Road Trip to L.A.: Day Four

Little Rock, AR to Albuquerque, NM

We settled into our 12+ hour drive to Albuquerque  and the Widget practically laughed its nonexistant head off when we programmed New Mexico into it as our destination. I really love giving that thing human-like qualities and I really wish it was more of an interactive robot than it actually is. Anyway, today really separated the men from the boys in terms of Road Tripping, and we are the men. Boys drive to the airport. Men drive to the ultimate destination in a tiny car and utilize every available space. They fill their glove compartments with speeding tickets (Natalie added a second one after 10 minutes behind the wheel, when a Texas cop clocked her going 90 in a 70. What we didn't tell him was that five minutes prior she topped off at 106 in a 70. These roads are flat, straight and empty. You can only speed), princess crowns and corn nuts and they get really jazzed when they see a fellow Massachusetts license plate and they don't bitch out. Ever. 

Here's my Arkansas concern: tornadoes. I'm not sure if Arkansas is just on constant alert for them or if we were actually in real danger of getting twistered,  but there were warnings all over the place and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't horrifying to hear about tornadoes touching down in the "midwest and Arkansas" and having it actually apply to my general vicinity. Luckily Liz and Eleanor saw Twister a hundred times apiece and were fully prepared for the chase if it needed to happen. We were a little on edge though, especially when, last night while we were sleeping, the heat or something in the hotel kicked on and I'd be lying if I said I didn't panic just a little because it didn't NOT sound like an oncoming locomotive, AKA tornado. 

In Oklahoma we held onto our scalps as we entered Cherokee country and proceeded to drive down I-40 West for 537 miles. However, just because we spent fourteen hours on the same road does NOT mean a decrease in excitement. First and foremost, Eleanor whipped out surprise number two - hillbilly teeth - which really helped us to fit in with our new peers. Then, shortly after entering Texas we stumbled upon the World's Largest Cross which definitely warranted a pit stop as it was one huge cross. As in, See-It-From-Space huge. The World's Largest Cross also featured a gift shop and Blessed Mary's Amer-Tex-Mex Restaurant. There was really no time to dilly dally, although it would have been amazing to see how they blended religious innuendoes with a Tex Mex menu.

One thing I'm really loving about all of this is watching all of the stereotypes I have heard just fall right into place. It's really satisfying, especially since now I can not only continue the hilarious stereotyping, but I can do it with the ammo of proof to fire back at those who might try and make me feel like a jerk for generalizing.  I can't even begin to describe the accuracy with which New Mexico is stereotyped. I just...I literally cannot. The scenery is lovely though, if not a little Martian.

My one complaint is that those crazy "Welcome to (STATE)" signs come and go so darn fast that it's damn near impossible to photograph them. I thought I was going to have a bitchin' collection of pictures of those signs but all I have is New Mexico and Texas because they usually just sneak up on us as we're blowing past them on one highway or another. C'est la vie.

Road Trip to L.A.: Day Three

Nashville, TN to Little Rock, AR

Memphis is particularly good for three things: billboards, barbecued pork products and Elvis super-fans. We have experienced them all. The billboards are especially puzzling, since they advertise everything from Super Adult Video Stores (which I find interesting, especially when they're directly in front of Super Churches the size of stadiums) to tourist traps to places where you can get your vasectomy reversed. I've heard a rumor that tries to explain the Southern drawl by saying that the reason everyone speaks so slowly is because it's so hot all the time. I always thought that it was a kind of bunk rumor because it gets pretty hot in Boston in the summer and everyone moves just as quickly as ever, so as to get from one air conditioned place to the next in the least amount of time possible. 

Anyway, my point is that I think that the Southern delay has absolutely nothing  to do with temperature because people drive slowly, too. Which can be irritating, but also kind of nice because it has given us the opportunity to appreciate roadside subplots. Like, for instance, a serious Tennessee drug bust involving a pick up truck surrounded by two cop cars, one cop lying under the perp's truck searching for smack, presumably, while the other held his gun (!) on the guy in question. In addition to  this, we get to see lots of wildlife. We're really just a bunch of zoologists at this point, spotting everything from bison (which years of serious Oregon trail playing has taught me that, while I can  eat them and sleep in their hides, I won't be able to carry more than 200 pounds of meat back with me to my wagon) to cows to horses to goats to hawks to deer. I can definitely say that I've seen two deer. Natalie may have seen four more, but, according to her, "they're either deer or wolves...eating rats." So that's interesting.

We made it to Memphis, ate some of the aforementioned Excellent Barbecue at a delightfully questionable vacant place. We had a lovely waiter named Jeremy who initially thought we were martians but warmed up to us eventually and refused to give us any details about the Super Secret Barbecue recipe because he was under a confidentiality agreement with the Food Network. When we were leaving we found four roosters just hanging out in the parking lot taking baths in the dirt, which Natalie immediately called out on being four cocks getting dirty. Then we made our way to Graceland, which was everything that Uncle Jesse from Full House promised and more. Particularly because we just happened to stumble on it at the start of ELVIS WEEK on the day before Elvis' birthday. As a result, we got to participate in a Graceland Scavenger Hunt alongside hundreds of religiously obsessive Elvis followers who probably plan their entire years around Elvis Week AND we got the 2008 Limited Collector's Edition Elvis Beanie Baby Bear FREE with our admission, which retails at $10 but will probably fetch hundreds on Ebay. What. Luck. While in Graceland, Natalie and I ran into some lovely old women decked head to toe in bedazzled Elvis paraphernalia who told us how glad they were that we were there. This was particularly adorable since they didn't even work there, they were just really serious about their Graceland time. Eleanor and Liz weren't so lucky and got reprimanded by  a random couple for being poser Elvis fans and taking up space in Graceland from those who were really serious about being there. Bottom line, we beat Graceland and the super-fans at their own game and took the Elvis Week Scavenger Hunt to school. I'm really looking forward to the day when Justin Randall Timberlake's Memphis home gets opened to the public so that I can visit that one.

I'll close this with a little list we've compiled of things we enjoy about Memphis and the south, en general:

1. Airbrushed nature murals on the back of RVs

2. Sweet tea

3. Strawberry soda

4. Speed limits of 70

5. Cheap room service

6. Friendly people* Southern hospitality does exist.

7. The fact that no matter how far you've driven or how much you've let yourself go, it's pretty difficult NOT to look good by comparison.

8. The fact that forties are not only sold in roadside convenience stores, but they're cheaper than most other beverages.

9. The landscapes (The sky looks enormous here and you can see the entirety of all the constellations)

10. Caves

Road Trip to L.A.: Day Two

Washington, DC to Nashville, TN

After being touristas at the White House (and, incidentally, NOT seeing the snipers staked out around it, because they are good at their jobs) and learning firsthand that people who live in Washington DC are not very nice, we hit the road again towards Nashville, aka we drove through Virginia all the livelong day. Fun facts about Virginia: 1. It is for lovers 2. The speed on the highways is monitored by aircraft, which, by the way, is about as prevalent as the White House snipers. We also saw a few Super Churches and our first too-legit-to quit Confederate flag.

Speaking of Confederates, let's just talk about a lovely little dining establishment known as The Cracker Barrel. I'd seen a couple of them in New England but oh man they are a dime a dozen down here so three hours into our 10+ hour journey we figured we should stop to eat at one because Eleanor really loves it and at the time we didn't know that there'd be a Cracker Barrel for every exit on the highway. Here is where we experience first of what  I can only assume will end up being many sub Mason-Dixon culture shocks: a considerate sign informing us that all people, regardless of race, gender, and religion were welcome to patronize the Cracker Barrel. Liz was the first to see the logistics: In former Confederate states, such a sign is necessary so that everyone knows that the name "Cracker Barrel" does not mean that it is a Barrel that only Crackers are allowed into. So that was nice. Our waiter was a sweet little boy who thought we were Martians and everything was literally dripping with grease, a la Paula Dean, aka awesome.

Then we drove all night a la Celine, and by we I mean Natalie, who finished the last leg of the trek and, four minutes after getting behind the wheel, promptly got pulled over on the Virginia/Tennessee border for doing 80 in a 65.  Here's how that went:

Cop: Is there a reason why you are driving 80 in a 65?

Natalie: We're just heading to Nashville and I guess I got a little gas heavy, HOO HAH, I'M CUH-RAZY!!

Cop:  Uhhh okay. Have a ticket.

Three hours later, the speed limit got jacked up to 70 for awhile so Natalie was good to go, racing the dashboard Widget, shaving minutes off of our approximated destination time. Then it got docked back down to 65 but she maintained a steady speed of 80 only to get pulled over again in Tennessee. This time Liz had a minute to prepare Natalie a more desperate, less Southern party animal response, so we were good until the cop threw us for a couple of loops, the most important one being a little lesson in regional dialects: People in Tennessee do not speak English.

Cop 2: Hugga bugga de deup delagay fuer the sugupt?

Blank stares.

Liz: (Translating) Natalie, here's the car registration and where's your license?

Cop 2: (In Tennessee) Where are you girls headed at 80 MPH?

Natalie: We're just trying to get to a hotel before it gets too dark, we've been traveling all day, I'm precious, I thought the speed limit was still 70, we're just a bunch of freedom loving Americans on a little road trip, etc. etc.

Cop 2: Alright, drive safely, the speed limit goes back up to 70 in a couple of miles.

Natalie: But not 80, right?!!

Laughs galore, crisis averted. 

ALSO, we passed from Eastern Standard into Central Time. Driving through time zones is a lot less climactic in real life than it is in my head, shocker. I imagine time zones to be separated by shimmery, iridescent forcefields that you pass through and go back into time. Turns out, you don't even notice at all. Cell phones automatically readjust and driving into the past is only spectacular in theory.

So, bottom line, we've made it to Tennessee in four respective, individual pieces and  are now ordering the cheapest room service I have ever seen in my life from this hotel we're staying in. It's only a little bit questionable, mainly because of a mysterious dark stain on the carpet that we initially thought was blood but Eleanor CSI-ed it and determined that it's merely iodine used to clean and disinfect the floor after the blood was shed. This road trip is giving me plenty of examples of states other than Massachusetts to compare California to, which is definitely excellent for my perspective.

Road Trip to L.A.: Day One

Leominster, MA to Washington DC

It's really poetic to set out on a cross country drive to Los Angeles with nothing but the clothes on your back and a dream in your heart. It's less poetic when you do it with a duffel bag full of everything you need to survive, a credit card, a GPS, AAA TripTiks, predetermined routes with hotel destinations and three tres fabu travel buddies but it's much more fun this way. It's also kind of impressive to see how much stuff can be squeezed into a Honda Civic. 

Liz, being the champ that she is, drove like a powerhouse straight through to Washington, DC. As the driver and navigator, respectively, she and I had to get back to basics and Lewis and Clarke it using only maps and our innate senses of direction until after the Tappan Zee bridge since the "Widget" (GPS) was hell bent on sending us through the Bronx, AKA Certain Death. New Jersey was hateful and filled with people on a determined mission to cause multi car pile ups, but we were able to take the edge off with a light lunch of fried things and Cinnabons before re-hitting the road with a vengeance. The total number of hours driven added up to about seven, which is probably an average of half the time we'll be driving from here on out, so that'll get interesting. Luckily Eleanor is keeping things fun by introducing new treats and activities that the rest of us have never seen before every so often, just like the checklist that Natalie printed out from some parenting website suggested she do when traveling with children. Par example, today we all got lovely Disney Princess driving crowns. Luckiest.

We arrived in DC and I promptly dropped my beloved retainer, in its case, on the sidewalk where it proceeded to burst open and scatter my retainers all over the filthy pavement. I'm now facing the dilemma as to whether I should retire them once and for all or continue use and risk getting tuberculosis. It might be nice to start fresh and not dependent on my comfort orthodontia. Anyway. Now we're just lying comatose in a hotel room in DC, taking full advantage of our rights to personal space, watching an MSNBC documentary about an impotent serial killing "monster" in Florence, which is only serving to fuel the growing prejudice towards Italians. 

Maybe I'll get back into this.

Facing unafraid the plans that you've made is an interesting little notion, especially if those plans happen to be slightly terrifying. Like mine are. But really, the only thing that scares me more than consciously moving myself away from everything and everyone I know is thinking about what would happen if I were to stay.

2007 will always be a favorite, too much good happened for it not to be, but 2008 is going to be my year for risky business. 2008 is for putting everything that I learned in 2007 about myself, about others, about owning it into practice so that I can start learning how to be a Grown Up. 

Grown ups do not chew their thumb skin, so I'll start there. 

On a separate note, I'm trying to decide whether I should start a brand new google blog to document my illustrious Road Trip or just resuscitate this little guy and do it from here. Either way, I'm 98% sure it will be brilliant, the 2% of doubt is based solely on whether or not we'll make it out of New Jersey alive.

It's been a satisfying first 24 hours. I've got a good feeling about this.

Hey.

Wow. November.

Last time it was May. Stuff's happened since then, let me tell you. Or actually, let me not. Because I don't feel like it.

November is my last full month in Boston, I basically have forty-seven short days of student-dom left before packing up my new teeny little Civic and driving it to California. WHAT?! Weeks go by incredibly fast, and as of right now I'm measuring them in pages that need to be written, teeth that need to be removed, vaccines that need to be administered, midterms that need to be feebly paid attention, Thanksgivings and Christmases that need to be celebrated and I guess, coats that need to be sold? 

I'm betting that everyone who's ever been in this situation says the same thing, but I really feel like I'm almost living my life in the third person, watching all of this stuff happen and disappear before I even have a chance to react. And it's scary, but I love it, and I can't complain, because really, it's what I want to do.

I've realized this year how much of who I am is a direct result of where I've lived. The little part of me that loves a good comfort zone is constantly reminding me how much I love Boston and its proximity to everyone and everything that's wonderful and familiar. I know that when I leave, a solid chunk, if not all of my heart will stay here and initally, I thought that that might be a problem. Then I figure, heartlessness in L.A. might not be the worst thing. 

I think I'm ready. 

Oh, Livejournal. These archives ever fails to entertain. Or, incidentally, serve as particularly excellent source material for projects, not to toot my own horn or anything. Half of the stuff in here I couldn't make up if I tried. But I've already said that a million times before.

Woah.

So I guess I'm a senior again.

?

THAT'S weird.

Since February:

Okay. March got kicked off by a sweet vacance a Paris, which was awesome and then March ended with a sweet apartment fire that was obviously not so awesome and resulted in athsma and a strange post traumatic stress that is basically Liz or me being compulsive about opening the door to whoever knocks at whatever time of day/night in case it's the firemen again. April was neat, too, can't really complain, and here I find myself in May looking forward to summer on Beacon Hill, selling high quality outerwear to Boston's elite, letting it all hang out at Natalie's fashion show and attending my first EVVY Awards as a nominee which, I mean, I could play cool about, but for lord's sake I'm just too excited/shocked to contain myself. Yeah. AH!

I wonder when I got to be such a big kid. I wish I knew where all this time goes when it passes so darn fast. Too bad pensieves aren't real. Of course, by that I mean, too bad I'm missing out on a world in which they ARE.