A 28 year-old's haphazard attempt to get a life

Miles Traveled: 196; Current City: Dallas, TX

A couple of months ago, when a friend told me that she had visited the Dealey Plaza Museum and saw the spot where Kennedy was killed, I decided that I too would visit this historic landmark one day.  And then I wondered when “one day” would come and started to think about the other things in America that I also wanted to see on that “one day.”  I made lists and talked to people about their favorite sites in the United States as I became increasingly enthralled with the idea of going on my own “perfect tour of America.”  Of course, there are things that I won’t make it to on this trip, and I will learn of new things that will be added to the list, but these are some of the sites and locations (random as they seem) that have held the highest priority for me.  I decided, after hearing about my friend’s tour of Dealey Plaza, that I had no idea where I was heading as I march into the future but that I could find out where I had been, as an American, in the past, and I thought that maybe having this knowledge would inspire me as I attempt to carve out my path ahead.  So it is because of my desire to come to Dealey Plaza that invigorated this “quest,” as I have now termed it, and prompted me to quit my job and move across the country with virtually nothing concrete on the horizon…. it’s because of you, Dealey Plaza, that I’m driving 6800 miles in a two-door Civic.  It’s because of this.

As a result, this day is one that I had been especially looking forward to, but of course before I toured Dealey Plaza, I had to travel to Dallas and bid farewell to Austin, a place I had grown to love.  Last night, Rebecca and I went to Peter Pan mini golf, as I had promised we would, and I had a great time taking pictures with the array of weird statues that covered the course. (And I won). Afterwards, we took a trip to one of the food trailers in a rickshaw (something that apparently doesn’t only happen on Seinfeld) before heading back to her apartment so that I could rest up for my next stop in Texas.

Traveling to Dallas brought me face to face with the Texas of my imagination.  The entire trek, nearly 200 miles, is lined with chain restaurants and stores as well as plenty of hotels and of course, churches.  Churches and churches.  I have never seen so many churches.  And it goes without saying that, to accompany these churches, is the constant presence of billboards reminding drivers about God and the existence of the giant churches that due to their massive size, are easily visible from the highway anyway.  The billboards are very informative.  Thanks to one in particular, I learned that Jesus is the only way to God.  One can only guess how my future might have turned out had I not received this life changing information courtesy of that sign.  Bullet dodged.  Billboards save.

Signage has been one of my favorite elements of my experience in Dallas.  For instance, while stopping at an Exxon, I saw a sign that read, “Drugs, Chips, Snacks”… I directed the proprietor directly to the billboard about Jesus.  Drug dealing, gambling, gluttony.  I suspected gambling involvement due to the use of the word, “chips” unrelated to the word, “snacks.”  Must be a different kind of chip, I assumed.

As tempting as all of the many, many churches were, I was on a mission to get to Dallas.  The book depository was calling my name, and the anticipation of this particular sighting was starting to grow in my mind.  As I mentioned yesterday, there are few things that interest me as much as 20th century American history, so to me, this particular outing felt like the holy grail.  I arrived at the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza, and was instantly overjoyed with the experience when I saw that the front entrance displays a sign prohibiting firearms in the building.  “Too bad,” I thought to myself, “if only they had thought to post that notice a little sooner.”

My enthusiasm for the Sixth Floor Museum waned moments later when I saw several more signs outlawing photography in the building.  I felt like a kid in a candy store who was sent home without any candy.  Naturally, I took a few photos anyway before being firmly reprimanded by security.  I inquired as to the reason that photography wasn’t allowed, and I was told that it’s “due to policy.”  Ah, policy. Now why couldn’t they have explained it like that sooner?  I found this “policy” particularly ironic when I got to the section of the museum that displays the cameras from that day  and explains that without the where-with-all of onlookers to photograph the event, there wouldn’t be any recorded history.  Luckily for us all, there was no “policy” standing in the way of Zapruder.

Overall, I’m saddened to report that I was disappointed with the museum.  When compared to the other things that I’ve visited, the $13.50 fee is on the high side, and though I didn’t mind forking over the money for admission, after touring the building, I felt that it wasn’t worth it.  The LBJ Library is beautifully done and offers what feels like a real insight into American history while the The Sixth Floor Museum seems to promote a sense of sensationalism that feels more appropriate for Alien Zone.  They recreated the boxes that were there when Osward stationed himself in the window, and they can be viewed through a glass case.  Other than the boxes, and seeing the trajectory of the bullets through the sixth floor windows, the rest of the museum can be found on Youtube and Wikipedia, without charge.  And you can keep those photos.

While the museum left something to be desired, walking around Dealey Plaza offered me the experience that I had been seeking.  As someone born years after Kennedy was shot, seeing the location of his assassination provided me with a tangible reality of that day.  I’ll never be able to answer the question, “where were you when you heard that Kennedy was shot?” but now I have an illustration to accompany the news stories and accounts that I read and hear about from 1963.  I was glad to find that both the museum and Dealey Plaza were crowded, and many adults were there with their kids, still debating that long standing question: what do you think really happened to Kennedy?  It seems that the general consensus remains, “we will never really know.”

If you do make it to Dealey Plaza, I recommend skipping the museum, and finding the marijuana-smoking gentlemen behind the fence on the grassy knoll.  He was there that day, and he will tell you what actually happened for a reasonable fee of fifty cents.  Tell him I sent you, and ask him to point out where the real shooter was standing.  You can see that trajectory for free.

Tomorrow I’m off to Arkansas where my friend, Melanie, and her boyfriend recently moved.  I will be there for several days and will eventually be joined by my father who works nearby at the Walmart Headquarters.  Something tells me that the Whole Foods headquarters aint got nothing on Walmart…. But I guess we’ll see!

Miles Traveled: 6, Current Location: Austin, TX

It’s been a while since I’ve lived in the South, so I had sort of forgotten about the extreme contrast between the dual climates in the region which can alternate from sweltering heat to bitter cold in a matter of seconds.  That’s because one second you might be standing outside with sweat dripping down your face, half expecting a camel to saunter up alongside you as you trudge through the parking lot of your next destination, braving a temperature that feels appropriate only for the sun.  Seconds later, you enter the grocery store, restaurant, or even through your own front door and suddenly a blast of cold air hits you from every direction, and an arctic freeze takes over every part of your body.  You have just entered the zone known as “overcompensation for our outdoor inferno.”  You have just become a victim of central air.

Because of my lack of preparedness for this phenomenon, I’ve spent as much time being way too cold in Austin as I have being way too hot, never finding the bowl of porridge that’s just right. Nonetheless, I continue to enjoy my time here.  The concert that we attended last night reaffirmed the feeling that I get that Austin is a very family friendly town that advocates for outdoor activities and interests.  The city is filled with trails and fitness centers and takes pride in its efforts towards recycling and making a big push for everyone to “go green.”  After the concert, we took a trip to the Whole Foods headquarters, a Whole Foods store the size of a Walmart supercenter.  Each section has every kind of whatever-it-is-that-someone-might-be-looking-for imaginable.  The beer department even features a walk-in refrigerator that the customer enters to make his or her selections.  Naturally, this section was my personal favorite.

This morning, after a proper Texas french toast breakfast, I went to the LBJ Presidential Library.  American history has always been one of my favorite subjects, especially in relation to post-WWII, so I found the LBJ Presidential Library particularly fascinating, and I recommend visiting it if you ever find yourself in Austin.  They don’t charge an admission fee but instead simply ask for donations.  Since I had paid $5.00 to visit both the UFO International Museum Center and Bedrock City and felt like this experience might be worth just as much, I slipped LBJ a cool Jackson before viewing the exhibits.  I spent three hours touring the three floors and loved seeing the memorabilia from his various campaigns as well as reading about the events that occurred while he was in office. I saw the replica of his oval office, gifts that he and Lady Bird had been given, and even an incredibly creepy life-sized animatronic, joke-telling puppet of the former president… I guess as the saying goes, they “can’t all be winners.”

Besides getting to read a letter that Jacqueline Kennedy had sent to LBJ following JFK’s assassination and seeing the teleprompter print-out from Johnson’s press conference in which he announced that he wouldn’t run for another term as president, my favorite parts of this excursion were touring the museum alongside a woman who had a Nikon camera circa 1987 dangling from her neck and the fact that the LBJ Presidential Library is equipped with an enormous parking lot.  As in many big cities, everything in Los Angeles, whether a museum, the bank, grocery store, or a CVS, has extremely limited parking, if any at all.  Furthermore, nine times out of ten, if parking is available, it will set you back a pretty penny, and as a result, there are places in LA that I avoided altogether out of fear that I’d either never find parking or would have to put up that month’s rent to cover it. Because of these experiences, my instinct is to jump at the first nearby spot available while approaching even the outside vicinity of my destination.  Luckily though, in this case, I held off long enough to see a great big sign that read, “LBJ Library Parking.”  “Ah, that’s right,” I remembered, “I’m in Texas.”

Convenience is the name of the game in Texas, something that is abundantly clear just by driving around the streets of Austin.  Not only is the city equipped with ample parking, but there are trailers offering every kind of food imaginable within these lots, and drive-through liquor stores, like one called Party Barn, that allow a person to stock up for the next gathering without ever having to get out of the car… or more appropriately, without ever having to get out of the truck.

Something that I find incredibly interesting about Texas is the recognition that any vehicle deemed a “truck” receives on its license plate.  These license plates actually have the word, “truck,” written on them.  I can’t quite figure this one out.  Is the word there to serve as a reminder to the driver that he or she is irrationally driving an oversized vehicle?  Is it a bragging point?  Is it a labeling tool used to help promote literacy?  I don’t get it.  But besides not getting it, isn’t it also a bit of a given? “Texas truck.”  Is there another option?  It’s kind of like placing a handicapped placard on a Buick.

Everyone had told me that I would enjoy Austin, but I didn’t really have any idea of what to expect from the city.  After spending some time here though, I can say that it really does seem to be a great community with a lot to offer.  The support of local businesses is evident with a noticeable lack of the chain restaurants and storefronts that typically reign over this region of the country, and the people are laid back and just…nice.  Austin is just a nice place to be.

Tomorrow I follow up my visit to the LBJ Presidential Library by heading to Dallas for the Museum at Dealey Plaza.  The desire to see Dealey Plaza is one of the initial factors that motivated my tour of America, so I am very much looking forward to this stop, and I am also curious to see another part of Texas.  There is much more America ahead, so I hope that you continue to read about my travels as I head to the Midwest, Southeast, and up the East Coast.  Thank you again for following along.  One of my favorite parts of my adventure is being able to share it with all of you!

Miles Traveled: 10 minutes down the road, Current Location: Austin, TX

You know how sometimes when it’s really hot outside, people will emphasize the heat by exaggerating that it’s “like 100 degrees out there?”  Yeah.  Well, it actually is 100 degrees out here.  I’m not going to say that I mind though.  I grew up in this kind of weather, so to me, it signifies a summer season that 75 degrees, even on the beautiful beaches of the Pacific Ocean, never really lived up to.  Still though, it’s really freaking hot here.  And it’s only the beginning of June…

When I reviewed my itinerary with a few others before I left, Austin was the place, across the board, that drew the most enthusiasm.  Even among people who claim not to be fans of Texas in general, I’ve been told that Austin is the diamond in the rough.  In fact, one of my friends suggested that I not come here at all because I probably wouldn’t ever want to leave.  If today is a typical day in Austin, I can say that not only is my friend correct, but God did in fact “bless Texas with His own hands.”

Since I’ve only been here one day and have only seen about fifteen square miles of Austin, I’ll try not to get too carried away, but so far to me, it feels like a small town within a big city.  Small town in the sense that I saw an actual sign that read, “book your next party at the trailer park,” but big city in that it’s the capital of Texas with actual infrastructure, and beyond that, I get the overwhelming feeling that they’re in on the joke with me.  Unlike some of the other places that I have seen on my journey (and truly no judgment here, just an observation), the people of Austin seem to understand that it’s funny to have a store called “Trailer Park & Eatery.”  Which it is, and that’s why I like it here.

Of course, Austin is still a part of Texas, and Texas pride runs deep.  As I mentioned yesterday, my car has Massachusetts license plates.  This distinction comes with the territory in LA. At one time or another while living there, I saw a license plate for every single other state in America – including Hawaii, including North Dakota, including Canada.  I saw them all.  Here, though, things are different.  During the ten minute drive that I took from my friend’s apartment to meet her at work, I was acutely aware that I was the only non-Texan on the road.  And though, as always, I was blasting country music, I knew that any sudden lane changes or perceptions of driving too slowly would be pinned down on the belief that I had come from the North and the fact that “I aint from around here.”

I managed to get through the ten minute drive unscathed (all the while thinking in the back of my mind that it would be pretty ironic if something did go wrong considering I made it ten hours through a giant field yesterday without any problems) and then we headed off for lunch.  The food is one of the things that I love most about this region of the country, and the restaurant that we selected, Shady Grove, didn’t disappoint.  I was happy to scarf down half a plate of their famous Green Chili Cheese Fries and to see all of my favorite staples on their menu, including “the best” fried catfish in town.  I opted though instead to go down what must have been a much healthier route by selecting the Country Fried Chicken Salad.  After all, you can’t go wrong with the word “salad,” even when the peppers in it are fried.  That’s what I mean about Austin still being a part of Texas.  Yes, there is a “hippie sandwich” on the menu, but yes, the peppers on your salad will still come fried.

After lunch, we went to Barton Springs, a popular swimming hole in town.  I’ve seen Man In the Moon enough times to know that I love the idea of a swimming hole, and the experience really was like reliving one of the best days of childhood.  Barton Springs is three acres in size and fed by natural springs, including the main spring which pumps more than 27 million gallons of water per day.  The energy of everyone at Barton Springs is overwhelmingly cheerful, and I was anxious to put my old swimming skills to good use.  As soon as I got in though, I understood the drawbacks to a “swimming hole” as opposed to a “friend’s backyard pool.”  The water was absolutely frigid, and I fell over more than once as a result of walking on remarkably slippery algae.  It wasn’t until we were leaving that we saw a sign that read, “the pool bottom is a natural surface and may be slippery.” Uh, you think?  There was no “may be” about it.  I felt like I should tell someone so, but no one else seemed bothered. I guess that’s the mark of a real Texan.

As if the swimming hole adventure wasn’t idyllic enough, we followed that up by getting snow cones at a nearby stand.  Hot day, swimming hole, snow cones.  I felt like Kevin Costner when he asked, “Is this Heaven?” and received the answer, “No. It’s Iowa.”  Only today, in my scenario, it’s Austin.

Tonight we are headed to a concert in the park, and then tomorrow will be another full day for me here. Thank you for following my trip and for all of your words of encouragement.  I really appreciate it, and I feel very lucky to be on this amazing adventure.  Now, back to the heat!

Miles Traveled: 566; Current Location: Austin, TX

I know that there are some of you out there who are surprised by the fact that I have yet to report getting lost or being pulled over by the police. Well… who had day five? Yes, that’s right everyone. Today, on day five, I managed to put both of these inevitable occurrences behind me. Like the Jnco craze of 1998, hopefully never to be revisited again.

Since I was pulled over before I was lost, I’ll address that first. If I haven’t already made it clear, let me hammer this point down, everything that I have seen of New Mexico is incredibly barren. While driving the last 120 miles or so to Roswell on Sunday, there was a point when I didn’t have cell phone service that I actively wondered how far I would be able to walk in the event that something went horribly wrong. I didn’t feel secure until I was in within ten miles of the town. Because of that, I’ll admit that for the last nine hours or so, I have felt a little uneasy. My entire drive today to Austin, Texas was identical to that last 120 miles.

So when I saw a police officer outside a small town on the New Mexico/Texas border, I was relieved. “Good,” I thought, “if something happens to me right this second, he will be able to save me.” Of course, as soon as I saw him pull out of his parking spot, I knew I was sunk. Every once in a while, in the midst of traversing the nothingness, the two lane highways that I have been cruising along go through very small towns, and the speed limit goes way down. Officer Gregory said he had me going 53 in a 40. I thought that this news was interesting because I was sure that I had been traveling much faster.

It was at this exact moment that I realized my outlook on life was starting to shift. Just seeing a police car in Los Angeles would send me into an instant panic, and on the few occasions that I actually was pulled over, I had full blown meltdowns. Part of my terror had to do with the desire to avoid trouble (as a T-shirt that I used to have says, “I don’t look for trouble, it finds me”), but I think that the other part had to do with the heavily regimented structure that I had created for myself and my inability to roll with the punches. Looking back, it seems that I spent quite a bit of time staring at my watch, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I was completely unfazed when I was pulled over today. Obviously a lot of that has to do with the differences in the towns of Los Angeles, California and Tatum, New Mexico. I understand that a shift in outlook can really only account for so much, and it was this piece of the puzzle that again reminded me how wonderful a small (and I mean small) town can be.

Officer Gregory approached my car and asked me for my license, registration, and proof of insurance. I offered him two of the three. He told me to “continue to search for my insurance card” while he went to his car and promised that he would “be right back.” This part of being pulled over is usually where things start to get dicey for me. I have a California license, Massachusetts plates, and my car is registered to my mother. Trust me, no person of authority appreciates this scenario. I rummaged through all of my papers, but I couldn’t find the card. I decided that I would tell him that I have Progressive insurance and find out if there is some kind of way to look it up. I mean I do have insurance.

As it turned out, there was no need to explain. Officer Gregory came back to my car, returned my license and registration, and told me to pay closer attention to the posted speed limits. I knew I loved New Mexico. I felt very lucky and continued on my way. It was about five minutes later when I noticed a sign to my left that read, “last cold beer for 100 miles.” Yep, I figured, that about sums it up. No wonder I wasn’t ticketed. Tatum is a town that wants to make sure each person has a cold beer in his or her hands while also of the assumption that this person is likely to be driving for at least another 100 miles.

Despite being pulled over, things were going like clockwork. And then I realized that the road marker didn’t match up with the number that I was supposed to be following according to my directions. That’s right… directions. I decided not to take a GPS on the trip. Everyone who I shared this information with before I left was alarmed. My father offered to buy me a GPS. I told him I’d rather have the cash (which by the way dad, I’m still waiting on…). The truth is that I’m stubborn (big revelation there), but I also didn’t want another voice along with mine telling me where to go. I wanted to go where I wanted to go. And today, “where I wanted to go” turned out to add 67 miles to my trip. So be it. If Columbus had a GPS, it’s possible that no one would have ever found the New World (aside from the people already living here of course).

I realized about twenty minutes down the wrong road that I probably wasn’t going the right way, but I saw a sign indicating that I would hit Lubbock in 30 miles. Although up until this point I hadn’t seen a town bigger than one convenience store and a couple of horses, my roommate from freshman year of college is from Lubbock, and since she is great, I knew to expect more substantial things from this particular town. I was right. I wasn’t surprised that I had gotten lost. It’s one thing to follow directions when they essentially read “head north on Maple Street, hang a right, proceed 500 miles, your destination will be on the left,” but as soon as I saw the number of steps involved in getting to Austin, I assumed that I would struggle.  I am somewhat notoriously bad at following directions as it is, and since I was dealing with “the state of a million acres of identically appearing land,” there was bound to be a hiccup or two.  Once I got to Lubbock, I re-mapped my route from that point, and I was on my way. Though I don’t have a standard GPS, without Google maps, this undertaking would have been impossible for me. I have a newfound respect for Thelma and Louise.

While I do recommend taking a road trip across America, I do not recommend driving across Texas. When I said that I love fields, Texas apparently heard me loud and clear. I snapped a few photos from my drive and was happy that my surroundings started to include cows and trees, but I think I’ve gotten my fill of fields for a while. If you do drive across Texas, I have the following piece of advice for you: get gas when you see it. Luckily, I am paranoid about running out of gas, so I made sure that I was never verging on low because I’m certain that even the Energizer Bunny couldn’t walk the distance between gas stations in Texas. All in all, it was a good day of driving, and I’m excited to spend the rest of this week in Austin hanging out with my friend, Rebecca, who I lived with for a while in LA. I have already seen the Peter Pan statue outside the mini golf place where we are scheduled to go to for one outing, and she promises me that other equally exciting adventures are in store! Stay tuned! And thank you very much for reading!

Miles Traveled: 19; Current Location: Roswell, NM

As a result of the hype that I feel I probably created yesterday by mentioning Alien City, I can only assume that you all must have already booked airline tickets and hotels to check it out for yourselves.  Cancel your reservations.  I’m not going to say that I haven’t appreciated my experience here, because I have, but unless you’re going to Roswell anyway (ha), I feel obligated to report that it’s not worth a special trip.

First of all, there is no such thing as Alien City.  For the first time that I can remember, I got it wrong.  It’s Alien Zone.  Second, the “official” UFO museum is called The International UFO Museum Center. Seriously.  I decided to go there first, it being officially international and all, and for the twenty minutes or so that I spent exploring the entire museum, I had a good time.  It reminded me of a 4th grade science fair.  There are interesting alien replicas and no shortage of poster board exhibits displaying news clippings about what is deemed the “Roswell Incident of 1947.”  There are also photos of the cast from the X-Files television show, sketches of what a UFO might look like (I’m not kidding), a seemingly irrelevant horse statue, and pieces of aluminum foil that are likely to be from the alien driven spacecraft that crashed here over 60 years ago.  It’s all great.

I enjoyed everything that I saw at The International UFO Museum Center, but my favorite parts of all were the quotes proudly displayed on each wall.  These quotes are from United States politicians and serviceman, all expressing the obvious reality that aliens exist.  My favorite is from General MacArthur, “the nations of the world will have to unite, for the next war will be an interplanetary war.  The nations of the earth must someday make a common front against attack by people from other planets.”  This quote is from 1957.  In fact, I was unable to find any highlighted quote spoken more recently than 1970.

In addition to the quotes, I found joy in reading the explanations provided for the continued coverup. “Constant worry would be a penetration of the research work by enemy spies.” “Rule number one for security is that you can’t tell your friends anything without telling your enemies. We would be giving our competitors the new technology.” And the best of all,  “Religious groups would be disturbed by any announcement that humans are not alone.”  Well, I guess we can all agree that they got at least one thing right.

All in all, the pictures of the museum that I have posted below chronicle nearly everything that I saw there, including the display about American astronauts that doesn’t address UFOs whatsoever and other museum go-ers who seemed to be taking the experience just a touch more seriously than I was.  I had fun, but if you have $5.00 to burn, I suggest Bedrock City or buying coffee at Starbucks as possible alternatives to the UFO experience

Following the International Museum, I went to Alien Zone and discovered that it’s just a bunch of alien statues doing weird things.  The photos offer a much better explanation than I can articulate, so as a rarity, I’m not going to try.

As far as I can tell, Roswell, New Mexico is a small town with some run down buildings and seemingly old fashioned ways of doing things, located in the middle of nowhere, but it is also home to incredibly kind and warm-hearted people.  In each of the places that I visited, I was cheerfully greeted and spoken with.  Even at the Chilis restaurant where I had lunch (at 1:00 on the dot), the server repeatedly asked if there was anything I needed and also seemed to know many of the other patrons by name.  Roswell has a nice, small town, feeling to it, and I have very much enjoyed visiting here.

After lunch, I went to the wildlife refuge down the road but failed to see any wildlife.  I did take some pictures of the beautiful fields on the way there however.  I know, I know… I’m really into fields.  Tomorrow I head to Austin, Texas where I will be staying with my former roommate for a few days.  From what I’ve heard about Austin and what I know about my former roommate, I can only assume that all kinds of antics are bound to ensue.  I really appreciate all of the responses that I have been getting throughout my trip, and I thank you all very much for reading my blog!

Miles Traveled: 593; Current Location: Roswell, NM

Initially as I was traveling today, I thought that I would begin tonight’s post by explaining that I had begun to see some “eclectic” people on my journey. I’m going to rephrase that. I have begun to see some amazingly awesome people on my journey. I have begun to see just how incredibly wonderful America and those people who live here really can be. Of course, I received the great benefit of this illustration as a direct result of my truly alarming stupidity.

I had been driving for about five hours prior to the “incident.” In that five hours, I experienced one of my favorite drives that I’ve ever taken. Leaving the Grand Canyon and heading back to I-40 to make my way to New Mexico, I went through the Coconino National Forest, which highlighted some of the most beautiful fields and open spaces that I’ve ever seen. I know some will say, “a field is a field,” but after spending years only seeing land on television, I have developed a great fondness (or obsession, depending on who you talk to) for it.

The drive through Coconino took me to Flagstaff which appears to be a very nice place, and then to I-40. After a few miles on I-40, I started to see signs for Meteor Crater, the “world’s best preserved meteorite impact site.” I wanted to see Meteor Crater, but it turned out to be several miles from the interstate, and I knew I still had a long drive ahead. Plus, I of course realized it would be difficult to top Bedrock City, and I was afraid of having set the bar too high. Instead, I settled on seeing Meteor gas station (pictured below) and continuing on my way.

I did take the time to detour through Winslow, AZ to see some of the “preserved sections of Historic Route 66.” I use quotes there because the parts of Winslow that were historic were in no way “preserved,” and the parts of Winslow that appeared to be in slightly better shape, like the Dairy Queen and Sonic, didn’t jump out at me as being particularly “historic.” Either way, I do appreciate all of the people that live in these towns throughout America, and I also think that it’s important to take note of the dilapidation and poverty that does exist here. Throughout my time in both Arizona and New Mexico (and of course this also stretches to places that I have not seen and obviously does not include the entire gigantic states of Arizona and New Mexico), I saw several “towns” that were totally abandoned – and not in the cool “The Brady Bunch visits a ghost town,” kind of way, more like “hard times have fallen here.”

Of course, this observation leads into my brush with morphing into a complete jackass. At about 12:45, I realized that it was lunch time. In the entertainment industry in Los Angeles everybody uniformly eats lunch at 1:00, and I’m still struggling with the idea that lunch could be taken at a different hour. I’m hoping that my post on at least Day 14 starts with me eating lunch at 1:30, or 12, or maybe I’ll go absolutely buck wild and skip lunch that day. Who knows, only time can say. Anyway, I saw a sign for a Dairy Queen/gas station combo which sounded good enough for me, so I exited and parked next to a fuel pump, right outside of the doors to the Dairy Queen. With all due respect, the crowd looked rough. I didn’t necessarily fear for my safety, but I did wonder if there had been some kind of ban on mirrors that hadn’t reached the coasts yet. I hate myself for saying that, especially as someone who has always whole-heartedly championed for the interior, but in this particular case, I realized that truly reaching the point of non-judgment is easier to say than to actually… well, reach.

After what happened next, I know that the Spirit of America had been privy to my thoughts and concerns regarding her people and was determined to prove me wrong. I went into the Dairy Queen and found myself to be openly irritated by the excessive wait for my classic cheeseburger. It’s been difficult for me to accept that I’m not in a rush on this trip, and that I don’t have to “be on time.” I tried to be as polite as possible, but I couldn’t help eloquently voicing the fact that “this is, like, taking forever.” The girl behind the counter was sympathetic to my plight and hurried my cheeseburger along. I quickly exited the mart, and when I saw what was ahead of me, suddenly the wait time flurried right out of my mind.

I had left my passenger side window wide open. Rolled completely down. Huge gaping hole on the side of my two-door car leaving only a person’s conscience to stop them from taking everything I was carting along with me. To top it all off, I had my camera and ipod along with a purse in the center console, in plain view. There was a camcorder, luggage, a $200 blanket that someone had regifted me, and nothing was gone. No one, in the 20 minutes that I spent sighing about my cheeseburger, had touched any of it. If I’m going to be very philosophical here, I guess it’s like if you pick up reading material off of a shelf and you see that the front is just a plain or murky green, so you assume that the story is equally bland and toss it to the side without giving it a chance… yeah, i had looked at everyone around me like that…now if only I could figure out how to say that more concisely… Moral of the story: I love New Mexico, and I love everyone here. I’m here for another day and a half so things can still go downhill, but so far, everyone who I’ve encountered both in Arizona and New Mexico has been exceptionally polite and well-mannered… and none of them have stolen from me – even when I deserved it.

Oh and in other great news to report, I got the hat! And yes, I’m completely aware of how ridiculous I look in it.

Now I’m in the market for reasonably priced moccasins….

Tomorrow is Alien City, and if you enjoyed Bedrock City as much as I did, I think we’re in for a treat! Thanks for reading about my trip!

Miles Traveled: 56, Current Location: Grand Canyon, AZ

Well, the Grand Canyon is in fact Grand.  And it’s certainly a canyon.  In fact, it’s a place that I strongly recommend avoiding while in the presence of any known enemies.  I now understand why none of The Real Housewives casts have been sent on a trip to the Grand Canyon.  On your right, you have a beautiful wooded campground inhabited by moose and other woodland creatures and on your left, you have a 4,000 foot drop off into the great abyss.  Had Axl Rose and Vince Neil had the opportunity to venture together to the Grand Canyon, I’m quite certain that our American musical history would be a band short – although I won’t predict whether that would have been Motley Crue or Guns & Roses.

As I drove up the path to Grand Canyon National Park, I was greeted by Smokey the Bear.  He told me that only I can prevent forest fires. He also informed me that the fire danger is “high” today.  This fire danger marker looked like something that could easily be tampered with, so naturally, I was tempted to bump it up a couple of notches to “extreme” danger.  I resisted this urge and proceeded up the hill to the park where I saw at least three different people casually smoking cigarettes – smoking cigarettes like it was 1985 and they weren’t in the middle of a giant pile of kindle that I paid $25.00 to visit so that it can continue to remain a National Park.  And hadn’t they seen the bear?  While I did see people smoking, and many people who, like me, realized that this occasion called for tie-dye, I struggled to figure out how to actually see the Grand Canyon.  When the lead ant in a line doesn’t know where he is going, the whole group marches along the wrong path.  A Nissan Versa with South Dakota tags was my such “lead ant.”  I joined him in blowing past the visitor center, through 3 parking lots, and 2 dead ends.  Finally when I decided I would follow him no more, I realized that I was the lone car on the road.  When you’re the lone car on a road in a National Park that attracts 5 million visitors per year, you’re not a trailblazer… you’re an idiot.  Leave it to me to be unable to locate a 1218000 acre hole in the ground that’s less than half a mile away from me.  Eventually I did figure out how to see it, and I was not disappointed.  I really recommend that every American should try to make it to the Grand Canyon.  It’s reputation is certainly well deserved, and it’s amazing to see the natural beautythat our country has to offer.

My feeling of not being disappointed however was short lived.  After leaving the Grand Canyon, I was eager to check out the offerings of the “Wild West Experience.”  With twin cowboy statues planking the entrance, I sensed that I was in for a rip roaring good time, but when I approached the front door, I found that the Western Discovery Museum was closed for renovations.  Not wanting to leave the afternoon wasted, I decided to venture up the road to another museum that I had seen yesterday while driving towards my hotel.  “Bedrock City.”  As in the Flintstones’ Bedrock.  As in, America at its best.

I drove the 30 miles or so down the road back to Bedrock City and walked in the front door to see a moose head and Native American dolls proudly on display.  I was confused.  I approached the front desk and saw a sign for admission to Bedrock City.  A woman behind the counter asked if she could help me, and I told her that I’d like to buy a ticket.  “A ticket to out back?!” she questioned as though I had just asked to share a cell with Hannibal Lecter.  I was unshaken.  “Yes.” I replied confidently. “I want to go out back.”

I think it goes without saying that I was the only person in Bedrock City.  In fact, since it’s grand opening sometime in the 1970’s, I think it’s safe to say that I am one of the few people to ever set foot in Bedrock City.  Before I left on my trip, many people told me to “be careful” or “drive safe.”  Within the first five minutes spent with the Flintstones, I realized that up until this point on my journey, if danger were going to find me, it would find me here.  There were strange doll heads in the “beauty parlor” and a series of mannequins, each one somehow a bit creepier than the last.  I went into the theater and was relieved when I found it empty.  Bedrock’s “local UPS Airmail” was the first post office I’d ever been to that didn’t feature an hour long line.  The “goatasaurus,” the only other living being in the “town,” looked at me with the intent to kill.  Each of the houses came equipped with profane graffiti. I “toured” the grounds and took many pictures (they speak for themselves) before bolting back to my car with a huge smile on my face.  Bedrock City is without a doubt my favorite thing I’ve seen so far.  Since I think that every American should go to the Grand Canyon, and since the Grand Canyon is only about a half hour from Bedrock City, I really suggest….

After my riveting experience, I headed back to the area of my hotel.  Thanks to a tip from my cousin, I learned that Arizona is the only state to still offer the Spicy McChicken on its dollar menu, so I had one of those, and now I’m resting before going to the Grand Canyon IMAX where I will pay $12.50 for a 34 minute show.  But hey, I’ve been told that you only live once.  Tomorrow I will be driving about 600 miles to Roswell, NM where I know the fun will continue!  I hope that everyone is having a great weekend, and I really appreciate all of the positive feedback that I have been receiving as I continue on this crazy adventure!

Miles Traveled: 501; Current Location: Grand Canyon, AZ

Today marked the beginning of my temporary (I hope) life as a nomad, and I am happy to report that I have already stumbled upon a couple of very crucial life lessons. The first lesson is that the Magic Eraser sponge, when used to remove scuff marks from walls painted white, really is magic. The second lesson is that the Magic Eraser sponge, when used to remove scuff marks from walls painted pink, erases the paint along with the scuff marks and leaves giant white splotches for the new girl who is moving into your old room to figure out how to handle. In other news, the third thing that I learned today is to buy the awesome cowboy hat with the rhinestones and huge cross on it…. even if it’s $20.00…. even if you’re buying it as a joke. You want the hat. And if you don’t buy it, you will stop at every Love’s Convenience Store for the next 200 miles hoping that they have the same model. None of the other stores will have that hat, and you will be angry with yourself and forced to focus on the inadvertent new mission of the trip – finding the damn hat. Finally, I learned that though I’ve held the belief since middle school that I know every word to the Barenaked Ladies’ song, “One Week,” it isn’t true. I do not know most of the words.

Aside from these ,”goofs” as I call them, I am happy to report at one day in, “so far, so good.” I temporarily misplaced the hotel information for my first stop which delayed my departure from LA by about 20 minutes, but once I decided not to panic because I would “figure it out later,” I left anyway. And I did figure it out. And here I am. I had been planning my “costume” for day 1 for quite awhile, so it was amazing to me that the day had finally arrived that I got to put on my cut off jean shorts, T-shirt featuring a soaring eagle, plaid button-down, and a hat with the California bear on it

. Believe me, I was tempted on many a day prior to my departure to break this beautiful ensemble in, but I knew that it would be all the more special to wait until today. It took on a sincere meaning for me that the plaid shirt had belonged to my grandfather, and based on my favorite family joke, I know he too appreciated a good soaring eagle. It has never been lost on me that had all of my grandparents not trekked here from Europe many years ago, I might never have gotten the opportunity to see the biggest ball of twine or world’s largest cross. I’m not sure if I will make it to either of these wonders on my trip, but thanks to my grandparents, the opportunity is mine for the taking.

As most people who know me know, I quite sincerely moved to Los Angeles because when I was 10, I became wholly obsessed with the television show, “Beverly Hills, 90210.” Seriously. Ironically, I was more broken up about Tiffani (then -Amber) Thiessen leaving “90210” than I was about myself driving away from the city this morning. I say that because when I left LA, I did so without throwing a tantrum or violently hurling a remote at the TV causing it to break into three separate pieces. So in homage to those people who had a hand in bringing me to Los Angeles, I knew that the first site of America that I had to see was the Walshes’ house from the show.

After casing the neighborhood and getting my snapshot, I felt that the potential existed for someone to call the cops on me, so I took that as a sign to officially cast off for Arizona! Each time that I drive anywhere in this country, I am again reminded about how incredibly beautiful America is. America…beautiful… hey, someone should consider writing a song about that! Anyway, I am in the hotel now preparing for a big day tomorrow when I will explore the Grand Canyon and investigate whatever the “Wild West Experience” is since it is conveniently located across the street from my hotel and next to other popular tourist destinations, Wendy’s and Texaco.

Though none of the “big sightseeing” has yet to commence, I did manage to snap a few photos of day one. Please continue to follow my progress as I explore America over the next month! And if I do find twine, I promise I will bring it to this blog first. Only about 29 days and roughly 6,300 miles to go!

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