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

Miles Traveled: 525; Current Location: Evansville, IN

As of today, I have officially driven over 3,000 miles, and believe it or not, it wasn’t until this leg of my journey that I started to entertain the thought that this undertaking might be a tad bit crazy.  It wasn’t until today, when I was in the middle of an eight hour drive to see a house that was used as an exterior for a television show that debuted over twenty years ago, that I allowed myself to wonder, “am I a total lunatic for doing this?”  I’ll allow you to answer that question for me.

Yesterday, while Melanie and I shot cans with our BB guns (she hit many more than I did), I felt like I was finally in my element.  It wasn’t as much about the shooting (although that was fun) as it was about hanging out with friends, in what seems like a very nice town, and doing everyday things.  Today, as I was driving towards Evansville, completely fixated on my goal of getting to the house from Roseanne, I realized that being in an element is a “here today, gone tomorrow” kind of thing for me.  I felt less “in my element” and more “Chevy Chase – the moose says you’re closed, I say you’re open.”  To say the least, I felt a little insane.

I’m sure that I don’t have to spell this out for you, but I’m borderline obsessed with Middle America.  I love the people who make up such a large portion of the population in this country, their values, and the patriotic spirit that permeates throughout this region.  All of these factors, along with the fact that I find it hysterical, have made me a lifelong fan of the show, Roseanne.  I appreciate the show specifically because it gave a national voice and platform to a group of people who often evade the American spotlight, and because of Roseanne, I have long wondered if there is something that I can do (on a miniscule scale) to bring a bit of that voice to people who otherwise wouldn’t hear it.  Initially, I thought that maybe I could live in the geographical middle of the country for a year and relate my experiences to others, but when I decided that that might not be much fun, I put the whole idea on the back burner and kept living my life as usual.  And then…. Then one day, I found myself on a mission to get to Evansville, Indiana.

While driving to Evansville today, I shook my head slightly as I passed several legitimate landmarks in order to make good time to get to Roseanne’s house.  I flew by Grant’s Tomb, Mt. Vernon, and the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, all the while focused on getting to a neighborhood just inside Evansville’s city limits.  I’m sure that by this point, the question of why I wanted to see this house has been raised by some of you.  I wonder that myself, but I keep coming back to the fact that while I was living in LA, I suspected that I could personally be just as happy living a simpler life.  I’m not suggesting that people in LA are not happy or that everyone should pack up and head for the interior, but when I was living there, I would often look up smaller towns on Google maps and wonder what it would be like to visit or live in one of them.  I couldn’t think of anything more illustrative of this feeling than the town that helped influence Roseanne, so I decided that the place with that house was the town that I must see.

All that “I love America” sunshine and rainbows aside, I did have some personal concerns about Evansville.  For starters, the town once protested Madonna during the 1992 filming of A League of Their Own after she compared Evansville to Prague because she couldn’t get cable TV.  Well, not only was I certainly not interested in visiting a town that doesn’t have cable TV, I generally adhere to a personal mission statement that begins with “any foe of Madonna’s is a foe of mine.” For that reason, I publicly rebuked Courtney Love during my middle school years despite the fact that I enjoyed Hole’s album, “Celebrity Skin,” and at this point, I have stuck by Madonna through a British accent and Swept Away.  I didn’t like the idea of Evansville, Indiana tearing us apart.

My next concern stemmed from a point that my father had raised.  He once came to Evansville for business several years ago, and not only was he the lone person in a group of twenty who hailed from New York, he was the only one who had ever even been there.  I don’t think that visiting New York determines anything about a person, but I always have my Massachusetts license plates in the back of my mind.  I can’t help but feel like there are some places where Massachusetts license plates might make someone stand out a bit more than he or she would like.  I was slightly worried about what it would mean to be an outsider in Evansville.

The next thing that jumped out at me as a potential red flag was the increasing number of politically charged signs that I was seeing along the route to Evansville.  I’ll share the message from the kindest of the signs with you.  “Obama – 11.5.08.  Gas – $1.87.”  More frightening, in addition to the signs, I was also starting to see a couple Confederate flags here and there.  Of course, I know that there is “one in every crowd,” and I never thought to blame the entire town of Evansville, or Indiana, or any of the states that I had driven through…. That being said, where the hell was I sending myself?! … and to see a house from a television show that ended when I was trading pogs in elementary school??

Luckily, once I arrived in Evansville, my fears were alleviated.  As I drove through the neighborhood that serves as home to “the house,” I was thrilled to see children riding bikes and families sitting on front porches, overlooking beautifully manicured yards, one of which even had a sign in support of Obama.  The high school was picturesque, and I understood the welcome sign’s declaration that Evansville is “an all-American city.”  When I finally got to the house, it looked as though Dan and Roseanne had done some work on it over the years.  It was the same but even better.  Overall, the experience was perfect.  This place was exactly the kind of apple pie America that I had been in search of.  I wanted to tie a bow around it.

High off the thrill of seeing the house from the show, I headed off to another one of its exterior landmarks, a pizza place that served as The Lobo Lounge.  I figured that I could get some pizza and take it back to the hotel to rest up for tomorrow’s voyage to Chicago.  A perfect visit to Indiana. Unfortunately, the three mile drive from the house to the pizza place took me from Leave it to Beaver to Eminem’s 8 Mile in about five minutes flat, and when I arrived at the restaurant, I realized that there was no way that I could get out of the car.  I snapped a few pictures and rode like hell.

So…I suppose the moral of the story is that nothing is perfect.  So far, I have been to or through nine states, and each one has its own pros and cons lists.  Of course, I am currently putting “sitting in hotel with a BB gun, hoping that my car’s windows are intact in the morning” in the cons column for Evansville.  I’m feeling generous, so here’s an extra piece of advice from lucky number day 13 of my travels: just because you read one review that says “city has no bad areas,” further substantiation of such a claim is never a bad idea.  Although, on the plus side, I do have cable TV.

On that note, tomorrow I will meet up with my mother in Chicago, and she will travel with me over the next five days…  If you have found any of this slightly humorous up until this point, I have high hopes for our upcoming adventures with Ohio and Cedar Point next at bat.  Thank you for continuing to follow along with me on my trek as I approach the halfway point!  I really appreciate it!

Current Location: Fayetteville, AR

Appropriately, I am sitting here recounting our experience today at the Wal-Mart museum while watching Where the Heart Is, a movie in which Wal-Mart plays a central role, a characteristic that can certainly be extended to Bentonville, Arkansas.  Bentonville has a small-town vibe with a charming square and a population that’s nearly doubled in size over the past ten years to just under 40,000 people.  In the middle of Bentonville is Walton’s 5 & 10, now the visitor’s center dedicated to America’s largest retail chain, just a few miles down the road from the supercenter’s headquarters.

Stepping into Walton’s is like waltzing through a time warp, something that I’ve been hoping to experience for quite a while.  For this reason, I’m especially glad that I stopped off in Bentonville as it saved me the $20,000 or so that likely would have been necessary to restore an old Delorean to its tip top, flux capacitor-running condition.  Fortunately today, no such vehicle was required for this trip back to yesteryear.  The storefront features penny candy, comic books, and hula hoops among other popular items such as sock monkeys and BB guns.  Unfortunately though, some items such as the “Bear Brand Hosiery” that we would later see in the museum, weren’t available for sale.

After passing through the storefront, we entered the museum dedicated to Sam Walton’s life and Wal-Mart’s history.  Something that struck me about the museum is the obvious dichotomy between Sam’s vision for his stores and the image that many people project onto them.  Sam’s goal, to open stores throughout America that offer goods for the lowest prices, was put into place with the intention of helping Americans to save money on an individual basis in an effort to lower the cost of living for the country as a whole.  It’s a common belief that Wal-Mart has hurt the American economy and culture by closing down local shops that couldn’t offer competitive prices, but Sam saw the casualties of these stores as sacrifices for the overall betterment of the nation.  Whether or not someone agrees with Wal-Mart, Sam’s patriotic spirit always told him that he was working for the greater good of the consumer, and he clearly felt pride in this success throughout his lifetime.

We walked through many interesting exhibits, one of the highlights for me being the display of items that had been returned to Wal-Mart over the years along with the explanations given upon their return. One tennis racket that had been destroyed by a customer was returned because he “could not serve well with it.”  Similarly, a kitchen mixer was sent back for being “possessed.”  Sam believed that Wal-Mart’s only true boss is the consumer, and he made it a store goal to receive “zero complaints.”  Because of this policy, Sam personally responded to letters from displeased shoppers and items such as a Stanley vacuum bottle, produced in 1954 before the first Wal-Mart store was opened, were taken back for full refunds.

The museum also features a recreation of Sam Walton’s office.  I enjoyed this display, particularly because I have now seen a couple of replicated offices over the past two weeks, so I am starting to understand that this practice is somewhat of a “thing” in the American museum culture.  I think that so far out of all of them, Fred Flintstone’s office is my personal favorite although Sam’s isn’t too far off.  Sam’s office appears slightly cluttered and is filled with remarkably modest furnishings including a desk that I suspect he picked up at his local Wal-Mart.  Though he became the richest man in America at one point, Sam continued to drive his 1979 Ford pickup truck, remarking to critics, “what do you want me to drive my dogs around in?  A Rolls-Royce?”

In addition to Sam’s personal things, the museum also houses many of the original items sold in the first stores of Wal-Mart as well as special edition items, such as a 25th anniversary commemorative edition Barbie doll.  Although some of these items are still sold today, Sam’s prices have evidently gone up over the years because the standard broom currently sold in the storefront portion of the museum retails at $25.00.  Perhaps this particular model comes with a Quiddich lesson from Harry Potter.

After checking out the museum, Melanie, my dad, and I went next door to Station Cafe where they sell “the best cheeseburger in town.”  I thought that this proclamation was curious because on Saturday, we went to a different place that also offers “the best cheeseburger.”  This contradiction initially confused me, but then I realized that in a booming town like this one, the rankings must change overnight.

Station Cafe had great cheeseburgers but even better service.  The service was so great, in fact, that we didn’t have to suffer through more than three consecutive minutes of conversation before one of the servers came to check on us or ask us if we needed anything.  The workers were so overly accommodating at Station Cafe that I was tempted to ask for a bucket of gold just to see what they came up with.  It was nice to be in a place that catered so intently to the customer though and even nicer to see that they had received the Reader’s Choice Award for “Best Freedom Fry” in Benton County.  Ah, the Freedom Fry.  I wonder if there is a similar stance in Paris to avoid all food with connections to Arkansas.

The purpose of my trip across America is to see the country, and I personally believe that it’s impossible to get closer to the “American dream” than Sam Walton did, so I feel like seeing his museum was one of the best experiences that I will have in an effort to meet my goal.  I am very glad that I visited this store and its exhibits because it reaffirms the notion for me that if a person presses on with the things that he or she enjoys and takes pride in, great success can follow.  To honor Sam’s legacy and because Bentonville is also close to the Daisy BB Gun Headquarters in nearby Rogers, Arkansas, Melanie and I decided that we would be remiss in failing to purchase our own Walton’s 5 & 10 Edition BB guns. Don’t worry though, we haven’t shot our eyes out yet.

Today wraps up my time in Arkansas, and tomorrow, I will proceed along with my tour of Middle America by heading to Evansville, Indiana where among other things, I will see the house that was used in the exterior shots in the show, Roseanne.  Though I don’t expect that Dan or Roseanne will be there to open the door for me, I do hope that I will get a good sense of the town that kicked off one of the longest running shows focused on portraying “quintessential America.”  I hope you all check it out with me when I post the pictures tomorrow! Thanks for reading about our time today at Wal-Mart – I hope everyone is having a good week!

Current Location: Fayetteville, AR

Today, Melanie and I decided to take a trip to the local mall.  Although we weren’t completely sure on the directions, I sensed that we were nearing our destination when we saw a store called “$1 Jewelry Galore.”  “Here we are!” I exclaimed, “high end shopping at it’s finest!”  We went into the mall through a Dillards, and I figured that so far, things were looking good.  Then we entered the rest of the mall, and I noticed that something seemed amiss.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I scanned the area for an escalator.  There wasn’t one.  I realized that this mall packs all of it’s brilliance into just one floor.  Suddenly, I felt like all of those years playing Mall Madness had turned out to be a waste, but then again, Ty wouldn’t have seen her life flash before her eyes in Clueless if that mall had thought to contain itself to only one level.

We walked around the shops and saw many of the typical mall staples.  Sears, Bath & Body Works, Banana Republic, The Razorback Shop.  I was glad to see that one as I had been in the market for a new razorback for quite sometime, and it was nice to find an entire storefront dedicated to their sale.  Forget dogs and cats, the real ace in the family pet industry is the razorback.  You just can’t go wrong with a wild boar whose roots trace back to 16th century America.  That’s right.  Before there was a George Washington or a Declaration of Independence or an angry mob of men dressed as Indians throwing tea into a certain harbor, there was the razorback.

Unfortunately, as many of you might have guessed, The Razorback Shop was not filled with a hearty selection of feral pigs, but instead turned out to be a one stop shop for all things University of Arkansas.  The town of Fayetteville is in a very serious long-term relationship with the University of Arkansas.  They’re in love.  And they want everyone to know about it.  Restaurants feature signs urging people to “Go Hog Wild,” and most items for sale around town come in red, white, or razorback.  The University of Arkansas hometown pride is palpable in Fayetteville, and now that I think about it, the main street that’s devoted entirely to bars and nightlife doesn’t seem so out of place after all.

After looking around The Razorback Shop for a while and realizing that we had enough hog glassware as it is (being none), we walked towards the food court as it was getting close to my 1:00 lunch time.  It was on this particular mission that we came face to face with a hurricane simulator, right in the middle of the mall.  Huh?  A hurricane simulator?  In a mall?  In Arkansas?

A couple of things struck me as odd about the presence of the hurricane simulator.  The first being that I had no idea what the point of a hurricane simulator might be.  I already knew that I didn’t want to find myself standing in the middle of a hurricane.  Thanks chamber, but I figured that one out on my own.  Hurricanes are not a fun place to be stationed.  Got it.  The second thing that felt weird to me about the chamber situated in the middle of the Arkansas mall is that Arkansas doesn’t contend with the threat of hurricanes.  It’s nowhere near the coast!  Just to verify this theory of mine, I double checked it with the all-knowing Wikipedia, and sure enough: “While being sufficiently away from the coast to be safe from a direct hit from a hurricane, Arkansas can often get the remnants of a tropical system which dumps tremendous amounts of rain in a short time.”  Tremendous amounts of rain. Big deal, Arkansas.  Take that complaint to Louisiana or Mississippi. I’m sure it will evoke tremendous amounts of sympathy.  Maybe that’s the point of the chamber, “wow these winds are strong. I’m glad that I don’t live somewhere like this!”  Next thing you know, there will be a whole series of chambers in the Northwest Arkansas Mall.  A tsumani simulator, an earthquake simulator, traffic, smog, profanity, burglary…  “wow,” everyone will say, “the rest of the world blows.”

It goes without saying that I paid the $2.00 for a turn in the chamber.  It was awesome.  Awesome if you think that getting pelted by the sting of 150 mph winds is your idea of a good time.  After leaving the chamber, and on the verge of passing out from my experience, I still had no idea which purpose the hurricane simulator was intended to serve.  If someone is thinking about going out in seek of a hurricane to experience, I doubt that a chamber will serve as a deterrent, and it’s not a good experience on it’s own – probably because as I already suspected, it’s not fun to be trapped in the middle of a hurricane.

Tonight, Melanie and I are going to meet my dad for dinner, and then tomorrow, we all head over to the Walmart museum to see a historical recreation of the original store.  Talk about the true “American Experience.”  After that, my trek will take me to Indiana and around the Midwest for a couple of days.  Stay tuned for future adventures!

Current Location: Fayetteville, AR

We were off to a bit of a slow start this morning in formulating plans for the day.  Driving back from breakfast, I still wasn’t sure where the afternoon would take us, but I did start to get a better feeling for Fayetteville.  It’s funny to me that there are things about Fayetteville that I would have absolutely not expected, like a main street that’s dedicated entirely to bars and nightlife, and then there are things about Fayetteville that I absolutely did expect, like being the only people at the restaurant this morning not outfitted in church clothes.

In general, Fayetteville seems like a wonderful place to live.  If I thought that the people in Austin were nice, the people in Fayetteville are headed for sainthood.  Each time we’ve entered a restaurant, a store, or just pass someone walking down the street, a wave of friendliness falls upon us.  Being the capital of Walmart, Northwest Arkansas has taken the chain to new levels, and I was glad to experience Walmart Market today, the grocery store version of one-stop shopping.  In addition to Walmart, Fayetteville, in my eyes, is also known for local banks, which along with a church, there seems to be approximately one of per citizen.  God must really create prosperity in life because evidently, the people of Northwest Arkansas necessitate a bank on each and every street corner.

After coming back from breakfast and our thrilling adventure at Walmart Market, we were still somewhat unsure about our next destination.  We searched online for “things to do in Fayetteville”  and were directed to “make hummus.”  Not exactly what I had in mind.  Then we attempted to search for museums in Fayetteville and were presented with the link, “how to work in a museum in Fayetteville.”  I guess Google got word of my current state of unemployment.

Finally, we found out about the Clinton House, which is just around the corner from where Melanie and Kyle live.  The Clinton House is an old house where Bill used to reside and where he and Hillary were married.  After the success that I had with other presidential locales, we decided that this museum might be worth checking out.  Unfortunately, we had forgotten the other cardinal rule about life in Arkansas – #1, you go to church, # 2, nothing is open on Sunday.  Feeling defeated, we decided to check out something else that Melanie had heard about, the Christ of the Ozarks.  We weren’t sure exactly what to expect, but she had been told that it’s worth a visit.  And being a church, it was likely to be open on Sunday.

The Church of the Ozarks is about an hour away, so because of that, we were hesitant to make the drive.  “How awesome could a church be?” we wondered.  It would be a while before we uncovered the answer. Before making it to the church, we winded through the hills of Arkansas and saw beautiful farmlands as well as old country stores and kids playing in fields and riding tractors.  Fayetteville is a Mayberry kind of town.  Time seems to have marched on throughout the rest of the world but for whatever reason, stopped abruptly when it hit Northwest Arkansas.  When we decided to stop for lunch, we were instantly drawn to Sister’s Cafe, a family run restaurant with four tables in the living room of the owner’s home.  The menu features three selections and though each one is great, the best part of the experience is dining in a room that proudly displays a large photo of Elvis.  The sisters had come from Memphis, and they didn’t want to move without the King.

After lunch, we proceeded along with our drive, and though tempted by signs advertising “100 large cats,” we decided to press on for the Church of the Ozarks.  To our dismay, when we finally arrived, the area looked closed.  How could this be?  It’s Arkansas. It’s a Sunday.  It’s a church.  Undeterred, we kept driving through the parking lot which guided us along a left-hand turn.  It was just after we made the turn that we saw it.  It wasn’t just a church.  It was the world’s largest statue of Jesus.  It was the best thing that I had ever seen.

The statue of Jesus is sixty-seven feet tall and every bit as amazing as it sounds.  It’s a gigantic sculpture of Christ that stands atop a hill dubbed, Magnetic Mountain.  And magnetic it is.  I couldn’t take my eyes off the thing.  We took many pictures (in several of which we attempted to create the allusion of high-fiving with our Lord and Savior) and sat in the statue’s remarkable presence for quite sometime.  Although, for us, the sculpture was breathtaking, we overheard another visitor voice his displeasure in the depiction by exclaiming that “Jesus should have bangs.”  Let me suggest a suggestion box, sir.

I hadn’t been sure if I would be able to find something as remarkable as Bedrock City or something as historical as Dealey Plaza, but somehow, I managed to stumble upon the mothership with the Church of the Ozarks.  On the drive home, we noticed a white Dodge Caravan that had been decorated like a NASA space shuttle, but after coming face to face with Jesus, my heart just wasn’t in the rocket.  I can say that, without hesitation, a trip to Northwest Arkansas is incomplete without a visit to the Church of the Ozarks.  And in my opinion, that rule extends to a drive across America too.

I’ve posted the photos below, but unfortunately, they don’t do justice to the experience of viewing this incredible wonder firsthand.  I hope though, that you can get an idea for the majesty that we encountered today.  I couldn’t ask for a better 25-and-a-half birthday present.  I couldn’t ask for anything more from Arkansas.

Like had been the case today, I’m not sure what tomorrow will have in store for us, but I can now say with certainty that I have 100% faith in Fayetteville.  I will be here for another two days, and I can’t wait to share my future experiences with you.  I can’t promise anymore towering likenesses, but I can promise some interesting times along the way.  I hope that you all have a great week, and thank you for reading!

Miles Traveled: 321; Current Location: Fayetteville, AR

Before I proceed with my next statement, I’d like to go on the record as saying that I’ve never met a person from Oklahoma who I don’t like.  This statistic also includes one of my very best friends in the world as well as the people that I’ve hung out with while visiting her there.  In general, I’m a big fan of Oklahoma.  That being said, driving through the state today was unequivocally the worst leg of the trip thus far, and I caution anyone out there whose travel plans might include a trek through the Sooner State.  Don’t do it.

I know what you’re wondering, and yes, the drive through Oklahoma, for only a couple hundred miles, was worse than spending nine hours in the fields of Texas.  Way worse.  The nice thing about driving through the fields, in retrospect, was that after I bid adieu to the police in New Mexico, nothing whatsoever stood in my way.  There were no other cars, no traffic lights, no distracting billboards reminding me that without Jesus, I might as well get used to living in the hot climate as I prepare for my eternity in hell…there was nothing.  Nothing but blue skies and freedom.  Nothing but the exact opposite of what I experienced today.  For instance, when I initially missed getting a picture of the sign welcoming me to Texas, I simply made a u-turn on the two-laned road and was on my way again.  That would not be case for me in Oklahoma. For Oklahoma, there would be no picture.

I’ve driven across the country a couple of times before, so I knew to be aware of the constant presence of the Oklahoma State Troopers.  I try very hard not to speed as it is, so it didn’t bother me that I would be monitored closely.  What did bother me though, was the realization that the speed limit in Oklahoma changes just about every 100 yards.  It goes from 70 to 55 to 65 to 60 over the course of ten or fifteen minutes.  And then the cycle repeats.  And continues in this pattern throughout the entire state.  Meanwhile, every fifth mile winds through a construction zone with big orange cones and concrete barriers.  Naturally, these areas have an even slower speed limit and an increase in traffic fines.  I saw no fewer than five cars that had been pulled over throughout my drive in Oklahoma – five times the number of cars that I’d seen stopped in four other states and over the course of 2,000 miles… and that’s including my own brush with the law.

Another thing that became instantly clear to me about Oklahoma is that the state is in a bitter battle with Texas for most roadside churches per capita.  Here’s a thought guys…. just go to a church that’s there already!  You don’t need to start your own!  There are plenty to go around!  I saw churches in shopping centers, free standing churches, churches in barns, signs for churches not visible from the highway… churches everywhere.  How can there possibly be enough people to fill each one of these churches?!

Along with the churches, of course, come the billboards offering life-changing information.  “Watch and pray for we don’t know what hour, but the son of God will return.”  I’ll watch the East.  Someone else should grab the West.  We should also probably come up with a code word to call out as an alert to everyone when we see him coming.  Get your neighbors involved.  We’ll make it a community thing.  Another nugget of truth that I enjoyed is that, “a wise child follows his father’s instruction.”  And who, may I ask, wouldn’t like to be wise?  My favorite sign of all though is the one listing the Ten Commandments.  I pulled over so that I could read each one aloud.

Some of you might wonder if I get bored sitting in the car for hours at a time, and before I left, I had the same concern.  Since I had turned down my father’s offer to give me a GPS device, I asked him if I could use that money for a new ipod, one that could hold my itunes library in its entirety.  After he had ignored my request for a couple of days, I got the hint and loaded up my two 8gb ipods with new playlists and podcasts.  I also went through stacks of old CDs and packed my car with a careful selection that I thought I might want to sample on the ride.

As it’s turned out, I could have learned something from Christmas 1996 when I listened to my Deep Blue Something single of “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” on a constant stream.  The CDs, the thoughts of a new ipod – all completely unnecessary.  In reality, when my songs by The Judds finish, I simply restart the three hour playlist over again.  And again.  And again.  I’m a person who can literally quote entire episodes of Full House, so the good news for this trip is that when I like something, my loyalty runs deep.  There are times when I actually can’t wait to get back in the car so that I can listen to The Judds again. Occasionally though, I will give the duo a break.  Such was the case when I drove through Checotah, Oklahoma and played Carrie Underwood’s, “I Aint in Checotah Anymore.”  Besides seeming appropriate, it was fun for me to drive through Checotah all the while belting out a song that claimed I wasn’t there.  See, this incredibly low threshold that I have for amusement is the reason that I don’t get bored in the car.

I also enjoyed driving through Checotah because there are at least three signs reminding me to “reach for the stars just like our own Carrie Underwood.”  All this fanfare from what Carrie calls, “a single stoplight town.”  Of course, being cursed by Oklahoma, my camera managed to miss each of these signs.  In general though, with the exception of the wiles of Checotah, my time in Oklahoma was not filled with much excitement.  For this reason, I was particularly thankful to have The Judds along with me for this portion of the drive.

When I finally arrived in Arkansas, I instantly understood the meaning behind its nickname as the Natural State.  The trees and rivers are beautiful and a marked contrast to the geography of the other places that I’ve driven through, and I’m very excited to explore the area over the next couple of days.  I hope that everyone is having a great weekend, and I can’t wait to update everyone about my time in Arkansas!  (Hint: We will be checking out the Walmart Museum on Tuesday.  If you love the “people of Walmart,” I can only imagine what the “people of the Walmart Museum” might be like!)

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!