Best Excuse Ever

I haven't updated a whole lot recently. The reason being that the time I'd intended for blog writing got abducted by people that wanted me to do cool things with them. I figure the smarter move was to collect things to write about, rather than write about all the things I didn't do. So....... sorry?

Karen in LA took me on a blitzkrieg tour of the area, including trips to the Getty and Frank Lloyd Wright's Hollyhock House, tours of SpaceX (special thanks to Patrik for showing us around!) and Sweet! (there needs to be a shop across the hall called "Dude!"). A bunch of us went to see Oz at El Capitan in 3D - I don't know how Karen managed to get us front row balcony center tickets, and I don't care because they were worth it! Gelato, leftover Italian food, and beers fit into the mix too. She also has an inflatable mattress and a fondness for hosting people, so long as they've read Ben Franklin's works. Karen, thank you again.

From there I went to Los Osos (not LAS Osos, get it right, people) to meet my Uncle John. Uncle John lives in an oasis of plant life tucked into a little neighborhood, where he also does massage work. John doesn't have my dad's sense of humor, but he does have the gentle, tolerant affection for life in all its aspects, as well as his habit of swearing at the most surprising of times. Even through a late fog bank that shut down most of our sightseeing, I was amazed at how much the area reminded me of Falmouth. Both are coastal towns determined to stay as small and inviting as they can be, with family-owned businesses that everyone knows like family, and zero hesitation to give a guy a ride for no better reason than we're all in the mood for the same kind of food. We had thai from a place with a decent squash curry (pumpkins are orange, dammit!), good phad thai, and great beef salad. We're supposed to meet up again in September for my brother Evan's wedding, and I truly think we should meet at other times, too. My mom's going to love you, John!

A 12-hour drive from there and I was at my sister's Rory's place. She had homemade pasta and a wide selection of alcohols waiting for my weary mortal shell, and we fell asleep catching up on the few primetime comedy shows we think are actually funny. She is the bestest sister ever.

Today promises a lot of walking. As someone that drove all day yesterday, I do not mind this. My phone hoards its pictures so guardedly I'm calling it Troll now, so while you wait for the pictures, here's something funny I found on the intertubes.

See ya!

Days 6 through 9 - Owwwww

The past few days have been a whirlwind of new sights, locales, people, and smells. I never would have thought that there was a place that smelled like Vick's Vapo-Rub by nature, but I'd be wrong. Most of it's been great, but it's late at night and my legs want to rip themselves off my body and beat me without mercy, so I don't know how much I can trust to relay without harmful bias.

Like visiting Chandler, AZ. The Endres can put on a good spread for the travel-weary soul, the kids are uniquely accommodating (if somewhat insistent in other respects), and have been a joy to be around since I first knew them. But it hurts to have left.

I can report that when my friend Nathan says he knows a good place in San Diego - be it food place, scenic place, or place whose view will make one tremble with rage - he means it. He's the lovechild of GoogleMaps, Yelp, and Architectural Digest.

Weird details survive in my head when all reasonable thoughts have given up. The summit of the mountain range I drove through to get to San Diego was 4,121 feet above sea level. Can I tell you the name of said range? Nope. It was one of those mountains made mostly of rocks and boulders so large and broken that the only reason they could possibly have not fallen is that none of them want to be the first. It was pretty in the same way bears are pretty - gorgeous unless seeing it live and up close, then it's intimidating.

I remain without a working cable to hook my phone up, which is a shame since tonight I discovered two things: San Diego has some lovely skylines at night, and my phone's camera has a panoramic feature. When I finally do get that thing to work, I'm going to break the internet.

Sleep now.

Things I've Learned - Part 1

1) Heavy metal is dangerous driving music. People screaming loudly with crashing instruments sounds like a great way to keep a driver conscious, but it also pushes the gas pedal closer to the floor. Twenty minutes before I arrived at my first hotel, I switched to metal music. Ten minutes before I arrived at my first hotel, I was pulled over for speeding. Audio books make great road trip companions, on the other hand. A calm voice narrating a gripping tale or amusing story is just interesting enough to keep a mind active, but not distracting enough to affect driving.

2) Small children can hack past basic OS security. The only thing kids like better than playing with grown-ups is playing with grown-up toys. In certain cases, breaking the toy isn't the most damaging thing that can happen. Case in point,
Deep Thoughts, by Xander: "Once upon a time there was a world called birthday world every day it is your birthday. You can go to the bakery and make your own cakes. It was a really cool world. Shh don't tell any body Earth does not know. It was an ordinarily day on earth and a space ship was about to launch. The space ship was going out of earth to space. The person that was flying the spaceship named was Alex. He landed on birth day planet and he saw this little girl named Trillian. She was an orphan her parents are still alive looking for their little girl. Alex came up to Trillian and said "Where are your parents?" Trillian said she does not have any parents. Trillian looked sad at Alex. Alex said "We will find you parents.""
This has been Deep Thoughts, by Xander.
My laptop is highly coveted for being new to the house, and called "bad" because it lacks games. I'm just thankful the thing still works after he was done with it. This disturbs me because, for all the villainy Microsoft has been accused of, a ten-year-old could get around it and code SkyNet before the next season of My Little Pony starts. Uh oh-
Deep Thoughts, by Lily: "I like Ryan. Ryan is so so nice and so so funny. Ryan is cool. I think Ryan is the best. Now is the best thing ever. Ryan, Marsha is nice."
This has been Deep Thoughts, by Lily.
That was a six-year-old. Kids today are learning about as fast as velociraptors. My smartphone, on the other hand, has defeated every single kid in the house, and that uses pattern recognition. Simpler than the one advertised for Windows 8, but at least it keeps elementary school kids off my desktop.

Stretching isn't smart. It's vital. I've worked a lot of desk jobs, so I know how to get a full day's work done without getting out of a chair. There is a solar system of difference between sitting at a desk for hours at a stretch and sitting in a car seat, especially the driver's seat. With a desk, you can shift your weight, the position of your legs, and change the view in front of you all at the slightest whim. If you're driving and you try to do any of these things, several hundred pounds of metal and plastic moving at speeds no land animal can match react in ways that might send it it spinning into a mountain or off a cliff. No TPS report ever carried that much stress, so I avoid it however I can. This means fifteen minutes of stretching minimum before I start a big drive. Mostly leg stretches, but some push-ups and upper body stretching as well.

I hate waking up, my muscles hate it more, and stretching is like ripping the band-aid off: it gets the whole thing overwith fast. It doesn't prevent my muscles from getting travel sore, but it takes the worst out of it, allowing me to focus on not doing anything stupid while I'm directing over a million joules of kinetic energy. Because I'm nice like that.

Size does not matter. Since I've been at the Endre house, I've been cut, stomped on, threatened with stabbing and burning, and have acquired a collection of bruises and headaches. No, this isn't racial profiling or the local chapter of Fight Club. I'm being abused by children. A 23-month-old boy discovered the fun of the Flying Tackle, and takes special delight in smothering my head with his body. He's only 27 pounds of baby fat and manic smiles, so this is more fun than anything. His older sister, on the other hand, is fluent in two languages - sass and punches. 40+ pounds of sadistic muscle and detailed files on human anatomy, she's the one that has done actual damage. It's only slightly humbling that I'm getting my butt handed to me by people a fraction of my size, though, which proves another thing I've learned...

Beer helps everything. Want to break the ice? Ask strangers about the local breweries. Did the food you ordered not taste as good as it looked? Wash it down with a cold one. Are your muscles and/ or ego sore after hours upon hours of driving/ juvenile abuse? Beer not only numbs the pain, it also has carbs (and in some cases, citrus and other nutritious additives) that the body needs to heal.

Now I open the floor to you, gentle readers: What have you learned since Ryan left Indy? Has he made any observations or insights that brought new knowledge to your life? Any tips for future boarders on the proper care and treatment of Ryan? Leave a comment and share the wealth!

Day 4 & 5 - This Dust is Dusty

I noticed on the latest leg of driving that Texas has a lot of hills and mesas to look at on their interstates, while Arizona has more endless flat expanses. Fields of dusty nothing made more empty for the occasional plant. It gave me fresh insight into the kinds of madness that nested in the minds of early explorers and settlers that were out there too long - I had audiobooks and the ability to go 80mph over smooth highway and I felt a kinship to the Donner family.

Part of that may be from my decision to take this trip solo, I got a lot of flak for that. Sometimes, and by that I mean when I was working in a basement hole with no elbow room and three officemates, I get socially claustrophobic and just have to get away from people. It's in everyone's best interest. It's been so long since I've had the chance to do that that I've forgotten how much I enjoy bantering with people (that can banter back, at least), so hours upon hours of driving listening to Rene Auberjonois read from Lincoln & Child stirs my crazy pot in the other direction. Sometimes it's enough to trade problems if solving them isn't possible right away.

Gretchen gave me some rosemary-flavored WASA crackers for the trip, and they've been great finger food during the trip. I love me my gluten, but I don't miss it here. I'm told a little butter or something to cut the dryness is great, but I don't have the means to do that while I'm on the road, so I bear with it. When I made it to Carlsbad, NM, I had some Mexican food in one of the only restaurants open on Monday nights after 7pm, which made me reconsider how much of a nap town Indianapolis actually is. It was forgettable, so I forgot the name of it.

That night I crashed (not literally, relax) at the Great Western Inn, which looks like something out of a Jack Reacher novel. The place was mostly clean, though the desk and end table had a thick layer of dust all laid out for me.

The next morning I set out early to go to Carslbad Caverns. It made me over an hour late arriving in Chandler, AZ, but it was so worth it. I'm still a bit too travel-lagged to describe it justly without pictures, and I can't provide pictures because SOMEBODY (Verizon) made the cord on their charger recharge-only, not the power/ data cable I'm used to. Some might say, "But Ryan, surely you had tested and known this cord behaved in such a way, having had it for months already?" To those observant people, I say with all respect and friendliness, "Shut up."

When I do regain the ability to pull pictures off of my phone, rest assured, the internet will know. Oh yes. It will know.

The Endres welcomed me into their home last night with all the refinement and energy of a heavy metal concert. It was kind of sweet. I think I will repay their kindness by showering sometime soon.

Day 3 - They Don't Think Small in Texas

Before I forget, I have to give a shout-out to Gretchen. In the time I've been hanging out with her and Jim, she's taught me three new tricks with WordPress and smartphones. I've probably spent hours today just messing around with them. Vacation time well spent.

Today we went to the Beer Can House. This gets kind of deep, so let me explain: it is a house. It is coated with beer cans. With me?

John Milkovisch retired from Southern Pacific Railroad and puttered in his workshop. He spent three decades and change cutting up cans (some self-made, some donated), flattening them, and attaching them to his own home. He made a sign that says "Bad Cat" on it to counter the "Bad Dog" sign a neighbor put up to dissuade tourists, neither of them having pets. He turned his leftover concrete into garden art. Why? Because he was bored. I may have a new hero.

Afterward we went to Goode's Texas Bar-B-Q, which was some of the best I've ever had. I had brisket with sausage, all with a sweet and delayed-spicy sauce, and the most delicious chocolate pie every created. I think someone found a way to make chocolate bars and the clouds over sugar factories breed.

At 5 PM local time, I got to watch Jim run our weekly Dresden Files game. He doesn't use anything that he can't get through his laptop, so either he's overclocking that thing into the grave, or he does a lot of the detail-heavy GM work in his head. Since I'm still in his house, he's sitting right next to me, and he's one of those quietly intelligent people, I'm ready to say it's the latter.

We're watching dumb movies on network cable right now, closing up the night before an early start tomorrow: he to his regular job, me to a nine-hour road trip to Carlsbad, NM.

Day 2 - Texas, or "Duuuuude!..... ranch"

I woke up early Saturday so I could get breakfast before heading to the nearest police station. See, ten minutes before I got to my hotel Friday night, I was pulled over for speeding. I was keeping with traffic, but was sporting out-of-state plates, so obviously I was a danger to society. I was looking the ticket over trying to reconcile an unexpected expense with getting basically free hotel stays when I noticed there was no amount written on the ticket, just a date when I was supposed to appear in court. It took the officer five pieces of evidence to believe that I knew who I was, what I was driving, where it came from, and where I was going, yet the idea that I am not an Arkansas regular missed him.

The funny thing was when I got to the police station early on a bracing Saturday, an assured and friendly local trooper took one look at my ticket and uttered "Ugh, Staties." Short version: I should be able to leave the state without a federal man-hunt, so I could move on.

On my walk to the station, I passed by the county Admin building and nearly fell off the sidewalk. See, unless I'm wrong, the local paragon of state governance is Liberace.

If anyone knows who this is and why they're dressed like Khan from Star Trek II, let me know please!

A shower later, I was on the road for Houston. Google's first idea was to take me on a dozen toll roads. My first idea was to throw the phone out a window. We compromised. The route I ultimately took sent me down a lot of smaller state roads which added about an hour to my travel time, but it was worth it. I must have passed by a dozen ranches, with herds grazing and prominent stars and brand symbols everywhere. Again, I did not pull over to take pictures because I figure ranchers have guns and like privacy, and I like not being threatened or shot. I'm not being fair - everyone I've actually interacted with in Texas has been very friendly.

Especially Gretchen and Jim! After GoogleMaps sent me on a wrong turn at the very last minute, I finally made it to Casa del Plassard. Gretchen met me outside at the gate, I drove her to the community trash dumpster, and I entered the house. They had a room and bathroom set up just for me, their cats were friendly, and I wasn't there five minutes before there was a beer in my hand. The empanadas didn't turn out that great, but they were experimental anyway - the salad and the spinach&artichoke dip were marvelous! The evening ended with Two Towers on AMC and Red Dragon Inn on the table. I give this establishment 4.5 out of 5 stars!

This morning started with bacon, and we plan on visiting a house made out of beer cans. Gonna be a good day.

Arkansas, or "Whelp, I'm in the South"

Day 1 of my cross-country trip has already been eventful.

It began with a quick stop at my grandparents' - Hi Grandma and Grandpa! - during which I expressed that a few tea bags might not hurt for the trip and they give me a bag with enough provisions to cover the entire trip. Really should have seen that one coming.

The drive itself was mostly boring. Nine hours, give or take, of road without much to see. Until I crossed the border into Arkansas.

I don't know where I was when I saw it - the scenery had blended together, all I knew was that Tina Fey was talking about how uncomfortable it was knowing that Sarah Palin was going to sneak up on her. Describing it won't do it justice, but it's the best I've got: Picture Jesus looking at white text that reads "Are you going in the wrong direction? I specialize in U-Turns." Took me a second to read that fully, and in doing so I was no prepared for the follow-up text: "IsHeInYou?.com"

I almost pulled over to get a picture, but it occurred to me that the type of place that puts up a billboard like that is probably the type of place where the locals would beat up visitors that took pictures of their billboards. I switched to the slow lane and started tapping my phone so that I could call out when I had to get back in the fast lane very suddenly. See, a dining room table had flown off someone's car and he'd stopped to salvage it. Not a truck, not a van, a car no bigger than mine. Lost a dining room table.

When I do get into the slow lane and do find a working number, I find myself behind a flatbed truck (no tables) with a huge "God Bless America" sticker on it and what appeared to be a machine gun mounted on top. It turned out to be a heavy-duty winch, but it was enough to complete the trifecta - I had entered the South.

Later on, in one ten-mile stretch, I saw one billboard for an "adult superstore" and two billboards with Bible quotes against extramarital relations. I honestly don't know if these two concepts are contradictory or not.

To say I'm travel-lagged at this point is an understatement. But I made it this far at least.

Had a calzone and a few beers at a place a short walk from my hotel called Vino's. Hipster pizza joint, but they do good pizza and beer. We'll see how the hotel works out, I guess.

Tune in tomorrow when I regale you with the Tale of the Incomplete Speeding Ticket and (hopefully) arrive in Houston!