It's Day Twenty-Two, and my everything hurts. We spent the day not taking advantage of public transportation and, instead, walking an estimated 15 miles around Washington, DC. My toes, stuffed back into shoes after two and a half weeks of freedom, are in pain from being squashed up to their neighbors. My legs are so heavy I fear that if I put step down off this bed they'll crash through the floor, plummeting me through to the center of the earth and beyond. My eyes burn with the pain of being open, my brain is over-stuffed: we saw and did far too many new things today.
I'm not going to blarg about it. Instead, I offer you two vignettes which hopefully give an incomplete picture of what our day was like, why we are exhausted, and why we completely lost control of our sanity at the end. There will be more tomorrow, and even more the day after that.
* Mike and I step off the tall, tall escalator and look around. Everything is made of stone. Everything is big, and everything is at least a little bit famous. Most things start with the word "National." These buildings stretch for miles in all directions, and all around us people in business gear rush, rush, rush to get to their crucially important destination. "There," says Mike. "That's something over there."
* Can you see the Washington Monument from space? I myself have never tried it, but I can't imagine being so far away from D.C. that the gigantic white obelisk is not looming somewhere in your view. If we knew what we were looking for, I'm sure we could see it from our own patio. Everywhere we walk in the city it is there, taller than we can believe. We finally give in to its gravity and climb up to put our hands on it, to look up and to be glad we have feet firmly on the ground. A woman in the crowd gasps "There it is!" She had, I suppose, not noticed it before.
Today we listened to: "Umbrella" by Rihanna blasting from the speakers of a supposedly world-famous ice cream shoppe. Simultaneously, the sound of our brains coming unhinged.
Mystery words: "Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, Jefferson Memorial, WWII Memorial, Vietnam War Memorial, Korean War Memorial, Arlington National Cemetery, National Museum of Natural History, National Archives, Smithsonian Castle..." and "She's a witch?"
Mike didn't blarg today, but read his 363rd daily story. The experiment is almost over!: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Day Twenty-One: Ghost stories
If Day Twenty-One had ended up being particularly unlucky or ill-fated, I would have to say that we had plenty of warning. Uneasiness and questionable omens plagued us from the moment we woke up, an hour late. Down in the lobby, the continental breakfast was lacking in appetizing foods but overflowing with fruit juices that managed to (through some sort of witchery, no doubt) to be both watery and pulpy. Entering the lobby at the same time as us was a group of three loud and jovial Middle Eastern men speaking in Arabic. The icy silence which filled the area that, mere moments before, had been a clutter of hardy Southern laughter, made us shiver and shrink into a corner.
Then, when we walked outside, we realized that we'd left the beautiful, balmy weather of the deep South behind. It was cool and it was windy, and I would not have been surprised in the least if these all had been portents of a wretched day ahead. Instead, our day was mostly average, with the bright spots being, in fact, poorly lit and a bit creepy.
Watching the interchanges roll by on the map is a principal pleasure of mine. I chuckle at ridiculous town names, marvel at the "attractions" that somehow manage to rate little red boxes on the atlas pages, all the while calculating miles left till state borders when I'll attempt to take a picture of a state welcome sign. It is difficult to do all these things while also enjoying the real life geography streaming by the window and, of course, feeding the driver. Every once in a while things come together and I manage to notice an actually interesting attraction with enough advance notice that we're actually able to navigate to it.
There are times when this works out. There are times when it backfires horribly. Ask someone who came on our road trip to Nashville about the "Lincoln Log Cabin" and I'll bet they'll make you blush with their litany of profanities. Today was a lucky one. Though, again, lucky and creepy. We hopped off the freeway in Richmond, VA to find the Poe Museum.
The Edgar Allen Poe Museum is located in the oldest house in Richmond. This is not a house with which Poe has any particular connection other than that he knew of it. But the Poe Museum does the best they can with what they've got. The result is a little bit odd, a little off-putting, and utterly a-Poe-priate. They've taken bricks from houses Poe did live in and used them to pave the garden walks. In one wing, a staircase going nowhere is a transplant from his foster parents' home. Assorted furniture from his childhood stands in a corner, and one display case is dedicated to the contents of his pockets on the day he died. The face of this museum is a plump middle-aged woman who brags that, although other Poe museums have more of a connection to the famous American author, theirs has "the most stuff." This "stuff" includes a clipping of some Poe-corpse-hair pasted to a letter by a friend of his. Worth the $5 student ticket in, but ye gods it was weird. We weren't allowed to take pictures inside the buildings, so imagine these bright and sunny pictures darker and drearier and insider.
After navigating the trafficky freeways around our nation's capitol, we checked in to a motel in Rockville, MD. Just so happens to be the final resting place of F. Scott Fitzgerald. So, after dinner, we drove over to St. Mary's Church, parked in a corner of the lot, and scuttled over to the graveyard. Under the cover of a towering tree and the deep Maryland night, we hopped over the fence and, using Mike's cell phone for a flashlight, combed through the graves until we found the Fitzgerald family plot. We think Scott and Zelda would have approved.
So that's it. That's what the signs this morning were pointing to. Two vaguely creepy encounters with two heroes of American literature. Also, a big fat spider in the corner of the ceiling of our room.
Heard: "Wagon Wheel," "Fall on My Knees," and other Old Crow Medicine Show songs, Blues on the Bayou (B.B. King), On the Road, and the meaningful silence of an old graveyard after dark.
Mystery words: "Cigar girl"
Mike! Mike Mike Mike! Mike Mike Mike! Mike Mike Miiiiiiiike: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Then, when we walked outside, we realized that we'd left the beautiful, balmy weather of the deep South behind. It was cool and it was windy, and I would not have been surprised in the least if these all had been portents of a wretched day ahead. Instead, our day was mostly average, with the bright spots being, in fact, poorly lit and a bit creepy.
Watching the interchanges roll by on the map is a principal pleasure of mine. I chuckle at ridiculous town names, marvel at the "attractions" that somehow manage to rate little red boxes on the atlas pages, all the while calculating miles left till state borders when I'll attempt to take a picture of a state welcome sign. It is difficult to do all these things while also enjoying the real life geography streaming by the window and, of course, feeding the driver. Every once in a while things come together and I manage to notice an actually interesting attraction with enough advance notice that we're actually able to navigate to it.
There are times when this works out. There are times when it backfires horribly. Ask someone who came on our road trip to Nashville about the "Lincoln Log Cabin" and I'll bet they'll make you blush with their litany of profanities. Today was a lucky one. Though, again, lucky and creepy. We hopped off the freeway in Richmond, VA to find the Poe Museum.
The Edgar Allen Poe Museum is located in the oldest house in Richmond. This is not a house with which Poe has any particular connection other than that he knew of it. But the Poe Museum does the best they can with what they've got. The result is a little bit odd, a little off-putting, and utterly a-Poe-priate. They've taken bricks from houses Poe did live in and used them to pave the garden walks. In one wing, a staircase going nowhere is a transplant from his foster parents' home. Assorted furniture from his childhood stands in a corner, and one display case is dedicated to the contents of his pockets on the day he died. The face of this museum is a plump middle-aged woman who brags that, although other Poe museums have more of a connection to the famous American author, theirs has "the most stuff." This "stuff" includes a clipping of some Poe-corpse-hair pasted to a letter by a friend of his. Worth the $5 student ticket in, but ye gods it was weird. We weren't allowed to take pictures inside the buildings, so imagine these bright and sunny pictures darker and drearier and insider.
After navigating the trafficky freeways around our nation's capitol, we checked in to a motel in Rockville, MD. Just so happens to be the final resting place of F. Scott Fitzgerald. So, after dinner, we drove over to St. Mary's Church, parked in a corner of the lot, and scuttled over to the graveyard. Under the cover of a towering tree and the deep Maryland night, we hopped over the fence and, using Mike's cell phone for a flashlight, combed through the graves until we found the Fitzgerald family plot. We think Scott and Zelda would have approved.
So that's it. That's what the signs this morning were pointing to. Two vaguely creepy encounters with two heroes of American literature. Also, a big fat spider in the corner of the ceiling of our room.
Heard: "Wagon Wheel," "Fall on My Knees," and other Old Crow Medicine Show songs, Blues on the Bayou (B.B. King), On the Road, and the meaningful silence of an old graveyard after dark.
Mystery words: "Cigar girl"
Mike! Mike Mike Mike! Mike Mike Mike! Mike Mike Miiiiiiiike: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Monday, April 28, 2008
Day Twenty: Maybe Jeffy G could give me a lesson?
After yesterday's incomplete appreciation of two great and vastly different cities, Day Twenty saw us doing things a bit differently. We left Savannah this morning and got on scenic Highway 17, having decided to take in the Atlantic Coast by getting off the interstate for the first time in quite a while. Besides taking the long and winding road, we also decided that, for the first time since the California Redwoods, we were going to give ourselves the option of stopping along the way. What would've been a short 6 hour drive ended up with us pulling into our hotel parking lot ten hours after we left. But we made absolutely the right decision.
Ever since we first decided to head south from St. Louis to Savannah (lo, these four days ago) I've been counting down to our first glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean. Not that we hadn't already proven ourselves on this trip. We hit five thousand miles of driving yesterday. We've crossed the Mississippi River probably a dozen times. We've driven through snow, gorgeous and alien rock formations, and the Illinois city of Metropolis. It's not like we weren't already far from home. But I knew that when I saw the ocean disappearing into the horizon in the east, and felt the water that touches England touch my feet, that it would be something different. We would have gone as far away from home as we could. That's it. End of the continent. One whole direction knocked off the compass.
I was right. It was awesome. And my toes enjoyed it immensely.
After walking along the surf for a while, we got back in the car and headed to Myrtle Beach, SC, which was wonderful and strange. Besides being a vacation spot for old white people of all ages and colors, it's also the miniature golf capitol of the world. Seriously. We passed a dozen highly intricate and humongous courses before we decided that we obviously had to stop. We almost played at some random pirate themed one, but I suggested we drive a little further before deciding. Which is lucky, because on the next block was Jurassic Golf. With animatronic dinos! Aaa!!!!
Truly the best thing ever (though I did lose by two strokes, tying our relationship-spanning series at 1-1). On the way out of town we passed some more extravagantly designed courses, and some that were inside a volcano. But none of the other "adventure golf" courses had a real live T-Rex that roared or a Dilophosaurus that actually spat. So we clearly picked the right place.
Now we're about to go to bed in Wilmington, NC. Our bellies are full of delicious, delicious Ruby Tuesday steaks. Our energy is high because we just watched our Atlanta Hawks beat the Celtics again. And tomorrow we head to Washington, DC. Things are good, my friends. Things are good.
Today we listened to: Big Iron World (Old Crow Medicine Show), On the Road, and the unmistakable sounds of an animatronic Velociraptor about to strike. Clever girl...
Mystery words: "NHOP"
Mike's thoughts on today's route (root?!?): astoriedyear.blogspot.com & (posted soonly) LBPostSports.com
Ever since we first decided to head south from St. Louis to Savannah (lo, these four days ago) I've been counting down to our first glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean. Not that we hadn't already proven ourselves on this trip. We hit five thousand miles of driving yesterday. We've crossed the Mississippi River probably a dozen times. We've driven through snow, gorgeous and alien rock formations, and the Illinois city of Metropolis. It's not like we weren't already far from home. But I knew that when I saw the ocean disappearing into the horizon in the east, and felt the water that touches England touch my feet, that it would be something different. We would have gone as far away from home as we could. That's it. End of the continent. One whole direction knocked off the compass.
I was right. It was awesome. And my toes enjoyed it immensely.
After walking along the surf for a while, we got back in the car and headed to Myrtle Beach, SC, which was wonderful and strange. Besides being a vacation spot for old white people of all ages and colors, it's also the miniature golf capitol of the world. Seriously. We passed a dozen highly intricate and humongous courses before we decided that we obviously had to stop. We almost played at some random pirate themed one, but I suggested we drive a little further before deciding. Which is lucky, because on the next block was Jurassic Golf. With animatronic dinos! Aaa!!!!
Truly the best thing ever (though I did lose by two strokes, tying our relationship-spanning series at 1-1). On the way out of town we passed some more extravagantly designed courses, and some that were inside a volcano. But none of the other "adventure golf" courses had a real live T-Rex that roared or a Dilophosaurus that actually spat. So we clearly picked the right place.
Now we're about to go to bed in Wilmington, NC. Our bellies are full of delicious, delicious Ruby Tuesday steaks. Our energy is high because we just watched our Atlanta Hawks beat the Celtics again. And tomorrow we head to Washington, DC. Things are good, my friends. Things are good.
Today we listened to: Big Iron World (Old Crow Medicine Show), On the Road, and the unmistakable sounds of an animatronic Velociraptor about to strike. Clever girl...
Mystery words: "NHOP"
Mike's thoughts on today's route (root?!?): astoriedyear.blogspot.com & (posted soonly) LBPostSports.com
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Day Nineteen: In which we conclude that Georgia is great
I'm wracking my brain right now trying to figure out what to write about Day Nineteen. Some one-liner, an over-arching theme, or one big moment that really explained the day. All I can come up with is this: America is pretty freakin incredible. We had an amazing day, spent quality time in two awesome cities, took more pictures than we have since our 150 road pics Seattle to Billings extravaganza, and we never even left the state of Georgia. Friends, there is so much to see, and even on our epic road trip there's no way we're even scratching the surface. I am utterly humbled by the wealth of beauty, history, and just plain coolness in this county. This is what the road trip was all about, buddies!
Before we left Atlanta this morning, we knew we wanted to check out the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Site. We parked our car, arranged our various bags, trash, and other hinderances, and finally climbed out. We turned around, and immediately were struck with awe. In front of the visitor's center is a bronze statue of Mohandas Gandhi and, leading toward us from the feet of the statue, is the Civil Rights Walk of Fame. Peppering the walkway are markers with quotes from some of Dr. King's speeches. Before we even get to the building, we are already overwhelmed.
The Historical Site, since it's got "National" in front of it, is under the maintenance of our federal government and its parks system. This is obvious by the park ranger sitting at the front desk, the fact that it's entirely free to park and visit the visitor's center, and the obvious thought (and money) that has been put into the site. The 40th anniversary of Dr. King's assassination (the site of which Mike and I visited on a previous trip) was earlier this month, and the visitor's center currently has an exhibition about the days leading up to him death and the weeks after. It was incredibly moving and, when accompanied by the videos and audio recordings of the speeches that brought a nation to its feet, it was incredibly inspiring as well. We walked around the exhibit, then visited other sites in the area: the Hall of Freedom, the tomb of Dr. and Mrs. King, and Ebenezer Church, where Dr. King was co-pastor. Mike said it best: it should be a requirement for citizens of this country to visit this place. Absolutely amazing.
From Atlanta, we cut through Georgia to Savannah, which we'd heard from our incredibly tall friend was pretty cool. This proved to be an understatement. Savannah is located on the Atlantic Coast at approximately the same place as Long Beach is on the Pacific Coast. Psychologically, it doesn't get much farther away than this. But Savannah was so beautiful, its weather so perfect, and its culture so intelligent, creative, and exciting, that I found myself half-wishing it were home. The famous "Savannah Squares"-- mini-parks which interrupt the flow of downtown streets with delightful frequency-- were gorgeously shaded by trees dripping with Spanish moss.
The Forsythe Park had a wide expanse of grass whereupon happy young people were playing Ultimate Frisbee, tossing softballs, or simply tanning & reading in the beautiful sunshine. And everywhere throughout the downtown area were Savannah College of Art and Design buildings. The SCAD students inspired dozens of art galleries and supply stores, as well as contributing their own works to the beauty of the city.
This place is incredible, and the best part is that everyone here seems to know it. Mike and I certainly do.
Today we listened to: On the Road, "Georgia On My Mind" first by Willie Nelson, then by Ray Charles hours later, O Brother Where Art Thou (Soundtrack)
Mystery words: "Mike saves a turtle"
Mike is my friend, your buddy, and quite a guy: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Before we left Atlanta this morning, we knew we wanted to check out the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Historical Site. We parked our car, arranged our various bags, trash, and other hinderances, and finally climbed out. We turned around, and immediately were struck with awe. In front of the visitor's center is a bronze statue of Mohandas Gandhi and, leading toward us from the feet of the statue, is the Civil Rights Walk of Fame. Peppering the walkway are markers with quotes from some of Dr. King's speeches. Before we even get to the building, we are already overwhelmed.
The Historical Site, since it's got "National" in front of it, is under the maintenance of our federal government and its parks system. This is obvious by the park ranger sitting at the front desk, the fact that it's entirely free to park and visit the visitor's center, and the obvious thought (and money) that has been put into the site. The 40th anniversary of Dr. King's assassination (the site of which Mike and I visited on a previous trip) was earlier this month, and the visitor's center currently has an exhibition about the days leading up to him death and the weeks after. It was incredibly moving and, when accompanied by the videos and audio recordings of the speeches that brought a nation to its feet, it was incredibly inspiring as well. We walked around the exhibit, then visited other sites in the area: the Hall of Freedom, the tomb of Dr. and Mrs. King, and Ebenezer Church, where Dr. King was co-pastor. Mike said it best: it should be a requirement for citizens of this country to visit this place. Absolutely amazing.From Atlanta, we cut through Georgia to Savannah, which we'd heard from our incredibly tall friend was pretty cool. This proved to be an understatement. Savannah is located on the Atlantic Coast at approximately the same place as Long Beach is on the Pacific Coast. Psychologically, it doesn't get much farther away than this. But Savannah was so beautiful, its weather so perfect, and its culture so intelligent, creative, and exciting, that I found myself half-wishing it were home. The famous "Savannah Squares"-- mini-parks which interrupt the flow of downtown streets with delightful frequency-- were gorgeously shaded by trees dripping with Spanish moss.
The Forsythe Park had a wide expanse of grass whereupon happy young people were playing Ultimate Frisbee, tossing softballs, or simply tanning & reading in the beautiful sunshine. And everywhere throughout the downtown area were Savannah College of Art and Design buildings. The SCAD students inspired dozens of art galleries and supply stores, as well as contributing their own works to the beauty of the city.
This place is incredible, and the best part is that everyone here seems to know it. Mike and I certainly do.Today we listened to: On the Road, "Georgia On My Mind" first by Willie Nelson, then by Ray Charles hours later, O Brother Where Art Thou (Soundtrack)
Mystery words: "Mike saves a turtle"
Mike is my friend, your buddy, and quite a guy: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Day Eighteen: Now to get some great responsibility...
"Prepare for the Memphis to Atlanta day to be the biggest sports day of your life. Are you prepared for it?"
These words from Mike on our last night in St. Louis, as we were sitting on the floor of our room planning the next leg of our trip. Now it's the very end of Day Eighteen and I have to say, past Mike, that I was not at all prepared. Not at all! And I reckon that the NBA was not quite prepared for the Amazing Awesome Game-Changing Power that I wield.
Everything appeared normal when we left Memphis this morning. We indulged in in a delicious breakfast buffet and meandered onto the freeway just about a quarter to ten. A little late, but still relatively normal.
Our gas stop today was in Tremont, Mississippi. It was clear that these folk did not want us around. Not when we had California plates, a foreign car, an Obama sticker in the window, and sandals on our feet. So intensely did they not want us around that they did not advertise their gas station on their exit sign. Lucky us that we found it anyway! Here is a handy travel tip: sometimes it's better to run on fumes. Scary, unsettling, but I'd guess it's pretty normal for small town Mississippi.
Then we arrived in Atlanta, and that's when things began to get crazy. A lightning storm rolled in with us, so we probably should have known that there was magic in the air (also electricity. Both of these, incidentally, were harnessed by Ben Franklin. U.S. History, buddy. Learn it!). We checked into our sweet hotel, then took the MARTA rail to the Philips Center, where I was fated to use my Amazing Awesome Game-Changing Power to help my second NBA team in a row to a mind-boggling upset.
"But Shar!" you all hiss in horrifying unison, "No way you used magic to win the game. That's just impossible!" Funny you should mention it, because that's #1 of the extensive list of obvious clues to my Power.
1. A Pasta Bowl. The Atlanta Hawks' arena had an extensive and fantastic food court full of choices. We dined on pasta bowls, which, besides being good for carb-ing up before a big race, are also notorious magic-enhancers. Nothing's im-pasta-bowl when you're on Mike&SharTours!
2. Atlantape. Before the game-- yes, bandwagon fans, that is Before The Game Even Started-- we hit the team store to gear up to cheer for our temporary hometown's team. I bought a rally monkey I've named Atlantape. You might think this is a pun, being the sum of Atlanta + Ape. You'd be wrong. Stupidly, embarrassingly wrong. In fact, his name is the sum of Atlanta + Tape. As in, Scotch tape. As in, Scotch Magic tape, what which holds things together invisibly. No one could have predicted the outcome of tonight's game. No one, that is, 'cept for me and my monkey.
3. Terrible Towel. I have long been an admirer of the Terrible Towel, which I've seen in action in many televised sporting events. Never before have I myself gotten to whip one about my head with joy and vigor, showering myself and those around me with a snow of towel fibers. Ever heard the expression "Third time's the charm"? Well, it's actually a mistranslation of the original Aramaic. The actual adage is: "First time's the magic."
4. The Hawks. As a quick Wikipedia search would reveal, I am a distinguished alum of Stanford Middle School in Long Beach, CA. Our mascot was the Red Hawks. I don't think I need to explain why this proves I'm magic.
5. I am a notorious and bawdy hater of all things Irish. Just kidding. No I'm not. (Observe the lexical ambiguity. Intentional, I assure you).
6. Me. Let's not forget that, in my first ever NBA basketball game, I led the Seattle SuuuuuperSonics to a wild double-OT victory over the heavily favored Denver Nuggets. Now, for my second game, my 8th-seeded Atlanta Hawks beat the first seed Celtics with the ease and lethality of the similarly-named bird of prey. The common factor? It doesn't take a Mr. Monk to know that I'm the culprit. And it doesn't take a Larry Bird to know that it's cuz I'm magic.
So, yeah. I'm pretty stoked. I've never been part of such an energetic crowd before. Chants of "Let's Go Hawks!" carried us from our seats, down the escalators, into the streets, onto our train, and all the way back to the hotel. My throat got trashed during the game, but you better believe I was chanting too.
Today we listened to: a Neil Young mix, Ben Folds Five (Ben Folds Five), "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show, and a stadium full of people singing "Living on a Prayer" at the top of their lungs.
Mystery words: "It could have killed him five times before we could even get out of the elevator."
Mike tells it like it is: astoriedyear.blogspot.com & LBPostSports.com
These words from Mike on our last night in St. Louis, as we were sitting on the floor of our room planning the next leg of our trip. Now it's the very end of Day Eighteen and I have to say, past Mike, that I was not at all prepared. Not at all! And I reckon that the NBA was not quite prepared for the Amazing Awesome Game-Changing Power that I wield.
Everything appeared normal when we left Memphis this morning. We indulged in in a delicious breakfast buffet and meandered onto the freeway just about a quarter to ten. A little late, but still relatively normal.
Our gas stop today was in Tremont, Mississippi. It was clear that these folk did not want us around. Not when we had California plates, a foreign car, an Obama sticker in the window, and sandals on our feet. So intensely did they not want us around that they did not advertise their gas station on their exit sign. Lucky us that we found it anyway! Here is a handy travel tip: sometimes it's better to run on fumes. Scary, unsettling, but I'd guess it's pretty normal for small town Mississippi.
Then we arrived in Atlanta, and that's when things began to get crazy. A lightning storm rolled in with us, so we probably should have known that there was magic in the air (also electricity. Both of these, incidentally, were harnessed by Ben Franklin. U.S. History, buddy. Learn it!). We checked into our sweet hotel, then took the MARTA rail to the Philips Center, where I was fated to use my Amazing Awesome Game-Changing Power to help my second NBA team in a row to a mind-boggling upset.
"But Shar!" you all hiss in horrifying unison, "No way you used magic to win the game. That's just impossible!" Funny you should mention it, because that's #1 of the extensive list of obvious clues to my Power.
1. A Pasta Bowl. The Atlanta Hawks' arena had an extensive and fantastic food court full of choices. We dined on pasta bowls, which, besides being good for carb-ing up before a big race, are also notorious magic-enhancers. Nothing's im-pasta-bowl when you're on Mike&SharTours!
2. Atlantape. Before the game-- yes, bandwagon fans, that is Before The Game Even Started-- we hit the team store to gear up to cheer for our temporary hometown's team. I bought a rally monkey I've named Atlantape. You might think this is a pun, being the sum of Atlanta + Ape. You'd be wrong. Stupidly, embarrassingly wrong. In fact, his name is the sum of Atlanta + Tape. As in, Scotch tape. As in, Scotch Magic tape, what which holds things together invisibly. No one could have predicted the outcome of tonight's game. No one, that is, 'cept for me and my monkey.
3. Terrible Towel. I have long been an admirer of the Terrible Towel, which I've seen in action in many televised sporting events. Never before have I myself gotten to whip one about my head with joy and vigor, showering myself and those around me with a snow of towel fibers. Ever heard the expression "Third time's the charm"? Well, it's actually a mistranslation of the original Aramaic. The actual adage is: "First time's the magic."
4. The Hawks. As a quick Wikipedia search would reveal, I am a distinguished alum of Stanford Middle School in Long Beach, CA. Our mascot was the Red Hawks. I don't think I need to explain why this proves I'm magic.
5. I am a notorious and bawdy hater of all things Irish. Just kidding. No I'm not. (Observe the lexical ambiguity. Intentional, I assure you).
6. Me. Let's not forget that, in my first ever NBA basketball game, I led the Seattle SuuuuuperSonics to a wild double-OT victory over the heavily favored Denver Nuggets. Now, for my second game, my 8th-seeded Atlanta Hawks beat the first seed Celtics with the ease and lethality of the similarly-named bird of prey. The common factor? It doesn't take a Mr. Monk to know that I'm the culprit. And it doesn't take a Larry Bird to know that it's cuz I'm magic.
So, yeah. I'm pretty stoked. I've never been part of such an energetic crowd before. Chants of "Let's Go Hawks!" carried us from our seats, down the escalators, into the streets, onto our train, and all the way back to the hotel. My throat got trashed during the game, but you better believe I was chanting too.
Today we listened to: a Neil Young mix, Ben Folds Five (Ben Folds Five), "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show, and a stadium full of people singing "Living on a Prayer" at the top of their lungs.
Mystery words: "It could have killed him five times before we could even get out of the elevator."
Mike tells it like it is: astoriedyear.blogspot.com & LBPostSports.com
Friday, April 25, 2008
Day Seventeen: More than some pretty face beside a train
St. Louis was awesome. Holly's house was beautiful and comfortable and the view from the front steps (of little flowers blooming in the lush spring grasses, of squirrels leaping on fences and trees, of all of this happening in the perfectly warming rays of a spring sun) was bordering on idyllic. But there comes a time in a road trip when, well, one has to just get one's ass on the road. This morning, the morning of Day Seventeen, was when the alarm rang for Mike&SharTours. And, having stayed up way too late last night figuring out where we were going today, by the time we were out the door, standing on those steps and looking out at that perfect spring day, we were ready to get a move on. Ready to get back to our mission! Ready for adventure! Ready to start watching the miles tick up and the gas tank tick down as the landscapes of America fly by us at 70 miles per hour! Ready, oh yes, we were ready!
Which is why it was more than a little frustrating when the car wouldn't start.
I think the Blue Hornet took a cue from Holly's cats and decided to punish us for leaving her alone for a week and a half. We apologized profusely, her battery got a jump start (God bless you, AAA man!), and she let us back into her good graces. Which was good because we're gonna need her quite a bit over the next few weeks.
Let me illustrate our day for you by first telling you that we drove in a total of five states today, and that our total driving time was about seven hours. Now let me tell you the order in which these states rolled their asphalts under our tires: Missouri. Illinois. Kentucky. Missouri. Arkansas. Tennessee. Sound a little roundabout? That's because it was. We took a massive detour (almost thwarted by a Google Maps fatal flaw which, of course, we could have fixed for them if they'd let us on campus) in order to see something truly fantastic. Or should I say..... KRYPTONIAN?!?
Friends, if you are looking for an awesome getaway spot, may I suggest Metropolis, Illinois? I think I can safely say that there is nothing on Earth like it (except Supergirl, Krypto, and Lor-Zod aka Christopher Kent. One could, I guess, argue that Power Girl might count. This is not, of course, including persons currently imprisoned in the Phantom Zone, living in the miniature city of Kandor or... *sigh* never mind).
You may recognize Metropolis from this awesome picture, followed closely by today's recreation of the same.
After many wrong turns and meanderings down back highways, we are now in Memphis, TN. Memphis is awesome, and it's shortlisted for the "Places we want to spend some time in one day" list. We're in a delightful room 18 floors up in the Hilton tower, which was much more delightful before it started thunderstorming outside our very high and very large window.
Oh, severe weather alerts: did you miss us as much as we missed you?
We kinda sorta know where we're heading tomorrow. But shhhh! Don't tell the storm!
Today we listened to: a city's worth of Superman theme music and soundtracks, Graceland (Paul Simon), Journey's Greatest Hits, and ourselves singing "Don't Stop Believing" at the top of our lungs as Kentucky rolled prettily by.
Me: Didn't we just hear this song?
Mike: Oh, I put it on this playlist, like, five times.
Me: Awesome.
Mystery words: A camel, but no rhinoceros.
Mike writes purdy: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Which is why it was more than a little frustrating when the car wouldn't start.
I think the Blue Hornet took a cue from Holly's cats and decided to punish us for leaving her alone for a week and a half. We apologized profusely, her battery got a jump start (God bless you, AAA man!), and she let us back into her good graces. Which was good because we're gonna need her quite a bit over the next few weeks.
Let me illustrate our day for you by first telling you that we drove in a total of five states today, and that our total driving time was about seven hours. Now let me tell you the order in which these states rolled their asphalts under our tires: Missouri. Illinois. Kentucky. Missouri. Arkansas. Tennessee. Sound a little roundabout? That's because it was. We took a massive detour (almost thwarted by a Google Maps fatal flaw which, of course, we could have fixed for them if they'd let us on campus) in order to see something truly fantastic. Or should I say..... KRYPTONIAN?!?
Friends, if you are looking for an awesome getaway spot, may I suggest Metropolis, Illinois? I think I can safely say that there is nothing on Earth like it (except Supergirl, Krypto, and Lor-Zod aka Christopher Kent. One could, I guess, argue that Power Girl might count. This is not, of course, including persons currently imprisoned in the Phantom Zone, living in the miniature city of Kandor or... *sigh* never mind).
You may recognize Metropolis from this awesome picture, followed closely by today's recreation of the same.
After many wrong turns and meanderings down back highways, we are now in Memphis, TN. Memphis is awesome, and it's shortlisted for the "Places we want to spend some time in one day" list. We're in a delightful room 18 floors up in the Hilton tower, which was much more delightful before it started thunderstorming outside our very high and very large window.
Oh, severe weather alerts: did you miss us as much as we missed you?We kinda sorta know where we're heading tomorrow. But shhhh! Don't tell the storm!
Today we listened to: a city's worth of Superman theme music and soundtracks, Graceland (Paul Simon), Journey's Greatest Hits, and ourselves singing "Don't Stop Believing" at the top of our lungs as Kentucky rolled prettily by.
Me: Didn't we just hear this song?
Mike: Oh, I put it on this playlist, like, five times.
Me: Awesome.
Mystery words: A camel, but no rhinoceros.
Mike writes purdy: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Day Sixteen: I miss you already
As the days and weeks remaining in this road trip creep toward us and fly by, I imagine we'll look back on Day Sixteen with much fondness. We woke up this morning with a kitty on our bed and a gentle breeze bringing the smell of spring rain into our third-story window. I felt so rested that I assumed I must've slept far past noon, and that our plans on exploring Holly's neighborhood had been thwarted. But it was only half-past ten. The bed was just that comfy. And, since it was really only 8:30 back at home, I figured we could justify sleeping just a bit longer.
Fast forward to one o'clock, when we finally quit snoozing and rolled out of bed. Bacon, eggs, and Frosted Flakes for breakfast, then more lazying about until finally, at around three, we made it out the front door. For the record, it was the front door of this house:
We have heard much negative talk (aka jibber-jabber) about St. Louis during the planning stages of this trip. Clearly these people who were surprised to see this stop on our Tour d'America Prospectus have never walked the streets of the university district in late April. Clearly they've never seen the street trees blossoming and the lawns achingly green, with happy sidewalk puddles to hop over. We wandered the neighborhood a bit until we found The Loop, a lovely hodge-podge of independent shops and college kids. We got our weekly comics at Star Clipper, possibly the coolest comic shop ever.
Then, after a stop at a very odd Ben & Jerry's, we walked back home, where Holly was home from work and ready to take us to a delicious dinner, an independent new/used bookstore, and Ted Drewes (famous) Frozen Custard.
All of this, and then there was a new Office on tonight. Ah yes. This is a day that will shine brightly in our memories. I imagine that we'll begin to be nostalgic pretty soon, too, because it's 11 pm here and we still don't know where which direction we're driving tomorrow morning. I imagine that, when cat allergies and exhaustion finally claim me late, late tonight, I'll be wishing there were some frozen custard waiting for me tomorrow evening.
Today we listened to: Very loud hip-hop music at the very odd Ben & Jerry's
Mystery words: "Maybe he's trying to get us to laugh"
Mike talks about it: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Fast forward to one o'clock, when we finally quit snoozing and rolled out of bed. Bacon, eggs, and Frosted Flakes for breakfast, then more lazying about until finally, at around three, we made it out the front door. For the record, it was the front door of this house:
We have heard much negative talk (aka jibber-jabber) about St. Louis during the planning stages of this trip. Clearly these people who were surprised to see this stop on our Tour d'America Prospectus have never walked the streets of the university district in late April. Clearly they've never seen the street trees blossoming and the lawns achingly green, with happy sidewalk puddles to hop over. We wandered the neighborhood a bit until we found The Loop, a lovely hodge-podge of independent shops and college kids. We got our weekly comics at Star Clipper, possibly the coolest comic shop ever.
Then, after a stop at a very odd Ben & Jerry's, we walked back home, where Holly was home from work and ready to take us to a delicious dinner, an independent new/used bookstore, and Ted Drewes (famous) Frozen Custard.All of this, and then there was a new Office on tonight. Ah yes. This is a day that will shine brightly in our memories. I imagine that we'll begin to be nostalgic pretty soon, too, because it's 11 pm here and we still don't know where which direction we're driving tomorrow morning. I imagine that, when cat allergies and exhaustion finally claim me late, late tonight, I'll be wishing there were some frozen custard waiting for me tomorrow evening.
Today we listened to: Very loud hip-hop music at the very odd Ben & Jerry's
Mystery words: "Maybe he's trying to get us to laugh"
Mike talks about it: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Day Fifteen: Don't call me Shirley.
And we're off! We're calling it Day Fifteen, for lack of a better name. But really it's kind of Day One, Part Two. Or Part Two, Day One. Or The Day of Four Airports, Three Packages of Biscott Cookies, Two Exhausted Travelers, and One Lovely Aunt in St. Louis.
Or something.
The point is, we're back! Back in St. Louis, back with our car, and back on the road again. We woke up this morning having (again) neglected our packing until after midnight and (again) set out on way too little sleep. We dropped my hardy little Accord off with Mike's mom and piled in for a ride to the Long Beach Airport. If you haven't been through LGB, I highly recommend it. It's quick and convenient and you can point out familiar houses as you roar overhead. We were tired, but it wasn't a bad way to re-start our trip.
But we were almost immediately reminded of the downside of air travel, no matter how pleasant the airport. On the precious incarnation of Mike&SharTours 2008, as you may recall, the major players were these: Mike. Also Shar. Now, on Mike&SharTours 2008 Part Two (Mike&Shar: Airborne!!) we've got Mike. Also Shar. Also smelly woman whose hair sticks through the seat crack in front of us and who continues to waft her tendrils at us no matter how obvious we are at our attempts to repel them. And overly aggressive airport police man (who actually is in charge of telling a line of five cars where on the curb to pull up). Not to mention three airplanes full of people who are, though probably very nice, decidedly not Mike. Or Shar.
But we're here now! Mike's great (as in fantastic, not large or old) aunt Holly is lending us the upper guest room in her gorgeous St. Louis home and has filled her refrigerator and cabinet with all sorts of tasties for us to enjoy. Pictures of the house, the Holly, and hopefully her awesome kitties as well will come shortly. One of those kitties is looking at me right now. Hello, Ricky.
Tomorrow we're hanging around the city and the house, getting our energy up before we head off for parts unknown. And let me add that spring has apparently sprung in these parts since we were here last: the temperatures are gloriously balmy and my feet might not see shoes for days. Huzzah!
Today we listened to: the sonic boom of our ears popping through three take-offs and three landings.
Mystery words: "One wrong thing with Cincinnati"
Read Mike! He's great (as in fantastic, large, and old): astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Or something.
The point is, we're back! Back in St. Louis, back with our car, and back on the road again. We woke up this morning having (again) neglected our packing until after midnight and (again) set out on way too little sleep. We dropped my hardy little Accord off with Mike's mom and piled in for a ride to the Long Beach Airport. If you haven't been through LGB, I highly recommend it. It's quick and convenient and you can point out familiar houses as you roar overhead. We were tired, but it wasn't a bad way to re-start our trip.
But we were almost immediately reminded of the downside of air travel, no matter how pleasant the airport. On the precious incarnation of Mike&SharTours 2008, as you may recall, the major players were these: Mike. Also Shar. Now, on Mike&SharTours 2008 Part Two (Mike&Shar: Airborne!!) we've got Mike. Also Shar. Also smelly woman whose hair sticks through the seat crack in front of us and who continues to waft her tendrils at us no matter how obvious we are at our attempts to repel them. And overly aggressive airport police man (who actually is in charge of telling a line of five cars where on the curb to pull up). Not to mention three airplanes full of people who are, though probably very nice, decidedly not Mike. Or Shar.
But we're here now! Mike's great (as in fantastic, not large or old) aunt Holly is lending us the upper guest room in her gorgeous St. Louis home and has filled her refrigerator and cabinet with all sorts of tasties for us to enjoy. Pictures of the house, the Holly, and hopefully her awesome kitties as well will come shortly. One of those kitties is looking at me right now. Hello, Ricky.
Tomorrow we're hanging around the city and the house, getting our energy up before we head off for parts unknown. And let me add that spring has apparently sprung in these parts since we were here last: the temperatures are gloriously balmy and my feet might not see shoes for days. Huzzah!
Today we listened to: the sonic boom of our ears popping through three take-offs and three landings.
Mystery words: "One wrong thing with Cincinnati"
Read Mike! He's great (as in fantastic, large, and old): astoriedyear.blogspot.com
America, here we come! (Again)
Two nights ago, we had a house-guest avoiding a paper on our couch. No matter how much coffee and cake I fed her, she still had trouble staying awake through the horrifyingly boring article she had to read for her Engineering and Ethics class. Mike and I were also full of coffee (me) and cake (him), so we stayed up for a bit, to encourage her.
"I know!" I said. "I'll write something!"
I should point out now that the above quote is the last thing I wrote that night. I just went back, added the opening "two nights ago" and changed (hopefully) all of the verb tenses.
It was so easy to write when we were on the road. Part of that was because every time we turned around there was something new and unexpected: a man with no pants. A mirrored jelly bean. Snow. But I think the main reason is simply a matter of routine. On the road, we'd pull in to a hotel parking lot, drag our bags upstairs, and immediately start writing. We'd look through pictures and post our blargs, sometimes basking in an overabundance of wireless internet and sometimes swapping a cord or sharing a lappy. In any case, getting the blarg written was an essential part of the trip.
At home, there are so many other things to do! Literally a wall of DVDs to watch, hundreds of books to read, and gorgeous SoCal weather to bask in. And, more importantly, two comfy couches with siren calls that put you to sleep faster than a Jigglypuff. Our time at home has been busy, of course, with more stuff even than we anticipated. But it's also been filled with a lot of unfinished blargs, unscheduled naps, and cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Not that I'm complaining. Cake is tasty! And appropriate for any (and every) meal!
Well, tomorrow we're catching a plane (three actually) for St. Louis, where we'll be reunited with The Blue Hornet. From there? Well, we haven't really decided yet. We're currently parked about six hours south of our original route, and we've got about three weeks in which to forge a new one.
You can bet I'll be writing about it: tomorrow, SharBlarg goes back to being a daily. I'm off to pack... see you in St. Louis!
And don't forget to check out Mike's blog. He's a mere 10 stories away from being done with his grand experiment!
"I know!" I said. "I'll write something!"
I should point out now that the above quote is the last thing I wrote that night. I just went back, added the opening "two nights ago" and changed (hopefully) all of the verb tenses.
It was so easy to write when we were on the road. Part of that was because every time we turned around there was something new and unexpected: a man with no pants. A mirrored jelly bean. Snow. But I think the main reason is simply a matter of routine. On the road, we'd pull in to a hotel parking lot, drag our bags upstairs, and immediately start writing. We'd look through pictures and post our blargs, sometimes basking in an overabundance of wireless internet and sometimes swapping a cord or sharing a lappy. In any case, getting the blarg written was an essential part of the trip.
At home, there are so many other things to do! Literally a wall of DVDs to watch, hundreds of books to read, and gorgeous SoCal weather to bask in. And, more importantly, two comfy couches with siren calls that put you to sleep faster than a Jigglypuff. Our time at home has been busy, of course, with more stuff even than we anticipated. But it's also been filled with a lot of unfinished blargs, unscheduled naps, and cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Not that I'm complaining. Cake is tasty! And appropriate for any (and every) meal!
Well, tomorrow we're catching a plane (three actually) for St. Louis, where we'll be reunited with The Blue Hornet. From there? Well, we haven't really decided yet. We're currently parked about six hours south of our original route, and we've got about three weeks in which to forge a new one.
You can bet I'll be writing about it: tomorrow, SharBlarg goes back to being a daily. I'm off to pack... see you in St. Louis!
And don't forget to check out Mike's blog. He's a mere 10 stories away from being done with his grand experiment!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
At home
My sandals are sitting next to the heater which is, if I remember to put them away, where they always are. My bag is hanging by its strap on the back of a dining room chair. There is Tejava in the fridge, as usual, and the Wii has recently been played. It is a beautiful Long Beach day, though a bit overcast, and traffic is making its typical roar on the busy street outside our apartment. Everything is exactly as it should be.
Is this what home feels like?
On Sunday night I ran across the parking lot to Chipotle, not afraid of getting lost in an unfamiliar crowd. Yesterday I did laundry for $1.50 in the little room behind our apartment, not with an iron and hand soap in a hotel sink. I drove my car today for the first time in two and a half weeks, and I don't think I need to mention that I wasn't wearing shoes when I did it. No hobo gloves neither. This is home.
For the past eight months, I haven't spent a night away from my hubby. We've put four thousand miles of road trip on his car together and listened to "Wagon Wheel" in eleven states. In the freezing winds of Chicago, he gave me his sweatshirt because my ears were aching. On our honeymoon in Hawaii, we sat on the bed and read comic books for hours instead of walking on the beach at sunset. Today, in Long Beach, I made him a bowl of ice cream for breakfast (with frozen gummi bears).
Ain't I a lucky snail, taking my home with me wherever I go?
Is this what home feels like?
On Sunday night I ran across the parking lot to Chipotle, not afraid of getting lost in an unfamiliar crowd. Yesterday I did laundry for $1.50 in the little room behind our apartment, not with an iron and hand soap in a hotel sink. I drove my car today for the first time in two and a half weeks, and I don't think I need to mention that I wasn't wearing shoes when I did it. No hobo gloves neither. This is home.
For the past eight months, I haven't spent a night away from my hubby. We've put four thousand miles of road trip on his car together and listened to "Wagon Wheel" in eleven states. In the freezing winds of Chicago, he gave me his sweatshirt because my ears were aching. On our honeymoon in Hawaii, we sat on the bed and read comic books for hours instead of walking on the beach at sunset. Today, in Long Beach, I made him a bowl of ice cream for breakfast (with frozen gummi bears).
Ain't I a lucky snail, taking my home with me wherever I go?
Monday, April 14, 2008
Day Thirteen & Day Fourteen: An odd detour
The morning of Day Thirteen felt a lot better than the evening of Day Twelve. By now you've read on Mike's blog about the end of our Chicago night. In case you haven't, I'll give you the quick story. We hiked back to our car in the Millennium Park garage after an cold, windy, and ultimately odd day in Chicago. We hoped to get another chance at it someday. We got into our car and Mike saw he'd missed a call from his mom. When we left the parking garage I checked the message. Mike's grandma had passed away that afternoon and we were 2,000 miles from home. Not knowing what else to do, we got on the freeway and continued driving east, stopping finally in the town of Portage, Indiana, where the Comfort Inn had a chandelier and, more importantly, an available king bed. So we dragged ourselves up the stairs and, feeling every mile and every hour of driving we had between us and family, tried to figure out what was next.
Our original thought, of course, was to catch a few hours of sleep and get in the car, driving west and south until we were home. It was just too much. We'd been on the road for almost two weeks and there was no way we could keep driving as if nothing had happened. So that was it. We were going home. We went to sleep exhausted on every level, more drained than a 12 hour drive could have made us.
But, like I said, a full night's sleep and the morning sun of Day Thirteen made all the difference. We choked down some continental breakfast and got in the car, heading south: south to St. Louis. Mike's amazing aunt was going to put us up for the night and watch our car for a week, and Mike's amazing mom was flying us home. I'm not one for cheesy imagery, but as we drove the landscape began to change and suddenly we were surrounded by a brilliant, verdant green. The winter had broken here, and the rain and snow had blessed the land with spring.
It was beyond great to see Mike's aunt, whose Nashville residence had been the endpoint of our first road trip together. Now she lives in St. Louis, and she provided us with a delicious dinner, a comfortable bed, a heartening breakfast, a trip to the airport, and our first familiar face since we'd left San Francisco. And she was a safe haven for us to transition back to the world we'd left behind.
Day Fourteen was filled with travel, and a last-minute flight reservation (on something other than American) meant three lay-overs before we got to the Long Beach airport. It wasn't a very interesting time, except for a few amusing eavesdrops and some good reading. Mike's mom picked us up and took us home, where we were shocked by the carpet of our apartment, the feel of our couches, and the sight of our very own fishies. I slipped on a tank top and we walked to Chipotle, reveling in the warmth of the Long Beach night. I kept breaking into sprints, unable to contain the energy: we were walking confidently to a place we'd been before. I was wearing sandals, I was bare-shouldered, and we would be getting ice cream on the way back. It was so ordinary, and so absolutely insane.
We tried to watch TV but we both fell asleep on the couches, the two-hour time shock, the 10 hours of traveling, and the confusion of being home for a week halfway through a five week road trip catching up to us. We stumbled to our very own bed and fell asleep immediately. Tomorrow, we'd have to buy milk. Tonight, we just had to sleep.
Listened to: The Cool (Lupe Fiasco), On the Road, and the sweet sounds of National Treasure 2 in-flight from Cinci to Salt Lake.
Mystery words: "Awkward Diaper Change"
Mike tells all: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Our original thought, of course, was to catch a few hours of sleep and get in the car, driving west and south until we were home. It was just too much. We'd been on the road for almost two weeks and there was no way we could keep driving as if nothing had happened. So that was it. We were going home. We went to sleep exhausted on every level, more drained than a 12 hour drive could have made us.
But, like I said, a full night's sleep and the morning sun of Day Thirteen made all the difference. We choked down some continental breakfast and got in the car, heading south: south to St. Louis. Mike's amazing aunt was going to put us up for the night and watch our car for a week, and Mike's amazing mom was flying us home. I'm not one for cheesy imagery, but as we drove the landscape began to change and suddenly we were surrounded by a brilliant, verdant green. The winter had broken here, and the rain and snow had blessed the land with spring.
It was beyond great to see Mike's aunt, whose Nashville residence had been the endpoint of our first road trip together. Now she lives in St. Louis, and she provided us with a delicious dinner, a comfortable bed, a heartening breakfast, a trip to the airport, and our first familiar face since we'd left San Francisco. And she was a safe haven for us to transition back to the world we'd left behind.
Day Fourteen was filled with travel, and a last-minute flight reservation (on something other than American) meant three lay-overs before we got to the Long Beach airport. It wasn't a very interesting time, except for a few amusing eavesdrops and some good reading. Mike's mom picked us up and took us home, where we were shocked by the carpet of our apartment, the feel of our couches, and the sight of our very own fishies. I slipped on a tank top and we walked to Chipotle, reveling in the warmth of the Long Beach night. I kept breaking into sprints, unable to contain the energy: we were walking confidently to a place we'd been before. I was wearing sandals, I was bare-shouldered, and we would be getting ice cream on the way back. It was so ordinary, and so absolutely insane.
We tried to watch TV but we both fell asleep on the couches, the two-hour time shock, the 10 hours of traveling, and the confusion of being home for a week halfway through a five week road trip catching up to us. We stumbled to our very own bed and fell asleep immediately. Tomorrow, we'd have to buy milk. Tonight, we just had to sleep.
Listened to: The Cool (Lupe Fiasco), On the Road, and the sweet sounds of National Treasure 2 in-flight from Cinci to Salt Lake.
Mystery words: "Awkward Diaper Change"
Mike tells all: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Day Twelve (again): Sorry but I can't take you.
We stared long and hard at weather map on the morning of Day Twelve, but there just wasn't any way we could do it. We'd already been driven out of St. Paul by a random snowstorm and now the best meteorologists the Internets could buy were saying the snow was just the edge of a Severe Weather system which was moving North and East. Much as we were hoping to do. And there was just no way our hardy SoCal car and her duo of SoCal travelers were going to be able to make it to Lambeau Field. And because we weren't there, I'm sure that Brett Favre came to play one last game in the snow of the parking lot with any fans that happened to have braved the weather. Had we been there, we would have let him borrow our Joe Montana ball and it would have been, quite simply, the best thing ever. But, instead, Brett Favre had to go home disappointed and we had this day:
Almost as soon as we got on the freeway heading toward Chicago we began to notice signs of hope. The road was wet with melted snow and ice and, just as we crossed into Illinois, the sun broke out of the clouds. We were jubilant. Since we'd left Seattle we'd been driving with more than a little trepidation. There were many trials and tribulations that we'd prepared ourselves for before leaving our sweet home in Long Beach. Snow driving was not one of the ones we'd thought about strongly. It's April, after all. But we'd been seeing frozen lakes, icy fields, and avalanche embankments where we thought we'd be seeing spring's first glory. And let's not forget that, California girl that I am, my idea of "cold weather gear" was a windbreaker and Converse. So when we saw the sun finally start to impact the scenery, when it started streaming through the windows and thawing us out, we were jubilant. "It's definitely unfair to the rest of the states," I said, "Because clearly Illinois is the best."
Four tollbooths later, I was a little less enthusiastic. But still, creeping closer across the page of our 2004 Michelin US Road Atlas was Chicago. Legendary Chicago, a real destination wherein could only wait magic. When we got off the freeway into the city, we were stoked. Our first stop was the Michael Jordan statue at the United Center, where Mike continued his tour of bronze versions of his heroes (I'm looking forward to the next stop on my operatic tour of web comics). Then we navigated the streets to the Threadless retail store, which was entirely as awesome as I thought it would be. I picked up a new design that you all won't get to see till Monday (boo-yah, officially!) and we decided to head downtown and see some museums, explore the lakefront park, and get some of that famous Chicago pizza.
Here are some travel ideas for tourists interested in making their first trip to Chicago more than just almost awesome.
First: Chicago is not the type of city for which the phrase "we decided to head downtown" should ever be followed closely by the word "and." This is because it is literally impossible to navigate the traffic-laden streets of downtown Chicago even if it weren't rush hour on a Friday and even if you did have a clear idea of where you were going. And when I say literally, I mean it.
Second: Chicago museums close at 5. And that means they stop letting people in at 4. Yes, this includes the Field Museum, one of the most famous natural history museums in the world. And yes, this is probably some sort of Cinderella arrangement with Tyrannosaurus Sue who obviously comes to life after nightfall.
Third: There is a reason Chicago is called "The City Beset By Icy Winds of Death." No matter how pleasant the evening might seem when you arrive in the city, beware the gusts which blow through the city like immortal banshee revelers, stealing the joy out of every heart and the breath out of every lung.
Fourth: The famous deep dish Chicago pizza, while a little strange, is pretty good when flavored with the horrifying oddness of the family who will sit next to you at the restaurant. Trust me on this. It is much, much more important that you eavesdrop on their conversation than it is for you to work through your first slice of pie. Here is a quote: "The only Snow White and the Seven Dwarves I know is a porn I saw." This from the lady who brought the ten-year-old to the famous pizza joint and who was promptly shushed by the gay couple that was taking him to the ballet.
We felt like we missed out on something great. Much like the infamous parking lot game with Brett Favre, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We're gonna try and see it again, this time with more careful planning and some heavier jacketing. In the meantime, we got out of town as soon as traffic let us and blasted Chi-town rap as we did.
Listened to: "Goin' to Chicago Blues" by Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross, Illinoise (Sufjan Stevens), Be (Common), The Cool (Lupe Fiasco) and the distinctive and dusty sound of museum doors being shut in our faces.
Mystery words: "Oh, he definitely had his pants stolen."
Mike will soon explain: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Almost as soon as we got on the freeway heading toward Chicago we began to notice signs of hope. The road was wet with melted snow and ice and, just as we crossed into Illinois, the sun broke out of the clouds. We were jubilant. Since we'd left Seattle we'd been driving with more than a little trepidation. There were many trials and tribulations that we'd prepared ourselves for before leaving our sweet home in Long Beach. Snow driving was not one of the ones we'd thought about strongly. It's April, after all. But we'd been seeing frozen lakes, icy fields, and avalanche embankments where we thought we'd be seeing spring's first glory. And let's not forget that, California girl that I am, my idea of "cold weather gear" was a windbreaker and Converse. So when we saw the sun finally start to impact the scenery, when it started streaming through the windows and thawing us out, we were jubilant. "It's definitely unfair to the rest of the states," I said, "Because clearly Illinois is the best."
Four tollbooths later, I was a little less enthusiastic. But still, creeping closer across the page of our 2004 Michelin US Road Atlas was Chicago. Legendary Chicago, a real destination wherein could only wait magic. When we got off the freeway into the city, we were stoked. Our first stop was the Michael Jordan statue at the United Center, where Mike continued his tour of bronze versions of his heroes (I'm looking forward to the next stop on my operatic tour of web comics). Then we navigated the streets to the Threadless retail store, which was entirely as awesome as I thought it would be. I picked up a new design that you all won't get to see till Monday (boo-yah, officially!) and we decided to head downtown and see some museums, explore the lakefront park, and get some of that famous Chicago pizza.
Here are some travel ideas for tourists interested in making their first trip to Chicago more than just almost awesome.
First: Chicago is not the type of city for which the phrase "we decided to head downtown" should ever be followed closely by the word "and." This is because it is literally impossible to navigate the traffic-laden streets of downtown Chicago even if it weren't rush hour on a Friday and even if you did have a clear idea of where you were going. And when I say literally, I mean it.
Second: Chicago museums close at 5. And that means they stop letting people in at 4. Yes, this includes the Field Museum, one of the most famous natural history museums in the world. And yes, this is probably some sort of Cinderella arrangement with Tyrannosaurus Sue who obviously comes to life after nightfall.
Third: There is a reason Chicago is called "The City Beset By Icy Winds of Death." No matter how pleasant the evening might seem when you arrive in the city, beware the gusts which blow through the city like immortal banshee revelers, stealing the joy out of every heart and the breath out of every lung.
Fourth: The famous deep dish Chicago pizza, while a little strange, is pretty good when flavored with the horrifying oddness of the family who will sit next to you at the restaurant. Trust me on this. It is much, much more important that you eavesdrop on their conversation than it is for you to work through your first slice of pie. Here is a quote: "The only Snow White and the Seven Dwarves I know is a porn I saw." This from the lady who brought the ten-year-old to the famous pizza joint and who was promptly shushed by the gay couple that was taking him to the ballet.
We felt like we missed out on something great. Much like the infamous parking lot game with Brett Favre, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We're gonna try and see it again, this time with more careful planning and some heavier jacketing. In the meantime, we got out of town as soon as traffic let us and blasted Chi-town rap as we did.
Listened to: "Goin' to Chicago Blues" by Lambert, Hendricks, and Ross, Illinoise (Sufjan Stevens), Be (Common), The Cool (Lupe Fiasco) and the distinctive and dusty sound of museum doors being shut in our faces.
Mystery words: "Oh, he definitely had his pants stolen."
Mike will soon explain: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Friday, April 11, 2008
Day Twelve.
Hey folks... something's come up. Hate to leave you hanging (especially after the professions of love SharBlarg received yesterday), but that's all I've got from you right now. We'll talk later.
I'm not sure the name of the town we're in right now, but it's east of Gary, IN and it has a Comfort Inn.
Much love and thanks.
sh!
I'm not sure the name of the town we're in right now, but it's east of Gary, IN and it has a Comfort Inn.
Much love and thanks.
sh!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Day Eleven: A long way from home
Today was Day Eleven, and we woke up feeling something we hadn't felt since we left Southern California. We were too hot. The heater in our Ramada room that had been so welcome when we trekked in from curling last night now choked the air and the window to the indoor pool was adding humidity to the whole mess. I took a shower, woke up Mike and began to pack as the weariness of two overly long days of driving began to creep through my body. And I was exhausted already thinking about another day on the road. Another day leading away from warmth, away from home, and into god knows what.
An odd thing about this road trip is how quickly we become attached to places. We wake up just about every morning fighting the desire to just unpack our suitcases and stay. It doesn't matter if we're in someplace amazing or someplace utterly not. The desire to sleep two nights in the same place is almost overwhelming. Then we get in the car and back on the interstate and we start watching the miles tick away and then the bug's in us again and we're slapping the dashboard, yelling at bad drivers, counting the exits as they get higher and higher then drop back down to Exit 1 when we cross a state line. And suddenly we can't wait to go to sleep somewhere entirely new, washing the dirt of five hundred cities off with a heavy Midwestern storm. And we can't wait to see what our home is going to look like tonight.
And yes, we loved San Francisco. And we loved Portland and Seattle, and I can almost taste the clear scent of the redwoods every time I see one of these leafless trees with roots still buried in ice. Someday we'll be home, and then we'll love Long Beach most of all. And right now we're loving Eau Claire, Wisconsin because there's a king bed here and we're in it. But tomorrow we'll wake up and there's going to be a lot more road to explore. And we'll leave Eau Claire, seat of the county and home of the Domino's pizza man who brought us the first hot food we'd had all day. We'll leave her early in the morning, snow and ice covering her silent streets and we'll start counting down to the Illinois border. To that sweet Exit 1 and to whatever comes next.
Another day. Another day. Another day. This one was filled with statues of literary heroes (of F. Scott Fitzgerald and of the whole Peanuts gang) and thousands of frozen lakes. We weren't long in St. Paul today before the rain and the snow drove us eastward, but boy we loved it too.
And today, on Day Eleven, we met a homeless vet in St. Paul who gave us directions and took all the coins we had to give. And he graduated from Long Beach Jordan High School, just a few miles from where Mike and I met. And he was standing at a five-way intersection in Minnesota, beard down to his chest and cardboard sign soaked with rain, hoping someone would be brave enough to catch his eye. He is a long way from home today.
Listened to: "Wagon Wheel" by OCMS, On the Road, Colin Meloy Sings Live (Colin Meloy), and the pat of snow on our windshield and the squeak of the wipers rushing to respond.
Mystery words: "We do cows"
Read Mike's words using your eyes and your brain (and your typing fingers?): astoriedyear.blogspot.com
An odd thing about this road trip is how quickly we become attached to places. We wake up just about every morning fighting the desire to just unpack our suitcases and stay. It doesn't matter if we're in someplace amazing or someplace utterly not. The desire to sleep two nights in the same place is almost overwhelming. Then we get in the car and back on the interstate and we start watching the miles tick away and then the bug's in us again and we're slapping the dashboard, yelling at bad drivers, counting the exits as they get higher and higher then drop back down to Exit 1 when we cross a state line. And suddenly we can't wait to go to sleep somewhere entirely new, washing the dirt of five hundred cities off with a heavy Midwestern storm. And we can't wait to see what our home is going to look like tonight.
And yes, we loved San Francisco. And we loved Portland and Seattle, and I can almost taste the clear scent of the redwoods every time I see one of these leafless trees with roots still buried in ice. Someday we'll be home, and then we'll love Long Beach most of all. And right now we're loving Eau Claire, Wisconsin because there's a king bed here and we're in it. But tomorrow we'll wake up and there's going to be a lot more road to explore. And we'll leave Eau Claire, seat of the county and home of the Domino's pizza man who brought us the first hot food we'd had all day. We'll leave her early in the morning, snow and ice covering her silent streets and we'll start counting down to the Illinois border. To that sweet Exit 1 and to whatever comes next.
Another day. Another day. Another day. This one was filled with statues of literary heroes (of F. Scott Fitzgerald and of the whole Peanuts gang) and thousands of frozen lakes. We weren't long in St. Paul today before the rain and the snow drove us eastward, but boy we loved it too.
And today, on Day Eleven, we met a homeless vet in St. Paul who gave us directions and took all the coins we had to give. And he graduated from Long Beach Jordan High School, just a few miles from where Mike and I met. And he was standing at a five-way intersection in Minnesota, beard down to his chest and cardboard sign soaked with rain, hoping someone would be brave enough to catch his eye. He is a long way from home today.
Listened to: "Wagon Wheel" by OCMS, On the Road, Colin Meloy Sings Live (Colin Meloy), and the pat of snow on our windshield and the squeak of the wipers rushing to respond.
Mystery words: "We do cows"
Read Mike's words using your eyes and your brain (and your typing fingers?): astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Day Ten: Good Luck and Good Curling!
The only thing longer than our Day Ten drive was our Day Nine drive. Yesterday, our Seattle to Billings drive absolutely exhausted us. Today we woke up, got dressed, scraped the ice of our car, and prepared to do another 700 miles of driving. The difference here was that we had to be in Grand Forks, ND with enough time to get to our Extra Special Event by 7:00. Taking into account that we've lost two hours in the past two days... this was another long day. Another test of wills, of stomachs, and of patience. Luckily, North Dakota is famous for having a lot to look at.
It's almost midnight here in Grand Forks as I write this. But ever here, even now, I can hear you all crying out in one voice, asking: "But Shar-and-Mike! More than nine hours in the car for the second day in a row? However do you do it??" Before I answer you, let me just assure you that, though I am a jaded traveler now, speaking in unison still creeps me right the hell out. So stop that. Now. It's a valid question, however. So let me share with you some of the fun games Mike and I play while we zip along the interstate. Just wait! One of these tips may save your marriage one day!
1) Watch the road signs. It may shock you to your core to learn that the Montana and North Dakota stretches of our trip have been dotted with some of the most entertaining, offensive, and just plain weird signs ever in the history of signage. Yesterday, one of my favorites was a billboard advertising "The Center of the Universe!" which is evidently found in Wallace, Idaho. Today, while driving through a city looking for food, we came across an intersection for which signs in both directions read "E Boulevard Av." And, of course, this one:
2) Feed the driver. I'm not sure whether it's because Mike's left-handed or because I'm easily duped, but part of my responsibilities as passenger includes handing Mike various snacks and, in cases where precision is required, actually putting the food in his mouth. Turns out precision is required for McNuggets dipped in ketchup. When the real complicated stuff starts, I imagine I'll be perching over him regurgitating it into his chirping maw. The alternative, of course, is continuing to add fertilizer to the already fecund car, ripe for the mystical workings of spontaneous generation.
3) Talk about things that happened earlier in the trip. Hey, remember when we were in Salinas? We don't. This is not actually a fun game at all. Mike said, at one point, that if, in an hour, we were still arguing about which random stranger it was who had told us that "The Land of 10,000 Lakes" actually had more like 20,000, he was going to deem us unfit for travel and flip a U-ie for home.
4) Attempt to, using standard English, communicate a sentence or idea. Did I mention that we're exhausted? Today, while we munched on McFries, Mike asked me for a "packup ketchet" much to our mutual horror. But that certainly didn't top my excitement when I saw a bunch of animals (not cows) that were not immediately recognizable: "Oh! Look at they! What ims they? Ims they...they ships! They ships!"
5) Have something to which to look forward to. Yesterday, it was just a bed and a shower (and a water slide!). Today, it was the 2008 Men's World Curling Championship. Specifically, it was the 14th draw of the 50th annual world championship, held in the Ralph Engelstad Arena in Grand Forks, North Dakota. Yep, that's why we're here. I went into the arena without much experience with curling, except for the wikipedia descriptions which seemed really to be propaganda for the "Curling is the Most Ridiculous Sport Ever" lobby. There are mandated "good curling!" shouts and handshakes, for the love of football! I have to admit, though, that I am a convert. Once I figured out what was going on, it became a really fascinating display of talent and intelligence in a way completely different from, say, a normal sport. The normal handholds for girls at sporting events were noticeably lacking (these being, of course, hot athletes and dramatic sounds), but I still had a really shockingly good time. Plus, the Scottish team was pretty cute.
Tomorrow we head for the land of 20,000 lakes. It'll be a much shorter drive and there will be Peanuts statues at the end of it. Plus, we might run into Neil Gaiman!
Listened to: King James Version (Harvey Danger), Surfer Rosa (Pixies), The Cool (Lupe Fiasco), On the Road, and Scottish fans getting all the way through "Gimme an S! Gimme a C! Gimme an O!" without realizing how objectively ridiculous they were being.
Words De La Mystery: "Caravan"
Read Mike's blog (astoriedyear.blogspot.com) and his article about curling (soon to be up at LBPostSports.com)
It's almost midnight here in Grand Forks as I write this. But ever here, even now, I can hear you all crying out in one voice, asking: "But Shar-and-Mike! More than nine hours in the car for the second day in a row? However do you do it??" Before I answer you, let me just assure you that, though I am a jaded traveler now, speaking in unison still creeps me right the hell out. So stop that. Now. It's a valid question, however. So let me share with you some of the fun games Mike and I play while we zip along the interstate. Just wait! One of these tips may save your marriage one day!
1) Watch the road signs. It may shock you to your core to learn that the Montana and North Dakota stretches of our trip have been dotted with some of the most entertaining, offensive, and just plain weird signs ever in the history of signage. Yesterday, one of my favorites was a billboard advertising "The Center of the Universe!" which is evidently found in Wallace, Idaho. Today, while driving through a city looking for food, we came across an intersection for which signs in both directions read "E Boulevard Av." And, of course, this one:
2) Feed the driver. I'm not sure whether it's because Mike's left-handed or because I'm easily duped, but part of my responsibilities as passenger includes handing Mike various snacks and, in cases where precision is required, actually putting the food in his mouth. Turns out precision is required for McNuggets dipped in ketchup. When the real complicated stuff starts, I imagine I'll be perching over him regurgitating it into his chirping maw. The alternative, of course, is continuing to add fertilizer to the already fecund car, ripe for the mystical workings of spontaneous generation.
3) Talk about things that happened earlier in the trip. Hey, remember when we were in Salinas? We don't. This is not actually a fun game at all. Mike said, at one point, that if, in an hour, we were still arguing about which random stranger it was who had told us that "The Land of 10,000 Lakes" actually had more like 20,000, he was going to deem us unfit for travel and flip a U-ie for home.
4) Attempt to, using standard English, communicate a sentence or idea. Did I mention that we're exhausted? Today, while we munched on McFries, Mike asked me for a "packup ketchet" much to our mutual horror. But that certainly didn't top my excitement when I saw a bunch of animals (not cows) that were not immediately recognizable: "Oh! Look at they! What ims they? Ims they...they ships! They ships!"
5) Have something to which to look forward to. Yesterday, it was just a bed and a shower (and a water slide!). Today, it was the 2008 Men's World Curling Championship. Specifically, it was the 14th draw of the 50th annual world championship, held in the Ralph Engelstad Arena in Grand Forks, North Dakota. Yep, that's why we're here. I went into the arena without much experience with curling, except for the wikipedia descriptions which seemed really to be propaganda for the "Curling is the Most Ridiculous Sport Ever" lobby. There are mandated "good curling!" shouts and handshakes, for the love of football! I have to admit, though, that I am a convert. Once I figured out what was going on, it became a really fascinating display of talent and intelligence in a way completely different from, say, a normal sport. The normal handholds for girls at sporting events were noticeably lacking (these being, of course, hot athletes and dramatic sounds), but I still had a really shockingly good time. Plus, the Scottish team was pretty cute.
Tomorrow we head for the land of 20,000 lakes. It'll be a much shorter drive and there will be Peanuts statues at the end of it. Plus, we might run into Neil Gaiman!
Listened to: King James Version (Harvey Danger), Surfer Rosa (Pixies), The Cool (Lupe Fiasco), On the Road, and Scottish fans getting all the way through "Gimme an S! Gimme a C! Gimme an O!" without realizing how objectively ridiculous they were being.
Words De La Mystery: "Caravan"
Read Mike's blog (astoriedyear.blogspot.com) and his article about curling (soon to be up at LBPostSports.com)
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Day Nine: Where Shar takes 150 pictures of the road going by
On Day Nine, we woke up at five, climbed into the car before the UW ticket-happy parking enforcers could get another swipe at us, and got on the road, setting our sights on Bozeman, MT. That is, we set our sights on driving from Seattle to Bozeman. In one day.
Yes, we know that's a really long drive. Don't you think we know that? What we did not in fact know until right before we went to bed last night was how nerve-wracking that long drive was going to be. Evidently, there are parts of the country that didn't get the notice that Spring Has Sprung. These parts of the country believe that it is, in fact, time to pose for their Christmas postcards. They believed that, in April, which is, in fact, objectively springtime, it was time to snow. Unfortunately several of these parts of the country lie in the 800 miles we meant to cover. There were, of course, fantastically breathtaking views, not all of which were snow-covered. Here are some of the ones that were. Also, a picture of an error in judgment on my part, specifically regarding my toes.
Here again is a thing that will make this trip an obvious Mike & Shar experience. Besides the census taken of the inside of the car. We did not make it to the KOA kabin we'd reserved in Bozeman. Instead, we decided that 11 hours of driving, stopping only (twice) for gas was not enough. We added another 90 minutes to the end of that drive and are currently blarging from Billings, tummies full of good Montana steak. Also, there's a water slide in our hotel. Also, it is freaking awesome. I went down it, like, four times and I wasn't even scared.
And we have another ungodly drive tomorrow, so I'm calling it quits early again. As a consolation treat, please enjoy this video, which is the music video for Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel." It's one of my very favorite songs of all time and, though it's about hitching down the Atlantic coast rather than driving America, it's become somewhat of a theme song for Mike & Shar tours.
Listened to: "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show, Lagniappe (Slimpickins), Food & Liquor (Lupe Fiasco), College Dropout (Kanye West), Shut Up You F*cking Babies (David Cross), Omnibus (Tarkio), an assortment of Lucy Kaplansky songs including "Scorpion," and the sizzle of two-inch-thick steaks at Gusick's Restaurant.
Mystery words: "BEARS EXIT NOW!!"
Mike's side of the story (with more pix!): astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Yes, we know that's a really long drive. Don't you think we know that? What we did not in fact know until right before we went to bed last night was how nerve-wracking that long drive was going to be. Evidently, there are parts of the country that didn't get the notice that Spring Has Sprung. These parts of the country believe that it is, in fact, time to pose for their Christmas postcards. They believed that, in April, which is, in fact, objectively springtime, it was time to snow. Unfortunately several of these parts of the country lie in the 800 miles we meant to cover. There were, of course, fantastically breathtaking views, not all of which were snow-covered. Here are some of the ones that were. Also, a picture of an error in judgment on my part, specifically regarding my toes.
Here again is a thing that will make this trip an obvious Mike & Shar experience. Besides the census taken of the inside of the car. We did not make it to the KOA kabin we'd reserved in Bozeman. Instead, we decided that 11 hours of driving, stopping only (twice) for gas was not enough. We added another 90 minutes to the end of that drive and are currently blarging from Billings, tummies full of good Montana steak. Also, there's a water slide in our hotel. Also, it is freaking awesome. I went down it, like, four times and I wasn't even scared.
And we have another ungodly drive tomorrow, so I'm calling it quits early again. As a consolation treat, please enjoy this video, which is the music video for Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel." It's one of my very favorite songs of all time and, though it's about hitching down the Atlantic coast rather than driving America, it's become somewhat of a theme song for Mike & Shar tours.
Listened to: "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow Medicine Show, Lagniappe (Slimpickins), Food & Liquor (Lupe Fiasco), College Dropout (Kanye West), Shut Up You F*cking Babies (David Cross), Omnibus (Tarkio), an assortment of Lucy Kaplansky songs including "Scorpion," and the sizzle of two-inch-thick steaks at Gusick's Restaurant.
Mystery words: "BEARS EXIT NOW!!"
Mike's side of the story (with more pix!): astoriedyear.blogspot.com
Monday, April 7, 2008
Day Eight: Hand me my nose-ring!
Day Eight surprised us with more of those famous Seattle clear skies. The view from our breakfast table was a little awesome, and I was excited to explore the city. And here's where I talk about our hotel. It's called the College Inn, and it's located right across the street from the University of Washington campus. Built in 1909, it's an Historic Building. That means no elevator, shared bathrooms on every floor, and odd illustrations of children who are actually just tiny adults in each room. It's also quite cozy, with a rotation of friendly young men staffing the tiny attic office, free Wi-Fi, and complimentary breakfasts. It's got all of the minor inconveniences of a hostel without any of the major ones. Comfy, but those creepy Nor'Westerners haunt the showers and the hallways, staring silently and making awkward situations unbearable. Luckily, I'm famously unflapped by awkwardness.
A crisp to the air meant that I was sad to have run out of clean socks two days ago, but shoes, I've learned, can hide all sorts of secrets. I was also a little sad to have started out our day with a $30 parking ticket but, again, unflappable. Public transport took us into the city, and I ignored the way my toes kept sticking together in favor of the sights and sounds of Seattle. And the smells. The smells too.
The Explore Music Project was just short of being really really great. I have to admit, I was way more impressed by the Seattle Center's food court which has within it a bounce house so large it is literally a bounce city and a vending machine that vends Nora Roberts books. The Science Fiction Museum was pretty rad, but I don't know if it beats being able to put a ten-spot into a machine and having a paperback drop down. I mean wow!
But the real "I mean wow"s go to the Seattle Underground tour. After a delicious free-sample harvesting through Pike Place market, a walk along the waterfront...
and a speed-demon appreciation of the Seattle Aquarium...
we took a street car to Pioneer Square for the three o' clock attraction that is just about exactly what it sounds like. It seems that in the mid-1800s Seattle burned to the ground and, when it was rebuilt, it was regraded anywhere from 8 to 35 feet above the previous ground level. Our tour guide was a whirling dervish of punnery which was alternately fantastic and claustrophobic depending on how tall the brick building stacked atop us was. The tour was absolutely fascinating, filled with stories of greed, sex, and poop. We also got our trip's first jab about being Californians, which was kinda cool. Alas and alack, the odd underground lighting meant no good pix came out. But you can do a Google image search as well as I, so take a look!
We had a ton of other adventures in Seattle, but I have to struggle through two coffees and a mocha latte and get to sleep: we're going to be leaving way too early tomorrow morning to drive for way too long. Wish us luck!
Listened to: "Sometimes You Have to Work on Christmas" by Harvey Danger (along with a random assortment of their other tunes), the music we Experienced Project at the EMP, and Slimpickins, a street musician duo playing at Pike Place.
Mystery words: "Mike pooped his pants in Seattle."
Mike writes words as well!: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
A crisp to the air meant that I was sad to have run out of clean socks two days ago, but shoes, I've learned, can hide all sorts of secrets. I was also a little sad to have started out our day with a $30 parking ticket but, again, unflappable. Public transport took us into the city, and I ignored the way my toes kept sticking together in favor of the sights and sounds of Seattle. And the smells. The smells too.
The Explore Music Project was just short of being really really great. I have to admit, I was way more impressed by the Seattle Center's food court which has within it a bounce house so large it is literally a bounce city and a vending machine that vends Nora Roberts books. The Science Fiction Museum was pretty rad, but I don't know if it beats being able to put a ten-spot into a machine and having a paperback drop down. I mean wow!
But the real "I mean wow"s go to the Seattle Underground tour. After a delicious free-sample harvesting through Pike Place market, a walk along the waterfront...
and a speed-demon appreciation of the Seattle Aquarium...
we took a street car to Pioneer Square for the three o' clock attraction that is just about exactly what it sounds like. It seems that in the mid-1800s Seattle burned to the ground and, when it was rebuilt, it was regraded anywhere from 8 to 35 feet above the previous ground level. Our tour guide was a whirling dervish of punnery which was alternately fantastic and claustrophobic depending on how tall the brick building stacked atop us was. The tour was absolutely fascinating, filled with stories of greed, sex, and poop. We also got our trip's first jab about being Californians, which was kinda cool. Alas and alack, the odd underground lighting meant no good pix came out. But you can do a Google image search as well as I, so take a look!
We had a ton of other adventures in Seattle, but I have to struggle through two coffees and a mocha latte and get to sleep: we're going to be leaving way too early tomorrow morning to drive for way too long. Wish us luck!
Listened to: "Sometimes You Have to Work on Christmas" by Harvey Danger (along with a random assortment of their other tunes), the music we Experienced Project at the EMP, and Slimpickins, a street musician duo playing at Pike Place.
Mystery words: "Mike pooped his pants in Seattle."
Mike writes words as well!: astoriedyear.blogspot.com
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