Wandering thanks

Almost every year, my immediate family spends Thanksgiving in the North Carolina mountains. My aunt and uncle have owned a cabin up there for years (they, like my parents, live in Florida), and they like my family to go up for Thanksgiving to air it out and clean it up before they come up for Christmas. We love it because it was usually the only time of year we could really see fall colors (sometimes) and every once in a while, it would snow!! This is super-exciting for a Florida family, and we spent a lot of time building snowpeople and sledding and throwing snowballs.

The best story to come from this, though, is a lot funnier in retrospect than it was at the time. On Thanksgiving day several years ago, before we put the turkey in the oven but after breakfast, we decided to go on a mid-morning hike. Not long after we started up the gravel road, we all agreed that we were pretty tough and adventurous and capable (a sudden infusion of mountain air can do strange things to otherwise sane people), and we decided to instead to climb straight up one of the mountains to see what was on the other side. This was no towering peak, so when we scrambled up and saw what was there, we felt unchallenged enough to climb up the next hill. I can't remember how long this went on before one of us finally stopped and noticed that we'd all lost track of which direction we'd come from.

While my family does go camping sometimes, we are expressly not hunters. I don't think there's ever been a gun in my house. In fact, I pretty much grew up equating guns with TV murderers (which I don't think is probably a bad thing, but that's another topic). So we were all getting a little nervous when we started hearing the ricocheting echoes of gun shots. My dad assured us people were just out hunting turkeys (my brother and I had seen more than enough cartoons to find this reasonable), but then we started hearing some turkeys gobbling nearby and moved away from them quickly. Later, we came across an old hunting shed with a few wooden benches, no locks, and bullet holes in the windows. I thought for sure there would be a dead body, but luckily there wasn't.

This went on for several more hours until finally we stumbled into an open pasture sloping down into a farm (farmers often don't put fences on the higher side of their farms in that area because the animals don't go up to far and what kind of crazy people would be wandering down from up there?). We passed a few cows, who ignored us, some dogs (my mom swore they were wolves, but I think they were dogs since they were in the farm and not eating things) who followed us suspiciously, then a pig pen with a sow suckling a whole litter of piglets. Eventually, and somehow without getting shot at by the farm's owner, we found the house trailer, complete with a deer strung up from a tree out front, bleeding out. I don't think any of us had EVER seen something like that deer: back feet tied at the ankles to a thick tree branch, both snout and front hooves reaching for the ground, bright white stomach, eyes open, blood dripping slowly off the nose. Ick. My mom stayed with my brother and me in the front while my dad knocked on the door to ask directions back to our cabin.

Following the directions along the road, we found we were still quite a few miles from where we had started. We were exhausted and hungry, but we followed the driveway back down to the hard road, hobbled along it for at least another hour, then turned up our gravel drive for another 30 minutes or so right up the side of the mountain.

All told, I think the whole "walk" was about 4 or 5 hours. As soon as we got home we collapsed in exhaustion for a while, then got up to make Thanksgiving dinner! There weren't very many leftovers.

This year, we have a new place to visit! The aunt and uncle who own the cabin we usually stay in bought the land across the gravel road and built a few houses with one of their contractor friends who lives year-round farther up the mountain. My parents bought one and I think it just finished construction, so this year we'll be staying in the new cabin. Eventually, my aunt and uncle want to tear down their small, comfortable cabin and build a big one to retire in (there's talk about donating it to the fire department to use as a practice house, but we'll see). We've had a lot of fun memories in that cabin, and it will be hard to give up. But I guess all traditions fade away eventually. For example, now when we take pre-dinner hikes, we try to stick to the roads.

Are We There Yet?!

When I first read the topic, the only road trip I could think of were the ones I took with my family, but those were long ago, and I couldn't remember much. Never fear - I thought about all the other trips I've taken. I, like Jane, have travelled quite a bit (though not nearly as much as she). Anyway, I've had quite a few mishaps, so go get some snacks, maybe use the bathroom, and then get comfortable, because this might take awhile.

The first one is the only one that can truly be classified as a road trip. It wasn't very far - just from Orlando to Miami, but my god. Little hint: taking a road trip with people you don't know very well isn't always the best way to start out. It was me, my roommate Lindsey, and Chris and Nathan from College Dems. This was during the governor's race before this last one - Lindsey had pulled some strings and we were going down to volunteer at a McBride event that Bill Clinton was supposed to come to, and on the way we were to stop and volunteer for some local campaign in Ft. Lauderdale. We get to Ft. Lauderdale and call the campaign manager to get directions - we follow them best we can and still can't find the place, so we called her back and she had left a major street out of the directions! Ok - so we get to the headquarters and they gave us shirts to wear. The guys took them and went to change, while Linds and I declined, and when they came out the manager, after giving us the fliers and assignment, said "Oh be sure to bring those back - we have to wash them so other volunteers can wear them". Communal shirts - fun. Then it turned out the neighborhood she sent us to had signs up all over the place saying "No Soliciting", so we did a few houses anyways, said "Fuck it" and went and grabbed lunch.

After lunch we headed to Miami. (Keep in mind I drove and Chris and Lindsey babbled about everything under the sun THE WHOLE TIME). We got to South Beach, kinda got the runaround, but finally found the woman organizing the event, who said that the volunteer passes weren't ready yet, and anyways they were clearing the area to have a team come and search for bombs and whatnot. So we stood off to the side, and this is when Nathan starts talking about bombs and Chris was giving him the death stare until he finally yelled "Will you shut up? I don't want to get kicked out because you keep talking about this shit!". Needless to say, that put Nathan in his place for awhile. So we go up to the woman again, and she doesn't recognize us - it's only been 10 minutes - and they still don't have the passes. Once we finally see someone give them to her, we swooped in, got the passes, and went inside. Once inside, we were still pretty pissed because the woman was pretty snotty, so when she came around looking for volunteers, we hid the passes and avoided eye contact. The rally was cool, and I got to shake Bill Clinton's hand. The way home was more of the same - constant chatter that was beginning to drive me crazy, not to mention it was like midnight and I was delirious.(I made everyone get out and take a pic at Yeehaw Junction - if I hadn't met Bill Clinton, that would've been the higlight of the day.) Coming back into Orlando there was construction, and we went about 2 miles in 1/2 hour. By the end of the night, morning by this point actually, I wished I had a gun, so I could shoot everyone in the car and then kill myself.

I guess I'm going chronological, so the second story is from Switzerland. I was there about this time last year visiting Caitlin, and one of the first days I was there we ventured over to French Switzerland - Gruyeres, Lausanne. The night before Caitlin, Sean, Sean's roommate Tavis and I got pretty drunk, so Caitlin was hungover and a bit grumpy the next day. Anyways, we went to the HR Gieger museum (which was really quite pornographic and disturbing - I can only imagine what Caitlin's friend Emma thought about me), and then went to Lausanne where we were to meet this guy Aidan and have dinner with him. We were waiting for him at the train station, when I decided to go look at the vending machine. (They don't have separate ones like we do - Pepsi, Coke, Lance - it's called Selectall, and you can get condoms, cigarettes, sodas, gum - all from the same machine). We we're gathered around this machine, when this guy about our age (and not bad looking from what I remember) comes up and starts babbling in german. Everyone else was ignoring him, so once he went away I was like "WTF?", Caitlin goes - "Oh he said something about the beast - the end of the world coming" or something like that, and then "You don't think about young people being crazy". I said that it was my fault, that I attract random, and usually crazy people. (As is evidence constantly at the library). Aidan finally came, and we started out trek up what I dubbed "The Hill of Doom" It was about a mile up this steep hill, and it being my second day in the country, almost killed me - but we had a nice dinner, and upon out trek down, Emma and Sean got ahead, leaving Caitlin and I lagging. We were talking, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone keeping pace with us. I continued conversing, and said something like "Yeah, cool", which my shadow decided to echo, (My shadow turning out to be a 6'5" skinny black guy) He said "You speak English". Yes. "I love English!". He proceeded to tell us about how he wanted to come to the US and teach African dance (he was from Africa) - we shook him off at the bottom of the hill by saying we were going in the opposite direction.

The next day we were walking down the Hill of Doom (no - we did NOT walk up again earlier), when a car came down the road, everyone went to the right, and I went left because I was closer to that side of the road. Well apparently some guy thought this was the perfect time to chat me up, however there was a bit of a language barrier. I speak french, but it's a whole different ballgame when it's with a native speaker. He asked if I spoke german, I asked if he spoke english, so we were kinda stuck with french, but he was undeterred. I finally communicated that I was from the US, and he asked me which one, I said Florida, and he had no idea where that was. I figure that if anything most foreigners would know New York, California, Texas, and Florida. Finallly Caitlin came up to pull me away, and he saw I was with other people and backed off. She turned to Sean and said "You can't leave her alone like that! Random people just come up and talk to her." I guess I look really friendly or something - stupid library made me personable. It wasn't really a problem once we were back in the german speaking part, except when 2 girls literally chased me down to ask about my Jack Skellington bag. They were going on and on, and Caitlin just stood there, but after a minute jumped in once she remembered I don't speak german. Caitlin and I also got pretty drunk in a nice restaurant in Paris, and later, my last night in Switzerland, I got to try absinthe. Good trip.

The final bit is about New York. I wish I could say something spectacular happened within the last 24 hrs, but nothing really has. Laurie and I met some of her friends for drinks last night, and ths morning at 3 am she left for a meeting in Denver. My original plan for today was to try to get airtime on the Today show - I had the perfect sign to get attention - "I just flew in from FL last night, and today my friend abandoned me". As it was, I slept in til about 9, didn't leave her apartment til 10:30, so I just went to the Guggenheim and Natural History Museum (whose Mineral Hall kicks the butt of the one we went to in Paris, Caitlin). Ah, but the people here. On my way into Manhattan this morning, the guy behind me picked his nose for like 5 minutes, and then fell asleep standing up. (I caught all this in the reflection of the window - I got from out in front of him ASAP.) On my way through Central Park, I was looking at a map, when a woman came up and offered to help me with directions - thank god she did - I don't know that I would've come out where I wanted to if she hadn't. I guess that's the most interesting thing so far. I'm tired, my feet hurt, and I'm sick of typing now.

P.S. My apologies if the spelling or typing is atrocious - I'm on a laptop, which I'm not used to, and I can't get the spellcheck to work.

There and back again

[There's some weirdness going on with who is posting when over here, but as it's already Friday here in Korea, I'm going to go ahead and post. Also, I don't have anything nearly as funny as Glenn - or funny at all, really - but here you go.]

I do a lot of traveling. A lot, a lot, a lot of traveling. That being said, I haven’t really done all that much in terms of traveling inside the US, and I’ve only ever (in my adult life at least) taken two trips that would qualify as road trips.

The first was in March of 2003, when I drove from Lake City, Florida to San Diego, CA in order to start a new job. I purchased a new car in order to make the drive, knowing full well that my beloved 1979 Volvo would undoubtedly leave me stranded somewhere in the midst of that netherworld that is Texas. I literally brought my car home from the dealer one day and set off into the sunset the next.

My route took me from Lake City to New Orleans, where I stayed with a good friend from college. That was the highpoint of the trip. From there I drove on to San Antonio. No, I didn’t have time to see the Alamo; all I saw was the inside of a Day’s Inn. The next day brought a long, desolate stretch of near scenery-less interstate between San Antonio and El Paso. I think I may have started to lose it a little bit during this leg. I remember listening to America’s A Horse With No Name over and over and over, thinking of my car as my horse… After my night in El Paso, I drove across both New Mexico and Arizona, and spent the night in Yuma, AZ, on the California border. The next morning I drove the final two hours to San Diego.

I spent the next six days living in a hostel in Ocean Beach while looking for an apartment. I moved in to my new place on day seven and started my new job on day eight. One hell of a two week stretch, that.

In June of 2005, I left my position in San Diego in order to move to Russia – but before leaving the country, I needed to get all my junk (excluding furniture, which I simply gave away) to my mom’s new house in Waycross, GA. I was not looking forward to making the long trek back, and I was simply dreading Texas. At least the other states along the way have some scenery. In the end, however, it turned out that my trip back East couldn’t have been more different.

My then boyfriend traveled with me, and we came up with a fantastic itinerary and route, which even managed to bypass the bulk of Texas. We started by heading for the Grand Canyon, where we camped for two nights. From there we drove to Taos, NM and then on to Oklahoma City, OK. After that, we met up with one of his friends in Memphis, where we paid our respects to The King. Then we headed for Sewanee, my alma mater, to visit with my former professors, and on the way we stopped for a tour of the Jack Daniels distillery. After leaving Sewanee, we headed down to Waycross, where we unloaded my car, and then made our way to St. Augustine, FL, where we spent our final few days before he flew home. It was an absolutely fabulous vacation, although sadly, memories of it have been somewhat marred by the subsequent end of that relationship. (Thanks a lot, Glenn, for choosing this topic. Now I’m going to go sit in the corner and sulk.) But on the plus side, I did take a lot of interesting pictures, which you can check out by clicking here.

Road Trip

On Wednesday I will be leaving to drive from Houston to Atlanta (Hotlanta, or the ATL as kids may call it these days) with a few friends of mine. We're going for some big lame writing conference, ostensibly, but really to hang out and get away from Houston. Well, that's why I'm going anyway.

Of course, some people may ask "Glenn, this is the 21st century. You should be taking a plane." To that I would say "That's not actually a question." And then I would say I'm terrified of flying, which everybody knows already. But I love driving, and I love extended, long driving trips. There's a great feeling to be in a car in the middle of nowhere, and imagining what living a life in the towns you drive through would be like. Back before gas was a eight dollars a tablespoon I used to just drive to random towns near wherever I lived, just as a way to relax.

In order to make this more than just about road trips, maybe this week's topic is anecdotes of road trips you've been on, vacations you've been on, or perhaps you can write about the attitude we Americans have about having to be able to drive anywhere. (Sorry, but no matter what topic I pick here, somebody will hate it).

Anyway, I'm in a rush, so I'll just list a few of my personal road trip highlights of the past.

1 - In 2003, my friend Dimitri and I decided to road trip from Orlando to Illinois. No big deal, except we decided to start driving at 10 pm for some reason. It was fine until about 5 or so, when we got past Atlanta. I started getting really tired and drifting off, so we decided to pull off at this crazy, nowhere gas station. At this gas station, hovering around the lights, were about twenty gigantic moths (if you put your open hands next to each other that's probably the size of their wingspan), with really intricately shaped wings of bright colors. I couldn't believe they were real. Added to our exhaustion, it was really surreal. I looked them up, and I think they were luna moths.

2 - In 2004 I was going to Illinois again, this time with my friend Dauro. We stopped at a rest area in Alabama and its bathroom had the most hilarious graffiti I have ever seen. It went pretty much exactly like this, with each line being a different person's handwriting:
-I hate raceists
-you dumb asshole, you spelled racist wrong
-Actually, racism in America has been proven to exist on all sides, and to largely be influenced by the economic class of the person demonstrating racist tendencies.
-EAT SHIT

3 - Well, this story is also from Dimitri and my trip in 2003. We were driving back from Chicago at night to stop at my parents' place, and I look up in my rear view mirror to see a huge bright cross barreling down on us. It turns out this trucker had rigged a lightset on his grill in the shape of a cross. It was pretty terrifying.

I'll leave it at three stories for now. Everybody knows my Houston hooker story, so I won't tell that again. Also, I have a lot of work to be doing right now. So, road trip stories, vacay stories, hooray!