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
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