Cross-Country Odyssey - Days 2, 3, 4
I left my hotel in Pittsburgh at about 10AM on Friday. The itinerary was fairly straightforward: I was meeting a friend from the Bendis board for lunch in Ohio for an hour or two, and I was hoping to make it to Milwaukee by 9 or 10. Naturally, things didn’t quite work out that way.
The hotel in Pittsburgh claimed to have wireless internet, but it didn’t actually work. I had actually called the tech support for the thing, but after sitting on hold for about half an hour, I decided that there must be an easier way. So I called my girlfriend and sent her to Mapquest. In hindsight, I probably should have realized that sending a Canadian who’s never actually driven a car to find me driving directions maybe wasn’t the best idea.
Actually though, as much as I cursed both her and Mapquest, it turns out that my difficulties were (big shocker) almost completely self induced. Had I given Amanda more precise instructions, I would have found my online pal in 5 minutes instead of the 2 hours it ended up taking. Instead, I zigged where I should have zagged and received, as a result, a fairly comprehensive tour of what I imagine all of Ohio looks like. (Hint: the same run-down, depressing, post-Industrial wasteland motif that’s worked so well for Pennsylvania all these years.)
Eventually though, I did meet up with The Human Target (aka “Ben,” but real-life names are so boring). We had a pleasant lunch at a deli that we arrived at using the “random turning” method of driving, then he showed me the titular falls of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio (see picture). Very nice.
He also bought lunch for a cute valet chick at the hotel where I met him. I’d like to think he earned a couple of karma points for himself with this, but we may have inadvertently squandered them when she asked us to take our picture. So Ben, if you’re not getting laid on my account, all I can offer is my apology. She was no good for you anyway, man.
I got back on the road, and pointed the car toward Milwaukee. Checkers rode in the passenger seat the entire way, and was finally starting to adjust to the whole business. She even settled into a somewhat comfortable position and slept for awhile. I know the trip might not be the most fun thing in the world for her, but her beagle nose is being treated to all sorts of new smells, and so far she hasn’t pooped in my ashtray or anything. So I got that goin’ for me. Which is nice.
Milwaukee is a bit further out of my way than I had originally thought (2-3 hours, including a trip through the entirety of Chicago), but this was definitely worth it. TIP (Tony) and Jim are among my best online friends. They, along with a few others, really got me through some rough times last summer. And I probably would have gone even further out of my way had this meeting required it.
As I approached Milwaukee, I felt a very strange sense of dread creeping into my mind. Apparently I’d had a recent nightmare involving driving (gee, I wonder where that imagery came from). The dream involved being on a narrow road at night, surrounded on all sides by water. The road I was on was itself going into water, and the long line of fast-moving traffic behind me prevented me stopping or turning around. It doesn’t sound especially terrifying to describe it, but you know how it is with dreams: you sometimes just get those intangible feelings of dread or terror and you don’t know what to do with them.
So if you don’t already know this (I didn’t), take a look at Chicago and Milwaukee on a map. One of them is at the bottom of one of the Great Lakes. The other is a bit further along its shore. So I was driving, at night, along a lot of water with not much else around me. Yay, terror!
The terror was quickly replaced with irritation (which is sort of my default setting, sad to say) as I discovered that the exit I was supposed to be taking was, in fact, closed. I dutifully followed a detour, but ended up way on the other side of the city where I didn’t belong. I tried again, only to discover that the second exit I needed apparently didn’t exist. My Mapquest directions told me to get off at exit 1B. The exits went from 1E to 1D to 1A, then to 300.
Eventually (after 2 hours or so of driving in circles — I believe I may hold some kind of record for being lost in the most American cities) I managed to locate the hotel that Jim had recommended. Exhausted, I lumbered into the lobby and confirmed my reservation. And, being as paranoid about Murphy’s Law as so many years of traveling has made me, I asked if pets were allowed. “Oh no, sir,” said the lady behind the counter, just as nice as could be. “I’m terribly sorry.”
This was not her fault. In fact, she had even asked me how big my pet was, hinting at the fact that, if I were to slip past her with it in my jacket, she might accidentally be looking the other way when I did. When I was younger, I would have almost certainly taken it out on her. But I’m not that guy anymore. Now I just internalize it, which is just gradually subtracting weeks and months from my life expectancy. But I’ll let Elderly AAl worry about that. Or perhaps Middle Aged AAl if I keep traveling.
I called Jeanette (Jim’s girlfriend, also another good friend) and explained to her what was going on. She guided me to Jim’s apartment, and assured me that the situation would be resolved.
I met Jim outside some kind of frozen custard stand, and after a quick walk, took Checkers inside. Jim and I are both what I would call “pet-centric pussies,” so the meeting of his new cat and my dog was a major highlight of the trip. And, like one of those parents who traps you in a corner with a wallet full of fold-out pictures of their children, I shall now force you to witness the epic meeting of Superstar and Checkers.
Jim and Jeanette found me a place on the opposite site of town. Jim implied that it was a shady place in a bad neighborhood, but as amazing a host as he was, I’m gonna have to call him an idiot on this point. It was half the price of the original place I’d booked. They had free wireless internet, and they let me have Checkers. My car seemed safe enough from break-ins and such (thank god; my “dogs playing poker” painting is in there), and there was room enough to walk the dog when necessary. Also, they had a fantastic “all you can eat” porn option on their TV.
Jim was in the lobby with me as I checked in. The guy behind the counter asked how many beds I needed (which is code for “are you sleeping together?”). Sensing this, Jim defensively said “we’re not together,” adding “I have a girlfriend,” and then “I can show you pictures!” The guy didn’t really seem to care, but I had to play along. “Why are you ashamed of our love, Jim?” I asked.
I slept in that next morning (alone), which was much needed. A local foraging netted me some shitty donuts, but at least I was well-rested and fed. I got caught up on my b–g (I refuse to use that word, god damn it), and bided my time until the last member of our party arrived. TIP got in at about three, and after introducing everyone to me and the dog, we (minus the dog) headed out for our night on the town.
Again we come to a point where I had a great time, but there’s nothing especially to speak of. Because it wasn’t a disaster, you see, and therefore it’s not funny. I spent a great evening with some fantastic people (we were later joined by fellow Bendis boarder and indie comics creator Brian Defferding) and his girlfriend. (I backspaced over a number of adjectives — all synonyms for “hot” as I typed that sentence, just so you know.) Drinks were consumed (though not by me; I’m off the sauce for the moment), jokes were made, alliances were formed. It was fun. And, as I say, therefore boring.
I stayed up talking to everyone till something like 3 in the morning. I say “something like” because this whole crossing time zones thing is really fucking with my inner clock. I realize it shouldn’t be that big a deal to just subtract an hour as I proceed west, but it’s a bit more complicated for me. Consider this: most of my friends live in a magical glowing box on my desk. Gav lives in Ireland (+5). Jim and TIP live in the midwest (-1). Amanda lives in Vancouver (-3). So my social life, such as it is, involves a fair amount of math. It’s become pretty second-nature for me at this stage, knowing the time at any one of the homes of my closest electronic pals. Only now, I’m having to compensate for the traveling, and I’m completely lost.
However, one thing that has remained crystal clear is the feeling of three hours of sleep. That’s the same no matter where you go, and that’s what I had Saturday night/Sunday morning. Nevertheless, after an IHOP breakfast (with an extended coffee-sipping epilogue), I managed to make good time on the road that day. I surprised myself with this, because, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I am a complete wuss when it comes to sleep. Or, more precisely, I get cranky when I don’t sleep enough. I expected I’d make it maybe out of Wisconsin before pussying out, but somehow I managed to make my goal.
I stopped to check out the Mighty Mississipp’ as I crossed the Wisconsin/Minnesota line. And while I realize the pictures don’t look especially impressive, the stop made an impact on me. It wasn’t really the water so much as the symbolic significance of the river itself — the dividing line between the east side and the west side. I was now leaving the area of the country I had called home for all of my 31 years and crossing into an area I’d never been before.
Yeah, Checkers wasn’t impressed either.
About an hour later, I passed signs for the Spam museum in Austin, MN. That would have been right up my alley, but I suspected that they probably weren’t open at 7PM on a Sunday evening. Sad, really.
I did, as I mentioned, make it to my goal: Mitchell, South Dakota, home of the Corn Palace. I wasn’t quite sure what the Corn Palace was supposed to be, but it sounded exactly like the sort of cheese I enjoyed seeing when I traveled. Unfortunately, as I discovered the next morning, the Corn Palace was not actually all that impressive.
A few things about the Corn Palace:
1. The web cam, which I had hoped to goofily wave to all my computer friends with, is not actually ON apparently.
2. Despite seasonal warnings that it was closed till May, it was open. There’s just nothing to it. The outside of it is the whole thing. Inside is just pictures of what the place looked like each year of its history (they change it every year apparently), arranged around the walls like pictures at your grandparents’ house. There’s also a very small civic arena in the center of it — about the size of my high school’s gym. But they seem to get names that I’ve heard of to play there, so maybe this is a mid-sized venue in this part of the country. (LeAnn Rimes is due in next week.)
3. You’d think the “palace” would be out on its own someplace. It’s actually just another building along a street in this town. Right next to “city hall,” actually, which may have formerly been The Gap.
4. It’s fucking COLD in South Dakota. Maybe colder than I’ve ever experienced. And I like it chilly.
I hit the road at about 11AM, and I only made it about three hours. (200 miles, most of which was being covered at about 40MPH thanks to the Hoth-like blizzard conditions across South Dakota.) 18 wheelers were pulling over (those that weren’t insisting on barrelling by me at top speeds) and I could literally not see beyond about 2 car lengths ahead, much less the road itself. I was, at least, vindicated by the hotel lady and another local standing in the lobby, both of whom agreed this was a particularly terrible storm even by South Dakota standards. So I stopped at Wall, which I had initially decided against.
Wall, South Dakota is home of Wall Drug, which I had heard is pretty much the “South of the Border” of the midwest. For the uninitiated: South of the Border is a tourist trap of the worst kind, nestled just south of the North Carolina/South Carolina border (get it?). It’s vaguely Mexican themed, with lots of junk shops and nothing actually useful, entertaining or in any way impressive. But their advertising is fucking genius. Billboards begin at Maine and Florida and dot the landscape for the entirety of the east coast’s highway 95.
And Wall Drug was no different. Apparently, according to the literature I picked up there, Wall Drug had been your typical small-town drugstore in the 30s. It actually wasn’t doing so well, until the proprietor’s wife decided to start posting signs offering free ice water to travelers. The signs multiplied over the years, and Wall Drug became some sort of legendary blah blah blah…
Yeah, junk shop. Wacky t-shirts, walnuts with googly eyes, and so on. I got a burger there, and it was vaguely reminiscent of the ones I got in my high school cafeteria. That’s the second time a South Dakota landmark has reminded me of high school. I swear to christ, if I see my old English teacher, Mr. Bach, on Mount Rushmore, I’m going to cry.
So that brings me to the present. I’m writing this from a hotel room in Wall, waiting for the snow to pass. It’s actually stopped falling, but the mile drive to Wall Drug showed me roads that only a luge competitor would love. It’s getting dark, which not only means icier roads, but also a reduction in my overall driving ability. So, needless to say, I’m in for the night.
I still have about 1200 miles ahead of me, and I have no idea when the snow will clear (the lady at the front desk said noon tomorrow). I was planning on getting to Seattle before the end of the business day tomorrow, but there’s no way now. We’ll see what happens, I suppose. Always an adventure.