Day Twenty-Five: Page 148

So it's the end of Day Twenty-Five, and we're sitting in a nice hotel, in a beautiful king-sized bed, between beautiful king-quality sheets. There is a little balcony to our room that opens out to the inner courtyard of the hotel where, even now at midnight, there are the happy splashes of handsome young people in an expansive pool. Things here are nice. How nice? Well, sure as hell not nice enough for the room to cost twice as much as our room last night, that's for sure. But we're paying for location and, insanely, our hotel is located right across the bridge from Manhattan.

I happened to flip open the front cover of our trusty road atlas today to that helpful map that tells you on which page to find the roads and cities of which state. For some reason, that's when it really hit me: we are a full country away from home right now. What the heck are we doing here?

I haven't really had cause to look at that front cover page guide, because we haven't been jumping from state to state, we've been crawling mile by mile to the end of pages and then on to the next page. Most days I track our little car onto three pages (or more, depending on our trajectory). And now, suddenly, we've arrived in Newark, New Jersey. We're in that famous metropolitan area that's not Los Angeles, and we earned our way here bit by bit. It's kinda incredible, and I'm torn between really really wanting to be back on a familiar page and really really wanting to keep going, to see what happens when we drive off the end of the last page in the book and don't look back.

Today we saw a couple hours' worth of Philadelphia, which we soon learned isn't the way it's meant to be seen. Everything in Independence Hall National Historical Park either required a ticket (which were sold out), a ridiculous fee, or a place in a line wrapping around the building. Maybe it would've worked for us under different circumstances, but as two weary travelers who had just spent three days cavorting around DC's abundant and free and very awesome museums, we weren't buying it. We snapped some pix through some windows, took in some of the free sights, and got back in our car with our eyes set on the New Jersey Turnpike. (We've all come to look for America...)
Tomorrow, we see my awesome big brother and enjoy frustratingly chilly New England from the comfort of his co-op for a few days. Then we start the long and detour-ridden trip homeward. Page 52, here we come!!

Today we listened to: On the Road, The Essential Simon and Garfunkel (with a double-play for "America"), The Grey Album (Jay-Z/The Beatles), and the theme from Rocky playing in our heads as we ran up the stairs to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Fo reals.

Words to mystery by: "And one of us should hold her hand in case there's violence."

Mike! Read his thoughts on the trip & congratulate him on his 366th story in 366 days!!!: astoriedyear.blogspot.com

Day Twenty-Two: Always check the scale of a map before starting to walk

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

An Interlude: Happy Birthday, Beans!

A few weeks ago (although it seems like ages now) Mike and I celebrated our 24th birthdays. My birthday is March 1st, and Mike was born a mere 36 hours before me, early in the morning of February 29th. Our roomie Robyn, whose SF residency we recently enjoyed with much vigor, was, due to this same residency, unable to attend our birthday bash. Imagine our delight when we opened the front door a few days later and found these on our doorstep!


Our buttery delicious roomie had made the trek after all!

Today is Robyn's birthday. We wanted to do something for her that was at least half as awesome as the birthday present she sent to us. That's why we were so excited when she showed us the Zombie Brain Gelatin Mold at the Exploratorium gift shop. "Should I buy it?" she squealed. "No!" we exclaimed in perfect unison, "Because we will buy it for you. For your birthday!!"

Please enjoy the photodocumentation of the results: a delicious birthday breakfast for our favorite roomie. Happy birthday Robyn!!

Read my friends!

As I'm sure every single person reading this blarg knows, while Mike was at CSULB he spent a lot of his time and energy in the office of The Union Weekly, the student-run newspaper on campus. While there, he (and I) made a slew of awesome and extremely talented friends. How awesome? Well, four out of the ten members of our combined wedding party were Unionites. How talented? Well, they are, as a group, some of the best writers I've read. They're also really really funny and stupidly intelligent. They're also frustratingly underrated by the world outside the campus doors.

Take our good friend and favorite bud-bud J.J. Fiddler. When he took over the Union sports section in 2005, he revitalized a previously worthless page and made it one of the pages I turned to most eagerly each week. In 2006 he single-handedly, through the power of his editorials and a healthy amount of sheer determination, made CSULB basketball something to fill the student section over. And besides being the kind of guy people in college gear want to follow into gymnasiums, J.J. is a flat-out exceptional writer.

When The District Weekly started up in Long Beach approximately 27 weeks ago, it seemed like the perfect fit for a lot of Union alums. Their whole mission statement revolves around reporting culture and life in a Long Beach-specific context. And who knows better about Long Beach life than the amazing writers who'd spent their college careers talking about it? Certainly the editorial staff of the District, who produce a great publication, don't get me wrong, seem to miss out on some of the big things that make Long Beach not only great, but unique. It's not just all about cool hole-in-the-wall bars or art galleries. Sometimes it's stuff that makes the cover of one of the nation's most popular magazines.

In 2005 Sports Illustrated named Long Beach Poly High the top sports high school in America. Generally, my alma mater has a great athletics department that has produced national legends. Billie Jean King and Tony Gwynn both came through Poly's gates. But it would be impossible to talk about Poly sports without leaving 90% of the talking time for the Poly varsity football team which, as a public school, has sent more players to the NFL than any other high school in the country. And, though Poly is far and away the best football team in Long Beach (no bias here), it certainly isn't the only school playing the game.

Doesn't this seem like something The District, the self-proclaimed voice of the people of Long Beach, should be talking about? Or rather, since J.J. has been covering Moore League games since the start of the season, shouldn't it be something The District and its readers should be reading and paying attention to? As opposed to, say, ignoring and/or talking shit on?

Yeah, I think so too. Check J.J. out over at the Long Beach Post where he gives his mid-season Moore League report. And read him at The District too. He's doing a great job with not a lot of room to run. If this were the Union, I'd be all over that message board. Since it's not, I'll rant here instead and send my droves of readers to do my work for me.