Postscript Best/Worst List & Shiny Shiny Product Recommendations

Worst Place to Find Starbucks 

Colorado, where signage is Full of Lies. When you drive around the country, you come to depend on the highway-helper signs for upcoming gas stations and food. I tried three different times to follow the signs for Starbucks and was thwarted every time: Too far from the highway, impossible to park (no drive throughs), even impossible to find. CRIMINAL!

Best Breakfast

Y’all, three times I went back for this thing: Multiberry Pancake Breakfast at Cracker Barrel. It seems this special offer is now over, so you'll just have to settle for some blueberry or pecan pancakes, which will still be exceptionally good, I have no doubt. But dang.

Best Tacos

Albuquerque, New Mexico. Casa Taco. Oh happy taco times. This is well worth a drive out of your way, like a hundred, or thousand miles. And if you are ever in Albuquerque, there’s no excuse not to drop by.

Best Restaurant Decor

Houston, Texas, Molina's Cantina. OMG, look at this thing. The pictures are so limited but it was this awesome Spanish vibe, lots of wrought iron, warm, low lights, and the best thing of all: Marbled mirrors. YAAAAASSSS MARBLED MIRRORSSSS. These were hot, hot, hot back in the 70s (it was all just disco balls, tube tops, red lipstick, Farrah Hair, and MARBLED MIRRORS) and I get way too overexcited whenever I spot it in modern times.

Scariest Drivers 

Sorry California, but Texas has you beat. Primarily Dallas and the surrounding areas. It’s the aggressive Grille Up Thine Ass School of Driving that wins them top prize. Also, it wasn’t California Chainsaw Massacre, was it? Though it easily could have been Barstow Chainsaw Massacre, but I digress. I never felt more threatened by other drivers—not even by my scarce driving experience in frickin NYC. Not a Badge of Honor, y’all.

Best Wildlife

Arizona. In one gorgeous day of driving (the Canyon de Chelly adventure), I managed to nearly run over a bunny, a domestic dog, a chipmunk, and a wily coyote, who actually bared his little white teeth at me as I drove by, mouth agape at the close call…and the close encounter to a favorite wild thing of mine. This is also where I saw those meaty, mouthy ravens and the fearless elk (at Grand Canyon).

Best Rest Stops

Theoretically, Texas. They are new, clean, not too smelly, and well designed. And they feature real plumbing. Real, live plumbing. But my heart will always put those Western Kansas rest stops above all others. They are quaint, simple, clean, and perfectly functional, with those magical outswinging doors and the tinny comfort of weather reports echoing from recessed speakers, voices drifting across the parking lot, and through the plains. Even if you are the only one there, you never feel alone.

Worst Rest Stops 

Without even a close runner up, Utah. They are old, broken down, smell like Satan’s b-hole, and offer those low toilets so everyone has to drop it like it’s hot or, I don’t know, just stand on the edge and aim?

Best Traffic Full of Whimsy and Charm 

Houston, Texas. There was such a rich variety of foliage and wildlife…it was incredibly lovely and a pleasure to drive around, seeking out all the different libraries and tacos and Starbucks. I also liked how they let each other in and showed a level of courtesy I’d never seen before, at least not commonly.

Worst Traffic 

Austin, Texas. Dude. What a shitshow. And yes, even compared to Los Angeles. There were slow downs during my LA experience, but I saw nothing that could compare to Austin. Whenever I think of Austin and its traffic situation, I also imagine the city planners as shaking, wrecked shells of human beings, just trying to make it through the day until retirement to maybe Antarctica or the bottom of the ocean…wherever there are no roads.

Best Scenic Drive 

Hands down, everything between Las Vegas and Denver. If you ever get the opportunity to make this drive, DO IT. It is so beautiful—lots of mountains and of course, the finale: The Rockies. It can be a little scary at times, but don’t drive like a maniac and you’ll be fine. Also, get coffee before you hit Colorado. And food. At least until you get to Denver…otherwise, you’ll be driving in endless circles through snowy mountain towns, trying to figure out where the hell all the promised amenities are hidden.

Worst Scenic Drive 

Western Kansas (and really, anything east of Denver) may be “flat” but it’s a feathery, soft kind of flat, as opposed to the hellscape route between Roswell and Albuquerque documented earlier in this blog. Close encounters of the Boring Kind.

Coolest Library

Pasadena, California. Oh my God. Oh my God oh my God. Those dark wood stacks, those glowing, dreamy lights, the painstaking dedication to preserving the timeless, aching beauty of a quintessential Library. Swooooon. (Second runner up, a lot of them, actually. I loved McGovern-Stella Link in Houston, Ella Mae Shamblee in Fort Worth, Yarborough in Austin, Beverly Hills and West Hollywood, too. I loved spending time in so many of these libraries, with very few making my Never Ever Again list. What a remarkable treat.)

PRODUCT RECOMMENDATIONS
Okay, to be honest, I am only making this section to scream praises for one product in particular, but I’ll mention others for what it’s worth.

1. Like, omigod Sheffield 12-in-1 Hatchet Multi Tool. This thing will totally not fly off the roof of your car when you forget you put it up there and take your first hard turn out of the parking lot. Sturdy little sucker.
2. 2-person Dome Tent by Embark. This is a super easy tent to set up and break down, even for just one person. It’s more of a temperate weather tent, so not for super cold, windy, rainy, or snowy situations, but it withstood my abuse so A++. 
3. Ozark Trail Sleeping Bag, Not Really Sure Which One but Wow. So warm, so soft, so comfy. I’d recommend any of them, but here’s a general link. Cheap as heck, too! (Just don’t set yourself on fire while you are in it. Generally advice to follow, daily. But it is doubly advisable when wrapped in 100% polyester.) 
4. Finally, the best thing ever: Intex Classic Downy Twin Air Mattress. The link to the WalMart site now has it priced at 15.97, so I guess it was a lucky break that I got it at 7.97? Like, how crazy. I fully expected such a cheap mattress to pop, deflate, or otherwise disappoint. Really, what could I expect? Apparently A LOT. I beat the living hell out of this thing. Remember, I had to launch myself into the backseat to get to my little sleeping area, and while I might’ve tried to spring light as a dove’s whisper at the beginning of the evening when I was still awake and fully present, in my shivering zombie 3 a.m. form, I was really just hurling a corpse made entirely of elbows and bowling balls into the back of my car, violently whipping to and fro to get the sleeping bag zipped and all the blankets back to a complete cocoon state. It has great support and only seemed to inflate and deflate depending on temperature and elevation. I recommend this air mattress so hard, even if you don’t need one you should probably just get one, anyway.

Evidence! Before the trip I bargain hunted and kept photos to make it easier. Best. 7.97 ever spent.

Outtakes, Leg 1

Lovely, lovely Houston

Houston, Texas
Where I learned about the most mean spirited toll roads ever, offering no options but to exit into the unknown...and you might just get a ticket in the mail (which I did not, thank goodness). This is also the last place toll roads were included in my map searches. Turns out you can travel 9,000 miles without hitting a toll road at all.

Rootin Tootin Dallas Ft. Worth

Houston, Texas AirBNB
My most gruesome injury of the trip, a Florida shaped bruise up my leg, from splatting on the floor, trying to find the Host to let me out so I could visit my libraries. There are few things I can do as well as I did as a young teen, but it seems I can still fall like a massive, wet, green frog, much like I did at our first dress rehearsal of Alice in Wonderland when I tried to sprint across the stage in flippers. I was 14, a Frog Footman, and furiously humiliated. It seems the muscle memory is the same, as I blushed madly all these decades later even though there was no one there to witness my clumsy shame.

Chic and shiny Austin

Big Bend

Pretty, pretty Roswell

Bottomless Lakes Campground
When I drove up to the campsite host trailers, no one was at the On Duty station, so I rolled to the second, where an older man was sunning right by his Off Duty sign. He looked at me and mouthed something awfully not nice, but was willing to help after he realized the other host was MIA. It's funny that anyone would think the average person couldn't lipread MOTHERFUCKER. But I can.

Magical New Mexico

Magdalena, New Mexico (AirBNB)
When I shopped for supplies at the Albuquerque Wal-Mart, I was so overexcited by the idea of having a kitchen and endless, luxurious time, that I bought a week's worth of food when I really only needed a few days. Like, what did I think I was going to do with an entire box of Frosted Flakes?

Canyons de Chelly, Forests so petrified, doggy butts

Grand Canyon, Meteor Crater, Flagstaffian Library Lodge

Grand Canyon Campsite
I blame the children, always. But in this case, it is definitely their fault since they distracted me. The family that came in the night before I had to leave were up bright and early and the kids were climbing the trees around their campsite (and mine) as I busied myself with breaking down the tent and packing up. We started talking about climbing trees, visiting the canyon, and where they were from and planned to visit on the way back, and I totally forgot I put my flashlight, pill case, and ax on top of my car...until I took the first hard turn and all but the ax (sturdy, heavy thing) went flying off the roof and smashed to the pavement. The flashlight survived. The pill case did not. I spent the rest of the trip taking medicine from individual pill bottles like an animal.
Flagstaff, Arizona
Home of Assholes on Bikes Who Do Not Look Where They are Going and Giant Falcons or Perhaps Pterodactyls Who Crap on Your Car in the Night. Not really an "outtake" as much as a state of existence. A pretty but perilous place.

Cali 1

Arizona/California Border
I cannot explain why, when asked if I had fruit in the car, I felt compelled to tell the truth (yes), but then lied (saying I had one apple when I had two) and then lied even further (when he said, oh from a Flagstaff hotel probably and I said yes even though it was from an Albuquerque Wal-Mart). As though I'd been caught with live parrots tucked in my bra?

Cali 2

Post Flagstaff
The Cooler of Shame and Failure. I tried keeping up with the ice, but it wasn't enough of a priority and also makes that one jar of grape jelly go from a somewhat reasonable price to the most deluxe, gold flaked tumbler of Smuckers to ever be acquired at auction. It works best if you are camping a lot and know you are going to go through your goods in a matter of days, but it is not a long term option. I ended up trashing more than I'd care to remember and, as you can imagine, any kind of waste during these post-employment months is irritating and regrettable. I do admit that 90% of the problem is me!

Toothy Utah

All States, Including Mental
Car Sleeping--it can be done! And quite peacefully and effectively. But it took me awhile to build up the nerve to do it at all and I did opt out a few times when I planned to sleep in the car and either chickened out or thought it would be too cold. Considering the savings, I would obviously far prefer car sleeping over everything else. I am sure there are other sub-outtakes in this category, all likely involving nearly falling into toilets at 3 a.m., sleep blurry and freezing, or trying to guesstimate how many people saw me with my mouth agape and nose pressed against the back window, but we'll have to leave that to our imagination.

Rocky Mountain HIIIIIIIGH, Colorado. I really did think I'd see people smoking pot out in public but no dice, man.

Library 21c, Colorado Springs, Colorado

When the zombie apocalypse happens, this is where we will live. I absolutely adored the Library 21c branch in Colorado Springs--it is peak mallage, so mallesque that you can almost smell the fresh merch, hot off the factory floor. Of course, it really smells like a library with an added tang of coffee since there is a treat shop on the first floor. Otherwise, this place looks custom built to house clothing, candle, and knickknack stores and you would barely recognize it as library, especially on the first floor, where the majority of the space is reserved for kicky, kooky lounge chairs and couches.

I'm not sure that Library 21c is the best name for it since it reminded me so strongly of malls...perhaps Library 1992? As I worked my way around the place I was practically skipping with glee.

I took the elevator up to the second floor because A) I can and B) I will never pass up a glass elevator. The glass elevator seems more appropriate for high rises, but I've only ever ridden in the 2 and 3 story varieties because apparently these sweeping views of endless merchandise must be seen at all times, from all angles, including the 15 second ride between mall floors. See the sweeping view?

Sweeping view

The second floor had many meeting rooms and a bank of chairs against the wall facing Pike's Peak itself. A lot of the shades were pulled so you couldn't really see it very well. There were also old school cubicles set up all around with tall walls that obstructed the views but featured the precious electrical outlets I've come to depend on. There were also these nifty, glassed in work spaces with 4-seat desks hogged up by slouching dudes looking conspiratorial so were likely gaming (and more power to them). I would have snagged one myself, but ended up at one of the cubicles which was also equally fine.

When I started working in publishing I had a proper cubicle with a wall with shelves and a decent sized desk with plenty of storage space. By the time I left, the open plan plague was in full swing, but we'd reached that point through a long, tortured road of smaller cubicles with tiny walls where nothing could be affixed and storage was at a premium. Considering that we were thing makers, we needed space to keep things, but at the end the belief was that we didn't really even need to see the things we were making. We'd just wait for complaints and figure it was all working out at the other end without further review or care.

It was nice to sit in an old school cubicle. As much as they've been reviled over the years (who wouldn't prefer an office, I ask you), a real cubicle kicks the living shit out of open plan any day, any time, any place, world without end amen.

Also, truth be told, now that we are all maybe a bit overeducated in zombie physiology and maintenance, I would imagine Colorado would be a terrible refuge from a mumbling, shuffling zombie army. All those cool temperatures would nicely refrigerate our former friends and family and keep them from spoiling, falling apart, and losing forward motion, brain-hunting abilities. I've given up on The Walking Dead (Glenn was the last straw, but I was already exhausted by the interminable grimness) but eventually all those zombies have to break down to pieces, parts, shivering bones, and dust, right? Anyway, cool climates are probably a bad idea, which means jungle climates (promoting advaned decomposition) are the way to go. Also, and this should be a shock to exactly no one, I'll not be attending the zombie apocalypse. 

I mean, I could stand a mob of shambling horrors chasing me down the street to my ultimate doom...but in the humid heat? UGH, forget it.

I had to flee Library 21c as soon as I realized the weather was about to take a turn for the worse, but it was a delightful cap to the library tour (which is almost, but not quite, over). Next stop: Best/Worst Awards, Things of Note, and Product Recommendations!

Pike's Peak as viewed from the parking lot.

Manitou Springs Library, Manitou Springs, Colorado

Manitou Springs is one of those great old mountain towns that still retains the beauty and character the original town founders likely intended. There are tiny shops full of trinkets custom made to lure tourists in on their way to the Pike's Peak...and the fact that the town is very near a major trailhead is obvious when you visit the Manitou Springs Library. While the library itself is likewise very tiny (an ancient, creaking ship of worn wood and musty books), a good number of people came in during my short visit, and several were clearly just coming off the mountain to reconnect to civilization and the cursed blessing of its electronic wonders.

The Manitou Springs Library looks like an old mansion that the city council decided to turn into the local library. I can't find a history of it, but just walking through the interior you know there has to be generations of stories underneath the stacks and behind the walls.

Just like any other library, it is set up with all the most up-to-date technology (self check out, computer stations, etc.) but the building itself is a creaky antique with odd little alcoves, small doors to nowhere, and yards of quirk and curiosities. It sits nested among long-settled neighborhoods on winding, narrow streets, and is set well back from the main street with a long, sloped lawn and many old growth trees surrounding the property.

When you walk into the the library, you can either go up to the main floor, or down to the children's floor (this is also where the somewhat makeshift bathroom resides). The main library consists of two public rooms, the larger of which contains the majority of the stacks, the computer stations, work tables, and a couple of easy chairs that look like they were left behind by the original owners. The smaller, sub-room houses the DVDs which, as you might expect, garnered the largest amount of local foot traffic.

The work tables do not offer electricity, so I knew it was going to be a short trip, but it was somewhat early on that I heard conversations about oncoming storms and wanted to get moving to the next library sooner than later anyway. It was fun to watch the hikers (all youths, all a bit rolled in dirt but so tech savvy it was mind reeling) reconnect with obvious relief to the larger world and comforts of home, family, and friends. Who knows how long they were out of contact--I was effectively out of range with almost no wifi opportunities for a couple of days at Big Bend and felt completely untethered and weirded out. 

Part of the reason we travel is to disconnect at least a little, but it's kind of a shock when you realize just how dependent you are on all the phones, apps, tablets, and laptops--and most of all, the connection to the internet. We're so affixed we may have missed the historic moment in time when we all became, for all intents and purposes, cyborgs. Finally (ahhh).

Las Vegas Library, Las Vegas, Nevada

I'd never intended to visit a library in Las Vegas, as it had only been a vague pass-through plan on my larger itinerary to travel from California to my next major stop, Colorado Springs. Frankly, what I'd seen of Vegas on my previous trips told me most of what I needed to know, I figured, and I didn't see the point of belaboring a point that didn't really need to be made: There are a massive number of homeless people in Las Vegas and therefore there would be a massive number of homeless people at the library. True, there are also well-to-do parts of Vegas, working class parts of Vegas...and of course the primary money maker: the Strip. And all outlying hotels, motels, and resorts dedicated to the singular endeavor of conning money out of folks with big dreams. This is also where you can expect to see the highest concentration of famous faces outside of LA and NYC--everything glitters, until it doesn't. And much like San Francisco (again, last time I was there) and NYC (of course), Vegas has a disproportionate number of citizens living on the streets.

I guess I didn't want to write a blog post that was just All About That. It sucks. Kind of like Vegas is always All About The Other Thing. It's tiresome, oversimplifies a multifaceted place, life, and experience, and it is neverending. Ask a Kansan how they feel about Toto, Dorothy, and either being in or not being in Kansas, anymore.

My theory is that if you can stay drunk enough, the smarmy part of Vegas won't bother you. At least stay buzzed, keep your peripherals blurred, and never stop yanking on that greasy slot crank. Though I think it's all buttons now? Seems less satisfying, but whatever. I was never drunk in Las Vegas, and it's not an option now, so I have to see it sober. And getting to the library took me past all the things I knew were probably there but no one wants to see, especially not by the piercing light of day.

Tent City grew up around a vacant lot. People had their tents set up all around the perimeter for the most part (nearest the trees), but many were even set up on or near sidewalks. While there were quite a few tents, there were many people under blankets, and some that were just lying in the dirt with nothing but the clothes on their back and maybe a bag or shopping cart filled with belongings nearby. There were a lot of people there in the mid-morning, some sleeping off whatever they took the night before (or earlier that morning), some with just nowhere else to go. And a few were already on their way to the library, which was just opening as I drove by toward that very same destination.

The Las Vegas Library is just a couple of short blocks from the Tent City and is, as expected, a hotspot for homeless patrons. However, aside from the smell of bug spray and a very poor choice in carpet for the main floor, I have nothing but nice things to say about the library, the staff, and the patrons with which I shared the space, albeit for a very short amount of time.

For one, it is a sophisticated looking library--just look at the pictures and you can see what I mean. It is stylish and it is clear they were going for a very specific, Desert Oasis of Knowledge vibe. The cool grays, warm wood, and white highlights all make for a very bright, inviting space to sit down and learn something. Unlike many businesses in Vegas (especially on the Strip or even just near it), this library was not interested in whoring itself to the Neon Gods of Gambling and Vice. It's shiny, but a sharp, expensive shiny. Not the glitter gloss on a hooker's lips.

See the carpet? It is a light gray, very fine, soft grade,
not at all appropriate for heavy duty public use.
I bet it was beautiful for the first week or so!
Also note those lights...slick, huh?

For two, people minded their damn business. Me, my laptop, and my exer-pants barely registered--people were reading papers or books, fiddling on phones or laptops, and generally just doing their own thing. No glares, no stares, just utilizing the space. And obviously no shenanigans or trifling. The staff was upbeat and busy, attending to the business of the library and helping patrons (including me) with neither an over- or under-solicitous attitude. They were professional, open faced, and refreshing to be around.

God knows how many teeny tiny slivers of individually
cataloged government documents this one drawer
might hold? It may also be a doorway to Hellllll.

I didn't stay long because the bug spray smells were getting to me (my eyes started watering, which is never a good sign), so I packed it up and headed out for brunch (which turned out to be my third and last visit to a Cracker Barrel on this leg of the trip, always to get the same thing: The Multiberry Pankcake Breakfast. It's a special they are running right now and it is so EFFING GOOD you guys, go to Cracker Barrel and Treat Yo Self immediately).

Looks like a sci fi movie set, no? Dune, maybe.

I do wish I could have seen The Las Vegas Library on opening day--it must have been quite a sight. Even so, a good carpet cleaning and some polishing would probably do wonders. And mad, mad respect to the people who kept it classy and refused to put a slot machine in the bathroom. God knows they could have.

Los Angeles, California to Wichita, Kansas (1630 miles, approximately)

15 minutes into Colorado, XM radio starts playing "Rocky Mountain High" I shit thee not.

Quote of the Day: "OK, we’re gonna be cool. We’re gonna be sooo cool. We’re the coolest of the cool, chillaxin in Chilltown. Cool and chillaxed, AND WHY IS THERE NO GUARDRAIL, Okay let’s forget about the guardrail, there is no guardrail, there is no spoon, we’re cool it’s all cool. We’re not gonna look at that cloud, we’re not gonna think about that cloud right there, we’re gonna chillax and be cool. So. Very. Cool."—Me, Loveland Pass, Colorado

If memory serves, it went something like this: Long route from LA to Vegas > Crescent Junction Rest Stop (Utah) > Denver > Colorado Springs > Wichita

If it seems foggy, it is—I am recollecting from just a couple of days ago, but I would point very pointedly to the approximate mileage above, and 3 times zones of driving travel in a two-day period. Lordy Lordy.

I had intended to stay in Colorado Springs for two nights, thus breaking up the travel just a bit, but the weather had other ideas and I had to flee rather late in the day, not even 24 hours in town, to beat the oncoming snow and rain. I had also intended to visit Garden of the Gods, sleep overnight at a Kansas rest stop, and visit Dodge City before heading home. Good thing I tanked that whole plan, because as it turns out, a blizzard blew through Kansas, too, and dumped 16 inches of snow right along my planned route.

California sundown

I left LA straight from the West Hollywood library and took the longer, northern route because I was tired of going through LA straight east as that had been the same route I took to get back to Fontana every night. This was the only part of traveling in LA where I experienced grid lock. Every time we’d reach a clear area, I could never see a cause for the slowdown in the first place, so I’ll just blame it on the fact that LA drivers are comprised of two species: Caffeinated squirrels & obstinate mules. For most of my visit we managed to all coexist peacefully, performing the exquisitely timed ballet of graceful merging, twisting in and out of lanes and no honking or discernable ill will in sight. I know my LA driving is limited (though honestly, not that limited) and that LA is notorious for wild driving, but I felt far more fearful driving in Dallas. For example, in LA, there were no Mega Manly Truck Grilles pressed to my Rogue’s ass…instead, when people would get aggressive, they were tiny little gnats in my wake. There are very few of those TRUCK YEAH trucks in LA.

Once I cleared the traffic, the drive toward Nevada was lovely. It is a very mountainous area and sundown was warm and glowing fire dissolving into quiet night. When I came upon my intended sleeping arrangement for the evening—Valley Wells Rest Area in California—I shouldn’t have been surprised to find it closed for renovation. There was no inkling that this was imminent when I made my plans awhile back, but sometimes you have to go with the flow and, as it turned out, there just happened to be a town just a little farther down the road made almost entirely of hotels, neon, and broken dreams.

I had planned to drive through Las Vegas the next day to catch lunch somewhere weird, but instead I ended up staying at a recently renovated motel on the north, slightly sketchier end of the Strip: The Thunderbird Boutique Hotel. It turned out to be a great place to land, with parking in the back that made it feel semi safe. The hotel was colorful and well designed and the rooms themselves were huge. There was no padding under the carpet, and it felt uneven and strange as though God Knows What was under there, so I made a little towel path around the bed to avoid getting too ooged out.

If you’ve ever been lucky enough to have a house built from scratch, thus affording you the luxury of visiting the framed in construction site and all subsequent stages of the build, you will get to see the unseemly part of it too: The Rude Ass Garbage Situation. The crew just throws chip bags, cigarette butts, etc., wherever they happen to be standing, so you end up with permanent garbage under your house (definitely) and, depending on your builder, even under your damn carpet (maybe). It’s infuriating and super gross. So, this is what I thought of when I walked on the uneven Carpet of Secrets and decided nope.

Biker cops

 I slept like a dead rock and woke up to find my car nice and safe in the lot and ready for the long drive across Utah to the next rest stop (which from my searches, appeared to be open). Before leaving I decided to visit the library on a whim (covered in another post) and make a few passes up and down the Strip to take some pictures.

Las Vegas is far more impressive at night, with miles of neon beckoning and hypnotizing, but it’s still quite a sight to see in the daytime. You get to see who the real go getters are, too, up bright and early and full-tilt squirrely, running around taking pictures and making memories. It’s also a time of day when dragging the Strip is mild and gentle, not too busy or maniacal, and an actual, non-stressful joy.

 What struck me was how much had changed since I’d been there last…though to be fair, it had been a long, long time (the 90s!) so what did I expect, right? I absolutely loved the tacky part of Vegas the last time I’d seen it—anything over the top ridiculous, like Circus Circus, Excalibur, the Flamingo, and of course Caesar’s Palace, big time. Loud, brazen, and shameless: Bring it. From different media sources (okay, The Real World) I knew more “standard” hotels (rectangular monoliths absent all that flashy cashy neon delight) were going up over the years since I’d last visited, and it was true there were quite a few, making the skyline far more cosmopolitan than I’d remembered, but there was still plenty of wonderful and weird to counter the boring, glass bricks of standard hotel fare.

I’ve been to Vegas twice, the first time we stayed at Circus Circus, the second time we stayed at the Luxor. While I tried gambling a bit, I only ever sampled the slot machines and never went anywhere near the craps, cards, or roulette wheel. Interesting factoid about rehab: One of the first questions they ask you is Do you have a gambling problem? Followed up by, Have you turned to gambling when you could not access your drug of choice? I couldn’t have been more surprised if they’d asked me had I ever eaten asparagus on a moonlight boat ride. But apparently, it is a thing—same pleasure receptors and all that. But not for me. I generally find gambling boring, and am more likely to see the expenditure of even one dollar in that enterprise as nothing more than throwing it into the fires of Mount Doom. This, of course, coming from the person who used to blow at least $100/week on vices. Not bad, right? Compared to, say, a heroin budget? All smart abusers buy in bulk!

I intended to pull over and spend a dollar on a slot machine just to say I did it, but I forgot and ended up leaving town (and Nevada) never taking advantage of the opportunity. Oh well. There will be a next time, I have no doubt.

Some favorite shots between Las Vegas and Zion...

Even if you are not a gambler, I would still recommend going to Vegas just to see the excess of it all. You will have to bear some sadness, though, as there are many, many indigent people everywhere. I even saw the tent city erected very near the library. It is away from the Strip itself, but not that far. Gird your feelings and do it regardless. Stay a couple of nights in Vegas, do whatever makes you happy, then drive the same route I took from Vegas to Denver (I15 to I70). This drive is unbelievably beautiful. I took some pictures along the way, but it doesn’t capture how gorgeous it is. You’ve got to put your human eyes on it, with all that luxurious peripheral vision.

I forgot about the dang switch to Mountain time, so arrived too late to see much of Zion, but I took some pictures of the area just outside the park which was, in my opinion, pretty damned impressive. I can see why they named this park Zion. It looks like an excellent place to be still and take measure of things, both great and small.

The town just outside the park (Springdale) is just about the cutest thing I have ever seen with lots of little homes with flower gardens and beautiful wood framed mom-and-pop businesses lining the one main street that weaves its way up to the main gate. The whole area is so gobsmacking gorgeous I’ve already made a promise to myself to come back for the express purpose of staying in this town and spending some real time there. Excruciatingly precious town meets majestic, stunning locale = Top Destination.

After the side trip to Zion, I continued my journey through Utah and made my way to the Crescent Junction Rest stop to burrow in for the night. It was very cold and I’ve finally learned that I am human and not impervious to chills. Worse yet, Utah’s rest stops leave everything to be desired, including the fact that the toilets are somewhere near the damn floor so you practically have to fall on them. They’re also those “natural” type toilets so that it smells like hell forever. Watered down soap, hand dryers, and no way to open the door without touching it just added to the charm. GUH. Can I just mention, by the way, that the ONLY state-run rest areas I visited on this leg with swing-out doors you never have to touch were in KANSAS? Seriously, guys, get it together.

Although I woke up at the rest stop a bit groggy, I thought I was fortified and ready for the drive…it seemed manageable, just 5-6 hours, and I was going to meet up with an old high school friend after visiting a library in Denver to boot. So much time! So much energy! So much forgetting that what stood between me and the rest of my day was the goddamned Rocky Mountains. Before getting to the Let’s All Be Cool part of the story, I should state the obvious: The Rockies are incredible. Driving ever upward and winding to and fro, it was a pleasure to see all those cabinesque villages nestled in the flattest corners of the mountains, with hidden lakes and fierce drops into soft plumes of white snow and tiny jagged trees. It truly is a wonderland.

 

Things were going great. It was snowing a bit, but nothing unmanageable, and I even got to see skiers near Vail going zoom zoom zoom down the mountain. It was delightful. The snow grew thicker, but we were all doing fine traversing I-70, going the speed limit, and no perceptible ice in sight. The worst part for me was the state of the road—every time there was a hollow of collected water, my car would do a mini hydroplane, which would kick the cruise control off and, when going upward, jolted the car and made the damn drive seem more like off-roading than commuting through the civilized world. Nothing about driving through the Rockies feels remotely civilized to me, though, as it is both fascinating and horrifying that humans saw this somewhat (completely) inhospitable environment and thought, Let’s live here. But this is just my Kansas showing…it’s also why every time I saw a mountain (or hill) on my trip, I got overexcited and screamed at it because WOW WOW.

At Silverthorn, the cops had cordoned off the Interstate, forcing all cars to exit and find another way. Everyone else seemed to know where they were going, I did not. I pulled over and, after some quick consultation, put my trust in Google Map Woman. I know, I know. What was I thinking? Probably something along the lines of She would never hurt me. Because I am a foole. When she said Let’s go on Colorado 6, I said, OKEY DOKEY.

So ever upward we went. It was still snowing but I took heart as I passed Keystone ski resort. I knew living humans who had skied there. So obviously I would be fine. After all, it was almost May. Practically summer! But I still didn’t know where I was until I saw the sign. Loveland pass. I knew Loveland Pass, I didn’t know much, other than the fact that it was HIGH. Very high. And by the time I reached this sign, there was really nowhere else to go.

Things got stony quiet in my car. I started having my first full blown panic attack in I don’t know how long. I was hyper aware of the altitude, thin air, and losing my breath the harder I panicked. I put the cold air on high and turned all the vents to blow directly on my face.

When I have a panic attack, I go molten hot. All the air leaves the room. Everything goes far and wee. I had to get my shit together and fast.

So I started talking to myself as the road went higher and wound tighter and tighter. My one comfort was every average, non-ATV, non-SUV I would see passing the other way. If a damn Toyota Tercel could make it, I would make it. Just keep cool, freezy breezy, cool cool cool, and go as slow as necessary and do not give one thought to people behind me. Luckily there was an old truck at the lead and it had to corner slowly anyway, so the stress of being the cause of backing up traffic behind me was voided out anyway.

One added stressor that I had never even considered when making all these plans and setting up my car for both travel and lodging became evident the higher I went: the air mattress. Apparently either the thin air or the temperature change (or some combination of the two) made the air inside it e x  p   a    n     d.

I heard a terrible, tight squeaking right behind my head. This is while I was already a clenched muscle of acid-laden terror, so you can imagine my reaction. Whatthefuckwasthat. I felt behind me and it was pushing up against my seat, hard, and completely taut. So, as I drove I waited for the boom. Would it just separate at the seam and just kind of woof? Would it pop like a big bubble wrap? Or would it be an atomic BOOM, shattering my nerves and sending me careening, screaming into the white abyss?

So I talked to myself like a maniacal therapist with an infinitesimal vocabulary. And it calmed me down, thank God. I made it down the mountain and back to I70 (which was open at that end) and continued on to Denver. I was even able to appreciate the signs posted for truckers especially: Big, yellow signs yelling at them to stay in a lower gear because the declines were ongoing. These signs say things like, Not yet, truckers! And You are still not done! Huge, official signs. Which makes me think Colorado has had to deal with a great number of massive trucks zinging down these roads and flying off of mountains left and right. Imagine an airborne semi. It must feel so light and free! Before it dies in a clashing screech and ball of searing flame of course.

The mattress never blew up, by the way. I am going to write the most adoring product review for this thing, you have no idea. Wal-Mart! $7.44!

By the time I got to Denver I was exhausted so cancelled the library and meet up (sorry Michael!) and went straight to the AirBNB. What a lovely place—very suburban (and near nothing) but they have a great view of Pike’s Peak and the greatest bulldog on the planet: Roscoe. Look at this face. He was the sweetest meatball of furry love. Roscoe especially loves scratches behind the ears and guarding the front door. He makes the most expressive grunts and groans. He should be famous.

A Star

I spent the evening photo editing and vegging out on Netflix. By the next morning, I felt much better and decided to head toward the mountains again. I’d picked out several Colorado Springs area libraries to visit, and the smallest and most remote was located in the historic little village of Manitou. While there, I overheard people talking about an oncoming storm. There was no electricity to be found for my laptop, so I decided to move on to another, larger library, and vowed to look into the weather situation once I got there. Probably not a big deal.

I headed over to the 21c Library in Colorado Springs, took pictures, and mooned over the place for a while (I’ll cover this later). It wasn’t until 2 or so when I finally got around to checking the weather report for the area. Storm alert, 8-10 inches, travel not advised after the snow starts. Shit.

I made a decision. Go home. I have the luxury of going back to the Garden of the Gods and Dodge City at a later date. Knowing that there was a storm coming also meant car sleeping would only be colder and more miserable, no doubt, and God knows if I would be snowed in or what. I hightailed it back to the AirBNB, packed up, gave goodbye snuggles to Roscoe, and set out for Kansas.

Kansas Rest Area

I recall promising to assess which drive was more boring: Roswell to Albuquerque or Denver to Wichita. While it is true that Kansas is flat, it is also a soft and sweeping plains of flat. As opposed to scrubby, grubby desert. I suppose it is just a preference, probably based on familiarity, but I still think the aesthetics are significantly different. The old but extremely superior rest stops in Kansas also add to my assessment—they are very well maintained and stocked and, as I mentioned before, feature the ever-important swing out doors. Much to my delight, they still play radio weather broadcasts from ancient speakers on the exterior of the building, this time echoing what I now know turned out to be not just bad weather for Colorado, but extremely bad weather for Kansas.

After night fell, somewhere between Hays and Salina, eventually in my line of sight emerged a sea of red lights pulsating in unison far into the horizon. It was pitch black, so all I could see was what was directly in front of my headlights and the mystery lights blinking, slow and steady. On my life I could not fathom what they were for, but they were magical and I hoped they were alien beacons which of course they were not. Sorry New Mexico, Kansas has you spanked.

I arrived home around 11:15 that evening, zombified and overwhelmed. It was wonderful to see my mom, though, and meeting her new, tiny cat Luna was a delight. Now I hibernate for one week and try to regenerate. As the zombies like to say, “Blargggg.” But I am so happy I got the opportunity to take this trip. It was better than I’d hoped and I am looking forward to leg two!