While the drive from Duncan to Shreveport was mostly eventless, there were two happenings of note.
We ran into the first Waffle House of our trip outside of Dallas.
You know what they say, “You’re not in God’s country until you see the big yellow Waffle House sign.”
OK, nobody in the world has ever said that, but Waffle House is amazing. Despite fulfilling every stereotype you’ve ever had about the South and/or diners, it’s a Southern mainstay, cheap, and guess what’s really good there?
I screamed “Waffle House” as soon as I saw the yellow sign appear on the side of the road, which my parents didn’t understand at all (until we ate at one in Baton Rouge the next day and they actually liked it).
The other big thing that happened was the frequency of neon-signed adult stores and arcades that sit at just about every exit.
Seriously, I’ve started calling them Texas Wal-Marts.
There’s no legal prostitution in Texas, but you can sure as hell buy a novelty dildo every time you stop for gas.
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Friday, August 29, 2008
Of Waffle House and Porn
Day 4 - Duncan, OK, to Shreveport, LA
I suspect the word “mature” doesn’t come up often when my friends describe me to other people, but I feel downright juvenile when put in direct comparison with Sonya and Jim.
We are the oldest grandkids on our moms’ side of the family and roughly the same age, with Sonya being about two years older than me and me being a few months older than Jim.
Well, Sonya is finished with college and has three kids, with a fourth on the way, and Jim is married and expecting (his wife is, anyway).
I have trouble making relationships work for more than a month, I can’t imagine loving a small, pooping, dependent creature of any kind more than myself, and I will completely not date a girl if she has poor taste in movies.
If this little existence thing we’re all doing actually were a game of “Life,” I’d be like five turns behind.
I don’t even have a job yet and my parents still pay some of my bills.
I usually don’t feel too bad about this because, you know, the job thing should work out really well for me, except for the pay thing, and I’ve been out of school for about three months.
Actually, I still don’t feel that bad about, but I’m not going out of my way to compare myself with my cousins.
These thoughts came about because I was at my Aunt Shelly’s house today and Jim and Sonya both drove in to see us.
Jim and I spent a few minutes during the morning swimming, which we did growing up pretty much every minute we were together but hadn’t done in about 15 years.
Jim and I are a lot alike. We’re articulate, good-looking, affable fellows, although Jim uses distinctly less-profane language than I do. He was also a quarterback in high school while I was on the golf team.
Anyway, we had a good time joking around while the wee ones were at school, until Sonya showed up with her kids.
I thoroughly enjoyed goofing around with her children, mostly because I’d never seen them before.
I’m still not sure about the whole dad thing, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be a cool uncle.
Sonya just came down for a few hours for lunch before taking off, at which point we discussed whether or not to stay another night or drive some.
Originally the plan was to spend another night in Duncan, but my mom was worried about being in a car for 13 hours tomorrow to get to New Orleans.
It took us about two hours to decide because dad hates makings decisions, mom wants to do what makes everyone else happy, and I just don’t give a shit.
Ultimately we left and I found the energy to take the wheel for six hours to get all the way to Shreveport, Louis.
“But Garrett, you missed Texas by driving at night?”
No, I didn’t. Texas isn’t nearly as cool as Texans think it is, and now I’m one day nearer to the Big Easy.
Day 3 - Garden City, KS, to Duncan, OK
After spending a night in the ironically named Garden City, Kansas, we peaced out early this morning and took off for my Aunt Shelly’s house in Duncan, Okla.
I think it’s Monday, although I’m not really sure and I’d really prefer not to check.
The drive took like eight hours and swung through Northern Texas.
At one point my dad took a photo of the Texas countryside, which I thought was redundant.
If I’ve learned one thing this road trip, it’s that there’s no place Kansas, except for Eastern Colorado, Wyoming, Texas and Oklahoma. Seriously, they all look pretty much the same.
I’ve also decided it’s fun to play a new little game called “Blindly follow the GPS voice and hope you don’t end up in Butt Fuck, Egypt.”
I realize that’s sort of the point of a GPS, but I usually at least take a quick look at either Mapquest or an Atlas because I naturally assume the GPS is part of the machine’s plot to lull humans into a false sense of security and then direct us all to a predetermined site for easy slaughter, probably in Albuquerque, N.M.
As a result of this blind faith, we spent approximately zero time on major interstates, instead opting for rural roads and cow towns.
Apparently this guy/girl/supreme being named God is sort of a big deal in this part of the country, because every single town has a church sign welcoming people.
I didn’t mind the rural roads and small towns much because I didn’t have to drive, so I kicked back listening to music and reading “Catch-22.”
For those who care, the mix was extremely heavy on RHCP, Sublime, and Tom Petty, which works well while mowing through the plains of the Midwest.
We finally got to Aunt Shelly and Uncle Robert’s house just in time for dinner, which was just fine with me.
It was nice to see that part of my family, because we only get together about once every two years, or every other year for those in favor of brevity.
My family in Wells is extremely close on my mother’s side as my grandparents and three of their four kids live within about a 20 minute drive. My Aunt Shelly is the only one who moved away and my mom really misses her.
So I’m glad we got to spend time.
Aunt Shelly still has three kids at home, Bruce, Ben, and Sam, and Jim, who is my age, drove down with his wife from Stillwater to spend the night and hang out, so there was a full house.
It was also balls hot with the humidity outside, but I can’t really complain because it will only get worse tomorrow.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Day 2 - Fort Morgan to Garden City, KS
We didn't drive a ton today so my mom could spend time with her family.
We spent most of the morning in Fort Morgan at Norma and John's. After visiting with them, we headed over to visit one of my grandma's other sister, Nanny, and her husband, Dip.
Dip has a kickass remote control helicopter that is probably best left out of my hands.
We then went to see a few of the cousins mom grew up with before hitting the road.
Norma sent us off with a cooler full of food and a bunch of snacks from her floral shop. She's exactly like my grandma, which means that I will be spending extra time jogging on the beach when I arrive in Miami.
After leaving Fort Morgan we headed for Stratton, Color., where my mom grew up.
Stratton is about about 2/3 the size Wells for a comparison. My mom hasn't been back in about 20 years, so it was really emotional for her to see the ranch she grew up on and the place she went to school through about 16.
I'm glad she got to see it and I'm glad she could share some of her childhood with me.
Here are the highlights:
Highlights:
Stratton has a drive-thru liquor store called the Libation Station. I (sort of) wish I could buy malt liquor in a paper bag, pull around the corner and get drunk next to that sign everyday for the rest of my life.
The main drag of Stratton...not a lot of traffic.
The American Legion has Bud AND Bud Light ON TAP...
What do you do if you build a house, run out of money after the basement is finished and live in a tornado-prone area of the country? Build an entryway, slap a roof on that bitch and call it finished.
The restaurant where my Grandpa used to take the family every Sunday after church. We had to wait like 30 minutes to have our orders taken. The reason: the lady in front of us ordered pie and ice cream and the restaurant was out of ice cream, so our waiter had to literally run up the street to the grocery store. Hilarious.
The ranch where my mother grew up.
The view from my mom's old ranch.
The road where my mother honed her considerable driving skills.
The church my mom's family attended.
Mom mom's old elementary school.
In other news:
- I was napping and reading so I'm not sure exactly where it is, but somewhere just into Kansas on I-70 exists the absolutely best rest station in America. I have a general policy to not get out at rest stations, which I was not going to change even here, until I saw two hot chicks walking their dog as they drove back to college. I was not successful in acquiring their attention.
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Trip Day 1: a live blog from Wells to Fort Morgan, Colorado.
We're driving about 12 hours today, so I think I'll kick off this trip log with a some live-blog action. Enjoy.
12:01 a.m. – Go to bed. We’re supposed to leave at 3 a.m. so we can make it to Fort Morgan, CO to have dinner with my mom’s Aunt Norma.
4:27 a.m. – wake up. Shower. Pack PS3.
5:40 a.m. – Take a few minutes to look at the house before hitting the road. I’m feeling a little sad about leaving, and I sort of wish my dog were there.
5:48 a.m. – leave Wells only to realize that I have left electric razor at home, turn back and get it while parents wait at gas station.
5:55 a.m. – Attempt to leave Wells again only to realize that mom forget to put important letters in the mail. Turn back again to go to post office.
6:00 a.m. Finally leave Wells, three full hours behind schedule.
6:15 a.m. - Mom is driving five miles below the speed limit. I am annoyed. On another note, I have made a 583-song playlist to accompany me on the trip. It’s an eclectic mix of country, classic rock, new rock, 80s, hip-hop, straight oldies and electro/club. As is my custom, we’re starting with “Back Where I Come From” by Kenny Chesney. All you country haters can fuck right off.
6:30 a.m. – We’re a little country heavy on the shuffle right now. Nothing kills a good playlist faster than an uneven mix. This concerns me.
6:37 a.m. – “Start Me UP” by the Rolling Stones starts…three minutes of head shaking and pelvic thrusting ensue.
6:58 a.m. – Alright, the iPod just sandwiched “Big Papa” between “Stairway to Heaven” and “When the Levee Breaks” and then followed up a couple songs later with “In the Evening” (best Zep song ever). We’re good to go.
7:00 a.m. – We just drove through Wendover, meaning I’m officially out of Nevada. There’s a trailer park on the right, which makes me think about what my intro song would be if I were a professional wrestler. My song would have to have some sort of dramatic intro to announce my presence with authority, then get heavy. But I’m also not a big metal fan, so that creates quite the conundrum. I think I’d go with “Welcome Home” by Coheed and Cambria or Blue Orchid by the White Stripes. I’m also a big fan of "Lux Aeterna" from "Requiem for a Dream," perhaps with some sort of electronic remix beat. “What If?” is playing on the iPod, and it actually has the proper dramatics. But, you know, it’s Creed, so it wouldn’t really work. On a similar note, how the hell did a Creed song make my playlist? That must be corrected.
Trailer parks also make me think about NASCAR. I’m not a big fan of the Super Left Turn Circuit, but I have to wonder why there’s no No. 69 car. With the NASCAR crowd being what it is, I’d the think the merch sales would be ridiculously lucrative.
7:03 - the mountains disappear, a general malaise befalls me.
7:07 – Mom starts signaling to pull off at a rest stop approximately one hour into trip. Consider continuing on without parents before grudgingly hitting the brakes and pulling in.
7:15 a.m. – decide it’s in my best interests to be drunk by the time my parents drop their car off at the airport in Salt Lake City. I will drink every time there is a tree.
8:45 a.m. (time change) – realize there are no trees west of SLC.
10 a.m. – ACDC's “Hell’s Bells” starts playing just as I pull into SLC and the Temple is coming into view. It is unquestionably obvious that my iPod and I are on the same page.
10:05 a.m. – We have consolidated cars, meaning my mother and I are in close quarters. I love the women, but bitter arguments are now inevitable. I predict they will center on my ability to operate an automobile.
10:06 a.m. – Dad’s driving….nappy nap time.
10:30 a.m. – Scratch the nap, mom needs socks so we’re stopping at a factory outlet in Park City, of 2002 Winter Olympics fame. I have to pee anyway. On a bright note, there is a new Ralph Lauren outlet. If I had the time and space in my car, I would go nuts.
11:01 a.m. – Nap time – engage.
12:06 p.m. – My nap is over and we are driving through Wyoming. Dad is holding it down at the wheel. Mom informs me that she packed fruit for the road. Damn, she’s smart. I’m glad I slept through most of Utah. After looking at the Wyoming terrain, however, I have nothing to report.
12:15 p.m. – ham sandwich and fruit for lunch.
1:20 p.m. – Pee stop No. 3. We have stopped in Rock Springs for gas. $1.85/gallon. I’ve been wondering all morning who Obama’s running mate will be, so I run into the store to see if it’s on TV. Sure enough, it is, and what’s more, there’s almost nobody in front of this TV as most of the truckers have congregated in front of TV showing some sort of racing. Obama picked Biden. I’m sort of surprised. I like Biden. My parents actually love Biden. I was sort of hoping for the rockstar pick of Caroline Kennedy. I like Biden, but I wonder how much added appeal he’ll add at the ballot booth. Then again, We’re talking about Barack Obama. He doesn’t need any more appeal.
1:25 p.m. – There’s any extremely plus-sized woman two pumps over trying to get something out of her pickup bed. She has one of those hardtops for her bed and she’s trying to crawl under it, except that she gets stuck right about the hips. I’m not sure whether I want to laugh or cry.
1:30 p.m. – My turn to drive…time to put the hammer down.
2:05 p.m. – Argument No. 1. We made it a whole half hour, but mom finally gets annoyed about my staying in the passing lane too long. I point out that there is a stream of semis in the right line pretty much all the way to the horizon. She tells me that in some states it’s legal to stay in the passing lane for more than a half mile. I tell her I think she made that up. Bad decision.
2:12 p.m. – Argument No. 2, although this one is decidedly more playful. This times we’re arguing over what constitutes a mountain. My mom says that Elk Mountain’s elevation makes it a mountain. I argue that it’s height from the valley floor makes it Elk Big Hill.
2:15 p.m. – “Satisfaction” starts playing, more pelvic thrusting ensues.
3:00 p.m. – We pass an adult arcade in the middle of nowhere. It is advertised with a tarp hanging from an old school bus that says “Adult Arcade 1 mile. No kids allowed.” I want to explore what I’m sure is a high-class establishment, but I can’t get over in time to make the exit.
4:20 p.m. – Pull over in Laramie so mom can stretch out her back.
4:25 p.m. – Mom takes the wheel, let the mayhem begin.
4:40 p.m. – We just entered the foothills of the Rockies. Now the landscape is incredibly beautiful. The plains have turned into rolling hills with forested outcroppings poking up here in there. Gorgeous.
5:20 p.m. – THE DARKNESS….I Believe in a Thing Called Love. Initiate backseat hair metal sequence.
5:24 p.m. – complete backseat hair metal sequence with great satisfaction. Parents appear both puzzled and disturbed.
6:30 p.m. – Make it to Fort Morgan. Time for dinner and sleep.
The Trip Itenerary
For those of you who are interested, here is the schedule of events for this little road trip I'm taking.
Saturday, Aug. 23 - Wells to Fort Morgan, Colo.
Highlights - nothing on the road. Anybody who has ever driven through Utah and Wyoming understand it's about as exciting dyslexia. We are, however, staying with my mom's Aunt Norma and Uncle John's farm in Fort Morgan. Should be a good time.
Sunday, Aug. 24 - Fort Morgan to Garden City, KS.
Highlights - My mom grew up in rural Colorado before moving with my grandparents to Wells in high school (a decision that infinitely helped my coming into existence) and she hasn't been back in almost 20 years, so a big part of the reason we're going on this route is so that she can visit family and see where she grew up. So we're going to spend part of the day catching up with Norma and John and the go tour the metropolis of Stratton, Colo., where my mom lived until she was 16. Then it's all corn fields and small towns to the GC.
Monday, Aug. 25 - GC to Duncan, Okla.
My mom's sister Shelly lives in Duncan and we only see them about once every two years. We're visiting them.
Tuesday, Aug. 26 - Chilling in Duncan
We'll be catching up with Aunt Shelly, Uncle Robert and kids while mom recharges for the second half of the trip.
Wednesday, Aug. 27 - Duncan to New Orleans
After a year and a half, Garrett will make his triumphant return to the Big Easy. Screw Texas, this day is all about getting back to the Deep South.
Thursday, Aug. 28 - running amock in New Orleans
Will we go on a boat tour of the bayou, check out NO's beautiful cemetaries, or just explore the French Quarter? Nobody can be sure, but one thing is certain. Garrett will be drunk on Bourbon Street, possibly riding the mechanical bull at the Bourbon Cowboy in his underwear, come Thursday night.
Friday, Aug. 29 - NO to Jacksonville
As the trip nears it's end, we'll cruise along the Gulf, check out Biloxi, where my dad spent time in the Air Force, before arriving in the pissing rain of Jacksonville. Depending on the water level, I may or may not commence alligator wrestling training on this night.
Saturday, Aug. 30 - Jack to Miami
Finally, after eight months of anticipation, I'll get to Miami, where I'll be spending the next 12 weeks. We're staying on South Beach one night before I move into my place, So I'll be getting acquainted with my new home and hopefully taking in some of the scant beachwear.
Also, if anybody wants to visit let me know so I can clear it with the woman I'm living with. I'm also taking applications from anybody who would like to accompany me on what should be an awesome cross-country roadtrip home the week before Thanksgiving.
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The coolest story ever told and why my ass should now be considered a national treasure
I may have sat on a bar stool last night that was once occupied by Earnest Hemingway.
My life is now complete.
The came about as I was making the rounds saying goodbye to my grandparents (gets harder and harder everytime) other family.
After a rather stimulating conversation with Ty and my Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sue about the future of journalism, I headed back into town to hit up my Uncle Grant and Aunt Jamie.
We were talking about popping over to the Bahamas and down to the Keys when I mentioned that I wanted to explore some of Hemingway’s former stomping grounds.
Then my Uncle Grant told me a life-altering tale.
As my literary friends out there will know, Earnest Hemingway was living in Ketchum, Idaho, when he killed himself.
Well, back in the day my dad’s (Grant is his brother) parents opened a trailer park, gas station and depot outside of Wells at Crested Acres. When my papa opened the bar, he bought the actual bar, back bar and other wares at an auction for a place in Ketchum that was going out of business.
Turns out it was the bar Hemingway, that notoriously skilled drinker, used to frequent.
When my papa sold his ranch in Idaho just before he died, my uncle nabbed a couple of the bar stools that originally came from Hemingway's watering hole.
When my uncle told me this, I was more than a little bit excited. In fact, I had to go downstairs and sit on them and make Uncle Grant write me getting the stools into his will.
Of course they both have had their seats redone over the last 50 years and there’s a good chance that Hemingway never sat in them at all. But there’s a chance he did.
Hemingway and I are now cosmically connected by our buttox.
I'm pretty much guaranteed a Pulitzer Prize now, right?
