somewhere past Mexican Water, AZ on US160 heading towards Four Corners

Got up at the crack o’ dawn this morning (5 AM, 8AM EST) to go to the
Canyon. We let out of the hotel, and hit the McDonalds across the street.
Everything is a little more expensive here. We downed some bad coffee,
and headed to the Canyon. Might I say that it was COLD this morning. So
cold you could see your breath. However, within 1/2 an hour of being at
the Canyon, it warmed up considerably.

The Canyon is mind-bogglingly huge. I’ve don’t think I’ve ever been able
to look 5 miles in one direction and see something. There is a spire of
rock on the South side of the Canyon called the “Temple of Isis”, and as
the crow flies, it’s 5 miles from the Yavapai Point Lookout. Crazy. I
can only think that that would be huge. It is impossible to get a
relative sense of scale out here. You can see the river, but telling how
wide it is not possible. I assume that from where we saw it, it was about
500 feet wide, but it could’ve been only 50 or 1500. We checked out a
number of lookouts — Yavapai Point, Mather Point, Grandview, Moran,
Lipan, and Desert View points. All stunning in their own rights. Very
few people out this morning, too, which made it very quiet.

Desert View is neat because there is a 40 foot tall “lighthouse” structure
there, with a winding staircase and all. The view is spectacular, and
it’s only $.25 to go up. That edge of the canyon stands at 7500ft above
sea level, and going up the stairs put a hurting on Kelly and I both.
Muscles aching, lungs heaving. There were quite a few internationals
there, but mostly the French. Now, this isn’t a generalization about the
French, but tey all smelled like Karl Lagerfeld had thrown up on them.
Wow. Do they bathe in that stuff? Shoo…. stink-ay!

As we were walking out, we happened to be passed by some saffron-cloaked
Buddhist monks, which shuffled past in their yoda-like gaits. We snapped
some pictures — Kelly wondered if it was okay to do so — I said yes, but
as long as you don’t attempt to feed or approach them, just like the pair
of Mule deer we saw earlier in the morning.

Considering that there were no guided tours that day, and that the “easy”
trails that don’t require good stiff boots or crampons (boot spikes) were
on the other side of the Canyon, Kelly and I got our eyeful of the giant
hole in the ground, and we split for Tuba City.

Between the Canyon and the intersection of US64 and US160, there are
“Navajo Markets”. Literally one every mile or so, usually coinciding with
“Scenic Views”. Each of these “Indian Markets” has plenty of stuff in
them, but frankly, once you’ve seen one Kokopelli, you’ve seen them all.
The day when I say “wow, that’s in interesting interpretation of a
Kokopelli” will be… I don’t know what it will be, but I doubt that day
will come. Anywho, we stopped at two of these markets, browsed a bit, but
the spectacular things were the views there. Most of them had HUGE
canyons behinds them. Spectacular canyons, that somehow looked all the
more impressive because you COULD get a sense of scale. That, and the
cliffs there were even more forbidding. Many pictures were taken.

Speaking of cliffs, there was an interesting book at the Desert View
Lookout that details each and every known death-by-falling at the Canyon.
Recent up until November of 2001, where a woman backing up to take a
picture fell 847 feet to her death. Oddly enough, the whole event was
photographed. Lots of people fall, apparently. As the sign pointed out
“most” happened when people hopped fences. Don’t hop the fences, folks –
you’ll end up in the book.

Driving up to Tuba City on US89, you pass through the Painted Desert. It
is rather beautiful. The various strata of rock are colored from pink to
blue to gray, and even the clouds seem to take on a bit of that
coloration. After taking US160 West, we hit Kayenta, AZ, a small town,
but it has a movie theatre, so it can’t be all that bad. I had heard
about a Burger King here that has an exhibit on Navajo “Code Talkers” — a
band of Navajo utilized during WWII to act as encryption devices in the
Pacific theatre. They weren’t used in the European theatre, and I really
don’t know why. They are widely credited with winning the hard-fought
battle of Iwo Jima, as they were able to communicated freely and securely,
leaving the Japanese baffled. Now, while this is quite heroic and all –
they were to be shot if they even *might* be captured by the Japanese.
That’s what this Nicolas Cage movie “Windtalkers” is all about — i’ll
probably see it.

Anyway, the exhibit was pretty small, with a lot of interesting doo-dads
from the war, like guns, sidearms, and “wolf cards” — essentially nudie
card decks. A couple of articles on the Navajo servicemen were plastered
on the walls.

We ate outside, as it was nice, and we noticed there were quite a few
stray dogs around, some in pretty bad shape. It was sad, really, but they
mostly kept their distance, and stayed in the shade.

Back on the road after lunch, we stopped at Four Corners, USA. Four
Corners is the only point common to four states in the United States.
Thanks to manifest destiny, most of the western US was carved up in
rectangular chunks. Thanks to this speedy demarcation, Four Corners is
now yet another Navajo Market — execpt they sell Navajo Frybread,
something apparently uncommon to the other markets we found. The Navajo
Nation makes $2/person off of this little waypoint. I’ve got to wonder –
do they pay taxes in whatever quadrant of the parking lot they set their
frybread stands in? I dunno. I asked the lady back before Tuba City
whether or not they needed to charge tax, and she said that “Well, they
are telling us we have to, but we are going to have a meeting tomorrow to
discuss it”.

The Navajo nation encompasses most of the eastern half of Arizona, and as
far as I know, they pretty much have free reign over that territory. The
gas pumps are all ceritified by the “Navajo Weights and Measures Council”
and even a lot of the radio promos (“win a car!”) were only open to those
who live on the rez.

Most of the folks on the rez are getting some sort of government
assistance — SSI, Food Stamps, Welfare, etc, etc. And I can see why. We
gave them this land — which by all accounts SHOULD be their land, but
there isn’t anything on it. Farms are pretty much non-existant, as is any
real business. The tourist trade out here is pretty prevalent, but
something tells me it’s like the apple-salesmen during the Great
Depression. There are SO MANY stands out here, and most people are
hawking the same sort of stuff. And I can’t say for sure that stuff was
exactly flying off the shelves. It’s sad, really. It’s a wasteland out
here, in many regards, but I can’t say that isn’t a BAD thing. Perhaps
they like it this way. It is quite beautiful and untouched, and there
COULD be strip-malls every mile rather than small vendors hawking homemade
wares.

We just turned onto US 666 heading east up to Cortez, CO and Durango. The
rock formations just keep getting better, and the shadows of the clouds on
the plains and buttes are just gorgeous. More later.

And now for something completely different:

Kelly would like to point out that on 2 lane highways, driving is a lot
like a complicated and deadly game of leapfrog.

We stopped in Pagosa Springs, CO to catch a bite to eat, and ate at the
Hunan Chinese restaurant — in a word, unremarkable. The food didn’t
suck, per se, but it wasn’t great either. Pagosa Springs is a quaint
little town, with the San Juan River moseyingits way through town. So
far, all of the Colorado towns we’ve seen have been really neat.

As we continue on US160 headed towards “Wolf Creek Pass”. We see
mountains beginning to tower before us. We also note a sign that says
“Wolf Creek Pass Closed 7PM to 7AM Mon-Thurs. Suggest alternate route.”
After doing a cursory examination of our “alternative routes”, we find
that there aren’t any, really, and head on to the pass. The time: 6:35PM.
Wolf Creek Pass is in the San Juan Nat’l Forest, and it’s elevation is
10,000 ft. Pretty high. Kelly’s little car is struggling from lack of
oxygen, by the way. It’s tough to maintain 45 miles per hour! As we
round one of the many steep hairpin turns, the tractor trailer in front of
us has stopped in the middle of the road… I begin to shake my fist at
him in true Ben style, but then realize his impass — a herd of mountain
goats! About two dozen, nervously eyeing the other side of the road,
where two of their compatriots stand. And then, all as one, they bolt to
the other side. Wow. We’ve encountered a good amount of wildlife so far
– what could be next? I’m sorta hoping for snakes.

At the top of the pass, there is a lot of snow. It’s neat to see, really.
Hills covered with hard-packed snow, and i really wanted to have a
snowball fight, but Kelly wasn’t up for it. We do take some pictures at a
little stop-off atop the hill, though. Finally, we reach the roadblock on
Wolf Creek Pass, and we are literally the last ones allowed through for
the day. Turns out, they are doing blasting for a new tunnel down a
rather treacherous part of I160. After we get past the blockage, we make
a stop at a little babbling brook. It is SO still, so calming. Kelly and
I sit on a rock out in the middle of the stream, and just take it in.
Pictures were taken.

We wind our way through a couple of small towns on US160, and decide to
stop in Alamosa for the night. A Comfort Inn is our respite. The bed
here was HUGE. So huge, in fact, that there were THREE pillows laid
abreast on the bed. HUGE.

tusayan, arizona (5 mis. south of the grand canyon).

Wow. Lots of travelling and seeing of stuff today. We let out of our
hotel (a Red Roof Inn) this morning at 9am with the express intention of
finding two things: the National Atomic Museum, and the Albuquerque Art
Museum. We stopped off at a McDonalds to get some breakfast. All of this
fast food is starting to get to us, i think. I mean, it tastes good and
all, but my acid stomach is starting to act up, and plus all the driving,
well, lets just say i’m trying to eat more salads, and leave it at that.

So, we do a little back-tracking to find the Nat’l Atomic Museum, and run
smack-dab into an Air Force Base. We search around a little more, and
find that that Air Force Base included the Sandia National Laboratory –
one of the big atomic labs. You needed some sort of credentials to get
onto the base, so we decided to head onto the art museum.

Now, the art museum is on “Mountain Avenue”, which intersects with “Rio
Grande Blvd”. Well, i look on the map, and see an “Montano Ave.” that
meets up with Rio Grand Blvd. I think “hmm.. .they must refer to Montano
as Mountain” (right? right.) Kelly — a spanish major — goes along with
this idea. Let me say now that it was early, and it made sense at the
moment. The net connection in Albuquerque was rather shoddy, so i
couldn’t get good directions. Luckily for us, Albuquerque is small, and
our map is decent. (BTW, this $20 roadmap atlas i got at Borders in St.
Louis is great. GREAT, i tell you). (see sidenote about Borders in St.
Louis, later on).

We finally find the Art museum, which is a small little set of buildings
in the “Old Town” district. As it would happen, Wednesday is a “free
day”, and we save $4. Yay. I must say, the art museum didn’t have so much
art as it did Conquistador and Indian relics. Some art upstairs, and a
neat exhibit about the “Pie Town Homesteaders”. Pie Town is a small town
in southern New Mexico, and sadly, it no longer exists. Luckily, thanks
to the WPA and the NEA in the Depression, there was a photographer sent
out to document pietown. Lots of great black and white pictures. Good
stuff, that. Anyway, there wasn’t a whole lot there else to see ($2
worth, at least).

On to Arizona. We head west again on I-40, travelling into Arizona, and
the Navajo Reservation. I had heard that there was a great little radio
station that broadcast over the rez. KTNN – AM 660, The Voice of the
Navajo Nation. Most of the broadcasting is done in the Navajo tongue,
which I hadn’t heard before. Navajo is an interesting spoken language.
Very quick, and its hard to understand individual words. I can only
imagine the Japanese hearing this over Allied radio during WWII and
thinking “what in the hell?!”. However, the Navajo that I heard was often
interspersed with English like “32 quart ice chest and six pack of Coke”
and various English names. They were doing a live remote from a general
store, and were calling out winners names via the station. The music
choices were interesting country tunes. I can handle this kind of country
– it’s not the polished crap of the local Louisville stations. No Garth
Brooks, Shania Twain or that stuff. Waylon Jennings, George Jones, etc.
Also, there was a good amount of tribal songs as well. I would like to
point out that this was very independent radio. Wonderful, wonderful.
Thanks to the flat ground and the strong AM signal, we listened to this
most of the way into Flagstaff, AZ.

About 1/2 an hour outside of Flagstaff is a place I’ve always wanted to
visit — Meteor Crater. 50,000 years ago, a meteorite slammed into this
place, and there was left a mile-wide, 57 story deep crater, created in 10
seconds. The admission to this “hole in the ground” was $12, but dammit,
I was gonna see this thing. The wind here exceed all previous wind.
Texas wind, East New Mexico wind, all bow down to Meteor Crater wind.
Knock you off your feet, lose your hat wind. Also, we were 7000 feet
above sea level. It was a little cold. Pictures from Meteor Crater don’t
do it justice. Even while looking over it, it’s hard to believe you could
fit the National City building in it. At the bottom, they have placed a 6
foot tall cutout of an astronaut. It’s barely recognizable to the naked
eye. (They used the bottom of the crater as a staging ground for the
Apollo missions, by the way). The road up to the crater are unbound by
fences, and cows are plentiful, much to Kelly’s delight. We stuck around
for a bit, bought some souvenirs, and then we were off. I’d like to point
out that the high altitude has thinned the air considerably. Some of the
stairs at the crater took our breath quite easily. Nutty.

Flagstaff is a tiny little motel-ridden town. We decided to rather take
US180 rather than 64 north, to take the scenic route. This was a pretty
good idea, and some of the most picturesque, high-altitude plains I’ve
ever seen. Along the side of the road was this tiny,tiny little chapel.
It is triangular shaped, and open to the public. It is a step up from a
lean-to, and the pine boards on the inside are tacked with various
votives, messages, and even a number of reservations for weddings, etc.
Kelly and I snapped some photos on the inside, Kelly was pricked with
barbed wire, and a pretty English woman took our picture.

A little down the road was the “White Buffalo” store. They had white
buffalo there, as you would imagine. We stuffed two dollars into a
“donation jug” and peeped us some buffalo. Kelly noted they weren’t that
exciting. I noted that cows are pretty boring as well.

Both of these places are set in a huge meadow of white/yellow grasses
surrounded by mountains, some of which are topped with snow. Beautiful.

Driving through the Kaibob National Forest, we ended up here in Tusayan,
AZ. A small little town that is really just a tourist waypoint. The room
here is a little more expensive than what we’ve been aiming for, but it’s
close to the Grand Canyon, and we’d like to get as much time as possible
tomorrow at the Canyon.

As it turns out, most of the guided tours (actually ALL) of them are not
in service from April 29 – May 3, due to ranger training. We will be
hiking on public trails for the day, I think.

Oh — i also think i made an international faux paus. That pretty English
girl that was at the tiny little chapel had a boyfriend — he was really
tall. So, when I saw a similar woman with some sort of accent and a
really tall boyfriend at the Wendy’s we dined at, I waved and said
“Hello!,” which was immediately met with confused looks. I said, “You
took our picture at the chapel on 180?” “It was triangular, remember?”.
Apparently they didn’t. Turns out, this was in fact NOT the English girl
at all, though Kelly later relented that they did look quite the same.
The reason I said anything to them at all is because this girl had an
accent — it sounded vaguely english! The tall dude with her said “Well,
we are Canadian, so I guess we might have a bit of an accent, eh”. Well,
on they went, and we went back to the hotel, me wondering if I had just
become an “ugly American”. At least I didn’t just keep speaking louder
and louder to them, like you do in France and Mexico — hoping they will
understand your extremely loud English.

Tomorrow, after the Canyon, we head up towards Four Corners, where Arizon,
New Mexico, Colorado and Utah meet. It’s a tourist trap, for sure, but it
will veer us around Oklahoma, and where else can I kiss Kelly in four
states in less than a minute? hehe.

After that, up to Pueblo, Colorado, Kit Carson, Colorado, and all points
beyond.

later!

3:58 PM Mountain

Crossed into New Mexico a few miles back — we are now in I-40. We let
out of the hotel at about 9:30 this morning, with the intention of hitting
an IHOP (Int’l House of Pancakes), an eatery neither of us had had the
pleasure of frequenting. Might I say — they do have tasty pancakes. I
had some “Country Griddle Cakes”, which were essentially normally pancakes
with Cream of Wheat in them. Wow. Tasty stuff, that. With strawberries
and whipped topping, well….

I really hadn’t remembered Oklahoma City for the bombing 7 years ago
(exactly 2 weeks and a day past seven years today), but Kelly asked “are
we going to see the memorial?”, and so we did. Oklahoma City is
remarkably easy to navigate, as there isn’t much to the city. Flatty
McFlat, it is. Anyway, we got off I-235 to visit the memorial, and it is
quite striking. Two walls stand on either side of a constantly moving,
yet still, lake of water. The left wall is marked 9:01, the right, 9:03.
The bomb went off at 9:02, ending the lives of 168 men, women and
children. The memorial is set between what is left of the foundation of
the now-gone Murrow Federal Building, one side of the foundation showing
rebar and cracked concrete. If you stand on the spot where the van was
parked, behind you is a single, gnarled tree. This gnarled tree has
become the symbol of the memorial, its stylized outline the official logo.
On the sides of the memorial are tacked innumerable tributes to the
victims, friends and family lost in the attack. Some of the tributes are
quite moving — poetry, pictures, etc. Some are bizarre. This is just
me, but “Hello Kitty” paraphenilia just shouldn’t be there. Kelly and I
took pictures, and then we hit I-235 to I-40 and got the hell out of
Dodge.

I drove the stretch between Oklahoma City and Amarillo. In the space of a
couple of a hundred miles, the land goes from somewhat flat to
awe-inducing flat. The sky opens up and the clouds part. The wind in
Texas is quite possibly insane. Also, there are signs mentioning that
“Hitchhikers may be escaping inmates”. Note to self: if in OKC prison,
break out, but make sure you hitchhike BEFORE THE SIGNS.

Exit 112, I-40, Groom, TX. The Western Hemispheres tallest cross. You
can see this thing for miles. However, in Texas, you can see EVERYTHING
for miles. This cross is huge, though. 5 stories or something. Whee.

Also, whilst moseying through Texas, we kept seeing signs for “FREE 72oz
STEAK!”. 72oz = 4.5 lbs. Thats a LOT of steak. As we neared “The Big
Texan” restaurant (which lies in Amarillo), the signs clarified that in
fact, you had to eat the whole thing in an hour to get it for free. How
many men must die to satisfy the Big Texan?! The Big Texan is a horrid,
horrid and yet alluring restaurant. Giant fiberglass cattle perch outside
– stoic guardians of their own beef. The restaurant itself is BRIGHT
yellow, and dolled up like a two dollar whore. Lassos, boots, ten-gallon
hats are par for the course on that one.

The driving switch off occurred in a little town called Vega, Texas. It’s
the halfway point on Route 66 (which I44 and I40 are part of), by the way.
We pull into the local Dairy Queen (a serendipitous happening, no less),
and had some lunch. Everything in the store is “TexaSized”. The medium
drinks are larges back home. Dairy Queen apparently has a Texas only
menu. They served TACOS here. TACOS at a DAIRY QUEEN. Genius. Mad, mad
genius. The wind is blowing very hard. Kelly and I sit on a guardrail
and watch as quite possibly the most beautiful sky i’ve ever seen roll
overhead. The locals milled about, talking about the weather and other
things, and it occured to Kelly that this was, in fact, yet another
X-Files town. Must… leave….

The driving switch done, we head back out on the road. It only took 4
hours from OKC to Vega, which is excellent time. We will be passing
through Tucumcari, NM on our way to Albuquerque. Apparently, there is a
very good art museum there with quite an O’Keefe collection. Sounds good
to me (and David, thanks for the tip!)

We are about a day ahead of our “schedule”, so we may take an alternate
route home, as Oklahoma sucked so bad. At least Texas is pretty, and New
Mexico has nice rocks. Oklahoma just sucks.

So far, we’ve covered about 1400 mis on our journey across the US. This
is really a blast, even if we are in the car a lot.

Oh, and if my mother should read this — when i mentioned “i hope to find
some $25-$30 hotels to stay at”, and the entire extended family erupted in
laughter at my ASSUMED naivete, well IN YOUR FACE, BUHRMANS! We stayed at
a comfy $30 Travelodge last night, and the hotel in Albuquerque shall
prove the same! Yes, the hotel in St. Louis was $50, but there was a big
soccer tourney in town.

9:25PM Red Roof Inn, I-40 exit 155, Albuquerque NM

Papa johns pizza in bed. ahhh.. the sky is nothing short of HUGE out
here. Albuquerque is on the otherside of a picturesque little range of
mountains on I-40. Shrouded in a little big of haze because of some fires
burning out in the plains, though. Again, we have found a $35 hotel room.
This time — two queen beds! Well, i can deal with that!

Tomorrow – Albuquerque Museums, Grand Canyon

2:28 PM CST

As i type this, we are whizzing along US60, between Billings and
Marionville. We are on our way to Tulsa, Oklahoma. The trip down from
St. Louis went pretty quick — our average speed, 72 mph. The speed limit
is 70 on parts of I-44 from St. Louis to Springfield, which is nice.
Traffic is light. There seem to be a lot of farms dealing in exotic
animals out here. Zebras, camels, dromedary, llamas. Perhaps it is just
to supply Branson, MO which is to the south. A couple of disturbing
roadsigns for the “Shoji Show with Christina and Donna”. Shoji is Shoji
the Entertainer, but looks more like Emo Phillips, except of Asian
heritage. Also, we attempted to find the “Hempatorium”, apparently some
sort of gigantic store of hemp goods (located right next to a Wal-Mart).
Our attempts failed, and hopefully we can find it on the way back.

We just passed the Marionville city limit — population 2,417. I should
mention that we had already been through Marionville, but headed back to
Billings to get something to eat. Not surprisingly, the eatery of choice
is Dairy Queen.

I would like to point out that normally, i don’t get seasick in cars, but
the combination of typing, and the REALLY, REALLY hilly roads of MO T
(missouri route T, they seem to use some sort of non-sequential alpha
numeric system here), are getting me a little ill. It is seriously like
some sort of amusement ride. Whee! BLLLLLAAARG! Jesus, it just doesn’t
stop. And, in western tradition, the endless ribbon of road stretches out
before you, except all you see is crest after crest of vomit inducing
road. Please, Poseidon, end this interminable sickness.

Okay, so earlier we went to Marionville. Marionville is a perfect small
little town. A tiny little center, and a little tiny post office. (I’d
like to note that we just turned left off of MO T, and somehow, despite
our 90 degree turn to the left, the road continues on it’s Six-Flagsian
crest and valley adventure. The chicken in my stomach has had about
enough. I just burped up Chicken Jimmy Hoffa, and he says they are about
to walk out). So, on with Marionville. Plenty of little cross-streets,
and a spattering of White Squirrel-themed adverts and businesses. Even
the Marionville Wellness Clinic has the stoic visage of a white squirrel.
I really wanted the “Heart of Fire” Baptist Church with a little squirrel
with a crown of thorns or something. I didn’t get it. Onto our squirrel
hunt. We drove around for about 1/2 hour looking for these little
buggers. We drove on South Street, Fiske, Washington, and North Streets.
The Middle School. The High School. Few squirrels to be found. Then –
squirrel strike! Damn, only a normal squirrel. We pose in front of
“White Squirrel Hollow”, which appears to be a bed and breakfast, or your
crazy old grandmothers house. Kelly poses in front of the sign. No
squirrels attack. Kelly notes that this looks like a town out of the X
Files. I remember that episode where people worship this little worm that
is their “god”, but lives in the neck of a sacrifical human. I really
wanted the mayor of the town to be chosen by the squirrels, and whomever
was “chosen” by these “squirrels” would be inhabited by no less than three
squirrels. Sort of giant-robot/Voltron/Gundam style. One listens (“the
information officer”), one speaks and drives (“the captain”) and the other
one keeps the heart beating (“the engineer”). A squirrelish mayor,
controlling the meek and scared townsfolk. Yeah.

So, back to the squirrel hunt. As we pulled up to the Middle School, we
struck white squirrel gold. Huzzah! Our search has not been in vain.
Kelly leaps from the car, a little too excitedly — the squirrel bolts,
and as much as you could imagine kelly “bolting”, she does. The squirrel,
treed, realizes it must escape to warn it’s white brethren. We snap a few
sasquatch-esque photos, and move on.

Driving along these little streets, it makes me pine for the days when i
lived in the sticks. Plenty of open spaces, well manicured lawns. Old
retirees on the porch, talking of the weather. Cursing the day when the
white squirrel overlords came to town. Too old to fight back. An old man
asks us for safe passage to anywhere but there. Eyeing our car he wonders
if it’s fast enough to evade the squirrels. “Fast enough for you — OLD
MAN! She made the escape from Voleville in 1/2 an hour!”

As we turned onto another street, off in the distance, I noticed a
smattering of white moving on a manicured lawn. Kelly — ready your
mount! Slowly, as if the squirrel doesn’t notice the huge black car
inching alongside, we roll up to the squirrel. With cat-like precision
and grace, Kelly stalks the squirrel. I snap photos from the waiting
getaway car. The squirrel, posing as if on the front cover of GQ, flashes
a little of the bling-bling servitude we’ve been clamoring for. An old
man, reminiscing his days of freedom, eyes Kelly with the scorn of years
of torment. The squirrel eludes our documentation by slipping through a
fence. We move on, digital and analog pictures in hand.

We decide to check out the rest of town, which really isn’t much. A
little tiny “downtown” is about all we get. Kelly points out that she is
a little disappointed with the squirrel population in Marionville. I
point out that it isn’t about the squirrels, never was, never will be.
The trek — the adventure of it all. Somehow, i’d much rather say that
i’ve been to Marionville than to St. Louis. Fewer people have experienced
Marionville. Not to be elitist, but living in a “city” for most of my
life has only made me appreciate the small towns all the more.

We stopped into the post office to mail some postcards. I love small-town
post offices. You’ve got to wonder if the guy behind the counter realizes
that we’re from out of town. “Hey there Miss Linda”. “Later Betty”.
“CITY SLICKERS!” Hee-hee. Sitting in front of the post office, i try to
think of it when it was built in 1962. How things must have changed. I’m
sure it was more bustling than it is now. There is a good little cluster
of buildings down-town, but they have dilapidated to the point of
crumbling. Old farms along the roads look as if they would fall down if
it weren’t for the ivy and moss growing on them. There are a lot of farms
out here, but none look to e all that active, this being spring and all.

We just hit 700 miles on our trip total — we may make it to OKC this
evening, which would put us ahead of our hastily writtten schedule.

Random sign: Have a Taco, Gringo!

3:42PM CST

Miami, OK – just inside the border, about 3 hours outside of Oklahoma
City.

A flat land, little cover. In fact, the cows here jostle for space under
or behind shade-bearing objects such as signs and trees. We whizz past a
sign noting that we are on the “auto-tour” of the Trail of Tears.
Somehow, i feel a little odd about that. Kelly notes: “We screwed them
over pretty good, didn’t we?” Yep.

11:41 CST

Whew. Lots of uploading of stuff tonight. We pulled into Oklahoma City
about 7PM or so, set up camp in a Travelodge and set out to forage for
food. After going the wrong way, and having to drive about 12 miles for a
mexican restaurant, we found Las Palomas — a tasty Mexican restaurant.
Good stuff, that. Looking forward to Amarillo and possibly Albuquerque
tomorrow. Gonna go see the OKC Murrow Building memorial tomorow, too.

After a restful night, off we go to the Arch, the gateway to western
expansion. The doorway to the massacre and oppresion of tribal and
indigenous people! we headed downtown from our suburbian enclave
hotel, zipping along i44 up to i70 to the downtown, all of which
took about 20 minutes or so in light traffic. So far, i’m loving
this town. It’s easy to navigate, and easy to drive. the weather
today was/is beautiful, a little chilly and windy, but the clouds in
the sky are rare. At first glance, relative to the buildings in
front of the arch, the arch it self doesn’t seem so impressive.
However, once you get down to it, the sheer beauty and
gravity-defying design of the structure really takes hold. It offers
a number of things when viewed — motion sickness, if viewed from
directly below, but mostly awe and wonder. Each direction, each
step to the left or the right seems to bend the arch to the eye.
Often, you can stand in its thin shadow, imagine it as some sort of
kubrickian monolith, the sun peeking out from the side.

The park surrounding the arch is sculpted, with two small fowl-laden
lakes on each side. and while it was indeed beautiful, it almost
seemed a little antiseptic. It lacked life — i half expected “keep
off the grass” signs. There were no people flying kites (today was
an excellent kite day), no people playing frisbee, no picknickers.
Oh well, it was pretty.

Underneath the arch is a museum, and the entrance to the tram rides
up to the top (which, at first, kelly feared). There was a bit of a
wait to pass through the security checkpoint. Now, i had heard of
extra “shoe security” since the Moo-saw-wee thing a while back, and
it was definitely here in full-force. if you “beeped” through the
metal detector, they immediately went to the shoes. Nevermind the
bomb-hat or the bomb-coat. Women with flat shoes on were even
asked. It was a little bizarre. Note to self: research bomb-hats.

We meandered through the museum and the shops there, and i noticed
that the exhibits were pretty Native American friendly, something
that put a smile on my face. Rather than the exhibits of old were
they were viewed as happy-go-lucky plainspeople embracing the
frontiersman, the disturbing anamatronic chief noted that “the words
on paper do not mean much”.

The tram ride — oh, the tram ride. as if being 630 feet in the air
wasn’t enough to scare most folks, the tram ride up — or, actually,
the tram cars were enough to freak you out. They fit five people,
and were completely white on the inside. And by fitting five, i
mean CRAMMING five. Heads bent, we squeezed through the
doggie-door-like entrances, and where whisked away, and up. bumped
heads were often observed, as the curved white surface left little
to the sense of depth-perception.
once atop the arch, it was like being inside a jumbo-jet. The
constant whir of air conditioning, and the occasional sway of the
arch. the east-side view was pretty unremarkable, as east st. louis
and cahokia are on the other side of the river.
east st. louis and cahokia are these bizzarre little industrial
towns, but without the industry. it’s like bombed-out dresden in a
lot of those cities, and one has to wonder why they are that way.
St. Louis is a pretty good sized city, and the other side of the
river looks like Hannibal’s elephants ran through it and had salted
the earth. Many pictures were taken, (see the gallery — i have
some neat panoramic photos), and in 3 minutes we were back on the
ground.

Walking to get something to eat, we passed by my main impetus for
coming to St. Louis, the National Coin-Op and Arcade Machine Museum,
which i had visited some 7 years ago. It was really neat at that
time, with plenty of old games and quarters to be had. now, however,
it is a vacant space open for rent. surprisingly, as i think it had
shut down about 5 years ago, the sign was still out front, and the
front counter was still installed. the entire Laclede Landing
(where that is situated) is like that — a bit depressed, but most
likely with lots of rent :(

We ate in a little food-court thingy, where a chatty chinese woman
wondered if i liked a lot of vegetables in my Chicken w/ garlic
sauce. I said “sure, why not”, and later wished that i had opted
for ALL vegetables and no chicken, as the chicken was less than
good. the $4.36 total should’ve tipped me off.

Then we headed back into town to the St. Louis Science Center.
Really quite neat. Lots of interactive exhibits, which mostly all
worked (yay!) Of course, lots of interesting arch-related ballyhoo,
including a foam “build your own arch”, which was way too tall for
small children. HAHAHA. Suckers. Part of the museum went over
the highway. It was neat. Also, it was free. Free==Good. Yay.

On our way back, kelly wanted to stop at the local shopping malls,
etc. “Sure” i said. So, we hit a store which i’ve never seen or
heard of before — perhaps you have, it’s called “target”. They
have a whole “target” theme. red and white. red and white. Whee.
Oh, kelly says they have Targets in louisville. Wha? Oh,
apparently we registered there for our wedding.

Now, onto the real meat of the story — World Market. Imagine Pier
One, except “cooler and cheaper” (according to kelly), and cheaper
and better. Why isn’t there one in Louisville? I don’t know, but
all i know is that there should be one. We got candles and presents
and such. It was good. Also, we went to the “Supermarket of
Shoes”. Remember Kelly’s “mmaaaaahhhhlll” mantra of last February’s
sojourn to Baltimore? Now, it’s “sshoooooo”. The Supermarket of
Shoes disappointed, tho, and Kelly was heard to say “it displeases
me greatly”. Ooh well.

For dinner, we tried to track down “Nachomamma”, which was a good
name for a tasty restaurant. Nachomamma! Nachomamma! Weeeeee! We
found Nachomamma, but mamma wasn’t home — being a sunday, it was
closed. No abra. So, instead we went to Steak n’ Shake, and were
greeted with a lovely time. Then! Well, we came back here, and are
currently watching Adult Swim (specifically: Sealab 2021 — which is
kicking my butt at the moment… hilarious)

tomorrow: Marionville, Illinois, disputed “mecca of albino
squirrels”, and on thru to Oklahoma City. Later, doods!

Driving to St. Louis — originally, we were to stop in Olney, Illinois,
the “Albino Squirrel” capital of the world, however
we decided to drive on through to St. Louis to get a room. The
soundtrack: Foo Fighters, “Foo Fighters”.

Rain, rain, rain most of the way. We made the trip in about 5 hours or so
(which includes checking into the hotel, stopping to eat, etc). However,
not before we stopped in Collinsville, Illinois, the home of the WORLDS
LARGEST CATSUP bottle. We got off the exit to Collinsville, and I
remembered that I didn’t get an address to the catsup bottle, but
considering it was the “WORLD’S LARGEST”, it couldn’t be that hard to
find. As we rounded a corner, i told Kelly “keep your eyes peeled for a
GIANT CATSUP BOTTLE!”, a lo, the heavens parted, and THAR SHE BLOWS! Right
in the middle of “downtown” is a big catsup bottle. Huge, and TANGY!
Pictures were taken.

Navigating St. Louis so far has proven quite easy. At least, easier than
Chicago, which was my first real “big city” driving experience. Chicago
is like some sort of horrible boot camp for driving. They might as well
have been firing live rounds over the highway, because the road itself
seemed to have bomb craters in it. If only the toll-booth operators
would have spit tobacco juice on your shoe and said “Looks like you need a
shine, son!”, but i digress.

We managed to make our way up to University City, to get a little dinner,
and just browse the “cool” section of town. At first, that “cool”
designation was called into question. Allow me to pontificate.

The main drag in University City is Delmar Street. We hit the main
section of University City, and saw this really neat looking building, and
I said “ooooh” and kelly said “aahhh”. And then we both went “ooooh” like
we just saw someone fall off a bike. Turns out, that “really cool”
building was a huge Church of Scientology! It was massive and
office-looking. In fact, the sign out front looked like the entrance to a
mini-mall, or at least an office park. Note to self: if your church looks
like there should be cubicles in it, or they are playing Muzak in hallways
– GET OUT. That goes for you, John Travolta.

Now, the “cool” was restored by the VERY NEXT BUILDING. The University
City City Hall was awesome. It was just a big, round cylinder. Weee! A
neo Hall of Justice.

Kelly wanted to checked out “Iron Age”, a piercing/tatoo shop. It was
quite awesome, the entire seciton of town was
quite neat. It was a little like downtown Charleston, tho’, I must admit
that Bardstown Rd. has it beat. Aaaanyway. Kelly got her nose pierced
again, and it took about 10 minutes in-the-door/out-the-door. Later, we
found the “Thai Country Cafe” – a little Thai restaurant. Wow. Finally,
an honest to goodness Thairestaurant. Kelly had the vegetarian pad-thai,
and the vegetarian spring rolls, and i had the Chicken Satay and the Yum
Gai (Thai Chicken Salad). Washed down with a Singha beer (Thai Budweiser,
i think). A cool little restaurant all done up like a Thai tea house or
somesuch.

After dinner (which was tasty and cheap), we walked on down the road
aways, and in only about a block, the hip part of town turned into the
“get accosted by homeless folks” area, and it lived up to its name. I
don’t remember the guys name, but he showed me his ID, and i guessed his
age at 50 (i was right on). His mother had apparently just died, yada
yada. I don’t mean to sound shallow, but when someone comes up to me with
a pre-planned speech, replete with props, it’s a little hard to believe.
I feel for the guy, but damn. I gave him $.50, and he was on his way. I
really hate that shit. Not that I hate homeless people, but I hate having
to brush people off like that. I’m sure he has seen some hard times, but
I’m not the one to pull him out of the gutter, and how is my dollar going
to do that? Yar.

Anyway, later on the ride home, we jammed to the new Wilco (“Yankee Hotel
Foxtrot”), and it rained and rained, so hard, in fact that the road looked
like it had waves in it. Sheet after sheet of rain. And despite all
that, it was ten times easier driving than on a sunny day in Chicago. So
far, so good.

Alrighty, off to see the sites ’round town — the National Coin-op and
Video Game Museum (does it still exist?!), the arch, the Anheuser Busch
Tour, the Kids Museum, etc. Tomorrow — checkout and on the way to
Oklahoma City (and Marionville, Illinois).

Gallery:
Honeymoon Day #1

What follows below (clicky on the MORE) is an AIM conversation I had Tuesday night with a mis-directed the Locust fan. Turns out, she’s 15. She likes Weezer, too, but anyway, I digress. At the same time I was having a conversation with Hunter and Najati. It all turned out pretty funny…

Read on for the full transcript

{more}

First off, yesterday was mine and Kelly’s “monthly anniversary”. We usually try to do something each 2nd of each month (as we “started going out” Oct 2, 1996). Holy shit. That’s a long goddamn time. Anyway, we try to go out and do something each 2nd of every month. We went to Ramsi’s Cafe and I had the 15 Bean Medley Soup. Kelly had some sort of stuffed pita thing. We went to Target (mini Bocce Ball set!) She makes me happy.

The second thing that makes me happy is this game called BridgeBuilder. It’s ludicrously simple to learn, and yet hard to master. Build a bridge on a grid-like background with little links. Then you “test” the bridge by running a small train over it. You can even view the stress on the individual links, and if that stress is too great, well, BLAMMO! You have a money limit, and the water you must trespass gets more and more complex. It’s too cool.

I’ve been working 10 and 11 hour days the last couple of days. It’s kickin’ me arse! But, considering I’ve been where I’ve been working for a little over a year, and this is the first big project I’ve seen to completion, I’m pretty happy.

As a kid, the “do nothing and get paid” job was the ultimate. However, you have to find something to do, else you go mad. Whether it is hefting a typewriter to stay in shape, digging a tunnel to freedom, or even plotting the deaths of your Viet Cong masters, you’ve gotta do what makes you happy, right? Right.

Chuck realizes that work is boring, hits the road to San Francisco, realizes that the Golden Gate bridge is the world’s longest tourist trap, and much more…

Peep it… Day 5 (Sunday, June 24, 2001)

{more}

–BEGIN TRANSMISSION–

Day 4

So I yet enter another day in the great state of California. I getting pretty fucking bored of the stuff at SLAC, I’ve learned about all that im allowed to learn, and we have to wait for Dr. Brown to finish his work and go to the meetings(the colloboration meeting started today) There is SP work for us to do, but with the three of us being proficient in doing it, all the work is done in les than an hour.

SP: Simulation Production, the use of Monte Carlo (MC, a better random-number generator) techiniques to create a simulated high energy event(s), then use intelligent processing to recreate it ‘inside’ a virtual detector. This data then can be run through a third process of data analysis to try to reconstruct the original creation. This reconstruction process is the same one as actually used on the real detector data, and it helps the colloboration to fine tune the different processes.

Ok, that is what I do in a nutshell, I don’t do the fine tuning, or anything other than oversee that the computers are working on the assigned tasks correctly, and then update the database for the completed simulations, of course, there are millions of events simulated….

So, anyway, after several hours of boredom, we headed off to the mall, then a few more hours of boredom, but finially we got everyone together and headed north on highway ONE to SAN FRANSISCO! (song in my head…. ‘san-fran–sisko’)

So, we drove into SF, really nice, really big, really hilly. WE drove on Lombard street, the guiness records most curviest street in the world, saw some other shit, and ended up on pier 39, which is a popular tourist attraction, basically a floating mall, really big too.

It seems that everything in Sunny California is bigger: roads, buildings, trees(redwoods), you name it.

We ate at a lovely Italian restaraunt on the pier, I had the prawns, and then checked out the mall. IT was a Sunday nite, and much had already closed.

But then we had a lovely drive across the bay bridge to treasure island, then across the other half of the bay bridge to Oakland(about 4 miles long I estimated a definite Long Ass Bridge, or a LAB). Then north thru Oakland, a not so pretty city, to the other side of the Golden Gate bridge, we drove south across the bay again into SSan F on the golden gate bridge, its really big!

Cost $3 goddamn dollars too, and they dont charge you till AFTER the ride, what a racket!

Long drive home, then passed out at 1.30 in the am.

Chuck