I have just left LA and am driving to Santa Fe. The drive is just over twelve hours-- a feat which I think easy to manage...
After a ten minute talk on the phone with my mother during which I tell her of my plan to sleep in my car once I am tired, she reservs a motel room eight hours out of LA in Holbrook, Arizona.
-------------------------
Later that day...
I am constantly searching the radio for any sign of football. Being a close friend to diehard Patriots fans, I can't help but feel a sense of New England obsession-- through osmosis, of course.
As I cross into Arizona, I realize that the radio is overflowing with evangelical programming and a sudden switch from anti-gun to pro-gun political banter.
And here I am just wanting to listen to the fucking Pats game.
-------------------
Kingman, AZ
That evening...
I pull over in a small, terrifying town to watch the Patriots play. Hell, if my mom is making me stop halfway to sleep, I might as well give up on drivin' like there's a rush.
A slow iPhone search and I find the only sports bar in town, The Timeout Tavern.
After parking, I pull the Obama magnet off my car-- for safety.
As I walk from my car to the door of the bar, a very intoxicated teenage girl walks behind me. No. She stomps at my heels. That's what she is doing. The door prior to the entrance of the bar is to a local head shop. The girl stops there and gives the door a hard yank. It is closed. In a fit of rage, she started asking, in a very exasperated tone, "Are ya fuckin' KIDDING me?!"
This clearly isn't a joke, however, and I speed-walk into the bar.
A few moments later and I go out to check my car. It was fine. Just being safe.
I take a seat inside the bar and am relieved to see that the Patriots are just kicking off. Within 30 seconds I am pissed off because the bar is apparently full of Ravens fans. The bar in Arizona.
The single bartender on duty is a drunken old woman who the other staff and patrons refer to as, "Babe." Her tagline for the evening? "I'm going for the world record for longest line of dirty dishes." The bartop, needless to say, is lined with dirty glasses and plates.
This being a classy joint, I order a Budweiser and Nachos (the kind you get at a t-ball game or shitty movie theater).
By halftime, my ears are so full of Raven loving Arizonan (sp?) banter that I decide to give up on watching the game and hit the road.
----------------
That night...
The sun is setting at my back as I head east on I-40. Looking in the rear-view mirror, I see one of the most gorgeous sights of my life and decide to pull over to take a photograph.
Getting out of my car on the side of the highway, I see a small hill made of rocks from which I might get a better view. The rocks are covered in a thin layer of snow and there is a barbed-wire fence keeping me off of them. With ease, I jump the fence and begin my ascension.
From the top of the top of the rocks, the view is gorgeous:
As you can tell from the photograph, however, it is starting to get dark and I am standing on a large hill of icy rocks on the side of the highway with no way down but over a barbed-wire fence. It was easier when I could see. Eventually, after a few falls and one moment during which I thought I was going to die, I reach to bottom of the rocks-- covered in mud and snow.
I hop back in my car and drive the last bit of the road to Holbrook, where my mom has procured me a lovely motel room. I call her to apologize for my previous hostility.
----------------------
Holbrook, AZ
Later that night...
As I enter Holbrook, one mile out from the motel, I notice blue lights in my mirror. Assuming that it is a cop pulling someone else over, I continue shouting Bob Dylan lyrics. Eventually, a siren overtakes the music and I realizes that I am the one being pulled over.
In a typical panic-slam-on-my-brakes manner, I safely pull over to the side of the road.
After a minute of waiting, a police office comes to my passenger side window. He kindly informs me that one of my headlights has gone out and that he thought I would like to know. After kindly wishing me well and confirming that he wasn't pulling me over for anything other than a very neighborly act of making sure I was safe, I was back on the road-- counting my blessings for meeting the only sane person in Arizona.
I reach my hotel and barricade myself inside with all of the belongings in my car, which I have painstakingly brought inside the motel room, just for safe keeping. Just being safe.
No comments:
Post a Comment