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.

Flagstaff, Arizona to Black Rock Campground (Joshua Tree National Park, California) - 354 mi. +

I wasn't really bummed about not getting to sleep in the tent one last time for this first leg of my mega trip. I can now put up the tent in 10-15 minutes and the novelty has worn off. As much as car sleeping has its disadvantages when the wind and temp are not in my favor, it is actually very cozy and comfortable and I can sleep really well most of the time. This is good news since my trip concludes with a trek back through all the states between me and Luna, who I already love (and fams, ya), and only one of those stops is at an AirBNB (Colorado Springs). The rest are car sleeps.

It was far too dark to put up a tent once I arrived at Joshua Tree National Park, so I rolled into my campsite, took the flashlight and toiletries, and headed toward the bathroom to ready myself for a nice, long car sleep. The facility was fine, though more beat up that previous camps, and I ran into several groups of youths who looked like they took a wrong turn from Coachella. I was only at Black Rock that night and left at 6:30 the next morning, but I didn't see anyone older than me while I was there. Oh, and that whole "quiet hours" thing? Not really a thing at Joshua Tree...at least not the one, single, very small sampling so no judgments should be made, night that I was there. There was lots of screaming and cackling and probably fire dancing but I had my barriers up so hell if I know.

Funny enough, the noise fit with the trees in the backdrop and all their creepy tentacleyness--add the stars and the flickering light from all the campfires and it all seemed about right with the cackles and shrieks. Plus it was a long drive and I was tired--it took very little time to fall asleep.

Why was it a long drive? Remember the aforementioned crapfest of Arizona highways leading to the Grand Canyon? I had to take that route again to get to California. I was thinking of stopping by some more sights down near Sedona, but I knew it would take me too long and I would definitely not make camp by nightfall if I tried. So, back on the "rough road" I went, though I guess at least this time I knew what to expect.

The drive is still pretty--lots of mountain forest trees and serene valleys in between all those peaks--but something went awry along the way. Google Map Woman, ever the trickster, told me to get off 40W (a real highway) and take County Route 66, which I did, though I always feel less comfortable on those tiny highways...if you pop a tire on 40W, AAA will find you. If you pop a tire on County Rt. 66, a werewolf will find you.

I drove for maybe 20 miles when I came to the end of the road: Closed for repairs. Take the detour, it says. Remember those freaky stories they made us read in high school, especially the ones where Puritans run amok and do bad things, especially in forests where evil always dwells (cover of night, yadda yadda, see "Young Goodman Brown," Hawthorne)? That was this godforsaken "detour." Of course.

It was as though the desert leeched every last drop of moisture out of the asphalt and it had started to crumble apart, perhaps to eventually crackle back to gravel and then dust. If I managed to pop a tire out here? Forget the werewolf. This was wendigo country. This was Satan with a whip wonderland.

The funniest part of all? It led me back to 40E/W...so, a loop. HA HA HA. Ha. I determined I should just figure out a new way, so pulled over at the next rest stop. After a little research, I decided to go further west to Barstow, then hook south on 247. It would be a longer journey, but I would still manage to make it to the campground before dark, though just barely.

Sooo, Barstow. Ever been? Don't. It was 95 degrees when I stopped in Barstow to get gas, and every surface looked sun blasted and bleached of all life. Remember my Sim City 2000 seminar? Barstow is a town that appears to be 80% industry...chain link fences, long warehouses, and debris, debris, debris. It instantly reminded me of the way Stephen King and Peter Straub described Oatley, New York, the fictional town our young hero, Jack, gets waylaid in on his journey across the states in The Talisman.

It is as though some places are out of tune with the rest of the world and the minute you arrive your hackles go up and you can't help but be on high alert. Just like there are "Feel Bad" movies (Eraserhead, Dead Ringers), there are "Feel Bad" towns. I am sure King and Straub were thinking of specific places when they made up "Oatley." Very considerate, not naming names.

Barstow: Avoid. Not sorry at all.

By the time I got to Joshua Tree there was just enough light to check the main board at the Black Rock ranger station to figure out where my camp was...after I finished up in the bathroom, and nodded goodnights to the firedancing hooligans, I settled in for the night and vowed to find a Starbucks the next morning, touchstones and talismans in our little worlds.

Flagstaff City-Coconino County Public Library, Flagstaff, Arizona

Can we all just agree that everything should be made in the image of a ski lodge and have done with it?

As a certified victim of Terrible 80s B Movies, I totally bought into the idea of skiing and all its accouterments to be the summit of human achievement and acquisition. If you and your family ski, have skied, or go skiing on the reg, you have Made It. And also I hate you.

I've recovered from my venomous jealousy honed to stabby perfection back in the 80s (especially at Isely, a place I loved but taught me about Jordache Jeans, Tupperware lunchboxes, and a level of covetousness so depraved there should be a supervillain conjured in its honor. I suggest Envious Evy, "She'll Bitchslap that Bubblegum Lipsmackers Right Off Your Face"...we'll work on the tagline), but I'll never really be over that ski lodge aesthetic, especially since it often combines with my much beloved Tudor designs.

The Flagstaff City-Coconino County Public Library is huge and very, very lodge-y. With snow capped mountains in the distance, it makes complete sense, and as a library I was very into it. I found a space near the window to set up shop and stayed there for several hours. I was pretty tired (as I've mentioned) but the act of writing managed to perk me up a bit and, no doubt, that lovely building made a difference, too. I got so used to the Barnes & Noble but especially Borders aesthetics that the oldster lodge feel seemed fresh and new.

Since Flagstaff itself is a sort of international house of pancakes (I haven't heard such a wide variety of languages since leaving NYC), it stood to reason that I would not be the only tourist utilizing the space. People from all walks were there to take advantage first and foremost of the free wifi, while many others were set about research, writing (like me), or looking for books or DVDs to borrow (locals). It was a very busy library.

With it's temperate climate and influx of tourism and dollars, it should be no surprize that Flagstaff has a burgeoning homeless population. Almost all of the indigent people I witnessed were very, very young, as well--early twenties and teens. They were stationed at the usual spots (by entrances/exits for freeways, Wal Marts, food shops) but there was also a small group gathered at the library. This particular group seemed to know each other and were, at least in part, representative of kids living, half-living, or fleeing foster situations. One girl in particular was looking for a place to stay that night and seemed to know a lot of people that came and went that afternoon. She looked about 16, but as a person who looked 30 at 16, I couldn't really say for sure.

I am staying with my mother while I figure out my Next Chapter (yes, we must say it in caps), and my licence says I live at her address, so technically I am not "homeless." But I am aware that this is a temporary situation completely dependent on my mother's good will and whatever decisions I make next. I don't have a mortgage and I don't pay rent. And right now, my car is my home in many ways. It probably sounds dorky as hell, but I am grateful for it every time I unlock the door and get behind the wheel. It is an incredible luxury to have a car and to have the ability to go where I want when I want and to be at the beck and call of exactly NO ONE.

For now.

I've mentioned the incident at the main library in Wichita, which was the beginning of my trepidation about homeless people (and let's be clear, 99.9% of my fear is directed toward men), but my fear intensified into something even more personal after living in New York, and especially after living as a "functional" alcoholic for six solid years. When I was spiraling, I could not help but see myself in their shoes. After all, the "functional" part can't last, can it? I would watch shows featuring alcoholics and cling to the idea that sure, that could be me, too (I am thinking of Meredith on The Office, but there are so many more). Surely I won't end up like that homeless woman by the Flatiron, right? It couldn't really happen? But in the brittle morning light, hungover and watching her antics as I fled toward work and away from the Truth of her, I knew it was a lie.

Speaking of The Office--love that show. LOVE it. But it's portrayal of Meredith the "Functional Alcoholic" was a disservice to the problem and all the people who suffer from it. I found her last appearance in the show (the finale, "oh let's all toast to the future and ha ha Meredith still has a bottle in her desk") both delusional and grotesque.

The fear is still there. Obviously from that first encounter when I was a teen in my own hometown main library...but the fear that grew in NYC (alcoholic reflections and all that) has turned into something else now. I no longer have that anchor around my neck, and things are so much clearer and controlled, but it also means that this is really It. This is the best version of me I have to offer...and whatever I decide to do with that, what if it is not good enough? Where will that lead me? Not down the dark path I've tread before, not if I can help it. But where?

I don't look at the homeless as a group of people who can't get jobs--if only it were that simple. I know that they are, for the most part, the uncared-for mentally ill cast out to survive (or not) on their own. And a portion of them (with obvious overlaps) are suffering from alcohol and drug addiction. But this is where catastrophic thinking takes me...and my creative slant fills in the all the color and depth to where it becomes this 3D Reality that is impossible to completely shake off.

Plus I hate relying on anyone but myself--and I hate asking for help. The only person I'm comfortable relying upon to any degree is my mother...and that's because she owes me $5.

Cough it up, lady.

The Grand Canyon (Whoomp There It Is) - 175 mi. from Meteor Crater*

*I went from my hotel in Flagstaff to the Meteor Crater then backtracked to the Grand Canyon, hence the added miles!

U-G-L-Y AND YOU AIN'T GOT NO ALIBI YOU UGLY WHAT WHAT YOU UGLY. - Wildcats

This greatest cheer in the history of all cheerleading applies directly to the drive I took to get to the Grand Canyon. I have a lot of U-G-L-Y things to say about that drive, and the maintenance of Arizona highways near the Grand Canyon in general, but first let me say "Rough Road" isn't enough signage to warn drivers of the hideousness in which they are about to partake. Try: Garbage Pothole Express, or You Didn't Need Your Suspension Anyway Highway, or We Spend 0 Dollars on Infrastructure Annually Alley. I don't know the story here and I don't care. From a tourist's perspective, the area rolls in cash money from all the idjits like me traveling in for the many local natural wonders...where the money goes, who can say. Judging from the age of some parts of the highway and massive amounts of shoddy patchwork they've done over the years, it isn't much. Perhaps the logic is that the people will put up with it because they have no choice.

An indigenous neoptera

Well, you do have a choice...the longer route! Instead of taking 40W to 64N, take 89N to 64W. You get much better roads and the views are far more spectacular (mini canyons!). The other way is faster, but it is also more squalid and your car will hate you. Also, you have to play chicken with all the trucks that want to hang out in the passing lane because it is less warbly, pitfilled, and bangful.

One of the things I think I forgot to mention was my incredible planning skills when it came to this part of the trip...completely accidental skills, but I will take all the credit regardless. I just happened to visit the Petrified Forest and Grand Canyon on the weekend of National Parks Week. The entrance fees to the parks were waived--that's $50 of savings total, and all by happenstance. When I planned my trip, I had no idea the stars were aligning to catch me a break. It makes me feel better about all the Starbucks I've been buying and did not exactly budget for.

On the first day I busied myself with setting up camp--it turns out this was the last time I would put up the tent since I arrived too late at my final camping destination to set up camp (Joshua Tree). The area was incredibly beautiful--lots of wooded areas abound, which is true of the rest of the park, too, if you haven't been. Aspen, spruce, fir...it's a wonder that more explorers didn't go ass over ankles straight into the canyon as they discovered it (or came upon it, in the old timey, wheel & wagon days). The place is thick with trees and then suddenly, DROP.

It looks warm. 

Oh, the lessons that I never learn, or learn hard whilst beating my 100% bone head against the ground. It seems, despite all my declarations otherwise, that I can get cold. Really, really cold. That last, freezing sleep in the car wasn't just a fluke...it was a lesson. I threw all the blankets and sheets I had with me into the tent that first day at the Grand Canyon campsite, and added in the winter cap and mittens & hoodie for good measure. I was still a shivering mess that night. The next night, I wore jeans, too, and that seemed to make the last bit of difference. Never underestimate the cold, friendos. Even for human heat lamps like me, the wind and mild night dampness will cut through right to the bone.

I spent the next day driving around the Grand Canyon village and viewing the canyon itself. It wasn't as bad as it can be since it is still early in the season, but there were plenty of people out and about, either driving personal vehicles or taking the shuttle buses. I tried to stay away from the most crowded areas, but sometimes it could not be helped. Every time I witnessed Typical Tourist Behaviors, I had to smile, remembering that elder park ranger that had helped me out way back at Big Bend. The contempt in his voice, the faraway look in his eyes...he called the place "a zoo" and I could tell he could spend the rest of his life happy to never go there again.

Ravens, ravens everywhere!

Typical Tourist Behaviors Witnessed:
1. People tromping through other's camp sites. FYI, this is a no no. Also FYI, a simple Google Search prior to camping will teach camping etiquette in 5 minutes. Try, "How Not to Be an Asshole While Camping."
2. People swarming wildlife even though there are signs everywhere screaming LEAVE THEM ALONE THEY WILL KICK YOUR ASS. You can't help getting near wildlife since it seems to have no issue with getting right up near you, but you're not supposed to close the gap and encroach. I witnessed two Elk Incidents that made my blood run cold. First of all, here are some pictures of elk that I saw right at the visitor's center, easily the most populated part of GC Village.

They are not bothered by all the humans and stroll up to the area to drink the water pooling around various faucets. I saw them all over the park, drinking from various water spots or grazing--you couldn't miss them because they are huge and they have big pompoms on their butts. Pretty freaking cute, right? Wrong. One family wasn't happy with just a picture of the animals--they wanted a selfie with the animals right behind them. The mother kept pulling at her son (5-6 years old) to get in the selfie with her but he was clearly scared of the Very Large Animal. When he screamed, the elk responded as you would expect, lurching toward the family and the people starting to crowd around the scene. Everyone whooped and reeled back because, you know, Very Large Animal, and the elk decided that was enough. Yet the woman continued to pull her son toward the elk and yelled at him, indicating that this was somehow his fault (pointing at the elk, then him and shaking her index finger at him--she was speaking another language, but the message was clear).

The other Elk Incident took place as I was driving 45 mph (the posted speed limit) on the very winding road back from Desert View. A huge van of people had pulled over and were running back and forth across the road to take pictures of a group of elk grazing in a stand of dead trees. Mind you, this is coming around a bend, so cars had to hit the brakes to keep from running these people down. Some were clearly not phased by this, taking their sweet ass time to cross the road.
3. I also saw people going past the safety barriers to "get a better shot" or sit on the edges of the cliffs. They advise you not to do this, but I don't think it is a rule, per se. Just, ugh. Some people were clearly accustomed to the area and were surefooted enough, but others were not.
4. There was trash everywhere including all over my campsite when I arrived.

I know, not the worst, but it was a shock from the previous places I'd visited. Not to be a shit about it, but the clientele skewed a whole lot younger, too. Lots of lodge dwellers and tent campers, very few RV folks. All the previous camping I've done has been in the midst of a majority of RV/camper individuals, all of whom were around retirement age. I never worried about my safety in that crowd.

This made me very happy.

I hate to say it, but it definitely felt different at the Grand Canyon. Not in any obvious way, but certainly in the "I Don't Trust People to Begin With So I am Watching You" way. There were little things that happened here and there that kept me mildly paranoid. I will not relate them here, but will just leave it at that: It was just different. Compare it to visiting a non-tourist city vs. a tourist city (anywhere in the world). You don't expect to get hustled in Omaha, but you're fool if you think it won't happen in the middle of Times Square. Those knock off furries are NOT NICE and will punch you in the face if you don't pay them after you take their picture. The Grand Canyon Village area is like the Times Square of National Parks.

I am sure this is a shock to exactly no one, but I think it is easy to forget when all you ever see are the best pictures people bring back from their adventure.

As for the "camping" part of the experience, the Grand Canyon Village (Mather Campground) is the polar opposite of camping at a place like Big Bend (or even Bottomless Lakes). There are stores and restaurants all around you--and when I say stores, I mean stores that have everything. Food, clothing, supplies. The campers to the south of me had a dead car battery and asked if I had jumper cables. I didn't, but advised them to try the store. And they had them. They have everything.

Tree...or baby dragon?

It gives you peace of mind to know that civilization is right around the corner from your "wooded lot" but aside from the proximity to the Grand Canyon itself, it wouldn't be my highest recommendation to "get away from it all." Although if you want to get away from internet access, this is a great place to do it. They claim several places have access to wifi, but the only place that seemed to have working wifi was the aforementioned store. Not that we should be seeking out wifi on our camping trips! Unless we are feeling a bit weirded out and need to connect to our tribe to feel a bit more insulated and safe, as much as such a tenuous construct will allow us, anyway.

The Library. I did not go inside. I do NOT wanna talk
about it. Except to say: THHPPTT!

One thing I did not expect: The food was AMAZING, especially at the Desert View Snack Bar. They had this Chipotle Chicken Salad that was far yummier than it had any right to be, especially for the price.

But what is the point of any of this if not to see the grandest thing on the planet? It is a perspective altering experience and holds 100% of your attention when you finally get to see it. I tried to see it from as many vantages as I could on my own. I know this makes me the Odious Tourist Who Drives Solo and Expels CO Emissions All Over Our Park, but I took the HellTrain to work for 15 years, so everyone can suck it.

Desert view watchtower

I was excited to see the Grand Canyon, but will admit that it did not resonate as I thought it might. Perhaps it is because I've seen it before, perhaps it is because I am one month into this road trip and starting to feel the wear and tear of constant travel. I enjoy the driving part of the journey--even though I've learned that trucking has changed substantially since I was last regularly on the road (more on that later) and even though the view can sometimes be monotonous or grim--but I have no idea how anyone could travel for a living. It wears you out.

And while I am homesick, it is a weird variety of homesick--I am looking forward to getting back to Wichita to hang out with my mom, watch TV, sleep in a bed, and meet her new little cat, Luna. But that wasn't my home for so many years, was it? What about Brooklyn? Bay Ridge? The old 9115 Ridge Blvd, Apartment 6H?

When I got back to Flagstaff the day before yesterday and checked into the Baymont Inn for some downtime (no sights to see; laundry, relaxation, and that is it), I finally had a twinge of feeling about my old life. I remembered my nice couch and big screen and the whole lot of nothing I would do in my downtime...except for drawing. And I realized I didn't miss that couch, that apartment, those things--none of it--and certainly not that feeling of purposelessness.

I miss drawing, though. But I can take that with me anywhere.