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.

Georgetown to San Antonio, 112 miles + 1 wasabi glob

This may be my last post. In life. I accidentally ate a whole wasabi glob.

Before the fateful moment, I started my trip to San Antonio sort of late. Last night I decided I just wanted to veg in the lap of semi luxury so I decided to stay in Georgetown. I negotiated a rate I could live with at the Best Western Plus and made my way to the room. This guy was waiting by the elevator.

It immediately made me think of Allie Brosh's delightful story of "The Simple Dog Goes on a Joy Ride," where Simple Dog sees a horse statue (No Hoorse Noooo), goes berserkers, and runs wild and far from the scary horse-thing because who wouldn't.

They served breakfast which was awesome. You could have eggs and ham or biscuits and gravy, but I chose the "Make Your Waffle" option and wouldn't you know it: Texas.

Via the map, the drive from Georgetown (north of Austin) to San Antonio seems like you are going from one town to another, with stretches of nothing along the way, but the commerce on either side of the highway never ended, so it really just seemed like one, long city of cheap eats and gas stations, at least until I got to San Antonio proper. I suppose I will see enough open road on the way to my next stop, Big Bend.

I considered visiting the Alamo, but who knew how jam packed and centrally located it was?? From pictures it looks like it's out in the desert somewhere, but that's not the case at all. It is surrounded by restaurants, bars, and hotels, plus all kinds of paid parking, connected by interweaving, circling streets that are sometimes one way and sometimes cut down to one lane with no warning. It was great fun circling, but I decided nah. I took some photos out the window while at stoplights (always at stoplights, never while in motion) and so here I present to you probably the Alamo. I am 98% sure. Through the trees.

After all, isn't the important thing that I remembered the Alamo?

If this is not the Alamo, then I present to you this impressive tree.

On the way to my one library visit in San Antonio, I was starting to get the hunger shakes (it seems hot sugar bread shaped like Texas isn't all that filling), saw a promising sushi place, and turned in. I read some Google reviews before actually committing to the place, but the majority were stellar so I went for it. Things I have to say about Sapporo:

Scene of the crime.

1. Cute place. Brightly lit. Colorful.
2. Interesting cut outs along the back wall and next to my table.
   
3. I am used to New York portions so ordered way too much. I guess everything is bigger in Texas.
4. I got the crunchy roll and the spicy tuna roll which equaled one big honkin roll and two still relatively big honkin rolls. 
   

   

   Fateful wasabi glob pictured here.

5. The rice-to-filling ratio was way off. Way too much rice. I ate a lot of it, but ended up picking the bits out of the middle in the end and pushing the leftover rice sleeves to the side. 
6. The flavor was fine though I did engage the soy sauce this time. 
7. Sapporo has perhaps the hardest working waiter I have ever seen. He had serious hustle. He had a ton of tables, but was taking care of everything, including busing. He never disappeared, he just kept going, and it didn't seem to bother him whenever the hostess kept loading him up with more tables. 
8. Finally, in the midst of lunching, I managed to eat a whole wasabi glob. It was hiding under a roll that had fallen apart. I was reading an article on my phone. There was a lack of focus. Then there was a white light and a Robed Man calling me Home.

I am feeling much better as I write this, but lesson learned. Watch the wasabi. Ware the wasabi. It wants you to eat it.

Austinique

Things about Austin, the long and short of it:

The traffic is surprising for a city this size, but considering the city in question I suppose it is to be expected. Austin is surely an “oasis in the desert” for counterculture, so you could see why people flock here to be among like minded souls. Perhaps one day the city population and traffic will sync up.

I finally found Austin’s downtown and I must declare that it is The Cutest Downtown I Have Ever Seen in My Life. It was on the way to the Alamo Drafthouse, as it turns out. For the remainder of my time in Austin, every time I drove by or through it, I screamed at it as though it were a basket of baby highland cows, you know the kind you can carry around? I managed to take some lame, gray day pictures, shared here, but Google has plenty of better shots so look at those, too. It’s a major Squeee. Cutest downtown everrr.

I also finally found the “weird” in Austin, though to me it just looked like Brooklyn. Lots and lots of tats, long beards, multicolored hair, and newsboy caps, so many newsboy caps. I’m guessing that fashion sense, the art and music scene, and the far more lefty leaning political sensibilities are the “weird” part, but God willing (YES I SAID GOD DID I STUTTER) it will only get more like that, not less. I dragged 6th street, with its vibrant scene of bars, restaurants, clubs, and noise, even though it was the bright of day and I never intended to Hit the Scene, I just ended up there and everyone was driving 5 mph so, you know, go with the flow, try to look fly in my momcar. It was around this area where I happened to see one of those pedal-yourself-and-drink-beer-trolleys, which made me laugh and then twisted my stomach a little because all I could think was how that constant motion would make all the beer and food in your gut go churnchurnchurn. I wonder how many people hurl after or even during the ride.

Come play wif us, Danneeeeee

The Alamo Drafthouse is worthy of the hype. The South Lamar location had tons of cool old movie posters, funhouse embellishments, and the greatest touch of all: the long carpet of the Overlook Hotel extending to the back wall where a huge print completed the picture. Iconic. I also loved the surrounding area, with 2cool 4school apartments across the street and lovely murals on the way into the parking garage. I am especially glad I saw Get Out there. It was a phenomenal movie and the surreal, mesmerizing aspects were only heightened by experiencing it in a strange place among strange strangers. I’ve been thinking about that movie since I saw it—the effects of which I’ve chronicled to some degree here, but still I turn it over and over in my hands and marvel at it. It’s not the greatest movie of all time, but it is one of those rare movies that nestles into your brain and rewires you a bit, even if for just a little while. This takes a great deal of skill, and Jordan Peele has managed to create something vivid, blistering, hysterical, excruciating, and permanent.

One of the great parts of the Alamo Drafthouse experience is getting to eat real food while watching the movie. It’s not an alien concept at this point, of course, since we have the same services at the downtown Warren in Wichita (and there are similar offerings all over the country), but I rarely go out to the movies and have only experienced this type of movie going experience once (which was a horrifying disaster), so it felt exotic to me. The pricing is completely reasonable, and you get fast service and great food. I ordered the Royale with Cheeseburger and a Dr. Pepper. The fries were yummy but the burger was sublime. I know people love bacon on things, and I don’t exactly disagree, but I am a Fussbudget McFussypants about how it is prepared. I hate the fatty part, but I can eat it if it is almost burnt. This burger featured crunchy smoked bacon, with no fatty or rubbery grossness, cooked well done and just perfect. The burger itself was juicy with lots of flavor. A++

On to San Antonio ever so briefly, then it’s camp-o-rama!

I have no idea what's goin on.

Georgetown Library, Georgetown, Texas

This morning I woke up to a dark and squalling forecast. A big thunderstorm was rolling in. I was checking out of the Austin airBNB place today, so busied myself with preparations, all while the storm yelled and hurled things around outside. Dawn, my airBNB host, advised I stay for a little while, at least until it cleared, since the weather service had issued flash flood warnings and a tornado watch for the area. I made some coffee using Dawn's mini french press and hung out in her kitchen, watching lightning strikes in the near distance. The trees were rotating to and fro, but every once in awhile everything would stop dead and I would freeze, too, wondering if a funnel was about to drop casually from the sky to kick the party up to 11. It's like when a cat strolls in the room and suddenly widens its eyes and arches its back at the closet door. What do you know that I don't know?

But the storm abated and I packed up my car to trek out to the next and last Austin-area library. On a whim I decided to stop by a pick up breakfast from a place I'd seen all around town, Shipley Do-Nuts. I'd never heard of them before, but there's no forgetting them now. I ordered a maple frosted and a regular glazed. I have to get maple when I can find it--it's my favorite--and I found Shipley's to be acceptable. Not quite on the same level as other joints, but still very good. The glazed, however, was intense. As you are eating it you are not quite sure how it holds solid form. It was so ooey gooey, melt-in-your-mouth good, I cannot recommend it more highly. Like, go there. Now. Get it. Inhale it.

The sky was still bleak and grumbly when I arrived at the Georgetown Library, the central public library for the same-named town just north of Austin. I didn't know anything about the library until settling in, so at first I assumed it was some sort of university library. To my delight, this treasure is all local, all public, and a true gem in the Georgetown crown. This library is amazing (a big thank you to Dawn for suggesting it!).

When I walked in everything was glittery and shiny and reminded me immediately of fresh mallage, you know, when they first built the anchor stores and all the merch was fresh delivered and you could smell the rich, capitalistic, chemical-laden aroma of New Things? All the surfaces are gleaming and sharp, and the light is focused, bright, and deliberate. The first floor is dominated by the children's section (lit up like the surface of the sun), teen section, and a cafe, with generous seating all around. The cafe workers were busy readying for their day (the library had only just opened minutes before, at noon) so I caught the eye of a library staff member nearby and asked about the beverage policy. Totally open, you can have food and drinks anywhere in the library. Austin was the exact opposite (while Houston and Dallas allowed covered drinks) so it was a nice surprise. And even more of a surprise the further I got into the library.

Georgetown is spic and span from the first floor carpets to the skylights above the second floor. It is immaculate. You wouldn't think such a relaxed refreshments policy would allow for such a pristine environment, but they've clearly made it work. This library has been operational since 2007, but it looks like it opened maybe last year. It is obvious that the public and staff take great care of this public space.

The second floor is just as shiny and efficient as the first, with bright skylights above the main floor, and workspaces tucked around the perimeter of the stacks. I am sitting in the main workspace area, where one long desk stretches across the front wall (with outlets), and several big wooden desks fill the space behind it (without outlets). I am facing the front windows, where I can see some municipal buildings, banks of trees, and a mountain range of receding, angry-looking clouds in the distance. Goodbye, thunderstorm, and please do not send your cousin for a follow up visit tonight when I am sleeping in the car!

One of the best parts of this library is located on the second floor bridge, in the center/front of the library--a stained glass window dedicated to a librarian who passed away back in 2007. Her name was Dixie Sue Hanna (don't you love her already?) and she was the sole curator of adult library materials for 20 years. Her story--and the story of the window--can be found here. Of course I cried a little, but only a little, you know the cry that is just tears on the precipice that never fall. Rambo tears. They loved this lady so much, and she was such a significant part of the library's development, that they made this permanent monument for her.

That's the real gut kicker, isn't it? People work jobs their whole lives and when they leave it is almost as though they were never there. Someone else comes along and picks up the work, or changes it, streamlines it, reduces it to nil, naught, garbagio. And that's that. It is almost better not to think about the time you spent in the working world, wondering what it added up to besides survival (which should not be undervalued, I know). My grandfather was a typesetter for the local paper back in the 70s and 80s. At the time the paper was called The Wichita Eagle-Beacon (now just The Wichita Eagle) and it was a point of pride that my grandpa had a hand in creating the daily news. These were the days when TV was still pretty much 3-4 channels, cable was in its infancy, and papers ruled the news. He worked second shift, and would come home sometime around midnight, having put the paper to bed for the next morning's edition, turn in, and then get up at the crack of dawn to listen to the news on the radio station KFDI while also reading that very same paper set the night before, fresh delivered to his doorstep.

My grandfather put his hands to the type and created permanence in this world. Maybe small permanence, but still significant. I hope he was proud of that. Even though he served as Treasury secretary for the local Typographical union chapter for some years (and worked for the Eagle for the same) there are no plaques mounted anywhere in his honor, but that is okay. The permanence was in the words, printed and cataloged probably in bound copies archived in the Wichita library system, and certainly on microfiche and via the web. I do hope the keepers of our history remember to retain the actual artifacts of newspaper, knowing that it probably won't last forever, and certainly not in the format we know now. Everyone should know what a newspaper smells like: the soft, grainy pages and black print that would sometimes rub off on your fingers (depending on the paper, of course--some papers were "filthier" than others). You could spend hours going through each section, reading every morsel, assessing, collating, deciphering, and in the end you would feel owlish and a little tired. Full of news.

It's no mystery why Ms. Dixie Sue Hanna's stained glass memorial was particularly touching to me. In my work life I built up a functioning, efficient little kingdom over 15 years, and in less than a year I watched it evaporate into the mists of Otherness. My own little Roanoke island of Despair. I am happy that the Georgetown library loved Dixie Sue Hanna and made sure that the community will always know it--it's a rare and benevolent honor. My monument will just have to be me, trailblazing to the whatever and whenever of the next chapter, which doesn't scare me at all. Why should it? I've already slept in a bed of fire, simmering in icy dreams, troubling, fearsome, and new.