Day 42: Out of Fire and Death, into the City of Angels

As darkness fell over Death Valley, I was beginning the journey from the south edge towards my campground. When I say darkness, I really should note that it was never total. The moon was out, and just over half full, which cast an eerie glow over everything; and the lightning storms, which had yet to let up, continually flashed in front and behind me.

Like most National Parks, Death Valley has an entrance fee to drive through. However, unlike most other parks, there was no range booth on the edge of the park from the direction I came. Rather, you were required to stop at one of the kiosks along the route and purchase a pass from an automated machine. I finally arrived at the first of these machines nearly an hour after turning from the highway. Up until this point, I had yet to leave the confines of my car inside of the valley; I had no idea what to expect from the atmosphere. I arrived at the completely unlit Bad Water kiosk and parked my car so that my headlights could provide illumination. I refrained from turning off the engine, however; I didn't anticipate a long stay.

I opened the car door, and was immediately hit with a blast of 106 degree wind. The storms raging around the mountains were causing a ferocious wind to gust from more than one direction, blowing sand and hot air into my face in an unpredictable manor. I ran over to the ticket kiosk, quickly read the instructions, inserted my $20, and waited for my pass to print. Suddenly, an enormous gust came blowing down from the north, hurling dirt and dust at me. In order to save my poor contacts from further abuse, I turned my back and hunched over to shield myself. At that exact moment, my ticket finished printing and before I could react was blown from the machine and off into the rocky bed below the parking lot. I stood there for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The little piece of paper, which had cost me $20, had just gone flying off into the dark unknown, on the back of a gust of wind which probably measured 40 or 50 mph.

You have got to be kidding me, I said out loud. You have got to be freaking kidding.

I snapped out of my intense disbelief and ran to my car to get a flashlight. I went around the back of the pit toilets (which smelled horrendous, let me tell you what; just imagine the effect of all that waste sitting in 115 degree heat all day, and then having the stench blown at you in hot waves; not pleasant), and began searching frantically for my little receipt. Winding my hand crank flashlight, furiously trying to increase its area of illumination, I continued my futile searched for about 5 minutes. Every now and then, I would stop and listen, hoping to catch the sound of rustling paper. Unfortunately, I had to give up. The wind could have carried it any of at least 5 directions, and by this time far away. I would have to just pony up the cash and buy another one.

This time, I covered the opening with my hand while waiting.

I got back in my car and blasted the A/C for a good 5 minutes cooling off. I eventually arrived at the main village in Death Valley, Indian Village (over 70 miles from the entrance). Luckily, they had a gas station so I could stop worrying so much about saving fuel to be able to leave in the morning. My campground (and the only one in the park open at this time of year) was just up the road and had the charming name of Furnace Creek.

I pulled in, paid my camping fee (again making sure to place my hand over the opening to prevent losing another $12), and began driving around looking for a decent camp site. Furnace Creek is quite large with over 100 campsites, although many of them are place right next to one another in typical "camping out of a car" fashion. I finally settled on one far enough away from others, with a decent view of the eastern mountain range and thunderstorm still in progress.

What followed was an exercise in frustration as I attempted to set up my tent in high winds, while being blinded by sand being thrown into my eyes. When I finally was able to get the tent up (using rocks on each of the corners to weigh it down), a sudden gust of wind essentially turned it into a big kite. For a few minutes, I desperately held on as the tent rose about six feet into the air and pulled me forward. I prayed the straps holding the posts wouldn't rip from their stitching, or that the posts themselves wouldn't break. Finally, I wrestled the tent to the ground and was able to sit on it, preventing it from becoming airborne again. I sat there contemplating my next move. I took the tent apart, shoved it back into my car, and gave my eyes much needed rest and lubrication.

My next idea was again to weigh down the tent as I erected it, but this time from within rather than without. The theory was that once the poles had been connected, the weight would still be inside the tent holding it down and it wouldn't lose anchor like it previously had. I rummaged through my trunk, searching for items to use as ballast. While still in my backseat, I stuff the tent with anything I could find with substantial weight. With faith in myself, I brought it back out to try again.

This is how I lost my tripod, shovel, sleeping bag, pillow, sleeping mat, and extra blanket all at once.

Just kidding. It actually ended up working out fairly well (especially when I used four large rocks to anchor each of the corners inside). I finally set the tent up, threw my water bottle inside, and dove in to escape the pelting winds. After setting up my sleeping arrangements, I stripped down to my boxers and laid on top of it all. The temperature was still over 100, and my gallon of water was quickly running low. Between tent cave-ins, lightning flashes, and the oppressive heat, I spent the longest night of my trip. Oh, and my rudimentary fixes for my leaking sleeping mat failed.

Death Valley 2, Colin 1

I arose just before sunrise to the proverbial calm after the storm. The sky was mostly clear, the wind gone, and even the heat was down to an acceptable 85 or so. I packed up my belongings, got dressed, watched the sun rise, and headed back into the village for overpriced breakfast buffet.

I left Death Valley partially conquered, but partially victorious.

For most of the rest of Tuesday, I crossed the barren wasteland that is south-eastern California. After hours on the road, I descended the San Bernardino mountains and into the smog filled valley. For those who haven't driven into LA by car, the change is very visible; a think layer of brown haze permeates the view into the distance. My first stop in LA was to be with a friend from Santa Cruz, Laura Kim; I'd be staying with her for a few days and getting exposed to some lesser seen parts of life in the Valley. I arrived in Pasadena around 2pm, which meant I had a few hours to kill before she got off work. I bummed around, bought a CD from a used record store, and settled down in a coffee shop to read a local news paper.

That night, we met up with two of Laura's friends for happy hour at Bar Celona, a fairly fancy bar in old town Pasadena. The happy hour menu consisted of a selection of food items such as shrimp, buffalo wings, meatballs, and other such finger food for $5 each. Not too bad, we thought. That's when we found out that for $5, you get four meatballs, or four shrimp, or four wings. We ate a couple of plates between us, drank down some pints, and headed over to King Taco for more substantial food. Another bar (where they had Stone IPA on tap!), then some delicious frozen yogurt from a self-serve yogurt bar. This place was very interesting; you chose the size of dish you want, pour as much yogurt of varying flavors, then top with fresh fruit! Very tasty and in fact quite healthy. I imagine places like this will begin popping up in Portland within a year or two (behind LA as we usually are in these kinds of things).

Wednesday morning, I got up around 9am so I could navigate the interstate traffic down to Disneyland to meet up with my sister Kirsten and her daughter Natalie, as well as her friend Kari and her son Rowan, who just so happened to be vacationing at the same time I arrived in the area. Talk about good timing. Amazingly, the park wasn't all that busy (being after Labor Day, and the middle of the week); we never had to wait more than 5 or 10 minutes for even the busiest rides.

Contemplating my situation.

I spent the day with them wandering around the park, getting shown around Minnie Mouse's house by Natalie, and getting completely saturated on Splash Mountain. In reference to that last point, let me tell you, I think the ride seater was conspiring against Kirsten and myself, as he sat us in the front (myself in the very front), with a smaller child behind. We obviously weighed down the nose of the boat, so any and all declines caused the nose to dip lower than usual into the water, resulting in more pronounced waves invading the sides. I was soaked before we even went down the last drop. I thought about how best to shield my poor backpack (with camera inside) while plunging down the last free fall. Good thing it was a nice day (although I still didn't dry off before going to bed that night).

We parted ways in the evening and I headed back to North Hollywood to meet up with Laura and Meghan, another friend from Santa Cruz. I met them at Porto's, a delicious bakery restaurant and ate some leftover scraps of food they had ordered (well more than scraps really, but that's what it felt like; I had a good portion of a beef sandwich, two potato balls, and half of a cheese and jam filled danish thing). That night, the three of us went bowling at an amazingly hip and "indie" kind of bowling alley. With complete modesty, I can say that Moobs dominated. Okay, dominated is a bit of a strong word, and in fact quite incorrect. But we had fun.

Thursday rolled around, and set in motion events that would culminate in an amazing trip to a Korean karaoke establishment...

Beard status: getting quite full and fluffy. White hairs becoming more pronounced, though.
Total trip miles: 11652. Unbelievable.
Listening to recently:
Eye Alaska - Yellow & Elephant

Day 38: Into the Valley of Death

Lota-imitations

Fast Food Report
Blakes Lotaburger - I first thought this was just a local one-off, having the look of an old burger joint/drive in. However, when I started to see these cropping up all over the place in northern New Mexico, I began to become suspicious. The name, obviously, is very similar to my previously mentioned Whataburger, and unfortunately the food wasn't much better. Although score one for having such burger names as the "LOTA burger" and the "ITSA burger" (guess which one is bigger). As an aside, I also found a place called "Thatsaburger", although I didn't eat there. Interesting...

In-n-Out Burger - Known as the best for a reason. All fresh ingredients guarantee a delicious burger experience. A lack of frilly options means they do what they do, and do it very well (your choices are burger, cheeseburger, or double cheeseburger). Really not much has to be said about In-n-Out; if you haven't yet partaken in this pinnacle of fast food achievement, get yourself to a more enlightened state and treat yourself.


The last few days have consisted of a lot of driving, mostly. I left Santa Fe Saturday morning and began my journey north. My first destination was Four-Corners national monument. Unfortunately, there was no real direct way to get there from Santa Fe; I had to first drive nearly to the northern border, then west. In the end though, I'm glad I was forced to drive that route because the scenery of northwestern New Mexico is quite amazing. I suppose you can call it "high desert", although it is far from barren. Unfortunately, like a dope, I neglected to stop and take any pictures, and I'm having a hard time describing it. Just take my word for it.

As I got closer to Arizona, the landscape began to change into a more typical desert. Interesting but not quite as beautiful.

Exciting.

Four-Corners is an interesting place. I don't think I was expecting much, so I can't call it a let down. It sits on the Navajo Reservation, and has a selection of merchant booths around the monument selling jewelery, crafts, and souvenir t-shirts. The monument itself is a plaque in the ground marking the actual corner set in a concrete deck with the seal of each state in its respective section. There is an elevated deck where you can get a better view of the corner. The best part was the Navajo Frybread I ate while looking at the corner. Think elephant ear, with honey instead of the cinnamon-sugar mixture. Yum.

From that exciting adventure I drove northeast through the lower bit of Colorado. I had thought about stopping at the Canyons of the Ancients national park there, but my time was beginning to grow short if I was to make it to Arches before sunset, so I settled for simply driving by it. Unfortunately there wasn't much to see from the road.

I arrived in Moab, UT right around Sunset on Saturday. I had no idea, but this town just outside of Arches is quite the outdoor adventure town. It reminded me a bit of Whitefish, MT in its size and popularity with tourists. When I finally reached the entrance to Arches, I saw the following sign in the ranger station window:

Campground Full

Drat. Figures, though; I hadn't really thought about the fact that it was a Saturday. Driving back through town, I stopped at motel after motel only to find them all completely booked. Double drat. I talked to a man outside of one motel who told me that unless I wanted to pay $150 for a room (not unless I'm in Canada), I was probably out of luck. Nothing I can do about it then, I thought to myself, and decided to get some grub and drink at the Moab Brewery I had passed on the way in. The food was pretty good, the beer was nothing too special (at least the one I had). I bummed around the town for a bit, wasting time on the internet, reading, wandering the grocery store, until I felt tired enough to attempt the car-nap. I must say, I'm getting better at this sleeping in my car business. It's still not the best nights sleep, but it's more than adequate to get me through the next day.

I woke a little after the sun rose, ate a banana, and headed into Arches. Being early into the park had two major advantages:

1. Beat the heat
2. Beat the rush

The only named arch I wanted to ensure I saw was the famous Delicate Arch; everything else was just bonus. The trail leading to the arch is about 1.5 miles each way, and rises about 500 feet. It doesn't sound so bad, except that the altitude rise is almost all encompassed in one stretch of the trail that goes up an exposed rock face at a nasty angle. Add to that the fact that my calves were still recovering from Carlsbad, and you get one gnarly hike. Thankfully it wasn't over 80 degrees yet.

The famous delicate arch...just kidding, click for the real photo.

At the end of the trail, you round a corner carved out of a rock face with a rather steep drop off to your left, and there in front of you is Delicate Arch, set in a natural amphitheater area. The view is more than worth the hike to get to it. I sat around enjoying the view for a while, then walked around the arch itself before heading back down the trail.

The rest of the park was truly fantastic. There is a lot to see and explore, I spent more than an hour simply driving around and doing short hikes to other lesser known arches. As the day wore on, however, the crowds began to irritate me. I think a late fall return to the park could be well worth the trip; less heat, less crowds, and hopefully a camping spot.

I left Arches behind in the early afternoon, and began my long drive down to St. George, UT. Although quite lengthy, the drive was made interesting due to the landscape. The southeastern quarter of Utah has amazing views; canyons, mountains, jagged rock formations pushed at odd angles out of the earth. It's also mostly empty (there was a stretch on I-70 that had no services for over 100 miles). If I have to spend six of seven hours driving, I'll take that kind of a drive.

When it was time to head south, I took US-89 instead of I-15 for two reasons. First, I've been trying to conserve fuel so I don't usually drive faster than 65 or 70 (no need for the interstate speed limits of 75+); and second I-15 is pretty boring, having driven it on my last roadtrip with Scott. My plan was to head through Zion National Park, but not to actually stop in it this time. However, as I found out, it costs $25 just to drive through. Forget that, I thought. Unfortunately, the next passage between US-89 and I-15 was about 20 miles back the way I came.

I finally arrived in St. George around 8pm. I checked into my $26 motel (new record!) and realized I'd better do laundry so I don't offend my hosts in California. As you can probably guess, it was an exciting night.

Today, I'm off to Death Valley, via Las Vegas. I'm not anticipating a problem getting a campsite this time (being Monday, and the fact that there are over 100 sites at this particular campground), although it may be a bit on the warm side. I'd better pick up some water.

Reason for the short blog: I need to get on the road and put off writing this
Odometer reading: ~1000 (it rolled over after 9999).
Musings:
The Honorary Title - Anything Else But the Truth (pretty decent album, thanks Lynsey)
Pink Floyd - A Momentary Lapse of Reason and Wish You Were Here (the former being quite good, I'd never really listened to it before)
Coldplay - Parachutes and A Rush of Blood to the Head

Day 35: Beer has food value, but food has no beer value

On Thursday, I woke up fairly early so I could head back to Carlsbad Caverns. Being after Labor Day, the park was mostly quiet. I purchased my ticket (only $6, what a deal) and walked over to the "natural entrance" to the caverns, which is the large hole in the ground the first explorer of the caves used to get in and out. Luckily, visitors these days don't need to scale down a wire and wood ladder into total darkness; there is a convenient paved path (albeit a winding one) that leads you into the depths. Once you're eyes adjust to the darkness, the few lights on the path and strategically placed to emphasis points of interest are more than enough to feel comfortable with.

The caverns themselves are amazing. As with Glacier, I feel any words I could write would be unable to truly do justice to the magnificence of the place. The sheer size of some of the caves is unbelievable, as are the many (many) formations decorating the floor and ceilings. I felt like I was walking through a Disneyland exhibit, nothing this amazing could be natural. But of course it is, and is really a testament to the power and beauty of nature. Anyway, I'll stop trying to butcher Carlsbad with words; instead I'll use pictures.














It took me about two and a half hours in all to complete the self guided tours available. In the future, I think I'd like to come back and participate in one of the caving tours; one where you get a helmet and headlamp and scale yourself into one of the undeveloped caves.

Also, after Labor Day is the perfect time to come (at least to this national park, but I imagine the story is similar at most places). One ranger I met on my way down told me I was only the seventh person he had seen that day (almost two hours after the park opened).

Don't believe the lies...I'm not sure which lies not to believe, though

Leaving Carlsbad, I headed north again to a little town called Roswell (you may have heard of it). Let me tell you, that is one goofy place. Of course, I had to go to the International UFO Museum and Research Center (yes, research center). Now, I'm a skeptic by nature, but my natural inclination is to believe that there must be something somewhere out in the big ol' universe other just ourselves. I also wouldn't necessarily rule out the possibility that some of these outsiders have visited Earth, and even that our own military has some secret cover up concerning the whole matter. However, that being said, the UFO museum is just certifiably wacky. Maybe it's just that aliens conscientiously choose redneck hillbillies to visit because they know their credibility is lacking, to say the least. Or perhaps it's just that these are the only people willing to speak out about their encounters. Either way, I must say that the "evidence" that the museum puts forth is far from convincing, even to one like myself who is not a disbeliever. They seem to take themselves quite seriously, though. Just the same, I'm taking away 20 points for lack of an organized flow and an unprofessional display of evidence.

I left Roswell and headed west-ish with little plan for the rest of the day. It was still fairly early (mid-afternoon), and I hadn't put down a lot of miles for the day yet. My goal was to get to Whitesands National Monument that day, and then find a place to sleep somewhere west of there.

Not pictured: missiles exploding on the
range to my right

The drive from Roswell was very nice, heading up into the mountains, eventually coming down towards Whitesands and the Whitesands missile range. As luck would have it, I arrived in the valley just as the sun was setting over the western mountains. After watching a beautiful sunset, I pulled into Whitesands about an hour before the gate closes for the night. Since I had so little time left, the ranger didn't charge me for entrance (thank you). Whitesands is exactly what you would think it to be from its name; namely, dunes of white sand. The sand itself is very fine grained and quite pleasant to the touch. I stayed out on the dunes for as long as I could stand the bugs (even with the bug spray this time...). The sky was completely clear all around, but as I was leaving I noticed some clouds probably twenty miles or so to the south. To my surprise they suddenly lit up from within with lightning. I was able to watch this show for a good twenty minutes on my drive through the missile range.

I crossed the western mountain range, hit Las Cruces, and began heading north up the interstate. Curiously, I had to pass through a border control inspection point (seemed a bit far north to me for that).

First try at the Milky Way. More to come.

Further up the road, I decided to start looking for a place to sleep for the night. Around 10pm I pulled into Truth or Consequences, NM (I kid you not). I drove the strip, but finding nothing too promising instead stopped for a bit to eat at a diner. To tell you the truth, the consequences of that meal and coffee were that I was able to continue driving for another hour or so to Socorro (see what I did there??).

In Socorro I found a Motel 6 for thirty bucks; the cheapest of this trip so far.

Friday morning I had breakfast at a local restaurant, which consisted of huevos rancheros. I'd never had this delicacy before, but my experience has left me a changed man. Think scrambled eggs with cheese on a corn tortilla, smothered in red and green chili sauce; with pinto beans, hashbrowns, and covered with lettuce, tomatoes, and black olives. Perfection on a plate.

After breakfast I checked the trusty internets to decide if Albuquerque or Santa Fe had much in the way of points of interest to offer. It seems my streak of serendipity was continuing. This weekend in Santa Fe is the Fiesta de Santa Fe (or simply "La Fiesta"). I booked a motel in Santa Fe for the night and set off.

Remind me later to go on a rant about traffic and driving habits that contribute to worsening conditions. I'm still too bitter about it to relate the tale of my drive this afternoon.

After checking into my motel in Santa Fe, I headed downtown to the Plaza, where La Fiesta was being held. Parking was at least 27 different kinds of frustrating, but I eventually found a place out in a residential area.

La Fiesta was really fun, I walked around for a while soaking in the atmosphere. For dinner I had a Navajo Taco (oh man, so very delicious). There was a stage with music, on which was playing a mariachi band whilst I ate.

The downtown of Santa Fe is really nice; there are no high rises or obtrusive buildings. Being one of the oldest towns in America (founded in the early 17th century), much of the architecture and design of the city is reminiscent of early Spanish, Native American, and Mexican ideas. It is also at an elevation of over 7000 feet above sea level.

Following La Fiesta, I drove out of the city to watch the sun set again. I'll never grow tired of that.

Once again the mosquitoes determined that it was time to go (although I think this time the bug spray helped a bit more). Before turning in for the night, I headed over to the Second Street Brewery. I had a couple pints of their IPA (while writing the majority of this blog, I must say, so I apologize if it quickly deteriorates in quality) while listening to a jazzy kind of band (I'm not sure how to classify them). The IPA was actually quite good, nice and hoppy with a hint of citrus.

Tomorrow I hope to get to or near Arches National Park. We'll see how things develop. Either way, I'll most likely be out of wifi options for the next few days. Wish me luck.

Outside temperature: 66 F
Exact number of miles: 9942
Playlist:
Norah Jones - Not Too Late, Feels Like Home, Come Away With Me, Stay With Me
Thrice - The Alchemy Index I-IV, Identity Crisis, The Illusion of Safety
Iron and Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days

Day 33 pt II: Revenge of the Blog

After stretching and putting on a fresh layer of deodorant, I drove to an IHOP I had seen earlier that morning. Normally I would look for a local alternative, but having had only two hours of what can only be very loosely called sleep, I wasn't in the mood to hunt.

I had coffee and some food, the more important part of the meal being the coffee. As a side, I have noticed a definite hierarchy in the world of 24 hour diners. It usually runs something like this: local diner, Shari's, IHOP, Denny's, Waffle House. I do what I can to avoid the bottom half of that scale. I've at least learned my lesson about Waffle House. Yeesh.

By the time I finished eating and had my fill of coffee, there was still approximately two and a half hours until I could check into my motel. My plan was to check in, take a nap, then head out again for the evening/night. But I still had some time to kill. I drove around a little longer, ending up at another mega store; Super Target. Super indeed. I spent an hour or so reading Sports Illustrated about the Olympics, and generally bumming about.

I'm starting to think that this blog entry may be becoming a bit on the boring side, so I'll speed things up.

At noon I headed over to the Motel 6, only to discover that they were still cleaning rooms. I was to return at or after two, the clerk informed me. More time to kill. Fortunately breakfast had done me well, and I was feeling well enough without a nap. When coming to Austin, I decided that I was pretty finished with doing the touristy thing, finished seeing monuments and historic buildings and other such riff raff. I just wanted to get a feel for the city. So I headed back to the university district. I bought a book from a local bookstore (Flatland by Edwin Abbott, I'm stoked to read it), and ate a delicious calzone at a neat restaurant called Mellow Mushroom. The atmosphere was pleasant, staff friendly, and food more than adequate.

Somewhere in this timeline I also visited an amazing beer and wine store to pick up some of the original Keep Austin Weird stickers, plus some Texas beer. It's kinda fuzzy when this actually occurred, though.

By the time I got back to the motel, I was allowed to get my key. By this point, I was tired and smelly and sleepy and grimy. I took a shower, and promptly did nothing else for a long time (although I did watch Fur, a fictitious story about the photographer Diane Arbus, on HBO; it was pretty good). Around eight I thought I'd go find some internet so as to download more work. On the way to Starbucks, however, I was distracted by the sunset and ended up getting myself nearly lost driving around a lake for two hours. Fun with exploration.

At my poetic best.

The next morning I had big plans. First on the list was Prairie Chapel Ranch, aka the Bush Ranch in Crawford, Texas. I had a bit of a tough time finding the place at first; there are obviously no large signs pointing you in the right direction. But eventually, I was successful...in finding the intersection you take to get to the ranch. Unfortunately, that's as far as I was able to get, as there was a checkpoint blocking the road to the ranch itself. Big surprise. No worries, however, as I was still able to perform my democratic duty of expressing my disagreement with the administration's positions and policies, as seen in the photograph.

In all honesty, I can understand why the Bushes like the ranch, the landscape is fairly beautiful (for Texas), with gently rolling hills and various streams running through the area. Also, the house next to the ranch with the white SUVs, locked gate, property of US government signs, and giant antennas adds a nice ambiance .

What kind of doctor is Mr. Pepper anyways? Doctor of
awesome beverages, probably. With a masters in delicious.

From Austin, it was a short jaunt to my next destination: Dublin, Texas. But Colin, you may be asking yourself, what could you possibly find interesting in such a small town in the middle of Texas? Certainly your time would have been better spent in a more well known city? On the contrary, I say. Let me introduce you to Dublin Dr Pepper; only bottled in the town of Dublin, Texas. And, the only bottler of Dr Pepper that still uses real sugar rather than high fructose corn syrup. I bought a 24 case (of glass bottles, naturally). Bids start at $5 per bottle when I get back.

I finished the day in San Angelo. After driving quite a long ways that day, I felt like kicking back. So I went to the grocery store and picked up a six pack of Broken Halo! Touche Texas, touche. Your selection of beers has far surpassed my expectations. It was a nice taste of home.

This morning after getting up, I spent some time at Schlotzky's (or as Matt would call it, Not Quiznos) eating a delicious sandwich and, more importantly, posting today's first blog. Free wifi for the win.

Today's drive was mostly uneventful, other than almost getting hit by a car merging into my lane. I had passed into the western Texas deserts and oil fields, so the landscape was quite desolate. I did, however, see the largest wind turbine farm I've seen since Europe. And a roadrunner (I think). Oh yeah, and a zebra.

I passed into New Mexico around 4:30, which promptly became 3:30. I must say traveling west across timezones is far superior to the other way around. I tried to go to the Carlsbad Caverns, but unfortunately I missed the last opportunity for the day, so that's first on the agenda for tomorrow.

Oh yeah, one last thing. I had dinner at a local Mexican restaurant, which was good in and of itself. However, after my meal I was served sopaipillas. If you are ever offered sopaipillas, the correct answer is always "yes please" (or "si por favor" if you prefer). Trust me.

Vegeta, what does the scouter say about his mileage level?? OVER 9000!!!!
Other things I have been listening to:
Fiona Apple - Tidal
Staind - Dysfunction
Linkin Park - Reanimation
Anberlin - Cities
Alice in Chains - Jar of Flies
Cold War Kids - Robbers & Cowards
Mae - The Everglow
Jurassic 5 - Power In Numbers

Day 33: Lone Star

When I rolled into Austin, I had about 20 hours before I could check into my motel. I made the decision that rather than trying to sleep in my car somewhere, I'd just stay awake until Monday afternoon when I could check into my room and take a nap then. For the last few weeks I'd been getting plenty of good sleep, shouldn't be a problem to pull an all nighter once in a while right? I'd done it before in college, I could do it again.

UT

I parked near the downtown area near the University of Texas campus. While I still had daylight I took a stroll around. The campus is pretty large and quite beautiful, I was only able to see a small portion of it but what I did see was pleasant. Even the squirrels are very friendly, one nearly climbed up my leg while I watched it (insert requisite joke about gathering nuts). I also learned that carrying around a backpack with my laptop and camera on my back in 90+ degree heat and humidity 1) makes me very thirsty and 2) results in my back being completely saturated. Time for some water.

It seems once again I proved my ability to show up in the right place at the right time, for some given random event. While trying to cross the street from the campus to a CVS, I found my path blocked by a stream of red. To be more specific, a stream of red shirts. To be slightly more specific, thousands of participants in what I later found out to be the Nike Humanrace 10k. I waited for a few minutes for a break in the crowd, and when none came I performed a diagonal run across the street, trying to match their speed with a lateral vector included.

Members of the Humanrace.

Since both I and the human stream of red were heading towards downtown, I walked parallel to the race for a while. In many ways, it seemed similar to the Nike 10k that Scott and I did a couple of summers ago; particularly with respect to having bands perform at spots along the course. I stopped to watch one of these bands in the downtown area. I think they were local (and maybe not even "officially" invited to play there), they had all of their equipment set up in a bank parking lot with a couple of speakers hooked up to mics. They sounded a bit Muse-ish, but a little more indie leaning; they were quite good actually. I felt sorry for the runners, since they couldn't really enjoy much more than 30 seconds of the music before they were round the corner.

I followed the race until it turned east, running parallel to the river which I was heading towards. I didn't have much of a plan yet for the evening; I had read a bit about Austin and what to do, but had yet to decide what I was going to do next. Sixth street was mentioned as a good place to hear music, having a decent bar scene. As I passed Sixth, I looked up and down. Seemed a bit quiet, but then again it was still pretty early (not yet 8 pm). I walked past and eventually ended up at the river. This is when I remembered another fact about Austin: under the Congress Street bridge lives a colony of 1.5 million bats, and at dusk each night they come out. Brilliant. I'll watch bats, I thought. Well, being a Sunday on Labor Day weekend, it seems I wasn't the only one with this idea, as there were literally hundreds (thousands?) of people lining the bridge and the waterfront waiting for dusk. I took my place on the bank and waited.

Lots of dark.

Here's the thing about dusk: it's dark, and getting darker fairly fast. And the thing about bats is that they are black, and pretty small. As a consequence, when the bats did actually begin coming out, I had a pretty hard time seeing anything. The best place to see them, it seems, is on one of the boats or kayaks that crowded the river near the bridge. Note taken for the next time I'm in Austin.

I now had about 15 hours until check in time, so I started to think of ways I could spend this time to a) see what Austin had to offer and b) stay awake. I headed up Congress street (which, fittingly enough, heads straight to the capitol building). A little ways up I realized that the finish line for the 10k was up in front of me, and that there was a giant stage with some kind of concert happening. Being the curios type, I walked with the stragglers towards the finish.

Down in front!

After threading my way through the throngs of runners, family members, volunteers, and various city folk, I got close enough to the stage to actually see the performers. The setting was pretty stunning; the stage had been set up right at the intersection in front of the capitol building, which was lighted and provided an amazing backdrop to the events below. I didn't recognize the band, but I had a suspicion they were famous since quite a lot of people seemed to know the lyrics and were singing along. Later, I found a schedule of events for the run and discovered that I had seen Ben Harper perform. Neat.

I'd been walking around for the better part of six hours or so, in ungodly heat and and humidity, with a heavy backpack. It was well past beer thirty. I found Sixth street again, and chose a direction to walk (west, for those interested). I eventually happened upon what I took to be the "scene", and wandered into a bar that seemed pretty laid back and had a sufficient number of beers on tap. Bonus: Sunday is cheap beer night, every pint is $2.50, with the exception of the Texas lager "Lone Star", which is $2.

Now, remember that my overall goal for the night was to stay awake. Unfortunately, drinking three pints of beer after walking around all day DNE a good way to not be sleepy. In fact, it produces quite the opposite effect of what I intended. But I wanted to try me some Texas beer. A breakdown:

1. Lone Star Lager: your typical lager, probably a bit better than the mass produced American classics, but in the end it is what it is. Fairly refreshing, though, on a hot day (which I'm led to believe happens in Texas on a mostly regular basis).
2. Shiner Bock: per Graham's suggestion. Impressive, I'm not usually one for Bocks, but this one was very flavorful and tasty, but without being heavy.
   
3. Austin Amber: my least favorite, although this may be due to the fact that it is a heavier beer (after I'd been drinking lighter varieties), and I'm not really much of an amber fan in general anymore. Still, I think in the future I'll avoid this one.

I left having spent $7 on three pints of beer (not including tip); not half bad.

The walk back towards the campus was a bit brutal: I hadn't noticed the slight hill I had walked down while following the race, and even though it was 11pm the temperature was still in the upper 80s. I needed caffeine if I was to stay awake, and I realized I hadn't really eaten since the drive from Houston to Austin. The solution: Kerbey Lane Cafe, a 24 hour diner located in the University district. The place was packed, mostly with runners and students. I sat at the counter (the advantage of going to a restaurant by yourself, you usually don't have to wait for a table). The food was good; I had a turkey and avocado sandwich with what they called home fries, but anyone else would call quarters of baby potatoes. I read the Onion, trying to take my time and enjoy the air conditioning as long as possible. I was never asked to leave, but I could tell from the crowd waiting to get in that the staff would prefer if I didn't loiter and take up valuable seating space.

I left and walked back to where I had parked my car. Luckily, I had parked next to a bakery with wifi, so I sat in my car for an hour or so using the internet for what it's best at: wasting time. Around 1am I packed up the laptop, and took a drive around Austin. The city has a pretty large suburban area surrounding it. The interesting thing is that it is all considered Austin, and not separate cities (think if Hillsboro, Beaverton, Tigard, and Gresham were all instead just Portland). I stopped in a deserted parking lot to play guitar for a while, but the mosquitoes are still determined to ruin my trip. After accumulating approximately ten bites on my arms, three on my back, and one on my right cafe, I'd had enough. I think from now on, as part of my morning routine, I am going to cover myself in bug spray just in case I ever head outside.

I still had nine hours or so to go. I needed something to do. I found a 24-hour Wal-Mart. If played right, you can spend hours in a 24 hour mega-store without spending a dime.

Sidenote: I discovered a way to extend the time between needing to do laundry on this trip. While in the Wal-Mart, I purchased a pack of boxers and white undershirts. That's an extra week of clean clothes! Genius.

Unfortunately, I wasn't going to make it. I realized this around 4:30, and decided that I could afford just a couple hours of sleep before the sun rose. I parked again next to the wifi bakery, kicked my seat back, and failed miserably to get any kind of restful sleep. It was too hot, and too humid, as well as being too uncomfortable to start with.

Around 7:30, I gave up and headed to IHOP for breakfast and coffee.

I'll have to finish this tale tonight. I need to get on the road if I have any hope of seeing Carlsbad Caverns today. More to follow...

Car status: nothing terribly bad has happened since Montana. I've noticed one or two new scratches I never used to have, and I have an ever growing collection of plastic bottles in the back seat (I refuse to just throw them out, I need to recycle!), but all in all it is holding up well.
Miles on the trip: nearly 9000.
Recent music:
Ray Charles - Genius Loves Company
Damien Rice - O and 9
Green Day - Insomniac
The Early November The Room's Too Cold and the other album I can't remember the name of
Punk Goes 90's and the Spawn Soundtrack
The Crystal Method - Vegas

Day 30: Eye of the Storm

Don't believe the lies.

Fast Food Report: Whataburger
This name is very much a misnomer. I'd suggest a more appropriate label such as Whatadisappointment, or Whatacrappyburger. Really, with a name like Whataburger, I was expecting a reaction along the lines of "Wow! What a burger!" after taking a bite. Instead, my initial thought was "Wow...what is this, a burger?". Come on people, either bring your A game or change the name.


Thanks for all of the concerned words and comments about avoiding New Orleans until after the hurricane or all together and what have you; unfortunately I received most of them either when I was already there, or after I left. Go figure.

After my last post, I hadn't made up my mind yet whether or not to attempt New Orleans. In order to put off the decision even longer, on a whim I walked into a movie theater that happened to be next to the Starbucks I had breakfast in and watched Babylon AD. My general rule of thumb is that anything with Vin Diesel in it can't be bad. I was mostly right (it was at least a fun couple hours).

In the end I decided that I couldn't skip New Orleans, I had come far too close to just go around it. My argument was that Gustav wasn't predicted to make landfall until late Monday or early Tuesday, and it being Friday I had plenty of time to stay one night, then continue on my way west. With this in mind, I booked a motel (all the hostels were unfortunately full) and started the journey south.

As I approached the city, I began to notice an marked increase in the number of cars traveling in the opposite direction. I figured they were just being overly safe. Then I saw a couple of nursing home buses, then a couple prison buses, followed by thousands of cars. This made me slightly concerned, a feeling that intensified as the northbound traffic became a traffic jam while my southbound side contained only a handful of cars.

In the end, this concern really wasn't necessary. I found my motel easy enough, checked in and checked out what to do while in town. Since it was getting on in the afternoon, most of the outdoor activities and places to see were falling off my list of possibilities; which really just left Bourbon Street.

I was keeping a careful eye on the news the entire time I was in my room. I learned that I was situated in Jefferson parish, which hadn't evacuated yet (luckily), but was planned for the next day at 4 pm. The cars I had seen on the freeway were most likely from one of the neighboring parishes that had already ordered a voluntary evacuation, to be followed soon by mandatory evacuations. Nothing I need to worry about until tomorrow, I thought.

Something for everyone.

Armed with my camera and an appetite for decadence, I parked downtown and walked towards the French Quarter. Of the places hit by Katrina, the French Quarter actually came out alright, being set on slightly higher ground (read: not below sea level); and of course, was quickly restored afterwards as it is a large tourist attraction. For those who haven't been, the French Quarter is really only a handful of city blocks, about seven blocks from the river back and ten blocks or so long. But packed in that small area is an amazing variety of activities, restaurants, galleries, cheap shops, expensive shops, and much more.

Not pictured: the old guy dancing.

Unfortunately it seems the threat of hurricane scared off some of the possible patrons, although there was still a fair amount of people roaming the streets. I walked up and down taking it all in before I settled on a place to get some food, the Cajun Cabin (I suspect most of the places on Bourbon Street aren't particularly "authentic", but they had live music and decent prices). I ordered a Catfish Po-boy, which is really just a fried piece of catfish (which was interesting in itself as I had never had catfish) on a type of french bread common in New Orleans. It was decent, although not in anyway amazing, and the "local" beer I had was also pretty average. It wasn't all mediocre, though; the music was pretty fun and the atmosphere fairly friendly.

I finished up and headed out, camera in hand, ready to begin capturing the nightlife. By this time it was after 9 pm, so things were beginning to get slightly more enlivened, although I imagine no where near a typical Friday night. Many bars and restaurants had live bands playing and every now and then I would stop and listen for a while. As I headed down river, I entered the section of the street that hosts most of the gay bars and clubs. In addition, the street began to become more crowded and lively. It was a really fun atmosphere, and I can imagine that if I was gay and if I could dance, I would have been in heaven.

Pure Decadence.

Here's the thing I've learned about myself on this trip: I have an uncanny ability to arrive in places during scheduled events that I had no previous knowledge about. Sturgis in South Dakota, Bike night on Beale Street, and now Southern Decadence in New Orleans. For those who are unfamiliar with Southern Decadence, as I was, it is a week long gay event held annually in New Orleans culminating in a parade the Sunday before Labor Day. It seconds only Mardi Gras in size and economic impact on the area, and causes much less damage and litter.

I found out this little fact when I stopped into a jazz bar along Bourbon Street. The seating hostess sat me at the bar, and I ordered an Abita. When I received my drink, the man next to me glanced over and raised his glass; "To decadence," he said. I cheered him and took a drink, thinking we were drinking to the general philosophy of being degenerate. On the TV in the corner was a news channel with constant Gustav updates. I exchanged some words with my friend next to me about the coming hurricane, and the planned evacuations and such.

Jazzy.

"We ended up changing our flight from Monday to Sunday," he told me, as he put his arm around the man next to him.
"Yeah that's a good idea," I replied, "since this thing is supposed to really hit around Monday."
"Really unfortunate timing, with Decadence and all."
I gave him my patented slightly confused look, the one where I raise my right eyebrow just a little bit and cock my head to the side.
"Southern Decadence?"
I shrug my shoulders.
"Are you gay or straight?" he asks me.
"Straight." I reply.

He went on to explain to me about Decadence and why I probably saw a lot of men walking around shirtless on the street. I just figured it had been because it was so hot and humid.

It turns out that he and his partner were from San Jose and had just flown out for the festival. They had planned to come in 2005, but Katrina kind of put an end to that. Three years later they decided to come back, and here was Gustav barreling down on the city. Go figure, he says.

And people bring their kids here...

I stayed for a while, had a good conversation with Jim from San Jose, drank some alright beer, and listened to some seriously decent jazz. Eventually they left; I finished my own beer and hit the streets again. I walked around a little longer, snapping some more pictures, before deciding to call it a night. New Orleans is fun and has a really great atmosphere, but it really seems like the kind of place you come with a group of friends. Next bachelor party guys, forget Vegas.

In the morning I pack up and check out. Planning for the next few days, I decided it would probably be best not to head to Corpus Christi (which was next on my initial route) since it was also on the gulf coast. Instead, I booked myself a motel in Houston for the night, Houston being about five hours from New Orleans, and on the way to Austin.

I was beginning to see the effects of the imminent evacuation. I went to Wal-Mart to grab some fruit for breakfast; the place was mobbed. Businesses had begun covering their windows with ply-wood, many already closed. I finally got what I needed, filled up with gas, and promptly joined the parking lot that was I-10. Thankfully, most people were heading north, so when the intersection for I-55 came, I-10 mostly cleared up.

Here is a summary of the rest of my day: a drive that should have taken, at worst six hours, took me in excess of eleven. Eleven hours of driving (if you can call going an average of 2 mph for 20 miles driving). The worst came only 70 miles outside of Houston.

A few things of note that came from this drive:

• I have decided to hold a press conference when I return to Oregon. The topic will be ocean temperatures, and will go something like this:
  "Hello and thank you for coming to this press conference. I have called you all here to inform you that yes, it is possible for ocean waters to NOT be frigid year round. In fact, the water at a beach can be quite pleasant, almost enjoyable. That is all, thank you for your time."
  At one point along I-10, I was only 12 miles from a gulf coast beach (thank you road signs). I had to test it out. It was awesome, definitely worth the bug bites I sustained enjoying the retreating sun while standing ankle deep in murky warm water.
  
• I seem to always make the wrong decision when it comes to traffic. Change lanes at the wrong times, decide against taking this or that exit, decide in favor of taking this alternate route. Nearly without fail, every tactic I tried to employ to fight the jam just made my situation worse.
  
• A sample of activities I engaged in while trying to pass the time stuck 50 miles from Houston: listening to my radio scan the AM stations...twice (I thought maybe I had missed something interesting the first time around; for those curious, I didn't), finishing off my collection of Science Friday podcasts, listening to American Idiot in its entirety, looking in the windows of cars that passed trying to make eye contact, dusting my car interior, attempting to drink a half gallon of water without messing myself, writing this blog entry in my head.

I finally arrived at my motel around 12:45 am. Thankfully they hadn't rented it out to someone else. Today I plan on heading over to Austin and staying for two nights. I have encountered a slight problem, however. My inability to plan more than one day in advance has caused me to have no where to stay tonight yet (tomorrow I'm covered). Yet again, this hurricane is foiling my plans to have an enjoyable time. I suspect this won't be my last confrontation with Gustav.

I close with an email from MoveOn.org concerning the nomination of Sarah Palin as John McCain's running mate. It says what I'd like to say, and with references to boot. Please read it and pass it on.

Dear MoveOn member,

Yesterday was John McCain's 72nd birthday. If elected, he'd be the oldest president ever inaugurated. And after months of slamming Barack Obama for "inexperience," here's who John McCain has chosen to be one heartbeat away from the presidency: a right-wing religious conservative with no foreign policy experience, who until recently was mayor of a town of 9,000 people.

Huh?

Who is Sarah Palin? Here's some basic background:

• She was elected Alaska's governor a little over a year and a half ago. Her previous office was mayor of Wasilla, a small town outside Anchorage. She has no foreign policy experience.¹
  
• Palin is strongly anti-choice, opposing abortion even in the case of rape or incest.²
  
• She supported right-wing extremist Pat Buchanan for president in 2000. ³
  
• Palin thinks creationism should be taught in public schools.⁴
  
• She's doesn't think humans are the cause of climate change.⁵
  
• She's solidly in line with John McCain's "Big Oil first" energy policy. She's pushed hard for more oil drilling and says renewables won't be ready for years. She also sued the Bush administration for listing polar bears as an endangered species—she was worried it would interfere with more oil drilling in Alaska.⁶
• How closely did John McCain vet this choice? He met Sarah Palin once at a meeting. They spoke a second time, last Sunday, when he called her about being vice-president. Then he offered her the position.⁷

This is information the American people need to see. Please take a moment to forward this email to your friends and family.

We also asked Alaska MoveOn members what the rest of us should know about their governor. The response was striking. Here's a sample:

She is really just a mayor from a small town outside Anchorage who has been a governor for only 1.5 years, and has ZERO national and international experience. I shudder to think that she could be the person taking that 3AM call on the White House hotline, and the one who could potentially be charged with leading the US in the volatile international scene that exists today. —Rose M., Fairbanks, AK

She is VERY, VERY conservative, and far from perfect. She's a hunter and fisherwoman, but votes against the environment again and again. She ran on ethics reform, but is currently under investigation for several charges involving hiring and firing of state officials. She has NO experience beyond Alaska. —Christine B., Denali Park, AK

As an Alaskan and a feminist, I am beyond words at this announcement. Palin is not a feminist, and she is not the reformer she claims to be. —Karen L., Anchorage, AK

Alaskans, collectively, are just as stunned as the rest of the nation. She is doing well running our State, but is totally inexperienced on the national level, and very much unequipped to run the nation, if it came to that. She is as far right as one can get, which has already been communicated on the news. In our office of thirty employees (dems, republicans, and nonpartisans), not one person feels she is ready for the V.P. position.—Sherry C., Anchorage, AK

She's vehemently anti-choice and doesn't care about protecting our natural resources, even though she has worked as a fisherman. McCain chose her to pick up the Hillary voters, but Palin is no Hillary. —Marina L., Juneau, AK

I think she's far too inexperienced to be in this position. I'm all for a woman in the White House, but not one who hasn't done anything to deserve it. There are far many other women who have worked their way up and have much more experience that would have been better choices. This is a patronizing decision on John McCain's part- and insulting to females everywhere that he would assume he'll get our vote by putting "A Woman" in that position.—Jennifer M., Anchorage, AK

So Governor Palin is a staunch anti-choice religious conservative. She's a global warming denier who shares John McCain's commitment to Big Oil. And she's dramatically inexperienced.

In picking Sarah Palin, John McCain has made the religious right very happy. And he's made a very dangerous decision for our country.

In the next few days, many Americans will be wondering what McCain's vice-presidential choice means. Please pass this information along to your friends and family.

Thanks for all you do.

–Ilyse, Noah, Justin, Karin and the rest of the team

Sources:

1. "Sarah Palin," Wikipedia, Accessed August 29, 2008
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarah_Palin

2. "McCain Selects Anti-Choice Sarah Palin as Running Mate," NARAL Pro-Choice America, August 29, 2008
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=17515&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=1

3. "Sarah Palin, Buchananite," The Nation, August 29, 2008
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=17736&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=2

4. "'Creation science' enters the race," Anchorage Daily News, October 27, 2006
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=17737&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=3

5. "Palin buys climate denial PR spin—ignores science," Huffington Post, August 29, 2008
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=17517&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=4

6. "McCain VP Pick Completes Shift to Bush Energy Policy," Sierra Club, August 29, 2008
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=17518&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=5

"Choice of Palin Promises Failed Energy Policies of the Past," League of Conservation Voters, August 29, 2008
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=17519&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=6

"Protecting polar bears gets in way of drilling for oil, says governor," The Times of London, May 23, 2008
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=17520&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=7

7 "McCain met Palin once before yesterday," MSNBC, August 29, 2008
http://www.moveon.org/r?r=21119&id=13661-8607554-nkMU6cx&t=8

Want to support our work? We're entirely funded by our 3.2 million members—no corporate contributions, no big checks from CEOs. And our tiny staff ensures that small contributions go a long way. Chip in here.

Gustav annoyance level: orange.
Miles: >8000 (I was mistaken in the last post, it should have read closer to 7500).
Musics:
The Decemberists - Her Majesty and Picaresque
Green Day - American Idiot
Finch - What It Is To Burn

Day 21: Is it time for zombies yet?

What I have learned from or about the East Coast so far:

1. People love their Dunken Donuts. I thought this chain had all but died out, considering the only few I knew of in the Portland area either closed or changed into Sesame Donuts. But no, how wrong I was. You can't trip off a curb without turning around to look at the curb you tripped on and realizing that it was actually a Dunken Donuts (don't think too hard about that one, it seemed to make sense at the time of writing). It seems to be the Starbucks of the eastern half of the US, which leads me to my next point...
2. You can't throw a rock from Starbucks to Starbucks across entire states like you can in the West. In fact, I spent most of the day today just trying to find one between New Jersey and my current location of just east of Maryland so I could post this damn blog. This would be fine if I knew of any other reliable source of wifi.
   
3. The East Coast has (mostly) mastered the art of the roundabout, although here they call them rotaries. Whereas us on the left coast see them and think "Oh how quaint and fun, a roundabout!", rotaries make up important intersections here on the right.
4. Carry cash, but just a few bucks. You never know when you will be innocently driving down a freeway when suddenly you have to pay to continue. Toll roads continue to be the bane of my existence; although I understand the necessity of this evil I do not necessarily agree with their implementation.
5. Those crazy stereotypical accents do actually exist, but not really in the strength or ubiquity we're led to believe. I must say, though, that when I was served by an attractive young woman back in the midwest that her slight Minnesotan accent made her a bit more attractive. Context is important.

I'm seriously thinking about carrying a notepad around or something, as I'm constantly thinking of great things to post but subsequently forget them before I find the ever coveted wifi...

And yet I still haven't seen the Oregon capitol building

When last I posted I was heading towards Providence, Rhode Island. I arrived in the city and parked near my first attraction, the capitol building. It was very impressive in form, and parking was easy so double points there. While redressing post metal detector, the governor happened to walk in, which was a neat coincidence (side note: apparently he is trustworthy enough not to have to walk through the metal detector). The building has one of the largest free standing marble domes (according to something I read), and inside this dome is adorned with amazing murals and ornamentation.

Around the inside are various mementos from Rhode Island's past, such as the original charter for the state, a bunch of sculptures honoring each branch of the military, and some old roll call books. Of most interest, however, is an original painting of George Washington in the press conference room, by the artist who did the portrait for the one dollar bill. According to a staffer giving a tour to someone else, this painting is only one of two in which Washington is completely pictured standing up, making it worth "a whole bunch, millions probably". Fascinating, to say the least.

He saves children, but not the British children

Being a nice day I decided to tour the city on foot. Providence is a medium sized metropolis, not insanely busy like others here on the East coast, but decently bustling. I walked along the canal over to the Rhode Island Institute of Design, and then up the hill to Brown University ("Down with Brown!"). The walk was pleasant, the universities nice enough in their way (once you've seen one ivy league school you've seen 'em all, right?), and mostly served to work up a nice appetite for dinner.

I ate not far from the capitol building at the Union Station Brewery, so called because it is built out of an old railway building downtown. The food was good (probably a bit overpriced, but then again the atmosphere was a little classier than I had expected), and the Half Day IPA I had was decent but a bit weak in taste for what it claimed to be. What it lacked in taste it seemed to make up for in alcohol content because I had to walk around the mall for a few hours, reading magazines in Borders, until I was sober enough to drive.

Out of Providence I headed west into a beautiful sunset (brilliant and orange, nicely contrasted with deep blues) and drove for a few hours into Connecticut. All the excitement of the past couple days apparently made me completely forget to visit Jamestown while I was in the area. Oh well, next trip right?

I headed south west towards Bridgeport. Now, again, I must admit that I was not thinking entirely clearly. Looking at the map I thought to myself "Hey, Bridgeport! Isn't that a brewing company that makes a cheap yet very decent IPA?" Well, the answer as I later remembered was yes but no. The Bridgeport Brewing Company I had in mind is actually located only a few thousand miles to the west, in Portland. Oh well.

I like this.

I stayed for the night in what I thought was a Super 8, but I must have misread the sign because where I actually stayed was a Super Shady. My neighbor was either having heated arguments all night, or had the TV extremely loud, the bathroom door only shut with an enormous amount of force, and there were all kinds of nefarious looking people hanging around in the parking lot. In the morning, I could hear my aforementioned neighbor talking on the phone, the conversation going something like this:

"Man that was bullshit, I had the money but the stuff was crap. Then the cops showed up and we had to bolt. Blah blah blah some more nonsense probably about other illegal activities."

I knew I had a bias against Super 8 in favor of Motel 6 for some reason, this just reminded me why. They also charge more.

Knowing now that Bridgeport was not the destination for me (and actually, according to Wikitravel, is quite the hot bed of criminal activity), I continued west, with a slight northern tilt out of Connecticut and into New York. I decided that I was going to skip New York City this trip; there is far too much to see there, and I would honestly prefer to not have my car with me to worry about. However, because of where I was, this meant a long detour around what I guessed to be the busier highways. Like usual I tried to avoid the interstates as much as possible, and as a consequence had a very enjoyable drive through the country side. New York and New Jersey actually have quite beautiful landscapes outside of the cities.

My plan was to hit up Atlantic City that night, but I really wanted to book ahead some place to stay so I wouldn't get bent over again and pay far too much for a sub par room. I ended up booking a room at a Motel 6 just east of Philadelphia. I checked in there first, did some work to justify the cost, then headed back east towards the bright lights of Atlantic City.

First impression of the skyline: impressive, at least from about 5 miles out. One casino in particular used the entire building as a giant display screen, animating all kinds of scenes in color. It seems this would get pretty frustrating for those trying to actually sleep there, but I'm sure the engineers worked something out (no windows in the rooms maybe?).

When I got to what appeared to be a "main drag", I was duly unimpressed. Granted it was a Thursday night, but the streets were mostly empty. My worries about finding any kind of parking vanished as I was able to park at a metered spot on the street. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to insert coins into the meter, but luckily in 20 minutes it wouldn't be enforced anymore so I figured I was safe.

I speculated that the reason the streets were so empty was that everyone was inside gambling, so I entered one of the first casinos I came upon, The Resort. I was partially right. The casino itself (and in fact, all of the ones I went in) offered your standard sensory overload experience. I'd estimate that about a third of the machines were occupied, and maybe half the tables open for play.

Not pictured: dozens of cart pushers walking around empty,
trying to get couples to take a ride.

When I got to the back I was reminded that Atlantic City has a boardwalk! I had found the people, albeit still not an overwhelming amount. The boardwalk reminded me of an old, slightly run down year long carnival, particularly down the steel pier. Manning the rigged gaming booths were employees who looked extremely bored, most leaned against the wall, a few chatted with one another, and one girl sat on the counter, speaking to no one in particular through her loud speaker that she was looking for a winner. One man called to me, saying he'd give me a free through at his dart game. I figured he would try to charge me eventually, but I thought what the hell.

"Bored, eh?" I ask him.
"Something like that, here ya go, five bucks out of my pocket."
The first dart I throw bounces off a balloon and sticks into something behind the counter.
"Here," as he hands me a second dart, "That's ten bucks out of my pocket."
This one sticks in the board between a couple of balloons.
"Did I mention I'm crap at darts?" I say.
"I can see that, here fifteen bucks out of my pocket." He slides over a third dart.
Determined not to be outdone by a bunch of under-inflated carnival balloons, I hurl this one hard and worry less about aiming. I finally pop one.
"Alright," he says as he hands me two more darts, "pop these next two and I'll give you a prize." He mumbles something else, but I can't understand it. After politely asking him to repeat himself ("what?" I ask), I figure that whatever it is I can't understand has something to do with me paying him if I fail to complete my task. I say thanks but no thanks (what do I want with a stuffed something-or-other anyway?), and walk away.

Further down the boardwalk is more of the same; a lot of sitting about waiting for the next sucker. I pass a fortune telling store front where about six people sit around doing nothing in particular. I think to myself that they at least should have had the foresight to predict such a slow night and not bothered even coming in.

Shooting from the hip so as not to get kicked out

After walking a couple miles up and down the boardwalk, I pack it in and begin to head back. I leave without having my wallet or car stolen, so I consider it a win. All in all, I'd rank Atlantic City above Reno, but definitely below Vegas. I imagine there is some kind of official hierarchy among these cities of sin which mandates what kind of image they put off. Not so much a conspiracy as just an understanding that they will cater to different folk.

This morning, after a delicious breakfast at the local Baaahhb Ehhvaahhns, I somehow found myself nearly completely lost in north Philly...

Beard status: I have a lot more red and white hairs than I remember having last time I grew it out. Either my face is feeling two thirds patriotic or I'm getting older. I'm leaning towards the former.
Approximate miles (one of these days I'll actually get the real number): ~5800 and in need of a service soon.
Music to listen to while reading this post:
Incubus - Make Yourself
The Decemberists - Picaresque
Thrice - The Alchemy Index II & III
Something Corporate - North
Jack's Mannequin - Everything in Transit
Wolf Parade - At Mount Zoomer