “drunk camouflage” like all the other people stumbling around with drinks. With my vertigo and inability to walk on anything but a completely flat surface, I was out there stumbling around and grabbing things to keep me upright on the hundreds of years old sidewalks. I might have sloshed my drink at some point. It’s all in the details.
But I felt right at home and had a good time as it got busier and busier. I was happy to be up late enough to be able to witness yet another adult Disneyland, without having to participate fully.
Checking my phone the time was still just past 6pm. Wild partier, this one.
I strolled the French Quarter some more and looked in some of the shops – because they were still open at this hour – and ended up back at Jackson Square. I think it draws me in. I walked past the psychics, one called out to the couple in front of me “Eric, come here.” His name wasn’t Eric. But the guys behind me? “Hey Eric, come here.” It has to work eventually, right? Imagine how Eric’s mind is going to be blown. Sitting on a bench among the bored psychics on their phones, a musician with a sampling box started up a tune and improvised it over time. It was very cool at first, atmospheric. I recorded a bit, it’s at the bottom of this post. Imagine the sparse tourists, the street performers and psychics taking a break between the daylight and the drunks. And a lone electronica craftsman pushing his buttons.
Deets
License Plates: MS
States: TX, LA
Departed: 7:34 am CST, 72 degrees
Original ETA 1:49 pm CST
Arrival: 4:00 pm CST
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley CA 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: Started rainy, cleared up, ended up 85° and sunny
Music: Thomas Dolby – the entire catalog, Prince – Sign of the Times, Prince – Purple Rain. I think Sign of the Times might be the most played non-playlist of the trip.
Observations
Given the way people seem to be driving the speed limit, I could do this whole trip without speeding. I won’t. But I could.
Left the dry heat of West Texas behind for the humid heat of the South
Sign: “Hitchhikers may be escaped convicts”
I had no idea there was so much logging in Louisiana. And it looks like pine.
I’ve seen drive through liquor and drive through seafood. They’re large warehouses with giant doors so cars can literally drive through them.
The hotter it gets the cooler it feels. Weird.
Saw a “Great Egret” (after consultation) and it looked like a Great Blue Heron, but white. Pretty.
Everyone is buttoned up in their air conditioned cars and I’m just cranking my music because nobody can hear it. (It’s not that loud, and it’s at speed so I can barely hear it.)
Opaloosa has cool little historic blocks. Narrow streets in a square grid.
My allergies are not appreciating being behind a truck full of hay
Cranking through Texas at 75 mph or more makes Louisiana’s 55 mph feel like I’m trundling along in a model T in the 1900’s. Being in Louisiana, it looks like it, too.
Saw a truck that did not have a license plate. It did, however, have a printed picture of the back of a truck with a license plate. I’m sure that’s legal somewhere.
In Huntsville, TX that are not speed bumps or speed humps but speed cushions.
I will not miss the Texas Stop Turn. Rather than just slow down a bit and make a right turn, they often will come almost to a complete stop and then float slowly around the turn. After making sure they’re as far left in the right lane as possible.
Stop and go traffic on I-10 and we’re on a giant high bridge, and the bridge is bouncing up and down. Unsettling.
Pictures
Hay. For the fever.Opelousas Louisiana
Scenes from my hotel:
Virgin Hurrican, aka fruit drinkMusic in Music
Video
Your moment of zen. Imagine sitting in Jackson Square, people strolling past, and an electronic music artist is sharing his craft.
Another long day. 350 miles or so. Almost all of it was on state highways, and that’s totally the way to go. They have a ton of passing lanes, and those cute little towns and so on. Also worth noting that only idiots like me take state highways any great distance. So whomever may be slowing you down up there is quite likely going to be pulling off at some point. Especially local trucks. Texas isn’t so bad but I’ll be glad to have it in my rear view mirror. Back to reasonable sized states with lots of vehicular exchange with their neighboring states.
There were windmills in the morning with almost no wind. Their incredibly slow rotations are like some sort of ballet, especially when it’s a field full of them. Crisscrossing over each other like slender limbs. Solar farms have nothing on the dance of the windmills.
Some day windmills will be gone or different than we know them. They’ll be ground level and inconspicuous, or we will have figured out the friction vs energy gained ration is out of wack or something. Regardless, much like the fact that we don’t see the classic old windmill on farms as often as we did, some day someone will talk about how there were so many white windmills and how pretty they were. Except Palm Springs. Those endless fields of white spinners will be kept up as ornamentation for a wind based cult in that desert valley. Harmless folks, really, unless you mention cold fusion.
Hey remember how I said I wasn’t going to talk about malls as much? Guess what I’m going to talk about again? Yes! Malls! Good job!
Passing through the small (or medium, now) town my brother went to college in, I thought to look up that mall where I got those two CDs. I guess I should clarify that CDs were fairly new, and more importantly, expensive. So buying two of them was probably close to $40, which apparently is like $125 today.
The mall is still there, and doing surprisingly not horribly. Obviously they weren’t going to have a Camelot music any more, since they were bought and sold a bunch of times and are long gone now. But I needed the stretch and thought maybe I would come across something familiar.
Not Camelot Music. Anymore.
I remembered it being near an angle, not a square corner. And it “flowed” left, if that makes sense. Well, after a false positive, it occurred to me that the Internet exists. Maybe some nerd has been tracking the changes in the mall and locations of different stores going back into the 1990’s. What? They did! Thanks for the map and the map store position numbers as reference, not only for the last position but the position it moved from.. And so, I give you “Not Camelot Music” in the associated picture. Or at least my best guess given the info provided.
Bit more allergies today, but getting better with Loratadine. Left hand sharp pains are a bit better until the end of the day. Can wrap and ice pack if needed. Taking Tylenol on the regular. Legs are okay though, making it through the long days just fine. And there you have the “old man aches and pains” report for today.
Lots of boring straight line road time to get right into my head and sit there and stew, but I kept it to as much of a minimum and possible. My future looms dark and ominous and it’s hard not to think of it. I can’t remember if I’ve talked about this yet, but you carry yourself wherever you may go. As I watch cars with little u-haul trailers, I think of all of the people going from one end of a state or the country to the next, moving for jobs or family or other life things. And I think about “Maybe I could live here,” but I don’t think I could leave home. Because it’s home. And no matter where I would go, something would be wrong, like too many giant pickup trucks or frequent flooding, or cockroaches. And I would bring myself. So I might as well remain where I am familiar.
New Orleans tomorrow!
Deets
License Plates: None new
States: TX
Departed: 8:00 am CST, 67 degrees
Original ETA 1:40 pm CST
Arrival: 2:00 pm CST
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: Gray, then bits of sun, then sunny and hot. 87 for an observable high. (Meaning that’s the highest I noticed on the dashboard)
Music: Bruce Springsteen – Nebraska, Tears for Fears – Songs from the Big Chair, INXS – Kick, Tom Petty’s Greatest Hits and following Spotify mix
Observations
I saw real live cotton fields. Logically I know they’re a current crop, but something in my head was surprised since they are from history
The heart of Texas is very.. German
Had an existential ketamine moment thinking about how the particles of ourselves left at a place we visit will eventually spread to neighboring communities and then everywhere. Woah.
Drove through Pecan territory. Took me a second to figure it out. Orchards of orderly rows of trees that look like they were plucked out of someone’s front yard. But there are hundreds of them. and they’re all identical.
The desert in mid Texas is similar to the desert in west Texas, but the height limit has been raised, so now there are tall scrub and medium trees.
Crossed the Colorado river on e beautiful bridge and it was super tiny. River, not the bridge.
Seeing so many more raptors, they love to sit on the power poles or sometimes the power lines. Like each field has two or three sharing the bounty..
I love that Texas has so many passing lanes on state highways
I’m feeling out of place because I’m the only non-Texan license plate on the road. I’m sure I’ll see more states as I get closer to the edge of the state.
Favorite internal quote of the day: “Oh so this county doesn’t put recommended speeds on their turns. That’s fun.”
Pictures
Just the one you saw up above. Remember, this is The Great Crossing, not The Great Taking Pictures. Don’t worry, it’ll get better soon.
Hit 5,500 miles the day after hitting 5,000 miles. So it begins!
I’m working hard to avoid the interstate highways because I get too competitive. State highways are interesting, often lonely, and pass through interesting little towns and areas. Before I left the interstate for some lovely and lonely state highways, I went through El Paso. At some point I considered crossing into Mexico just to put that on the list, but driving over seemed a hassle, and walking over seemed a sweaty hassle. And as my Uncle mused, it just isn’t a good time to be messing around with a border. So I have added Mexico as a “I saw that” rather than a “I went there” – maybe I’ll get a full set for the whole North America collection! You never know!
On the state highway I don’t think I passed anyone, which means there were very few people on it with me. We covered some massive desert area, the floor going on up to the mountains which grew further and further away. Eventually it was just a horizon of desert. Interesting cacti, but cartoon and cliched. Beautiful open blue sky as the wind whipped my hair into a quiff.
I was crossing to what looked like mountains, but in front of them was an ocean liner on blue water. I knew it couldn’t be, but it seemed a bit strong to be a mirage, and I hadn’t taken enough allergy medicine for it to have been a hallucination. As I got closer I figured the ship was a collection of wind farms, and the blue water were solar farms. Add to these the old oil wells which were pumping away (and being smelly!), and we had the complete collection of energy makers. There seemed to be large companies owning huge swaths of land and resources, so there were occasional corporate compounds, but few individual homes. Except in the small towns, of course. But it was still desolate enough to be a lot of adventure.
At one point I saw an animal crossing the road ahead, and I slowed down hard. Comping to a stop in the middle of the road I had an intense staring competition with a mountain lion! It was pretty unimpressed with me, but I thought it was majestic. At some point I did think maybe sitting in a convertible with the top down made me an accessible snack, so I rolled on. It was an amazing experience. Three miles later I thought maybe I should have taken a picture.
Finally, one of my tasks or todo items for the trip was “stars in the desert vibes” – and I realized while I still have a lot of Texas to go, it’s not all desert, so I drove out to a picnic area by a little river, turned out all the lights, and enjoyed the stars. This one is for you, Delaney:
Deets
License Plates: AK
States: NM, TX
Countries seen: US, MX
Departed: 8:27 am MST, 54 degrees
Original ETA 4:09 pm CST
Arrival: 4:30 pm CST
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: High temp today: 87, bright clear skies
Music: Roadtrip playlist, Nine Inch Nails albums, Crystal Method albums, David Bowie albums
Observations
Bowie albums I can sing to completely: Let’s Dance, Tonight, parts of Black Star
I love it when a state has a distinctive color or pattern to their license plates. New Mexico has some bright yellow plates going on, easy to spot and dismiss. They also have a little cactus on the left, regardless of the pattern or color/customization. Makes license plate spotting so much easier! Oddly, Washington state and California are easy, with white and the state name in red (right?) on top. Not as easy as Texas though. Black on white, state title on top and a nice star right in the middle.
The states I still need for license plate bingo are MI, KY, and a lot of New England. Not for long!
I am now in the central time zone, home sweet home. I’ll go live in eastern time zone in a couple days, for a long time.
Saw a train so long it had two engines in the middle!
Texas is really fucking flat
Not apologizing for the increasingly common use of profanity in this blog
It’s Monday, a weekday. Which means construction is in full bloom.
Top down most of the day and my allergies are killing me. Blowing pollen laden wind up my nose at 85 miles an hour will do that to you. Worth it.
The next few days are a bit of a race. One of the rules for myself on this trip was that I wasn’t going to chase miles, and I wasn’t going to chase hours. That it was meant to be chill, not schedule bound. The Great Crossing (TGC) is the exception. Texas is great. I spent a summer there with the Marines and it was hot but really nice. I know people from Texas who are great people. I’d love to explore Texas some time. But honestly, TGC is where I pay for the zero days that I’ve taken or will take. It’s a matter of point A to point B, and I’m not really stopping to look. I’ll take pictures as I stand at the gas pump. So I’m one day into four days of long driving in somewhat repetitive landscape. I’m sure I’ll find some fun along the way, but I’m steeling myself. And at the other end, when my land ship beaches on the shores of New Orleans, I will have a lovely zero day from my hotel, which is in the French Quarter a few hundred feet from Jackson Square. I will spend that day off strolling, not walking, around the French Quarter. I will not drive anywhere. And I will take a big fucking bite out of the Big Easy.
My brother is the oldest in the family, and he was the first of my siblings to go off to college. And he went. While my sisters and I went to college in our city, my brother went to Texas. Sibling legend has it that he had some choices but Texas A&M was the furthest away. Not sure about that but it makes for a good story. Mom and Dad flew down with him to get him installed and settled. We all went to the airport together – the whole family – and went through the laughable airport security screening. I think it was about as intense as walking through the security gate at a Hallmark Greeting Cards store. Not only did we take him to the gate, but none of us had been on an airplane before, so.. we all got on the plane to see where he was sitting. Apparently this was no big deal. Happened all the time. Feel free to deposit that loosely tapes cardboard box with the grease stains and ticking noise coming out of it anywhere.
Youngest sibling sob story warning: When they were down in Texas buying the requisite supplies for the dorm room, one of the items was a broom. Mom had just wanted “Lords of Discipline” and there was a whole todo about hazing at the time. Since my brother was going into ROTC, she was worried they would haze him and he would die. So they came up with a code. If he was in dire distress and concern for his life (and wanted his mother to know) he was to call and casually comment that he needed a new broom. Mom would then drop the phone receiver and run out the door to the car, get to the airport and fly down to rescue him. I thought it was brilliant.
Years later when I was going off to Marine Corps boot camp, a location which has far more attendee deaths than any cushy Officer training, I was ready for the same love. I had to buy running shoes – my only requirement. Brooms provided, although they were usually hand brushed and you were the handle. So I told Mom that if *I* had any problems, I would get word to her that I needed new running shoes. In my memory, her response was something of a grunt and a “that’s nice.” Bitter? Yup. But I got over it. (Right?)
Four years after my brother became pregnant with college he gave birth to a healthy college degree. They had a gigantic ceremony – thousands of people in his graduating class. Well, this time it was *our* turn to get on an airplane! The whole family flew down, aunts and uncles included. Not only that, but we got to stay in a hotel. Big deal, that! If Dad had figured out a way, we would have camped as it’s cheaper. And he liked camping. I vaguely remember the ceremony, because it was in a stadium. And at some point we had free time and I think we all ended up at a mall. I know that I got to wander this strange mall by myself, and they had a Camelot music there. I had heard of those, I think they had them in exotic California. I got Kraftwerk – Computerworld (English version) and Frankie Goes to Hollywood – Welcome to the Pleasure Dome. The former was ok, the latter still in my top 25 CDs of all time.
On the way home I had ear popping problems and remember it was like a nail through the head. I was sitting with Dad and he talked me through it, but it sucked. I also had a frank conversation with my Dad about how I needed a proper computer. I was learning (on my own) how to program and running into limitations with the computer I had, and just really needed a proper setup. He agreed. Not that he was going to pay for it, but instead of saying I could make do, or temper my hopes for the future he said it was a good idea. Little did I know when we got home there were inheritance checks for each of us kids waiting for us. Our Grandmother had died and it wasn’t a ton of money, but she wanted to give us something, and this something was just right for getting a brand new awesome computer system. From Radio Shack, no less!
Why the hell am I (saucy tonight) telling you all of this? I’m have given you my complete knowledge of the state of Texas from birth to my Marine Corps experience. So now I can start telling the actual story. I feel like I’m on a roll, so I’m going to type right through movie time this evening, and she how little detail I can dig up. New rule: NO more reminiscing. I’m still sore from Monterey and then I dug up stuff with my relatives yesterday. Memories only from here on out.
After language school, I had to go to school in San Angelo Texas at the Goodfellow Air Force Base. I can’t tell you what the training was, because it was super secret and stuff. And again, if I told you I’d have to kill you bore you to death. A handful of us Marines drive from Monterey to San Angelo in 24 hours straight. I read most of Stephen King’s The Stand when I was taking my turn driving. The corporal whose car it was told a long and detailed off color story that I will never forget, no matter how much I wish I could.
Since it was an Air Force Base, and we were Marines, we had nowhere to stay. So the standard drill was for us to stay in the hotel on base, and we would get per diem to cover the cost of the hotel. The only thing was, the hotel was $29 and the per diem was $30 per day. So in effect we were getting paid a dollar a day to stay in a hotel for three months. The maid service made those weekly inspections so much easier, BTW. Seriously. It was a lovely hotel though and we were two to a room. Nice courtyard in the middle, and picnic area with those covered tables I mentioned out back, by the flightline.
I spent a lot of time on my computer, dialed in to the systems back home that I missed. Did you know that a modem calling Minnesota from Texas is a long distance call? Yeah, I did too, but didn’t care or something. That was expensive. But glad I did it, as it was really like the last summer talking to my friends back home. At one point I wanted to order a pizza, but I was using the phone for the computer. So I told one of my friends on the other end to order a pizza in Texas, but from Minnesota. And it worked. Crazy.
I spent a lot of time talking to my long distance girlfriend, who I was going to see in a little bit once I took leave before going off to Korean. I ride from a friend of her up northern Minnesota from Saint Paul to see her and it was okay for a few days but then it just wasn’t as much, so I took a greyhound back. Both rides up and back were awkward. She and I had talked about engagement, even, good thing we didn’t go there.
I remember having the flu when I was in San Angelo. I don’t do the flu lightly. And by flu I mean the sinus issues, hold/cold fever aches thing. Nothing super gross. But when I get it, that’s me done for two days solid. So I had the flu and I was shivering in bed and a huge storm rolled through. They weren’t sure if it was a tornado or not, but it ripped the roof off the adjacent hotel branch. And I slept right through it.
The weather was pretty intense, being west Texas in the middle of summer. The base would put up flags indicating the level or exercise that was allowed. Green was good, red was bad, and black was don’t even think about it. So of course when the black flag went up that was a call to the Marines to get out there and prove something. It was fun to swagger a bit. Part of that was dehydration though. When you got back to your room, drowning in sweat, you’d get in a nice cold shower and balance out the temperature. Get dressed in some nice civilian duds and head off to the PX or the mess hall.
Another “you would know if you’d been there but couldn’t even though I’m trying to tell you about it” was sweat in the Marines. I had sweat before in my simple life growing up. But it wasn’t under we were on a forced march in boot camp and sweat was pouring down my face and making my glasses slip off, that I really understood what the human body was capable of. In Texas that summer we got another lesson in sweat. Running, you would simply develop a two or three millimeter layer of water covering every surface of your body. That would run off which being replenished by more sweat. So when we came in from exercise, our clothes were soaking, but we as humans were underwater. We were just walking around with it. And when you were all ready to go outside your nicely air conditioned room, you would walk out into the afternoon heat and it was like you were a cold Coke can on a hot day, and were immediately covered with condensation. But it was a dry heat, right?
Back to the Mess hall. In boot camp you go through the line and are given food. You sit down and told when to start and when to stop. You bus your own tray. In school in Monterey it was somewhat better. You asked for things when you went down the line, and nobody told you when to start or stop eating, but you bus your own tray. On an Air Force Base? Totally different story. It’s not bright white and loud noises, it’s got a lovely environment or atmosphere. Art on the walls even. You choose what you’d like to eat and by God it was tasty food! When you find a table, or preferably a comfortable booth, you take your time, enjoy your phone. If you get up to get more, you put a coaster on top of your drink. That indicates you’re not done. So nobody will clear it. When you are finally ready, you stand up and walk away. One of the food service professionals will come by and bus your tray and wipe down your table. Have a nice day, grab a toothpick on the way out.
I didn’t get off base much. No car, lots of studying, and honestly there wasn’t a ton to do in town. We would drink beer on picnic tables, go to the base movie theater, or shop at the PX. Because our school was in a secure compound, we couldn’t study outside of school time. We could go in the evening for an hour or so, but for the most part you left it all inside the fences and didn’t worry about it otherwise.
Unless you sucked at it. I nailed the typing test. I was good at some of the other things, like the technical stuff. But when it came back to the language I struggled. Hard. Near the end of the course I came in one point shy of passing a test, and that meant I was done. After all the language school, the technical school, and everything invested, I was rocking out at the final hour. Likely would mean infantry school for me, and that would be a bad scene for everyone involved. So had a rough evening.
When I got back to my room later than evening I found a note from my instructor saying he double checked the test and I passed, barely. I know for other people in that position they would sometimes just pass them anyway and let the student sink or swim in the fleet. And I’m sure that’s what they did for me. Thank you, Sgt whateveryournamewasIforgot.
I have other memories that are less stories, and more moods remembered. Or snapshots. One of them was going out to town with friends, and we ended up a boat landing, just hanging out in the fading light of dusk. The friend with the vehicle had a jeep, which was super cool but also fun to ride around with the top off. But it was a group of friends who had been through all of our schools together and knew each other very well. And it was a lovely moment. “Black Velvet” by Alannah Myles playing on the jeep radio.
We Marines volunteered to support an Iron Man. We were guarding the bikes overnight before the race. They got us a key of beer and said they’d see us in the morning. We stood around the scrub (at another boat landing) of the Texas desert drinking cold cheap beer. In the morning, we woke ourselves up by drinking warm cheap flat beer. It was awesome.
I’m sure I have more on Texas. Maybe I’ll write more, or maybe I’ll spare you. Long drive tomorrow, it’s off to sleep for me now!
Deets
License Plates: HI, MO (Yes! Hawaii!), Chihuahua, Saskatchewan
States: AZ, NM
Departed: 7:41 am MST, 61 degrees
Original ETA 2:09 pm MST
Arrival: 3:00 pm MST
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: Bit of rain, mostly partly cloudy
Music: Spotify House playlist, Nine Inch Nails complete library playlist
Observations
In Arizona they’re speed humps, not speed bumps
Saw my first cliche cartoon style cactus today
I thought Lake Isabella would be lush and beautiful, and I thought the desert would be ugly and desolate. Opposite on both counts.
Interstate 10 is a wall of trucks, slow passing cars, and heavy wind. Makes driving much more exhausting, will look for more state highways.
It was supposed to be a long day chasing miles from Las Vegas to Phoenix, so I could spend time with my Aunt and Uncle. And it was a lovely visit with them, and we had some banging Mexican food. Also, I was given a painting created by one of my favorite uncles.
I have always been fascinated by Route 66. The Mother Road. Conveyor of not just tourists in the 50s, but generations of migrating families. The Grapes of Wrath, a novel by John Steinbeck, calls it the Mother Road. It helped people move west during the dust bowl, people who had nothing but the contents of their wagon or car. It is an incomplete road remaining of a complete cultural icon. (It’s been a long day, I’m tired.)
It was as I expected it to be. Lots of abandoned motels and cafes, a good number of refurbished motels and cafes. Actual Burma Shave signs. If you don’t know, look it up, it’s amusing.
It was about 68 degrees and cloudy. A bit cool for the top down. But this was 75 miles of Route 66, that top was coming down! And that’s what seat warmers and heaters are for!
I am tired and I am pensive, so it’s a short post. Tomorrow I begin the Great Crossing, driving from Phoenix to New Orleans! I’ll be stopping in some lonely harbors, so will have more time to pontificate.
Deets
License Plates: AK – Yes, Alaska!
States: NV, AZ
Departed: 7:32 am PST, 68 degrees
Original ETA 12:46 pm MST
Arrival: 3:20 pm MST
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: Bit of drizzle, bit of partly cloudy
Food: BLT but they forgot the T, dinner was amazing Mexican
Music: Route 66 Road Trip playlist
Observations
What’s less than a drizzle?
My perspective of scale for mountains is all out of whack, and I think it’s because I’m used to seeing bluffs by the Mississippi, which are much smaller. Looking at distant mountains it’s always surprising to see a thin black line near the bottom – that’s a long train.
My car is my selfie stick
I like crows. I’ve been seeing them looking and acting like raptors, and doing rather uncrowlike things.
Pictures
Restocked water for the crossingI’ve been told this doesn’t countIt’s not route 66 if you don’t do something cheezyProper desert highway
One of the primary goals of this trip was to drive my convertible, top down, down the Las Vegas strip. Because I had always wanted to do that. It’s the kind of thing people would warn you not to do because of the traffic and congestion. Nuts to that! I have three more goals that fall squarely in the “not prudent” category, and I’m doing them. Dammit.
Left Death Valley behind with a slow drizzle. Didn’t take too long before the temperature rose and the rain stopped. Top down, no looking back. The fact that death valley, the most desolate place in the US – is less than 2 hours from the Las Vegas strip – is strange to me.
I’ve been having a logistical issue with laundry, but found a laundromat in Las Vegas that did it all and folded it for probably less than what hotel detergent and change would cost. Win. They did the work, I went to the Hoover Dam. Which was interesting, nice to say I’ve been there, but I’m good.
Coming into Las Vegas I had mixed feelings. I hate Elvis and the casino lounge act culture and vibe. Now most of the acts are magicians. Question: If you were a viral sensation and scored a show at the best casino, and then after 6 months when everyone got tired of your gimmick, do you just quit or have a show at the Flamingo? I’m looking at you Puff the Magic Dragon’s brother.
Had a good wander down and back up the strip. It’s all different but all the same as it was 10+ years ago. Tired feet, but great people watching. I feel exhausted but rejuvenated by the sheer volume or lighting!
Five hour driving day tomorrow, and I want to get it over with as quick and early as possible. Seeing my Aunt and Uncle! Very excited!
Deets
License Plates: MA, ON
States: NV, AZ, NV
Departed: 8:45am PDT, 76 degrees
Original ETA 10:57am PDT
Arrival: 11:00 am PDT
Warmest/Coldest: Death Valley 90°, Wallace ID 22°
Weather: Bright, warm
Food: Subway sub, Crepe from Paris (casino)
Music: Beastie Boys – Hello Nasty, Prince – Sign O The Times, Bush – Deconstructed, Lady Gaga – Mayhem
Observations
The drive to Vegas had much more desert like I thought I would see. Flat, lots of scrub, going on endlessly to mountains that are very far away
For a state that’s made up of dry stuff and has a shortage of water, they sell an awful lot of fireworks
Vegas has gutters crossing sidestreets, which inadvertently are speed gutters
Vegas drivers seem like they’ve been brain afflicted. Very aggressive but also very confused about what they’re doing.
I got my car searched at the Hoover Dam because I had two large black containers in my back seat. Once they saw they were full of sweaters and shoes, they waved me on like I was an idiot. Which I am.
Pictures
Target on the way – it’s a baby Target!Hoover DamBlurrily heading out for the eveningVenice!Paris, et alF1 preparationsF1 carAnd of course the Bellagio fountain
The Windmill Posts 