There Is No Arizona...

The song lied, there is an Arizona…and it’s fucking BORING!!! Oh my god we drove for hours and saw nothing. At first it was cool, we drove over the Hoover Dam, took the appropriate pictures and made the obligatory “dam” jokes. Homeland Security stopped us before they let us across, apparently trying to drive a pickup truck with a bed full of mystery-tarp covered stuff over a national landmark is suspicious! There were some really pretty rock formations, but after a while it as just as boring as flat country. Then it did get flat, and I missed the rocks.

We had lunch in this little mountain town Williams, AZ. We were driving around looking for cheap gas (and subsequently pissing off Tom Tom who wanted us back on the freeway. That mouthy little thing is starting to get annoying.) We found a nameless mom and pop station with super cheap gas. It was so tiny there weren’t any numbers on the pumps, we didn’t understand how it worked…the mechanic had to come outside and to explain it to us. You pump the gas then go inside to pay for what you took. He looked at us like we were retards, I was just amazed at the naïve system. I was tempted to fill up and take off to teach them a lesson about the world-but Chris pointed out it was a good thing these types of trusting people still exist today.

The gas station guys were nice, all old-timey and helpful. They asked where we were headed and stuff. I told them we were hoping to stay in Albuquerque for the night.

The oldest guy snorted, “Albuquerque? Hell that’s a seven hour trip. You kids would get in too late to make the hotel room worthwhile!” He then suggested we stay in Gallup, NM instead. It was closer so we’d have a better chance of making the most of the hotel apparently.

It got so cold! I didn’t know it got so cold in Arizona. On some parts of the freeway there was snow on the shoulder. Snow! In Arizona! The sunset was gorgeous, but it led to even lower temperatures. By the time we got to Gallup we were exhausted and my cold had gotten worse. We pulled into this place called the Olympic Cafe for dinner-boasting Greek! Italian! Mexican! They were all shitty.

The hotel was fine, just like any other truck stop Travelodge. Our plan was just to go to bed and get up early tomorrow. But after we showered we were both totally re-energized so we drove around for a while trying to find a bar or something. Chris was hell bent on finding a strip club, we even grabbed some local newspapers for help. No stripper ads, but there was an interesting article on whether or not your pets will be allowed into Heaven (apparently the writer has forgotten in 1989 it was determined that all dogs do in fact go to heaven.)

I think the town is just too small for such adult entertainment; we drove through the whole place in like 10 minutes. I did see a building with a sign exclaiming “dancing nightly.” But when we drove closer it looked pretty deserted, plus there were two bullet holes I the glass door. The light was on inside though, so who know what was going on. Probably meth.

All That Glitters

Got to see the strip today, it was awesome. Paris and New York New York were my favorites because they looked like little cities inside-it was pretty much like Disneyland for drunken adults. Ironically, the only homeless we saw in the whole city was inside of New York New York. He approached us and asked for change while we were eating at a pizza place on fake 5th avenue. For a brief moment I wondered if the hotel hired him for authenticity.

I be broke so I only played the penny slots, but I won $75! Chris put his foot down and wouldn’t let me keep playing; he said I should stop while I was ahead. Which makes sense, but he had to drag me out of there kicking and screaming. Turns out I have an addictive personality-who knew?!

It was good that we left. Besides the fact that I probably would’ve lost all my winnings and more at the Marilyn Monroe slot machines, the constant haze of tobacco was aggravating my sinuses. My body picked a really shitty time to get infected. After spending seven hours inhaling tons of smoke (both first and secondhand) and guzzling free cocktails on an empty stomach, I was pretty out of t. The blinking lights were threatening to give me an epileptic episode and it was time to go home. So ended my Vegas experience. I was too sick to go out and party tonight, even though we got comp tickets to Coyote Ugly and I really wanted to go. As Chris says I have an innate need to party, so I was pretty bummed we couldn’t live it up. I even tried to tempt him by offering to hit up a strip club, but thank God he’s the adult in the relationship. :)

Oh well, we gotta hit the road early tomorrow anyway. We’ll be driving through Arizona and into uncharted territory-New Mexico. I keep saying we have to take a left at Albuquerque, Chris just looks at me like I’m crazy and says that will lead us up north. Ha!

Vegas Baby!

So I’ve decided that when I die and (fingers-crossed) go to Heaven, I hope it’s like Vegas. Chris and I spent two hours tonight just chilling next to each other; smoking, drinking and watching our money go up and down. Which actually isn’t that different from our normal loves except we could smoke inside and drinks were free.

I will admit I was a bit disappointed though. We arrived after five hours of driving, Chris’ mom and aunt wanted to take us to a casino for dinner and some nightcap gambling since it was my first time in Sin City. So I go and get all dressed up, rocking the new edgy hair, heels and cleavage…I’m in Vegas, I’ve got showgirls and hookers to compete with. But my effort was for naught when we walked into Santa Fe Station…a local’s casino.

Off the beaten path, far from the glitz and glamour of the strip lies the local’s casino. This is the most depressing place on the planet, made for the Las Vegas citizens who want to keep their gambling habits much more shameful and quiet than the tourists. They have these frequent player cards, as you watch your money float away you rack up points. You can then redeem these points for toasters or waffle irons or any number of small kitchen appliances. I don’t know why appliances are the prize of choice, maybe because the public has to keep selling their own to pay off gambling debts.

But man was the people watching fantastic. Mullets as far as the eye can see, my favorite of the evening was the brown mullet complete with bleached blonde tail down to his butt. Every type of white trash stereotype was represented- all of them chain smoking. The only two expressions I saw on anybody’s face were pissed-off or blank. Night after night amidst the blinking lights must have fried their brains.

Prepare for Madness

It’s less than 24 hours before we start the big epic road trip. I can’t begin to describe how I’m thrilled I am-finally traveling with Chris! I’m excited about the trip itself too of course: Vegas, Nashville, Graceland. And discovering dozens of little slices of Americana along the way- I eat that shit up. But six whole days alone with Chris is the best part. After and estrogen fueled month here in Huntington Beach with my mom and sister it’s time to reconnect as adults. We’ve had nothing but holding hands and chaste kisses, banished to separate rooms for propriety’s sake. But now…haha!! We’ve got six days and nights of hotels and uninterrupted alone time. It’s gonna be strumtrulescent!

I’m freaking out too. I feel completely unprepared for this whole thing. Moving to Pennsylvania of course, that scares me so much I’m not even thinking about it. But the trip itself seems like such a major undertaking that up til now I’ve been laughing off. I didn’t want to plan a course or make hotel reservations or even decide ahead of time how long we would even be on the road. I wanted to be very free-spirited about the whole thing. Chris of course is the exact opposite; he wanted to plan every minute of every day.

Our biggest compromise so far was buying the Tom Tom GPS. Even though I think it’s cheating and certainly lacks the romantic connotations of a map, it’s pretty nice not to worry about getting lost in the middle of Nebraska or something.

But yea, now I can’t believe we’re leaving tomorrow with pretty much no plan of attack. I hate when he lets me win even though I’m so obviously wrong. So…let’s hope my bohemian ideals and Kerouac fantasies don’t get us killed in the Midwest.