Utah to Las Vegas

We ditched the Grand Canyon. When we were what should have been just five hours away, we found that it would have taken us eight and a half to get there. We spent the night in the middle of nowhere in Utah in an effort to get to the Canyon. Utah seems to be some kind of time warp where 1 mile is really three and 1 hour is and hour and a quarter. We realized we were going to go all the way to the Canyon, look at it for 20 minutes, and then have to drive another hour to the closest, overpriced hotel.  So we pulled a hard right and spent two nights in Vegas.

Leaving Denver, we drove through Aspen before dropping down into Utah. I loved the snow-capped mountains and the christmas trees. It was a chilly 34˚ driving through the area and in fact, it snowed for a full minute and then we were pelted with hail. It was exciting to us hot weather gals. "Mattie, we need chains for our tires!"

We stopped for lunch in a little cafe that was run by 14 year old girls. Our waitress had to be in the ninth grade and the girl running food is most definitely still learning her state capitals. They were all very sweet but it was strange and perhaps even a bit illegal. We left chilly Colorado for the hot and dry of Utah. This was an very interesting change of scenery. The big red rocks looked fake. The mountains looked like paper and they're not kidding, there really is no shade. It seemed like we drove through Utah forever but it was so different and pretty that we stopped at every scenic point and even bought bracelets from a Native American woman on the side of the highway.

As one might expect, the farther south we went the hotter it got. We stripped a layer with every hundred miles. We arrived in Las Vegas about 3:00 in the afternoon. It was 104˚. We were both very tired but I hadn't slept well in days so we both sacked out in our lush, pillowy beds and woke up around diner time. We walked around our hotel and Mattie tried her luck a the penny slot machines. It was around midnight that Eric showed up. Eric is a friend from France who divides his time between a number of exotic locales while he photographs beautiful people for magazines. Eric stole us away from our hotel and drove us all over Las Vegas. He showed us the original Strip, the famous wedding chapels, and of course let us take pictures in front of the 'Welcome to Las Vegas' sign. He walked us around until we could take no more and then brought us to IHOP for a way-too-early breakfast.

The next day reached a hulking 106˚. It was way too hot for me to go outside so Mattie ventured out for a while and I literally stayed in bed until 7:30 at night. I got out for a quick lunch and several bathroom breaks. I realize it seems like a waste of Vegas but A) I've been before, which allows me to know B) Vegas is not my kind of place. After a full week of driving, laying in a cloud for hours was wonderful but gosh y'all, I still can't sleep. That night we went to a Cirque du Soleil show and were so so impressed by those performers. It made me acutely aware of my fitness level. That's all I'll say about that.

We slept-in the next morning to savor the wonder and then packed our things and set off. As a whole, were excited to be out west but Vegas in particular put a damper on our funding. Not only was gas $4.21 but everything is so outrageously priced. A bottle of water cost $3.50. It's the desert! They should be handing the stuff out. They should encourage the drunks to drink water. I could rant about Vegas for ages but who cares? We had fun. It's the best people watching around. I'm happy to not only be back on a coast but also to be closer to more life. I loved the lush plains of those middle states and the red rocky desert conjures images of old western films and wild horses but I feel a sense of relief to be bit closer to other humans.

Denver

The drive from Kansas to Colorado was lovely. Kansas continued to be a healthy looking state and we anxiously awaited the sight of mountains when we crossed the Colorado border. I have no real points of note from this drive. Mattie and I have fallen into the swing of riding the car all day and until that frightening storm showed up, we just sat listening to tunes.

We were so excited to make it to Denver and see little Kelsey. This is the same Kelsey from Greece and our Caribbean cruise two years ago. We met her boyfriend and her new puppy and then promptly spent the evening snuggled up on the sofa watching tv. We ordered pizza, dough balls, and mac n' cheese and put ourselves into a sleepy carb coma. Mattie and I shared an L-shaped sofa and I didn’t sleep a wink.

Kelsey lives about 20 minutes outside of Denver so we spent our day running errands and telling old Greece stories. We did venture into downtown Denver that night to attend someone’s graduation party. It was really a party for family, but Kelsey is an old friend of the graduate and so brought us with her to this family reunion. Mattie and I tried our best to blend in and stay out of the way. It wasn’t until I rummaged through Mattie’s purse and found a pamphlet for stretches you should do on long road trips, that I lost my composure. The drawings got me so tickled that I caused a mini-scene and blew our cover. My tearful giggling prompted Mattie’s giggles and there we sat, two deranged strangers, whimpering on the back porch. “We’re friends of Kelsey’s.” we told curious bystanders.

We ventured deep into downtown Denver that night and while the city looked very exciting it was jam packed full of people. It was kind of awful. Mattie and I both found it rather stressful and also, to us southern gals, it was really cold. We wore jeans and sweaters but passed girls in booty shorts and tube tops. There were people everywhere and crowds have infuriated me since I was a wee littlin’. We eventually came home and sacked out on our L-bed. We got up promptly at 8:30 and hopped on I-70 west, headed for the Grand Canyon.

Life on the Road

Mattie and I average about eight hours of driving each day. There is a morning and an afternoon driving shift and we rotate driving each one. Despite road trips being the definition of freedom and carelessness, it's actually a rather stressful gig when you factor in weather, traffic, gas prices, and other deranged drivers. Initially, my goal each day was to just get to each destination. We would be safe there. I relaxed when we finally made it to Nashville and was at ease in Jeanette's homely living room. I was secretly anxious about getting back on the road each morning and found myself wondering if perhaps I'm just not a road trip kind of person.

In Salina I left the hotel room to grab a charger from my car and I shared the elevator with an Asian man. I got a strange vibe from the man who said nothing to me but stared at my knees and then my feet. He looked up at my face and then back down at my knees. I looked down at my feet. Nothing odd there. I looked up at him. He was blatantly grinning at my wrinkly, bulbous knees. It was a frustrating, tiny tipping point for me. I thought to myself, "Why am I doing this? Why am I in this tiny box with a creepy, grinning Asian man?"

Mattie and I admitted to each other that we get anxious and unsure at night, once we're settled somewhere until morning. We feel better knowing we're both this way. As we've gotten used to things, I now find that I'm ready to get back on the road each morning. Stopping in people's homes for the night is more stressful to me now. I want to get out of their hair and back into my car. In a strange artsy way of thinking, the road is our only constant and as I was saying about my false independence, I realized I need a constant to feel safe.

On a less thoughtful note, let me tell you what I've learned about Mattie.

Mattie snores. Mattie survies entirely off of the sustenance provided by chain restaurants. She's a grazer, eating little bits here and there, and throwing away a lot of food. Each time I stop for gas, Mattie disappears and comes back with a milkshake or a packet of french fries. She does not like to linger in a place after she's finished eating and I've noticed that as soon as we get wherever were going; a gas station, restaurant, or someone's house, she jumps out of the car the minute it stops rolling and just goes right on inside. I sit, gathering my things and putting away my keys to find that I'm all alone in a parking lot.

Despite her hasty abandonings, I'm so happy she's with me. Mattie drives the scary mountains for me and a few days ago we were surely going to die in a tornado. As soon as we crossed from Kansas into Colorado, the sky turned a greenish purple and a wall of lighting danced in the distance. I called our friend in Denver. "Kelsey! What do we do?"
Even Mattie, my rock, was whimpering as we drove towards the storm. There was no rain and no thunder. Neighboring cars plowed towards the mess with casual faces while Mattie and I looked for places to park and run. "We'll hide under that bridge." Mattie suggested. "How about the ditch?" I added. Kelsey had no reassuring words, insisting that the weather said there would be light thunderstorms. Perhaps it was the miles of open land, but we had never seen a storm look like this.

Clearly we made it through unscathed and laughed riotously to relive the tension. As our scariest encounter to date, I feel good about our road partnership. Mattie drove near-confidentally through the storm and we arrived in Denver to an 85˚ and sunny day. 

Our temperaments towards road living have also lightened since we began. We started off aware of each of our highway exits and which lanes we belonged in. We watched the GPS as we got closer to our turns and both verbally announced all road signs to ensure that the driver was ready. Wrong turns were stressful, tense matters and missing an exit was a shameful event. Now we hop on highways in the general direction we'd like and bother with finding our exits later. Missed turns are a minor and mostly ignored inevitability and now, it's up to the driver to read the signs. Should the passenger become uncomfortable, one simply lets out an uneasy grunt, and the driver will slow the car or pull into the slow lane, or "loser lane" as Ellen calls it.

I've found I enjoy driving in the "zippy quick" lane as it makes me feel like a pack leader. The Alpha Dog. In real life I'm never an alpha but on the road... I'm Jackie Chan.

Salina

During our initial planning process, Mattie and I decided we needed a stop between Little Rock and Lincoln, Nebraska. I looked at a map and found Salina, a town I have only ever heard of in an Avett Brothers song. "Mattie! The Avetts have been there, maybe!"
Turns out it was perfectly centered between our two stops and upon further research, we found there was a lavender farm in Salina. It's a secret dream of mine to get married on a lavender farm. In reality, I would never do this. It would have to be a perfectly lush farm, during harvest, and I don't really even care for the scent of lavender. I just think it would look so lovely in the evening.

Mattie agreed on Salina and we set off from Little Rock. The stretch of land between Tulsa and Wichita is the most unexpectedly pretty drive. It's not dry, flat land like they make it seem. It's rolling green hills and miles of healthy corn fields. There were hardly any cars on the road with us, giving me my first sense of open-roaded freedom and giving Mattie a chance to take a nap.

We made it to Salina around dinner time and spent our evening emailing and grooming- the things that fall by the wayside when living life on the road. We stayed in a cheap hotel next to a burger joint full of some of the fattest people I've ever seen. This prompted thorough research on the fattest US states and we were both shocked to not find Kansas on the list. As Mattie and I sauntered into the restaurant in our dresses and kicky sandals, every head turned to watch us go by. "Think we stand out?" Mattie asked. We sat politely, keeping to ourselves and gawking at the bigginses.

The king bed Mattie and I shared was the most comfortable thing since leaving home. We woke up refreshed and set out to discover Salina. "Downtown" Salina looks like a revamped version of the little western strip towns where cowboys had their duels. We ventured to a coffee shop only to discover that they not only were out of coffee but that the power was out in the whole town. In addition to this obstacle, the lavender farm I was so excited about is open to visitors by appointment only. Salina was a bust but we loved Kansas. It's big and peaceful and we loved stopping to play with cows on the backroads as we headed west to Denver.

Little Rock

Hours in the car leads to lots of unbridled thinking. I've already had a few interesting realizations regarding people, life, and my own independence- (it's an act I realized). Mattie is a great companion for a trip like this one. We don't have to talk constantly, we're both laid-back, and she laughs at my jokes to help maintain my ego.

We left Nashville at 9:00 and happily bounded through Arkansas. I've always had mental picture of Arkansas that was a flat, dry, dark yellow place with a few boulders and a lone tree. Well! It's brilliantly green with hints of gold. And it all looks beautiful against it's pale blue skies. We were embarrassingly thrilled by the wavy golden wheat fields. The clouds cast shadows on the open plains creating a rainbow of dark greens and bright yellows. I loved it and instantly felt at peace. There's something calming about open space.

For lunch we stopped in Memphis. We didn't stay long or wander far but we chose a dark little pub to grab some salads before we got back on the road. This pub was like a giant wind tunnel. To start with, it was freezing but there was this giant metal vent in the back of the space and it blew a fierce wind straight on through to the front door. Our hair blew back into our faces and when the waitress set down our menus they drifted sideways into the bartenders workspace. The strangest part was that no one seemed phased by this. All paper products in the room were anchored down and hair tied into tight buns. Part of my salad even blew off of my fork. I'd never eaten in a windy restaurant before. I don't see it catching on.

Once back on the trail, we found ourselves at a dead stop on the highway. Never had we seen so many trucks on the road and they all backed up at a construction site. We sat for thirty minutes before embracing our adventure and ditching the highway in favor of the backroads. I'm so glad we did this. The scenery was beautiful and we listened to Laurie Hon's playlist of twangy driving tunes as we rounded field after field of rainbows. We drove through a tiny town of 300 and also pulled over to take pictures of the wheat. People honked and sneered at us, humored to see two girls from the south so excited to see grains.

We made it to Little Rock around dinner time and we stayed with the grandparents of Mattie's friend Beth. Beth was cute as a button and her Grandpa was very sweet. But that Grandma. I fell in love. She was so small and giggly and kept telling us how proud she is of us. "I would never have the nerve!" she said about our cross-country trek. "Or the independence!" she added. She reminded me of Mom. A tiny, older Mom and I wished I could bring her with us.

Beth gave us a tour and a brief history of Little Rock. The place looks like North Carolina. Isn't that strange? Woodsy neighborhoods up in hills and a humble but vibrant downtown framed by old, crumbling buildings. During dinner Beth talked and talked about life in Arkansas. She has a funny way of telling stories. She's so southern I guess. Her expressions and observations. It's that southern gossip with good intentions. "Bless her heart."
I thought about faces and what they see and I realized that life is life everywhere you go.
Mull that over.

 The next morning sweet little Jeanette fixed us an impromptu Grandma breakfast of orange juice, grapes, and coffee cake before giving us both hugs and sending us on our way.