Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Arizona Vacation, Finale

Every day in Phoenix was 95 without a cloud in the sky; couldn’t have asked for better weather. Surprisingly some of the guests who were there the previous week said it was cloudy and rainy. If it wasn’t for their pasty white skin I wouldn’t have believed them.

The last day, Friday, I sat in the shade looking at real estate guides the Renter had picked up. Now, I don’t know how the neighborhood system goes in Phoenix and the surrounding areas, but I found quite a few 2,000 sq ft homes for $170,000 or less, sometimes even as low as $135,000. Again, I don’t know the neighborhoods, the one for $135K was probably in crack cocaine alley. At least the women would be cheap there…

Again, it was hot and sunny on Friday. I left Milwaukee with a pretty decent tan from sitting outside watching the Brewer’s games from the TV in my kitchen window. However, when sitting outside on my deck I like to wear a tank top so my neighbors don’t have to witness the “beer holder” in all its pride and glory. (I lift weights, lots of weights, but I also drink beer, lots of beer. I figure if you do something well you should do it as often as possible – just my motto.) By Friday my shoulders and stomach were pretty red, the shoulders actually starting to peal a little. So I sat in the shade, read the USA Today, and browsed through all the housing guides. I had told the Renter that I’d sit in the sun with her but I just couldn’t take any more sun. Apparently she didn’t take this too well. I caught hell for sitting in the shade, calling my mom, and trying to post on the blog (I don’t think that one went through, though). If figured there’d be at least one blow up and was actually surprised she made it till Friday to get pissed about me for something. I know she sits awake at night thinking of stuff to start an argument. By Friday afternoon, when she had big spots of “skin” on her shoulders and chest that were in fact void of “skin”, only then did she wish that she had sat in the shade, too.

Friday night we ate at the main restaurant at the hotel. Now let me remind you I got a good deal on the hotel, $88 a night after taxes and all that crap. It normally goes for double that. The prices at the restaurant reflected, of course, the higher price. I saw, listed as an appetizer, something called mozzarella and tomato. After drinking all day I envisioned this as mozzarella sticks with some form of a tomato on the side. What I got was a couple slabs of mozzarella and a raw tomato. $10 I could have used to buy a gallon of lube for a whole year’s worth of self pleasure – gone. Ok, maybe just three months…

The previous night we ate at an Italian place that was supposed to be reasonably priced and very tasty. I was thinking something like the Olive Garden. I walked in, shorts and Brewer t-shirt, only to find people with shirts and ties and evening dresses on. I was drunk, I didn’t care. I ordered a clam appetizer that wouldn’t have even filled up my eight pound dog. Whatever I ordered for the main dish, I don’t even remember what it was, the menu made no mention of mushrooms or the fact that the entire plate would be covered in them. Before the waitress had left the table the Renter and I were swapping plates. She asked if she had made a mistake and we explained no, everything was ok and we’d just change plates, no big deal. I guess in Arizona “reasonably priced” means dinner for two for $70. I stuck my hand down my pants and rubbed it around a bit before shaking the concierge’s hand thanking him for suggesting the restaurant.

Saturday we left the hotel at 8:30 am, 10:30 according to the central time displayed on the Renter’s car. Funny thing is, I wasn’t even surprised when it read 12:30 and the Renter said she’d had enough of driving. We stopped and got a couple foot long subs, ate half, and continued on our way. I think we ate the second halves around 6:00. That was all I had to eat on Saturday besides some beef jerky. I drove till 2:00 in the morning. For those of you who still have trouble telling time, that’s 13 hours of driving. The Renter took over and by 5:00 in the morning she was complaining of being stiff and sore. Yeah, don’t ask me how the 13-to-3 driving ratio works out, just one of those things you have to deal with being a man I guess. I got her to stick it out till 6:00 and we stopped at a rest area. Now, mind you I didn’t sleep while she drove. Even if I had tried to the occasional – during every turn – steering wheel jerk to one side or the other would have certainly woken me up. Actually, during the last hour that she drove I found myself more tense than when I was driving and had to take some deep breathes and make a conscious effort to relax my shoulders and arms. I cleaned my contacts at the rest area and instead of taking a nap I decided to continue the trip. I stopped at a gas station for gas and some coffee and told the Renter to take a nap. She cleaned out the back seat and wasn’t heard from again for four hours. By the time she woke up I was going on 24 hours without sleep. I made it till 1:00 pm, just outside of Springfield, Illinois, when I couldn’t do it any more. My contacts were getting blurry from not taking them out and I think the lack of any real food drained me. The gps on my phone said there were 300 miles left, just over four hours of driving. By the time there were 200 miles left someone was flexing her hands and stretching her back. I know women are supposed to be the weaker sex but we’re talking about driving a car here. My 20 hours driving (in two sittings) compared to her 8 hours driving (in three sittings) means I drove 2.5 times more than she did (to this point, 3:00 pm Sunday). But I knew this point would happen so I was prepared. Sitting in the passenger seat I took off my shoes and socks, which by this point were also 2.5 times as smelly as they usually are. They stunk. They smelled up the whole car. I tried to hold a bottle of water between my heals and the bottle took on the same smell. The Renter threw my socks out the window and threatened to throw my shoes out, too. Don’t worry, I still have my shoes, and the Renter’s car still smells like feet.

(People, I should say women, always give me looks when I use the term “woman driver.” But I assure you there is such a thing. The knob next to us tried to merge over without looking. I could have reached out my hand and tapped on his window. “Was that my fault?” “Woman driver” will live on forever, trust me.)

Over the 30.5 hour trip I tried making mental notes to myself (about half of which I remember). The worst state by far was New Mexico. There’s nothing “new” about New Mexico. From what I saw from the interstate they should have named it “Where old cars go to die.” I saw cars, trucks, school buses, all rotting away in people’s back yards. And by back yard I mean the desert area surrounding what could only be called a shanty. I’m assuming they had electricity because I saw numerous satellite dishes but I’d bet the farm on no running water. Have you ever seen someone walking or riding a bike on the side of the freeway? Common practice in New Mexico. Even at night, which is kind of freaky because you’ll be driving along and all of a sudden your headlights will pick up some dude walking four feet off to the side. Illuminated in your headlights they look like zombies. Not cool for someone who doesn’t like dead people movies.

The second worst state was Missouri, especially so on the trip back. You go from the flat roads in New Mexico and Oklahoma where you have long stretches doing 70 mph without a hill in sight. Missouri is nothing but hills. I turned off the cruise control because the engine would try it’s hardest to keep pace but it was a losing battle. I didn’t speed at all on the trip except for Missouri and that was only to gain momentum at the bottom of a hill so I could make it to the top without losing too much speed. I had God on my side so I wasn’t too worried – they had to have had a church every five miles along the freeway.

Downtown St. Louis sucks, too. This time I was driving so we didn’t go skidding across multiple lanes of traffic sideways but it was still nerve wracking with their narrow lanes, six lanes of traffic, and 50 mph limit that nobody paid attention to. At least the Brewers are currently on top of the Cardinals and Mr. Juicehead Pujols.

Got back to Milwaukee about 5:30 pm. I unloaded the car and popped open a beer. I was able to sit outside and enjoy the weather for 30 minutes before I had to go in and get a sweatshirt. I had been pretty much topless for the previous six days so that was kind of depressing. Even worse, as we started to get hungry we found out the corner bar is now closed on Sundays for the summer. Double bummer. Nice welcome back to the real world.

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