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The Great American Road Trip - 12 - Salt Lake City, Part 2

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 27 2012 · 60 views

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We got up a little later today and, seeing that the Salt Lake Bees, the Triple-A affiliate of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, were in town, we decided that we'd see the game. They were playing against the Las Vegas 51s, so named for Area 51 ... two states away, on the other side of New Mexico. (I suppose the name "Las Vegas Gamblers" doesn't afford the same ring.)

I can see why the Angels are struggling this year, as the Bees failed to hit or play god defense. In one instance, the 51s were up by one run with runners on the corners and one out. The Bees picked the guy off of first, throwing down to second to get him out ... allowing the running on third to score. Apparently the entire infield was unaware that, in baseball, you have to be able to count. Their first baseman also dropped some throws, and overall their play was so poor that my dad nearly started pulling for the 51s.

However, the game took a back seat to the fans. One heavyset and balding Red Sox fan had a beer in his hand, and his dog sipped on it a bit. The man, not wishing to give up any of his beer, then began drinking out of it after the dog's snout had been in it! Words cannot describe the revolting. There was also a man down in front that apparently had no feeling in his rear end, and his pants slipped down every time he stood up. He stood up rather a lot.

Salt Lake City, or at least the part that we're in, doesn't appear to have many police officers. While we got free parking outside the stadium, as we arrived after the game had began, trash was blowing in lots of places and panhandlers were rampant. (Two of them were together on a street corner, one in a motorized scooter and another smoking. I'm pretty sure they didn't need to panhandle for income.) Another fellow wanted tickets - a reverse scalper of sorts. I'm certain that it's just the section that we're in - Salt Lake City is very big - but I was surprised that the police didn't round them up at least so they could keep warm.

Tomorrow: a long, lonely drive to Reno, Nevada.

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The Great American Road Trip - 11 - Bryce Canyon And Salt Lake City

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 26 2012 · 69 views

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We got up today in Zion and got breakfast. It was a chilly morning and it took us a long while to get out of the park due due to the long lines which had so rapidly accumulated. For such a beautiful park, I am surprised that their logistics are not more well thought-out. The pull-off which we were going to pull into and begin our hike around at was slammed - there were no parking spaces, and to park, one would have to park on the street, which we weren't going to do. We instead settles for more pictures of the gorgeous scenery all around us.

As we went back up the hairpin switchbacks up the mountain, in the same direction as we came in, we were stopped in front of the mile-long curvy unlit tunnel for about five minutes as buses, RVs, and other obscenely oversized vehicles rolled through. We got out of our car and stretched at this point, and a lady behind us pointed out a large overhanging rock about a thousand or so feet up, perched precariously on what appeared to be the edge of the cliff. She then announced that if it fell and squished us, "they'd just come around and pick us up to put us in a jar." (She followed us pretty much all the way to Bryce Canyon.)

On the way to Bryce Canyon, we were behind a large truck, and two motorcycles were behind us. Well, these cyclists were not thrilled with the concept of a speed limit, and one decided to rush past both us and the 18-wheeler with great alacrity. On a curve. With a sedan rushing the other way.

It was scary, but he managed to slide between the lanes. We thought he'd get killed. Then the other guy did precisely the same thing, on the next curve with the next car! Later on up the road, we passed them, as they had pulled off to get something to eat, just once again proving that driving idiotically nets you absolutely no gain whatsoever.

Before, going to Bryce Canyon, we went through Red Canyon, which is, unsurprisingly, a canyon that is red. (Shocking, I know.) Rocks hung over in patterns at the peaks at the sides of the canyon, and small tunnels were carved through the red rock. Butch Cassidy, the famous Western outlaw, is rumored to have not died at all, staying instead around Red Canyon, around where he grew up.

Bryce Canyon was as beautiful as Zion or the Grand Canyon. It's hard to say, really - they're all similar, but yet vastly different both from history and from points of view. Bryce is not exactly a canyon, as it was not carved by a stream eroding over eons, but rather through other forms of erosion, such as freezing and thawing. Hoodoos are Bryce's claim to fame, mainly, being visible in all shapes and sizes over the canyon floor.

We stopped at the Visitor's Center and met with a few volunteers who were operating telescopes. Now, this being around noonish or so, the last thing we thought we'd see would be telescopes. They were both pointed at the sun, and had special lenses to blot out the searing light that emanates from it. One showed a magnetic storm, or sunspot, in detail, while the other put the sun through a red filter and made it possible to make out the tiny-looking licks of flame that surrounded the sun. Of course, these were many times the size of the Earth and were hurtling along at 100,000 miles an hour, and knowing thee facts can make you feel really small.

We went up to 9,115 feet above sea level, where the temperature was around 40 degrees and the wind chill must have been well below freezing. The wind was not just fast, but gusty and biting to boot. The views were absolutely stunning, however - the hoodoos were in many places, sheer rock faces angled upwards, and trees hooked into the canyon walls sometimes by one root.

But it was getting progressively colder, and we were not interested in staying outside any longer than we absolutely had to, so we went back down, stopping at every available turn-out point. There was a small natural bridge on one of the locations, as well as a huge black bird that kept flying near and around the car. As we got out at one turn-out, this thing came out of nowhere and pulled up almost as it was about to hit me, to which I instinctively said "I'm not a crumb!"

The last stop at Bryce Canyon was a trail that was nearly unmarked - the only designation it had was at its very beginning, half a mile from where we parked. This trail was steep, heading down along the hoodoos into the canyon below - and neither side had any semblance of railing. It just ... dropped. While this wasn't bad, the biting wind was picking up, and we didn't think that it was such a good idea to continue on. (We also had some intel from another hiker that the other side was steeper, and since we wouldn't trust our gravely footing even in the best of weather conditions - and we were getting thirsty - we just decided to go back. We were glad we did - the wind got even worse as we continued back to our car, and some Utahans were walking around in shorts!

Since we couldn't go on the trails that we wanted to due to unsavfe conditions, our time in Bryce was cut short. We decided to head on up the highway, get on the interstate, and get on as far as we could to Salt Lake City. Buses roared past us as we got back out of Red Canyon going at least 90 miles an hour, and creating a wind phenomenon that literally sucked us into the bus. (We were lucky that we could steer away from it, but it was definitely not a pleasant experience.) The speed limit on some stretches was 80 - I got two pictures of this ridiculous sign just to prove that we weren't going delirious from the altitude. (We really felt the altitude in Bryce - I tried jogging on the sidewalk and I was instantly breathing hard. You can't tell it unless you exert yourself, but when you did, it was immediately noticeable. I can see why Olympians train in high altitudes - running anywhere else is a breeze.)

The scenery around the interstate is marvelous - peaks thousands of feet up, bare save for patches of snow at the top. While the interstate never actually went through these mountains, they were gorgeous to look at. The Rocky Mountains really are rocky.

(Side note: Salt Lake City does not name their streets normally. Sure, they have "University Avenue" and a few Main Streets, but the vast majority of their streets are "1500 North" or "700 South" or some combination of number and direction. This is not just limited to Salt Lake; I think a lot of Utahan towns have them. It makes some sense, but I've just never seen such strange street names.)

Tomorrow, we're just chilling out and staying in Salt Lake City for another day. Their minor league team, the Salt Lake Bees, are in town, so we'll be able to see them tomorrow. Aside from that, we're going to get a lot of rest for the next leg of the trip: going across Nevada to Reno.

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The Great American Road Trip - 10 - Zion National Park

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 25 2012 · 73 views

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Yesterday, I forgot to mention that we saw a mountain sheep, complete with horns, perched upon a slanted rock, clearly unafraid of coming close to humanity.

Today, we explored Zion further. We got onto a shuttle from our hotel to the entrance of the park, then transferred to another shuttle once inside the park. Zion is beautiful, as I probably mentioned. Pictures can only get a mere fraction of the beauty that the park holds, though it is essentially a very large canyon, carved by the Virgin River. The place is jammed with many tourists, as was the Grand Canyon, but not to the degree of the Canyon nor with as many diverse people. I think about maybe four or five groups actually were cordial to others and walked single-file when there were people coming in the opposite direction - we were one of those groups.

The first trail we took was the Lower Emerald Pool trail, which took us into a gorgeous valley with an oasis at its base, fed by the water from the waterfalls which were the main attraction of the trail. Around the valley lay sand, as if it was a beach, and up the steep hills on either side grew trees and bushes. We didn't go near to the waterfalls - you would not believe how far away the spray can be felt, and I did not want to even skirt the rick of damaging the camera for the sake of what was packed with people - especially kids who clearly had no parental advisory.

We went back downhill, over the bridge that we came in on, and got back on the shuttle, this time hopping off at the Weeping Rock trail. This was short but steep, ending up underneath a massive rock overhang that curved up and around to above our heads. Water fell off of the overhang continuously, giving the location its name. This trail was probably my favorite, as one could see down the canyon from its end point. The jags and cracks of the monolithic red rocks, complete with their sparse vegetation, receded out into the distance, while surprisingly lush vegetation (the place only gets about 15 inches of rain a year) sprawled out on the canyon floor.

After nibbling on some granolas at the top, and following it down with water, we went back over the bridge. I got shocked hard when I brushed my hand against the thick metal railing - my mom testified to the existence of a blue arc, so there's little wonder that it was shocking. (This was followed, as you might imagine, by a series of atrocious puns upon the subject of electricity, stopping only when we got back to the shuttle.)

Our next stop was at the very end of the route, at the end of the park known as the Temple of Sinawava. While we were told that the canyon narrows and narrows until you could barely walk in it, it turns out that you had to wade the river first, and having no other shoes and not relishing the thought of going barefoot in the chilly water, decided to head on back. The views were absolutely gorgeous, though, and we ran into some very feisty animals - squirrels, to be precise.

You read that right. Squirrels.

The first squirrel we saw darted right in front of us and made me almost run into my dad. The squirrels, while not looking much (or any) different than any given squirrel, were aggressive and very feisty. I must have seen ten or twelve squirrels, either along the side of the road or actually in the road. The most interesting one was one that was semi-upright, waving its tail in time with its shrill barks that occurred every second or two. (I jokingly talked to it, saying "I know the party's not until later, but I thought I'd come early ...") Some even ran up to us and looked like they seriously were considering jumping onto our jeans and clawing madly. Fortunately, they did not, but I kind of hope that some of the more idiotic and rude tourists got to experience that delight.

Up above our heads, the sheer rock face had overhangs, all but inaccessible but for flying creatures and insane (but skilled) rock climbers. We saw many of the former - peregrine falcons circled and dove rapidly above our heads, one coming out of its steep dive near to us, pulling up before coming close to us, but close enough that we could see its bluish-green hue. California Condors, a once-endangered species with a nine-foot wingspan, looked like small black birds thousands of feet above us, near to the trees at the rim of the canyon.

We wanted to do more hikes, but we'd gone about four miles on our feet and while my feet didn't feel bad, I think the altitude and the concrete trails got to the legs and feet of my parents. The hike that we didn't get to was called Angel's Landing, which apparently featured switchbacks on the trail as well as a perilous drop-off on the side of a mountain. Our contingency plan for doing this tomorrow was immediately scrapped after learning of this.

The shuttle out of Zion was ... eventful, to say the least. Basically, while the shuttles that go from the city to the park are one solid vehicle, the ones inside the park are essentially two shuttles latched together, the one that did not have a steering wheel, controls, or engine being towed by the other. This, as you might imagine, made the ride extremely bumpy, and a baby in the front was less than pleased with this. Not only was the ride bumpy and a little loud, but hot and a massive time zone differential for him. Now, why would parents drag a baby along on a trip outside their country, knowing full well not only that these things would happen, but that the kid wouldn't even be able to remember a doggone thing about the trip? Suffice it to say that this baby wailed obnoxiously for pretty much the entire ride back to the park entrance. He couldn't help that he was tired, but his parents must have been derpy to the highest level.

As we exited the next, quieter shuttle into the city (we were the last ones off), we asked the shuttle driver about good places to eat. He suggested the restaurant that was adjacent to our hotel. The food was pricey, but confusingly so - mine was a massive burger, served up with a medley of fries as well as three small onion rings, and it was much cheaper than the tiny little steak that my dad received. Go figure.

As we were exiting, in walked the most heinous thing that I have ever had the discomfort of laying eyes upon: an obese belly dancer. It was pretty much exactly how you'd imagine a very large belly dancer as being like, and I do not wish to dwell on it. I pity those who were in the adjacent sports bar, but I noticed that a lot of them were outside, on the porch. (It was probably to avoid being nauseated by the very sight of the belly dancer, but also probably more so to avoid the inevitable seismic waves that would be generated by her undulations.)

Tomorrow, a final hike in Zion, then on to Bryce Canyon - and, hopefully, avoiding supersized belly dancers in the process.

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The Great American Road Trip - 9 - The Grand Canyon

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 25 2012 · 67 views

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We got up in Flagstaff today and went to the Grand Canyon - or rather, right outside of the Grand Canyon. Earlier, we had reserved a helicopter flight over the Canyon. Our 11:15 start time was delayed by tour buses carrying obnoxious tourists. As they filed out to the back of the building and out to the chopper pads, my dad went to see what the deal with the nearly 20-minute delay was as my mom and I spoke with an older British couple who were absolutely ticked that they'd been waiting since 9:00 in the morning, and that the rest of their tour got rides earlier. As this happened, the pilot came over and announced our names, then giving us a rundown of safety precautions, common sense, etc.

Outside of the building, towards the back, there were five brick pads for helicopters, four of which had choppers currently on them. There were the obligatory pictures that they then try to force on you at the end to buy a video of the flight, then a few more safety and common sense mini-lectures.

There were seven available seats in the helicopter, and only five of us as passengers. In the front row came the pilot, my parents, and then me. The back row had both British people on the flanks, near to their windows.

The sensation of taking off was quite strange, though I wasn't entirely sure when it happened. The enclosed helicopter, with our earphones on, was actually quite comfortable, as the rotors rattled its frame. Spinning around, we gained speed and altitude as we cruised at 110 miles an our, 1,000 feet above the Ponderosa pines below. I don't often think about "forest" and "Grand Canyon" in the same sentence, but from now on I'll have those two items forever linked in my mind.

The canyon simply starts, dropping thousands of feet off where the forest ends. Before us, we could see just but a small bit of the Canyon, but it was monstrous. Each side had strata, as if the earth had been gouged out with a huge knife, and each layer of the cake could be seen. It's cliche, really, but pictures cannot and will never, ever do the Canyon justice. Its true scale rung true when we found out that that tiny little sliver of blue on the very bottom of the Canyon was a mile-long stretch of difficult-to-negotiate rapids.

The only scary part about the helicopter ride was that the chopper would occasionally lurch forward and down, giving everyone about half a second of weightlessness - and even when you expect weightlessness, half a second is still an eternity. We cruised around the North Rim of the Canyon in the air, then circled on back around to the pines and back down to the ground.

If nothing else absolutely spectacular happens (like, we strike gold or something), the helicopter ride is the highlight of the trip.

We then proceeded to ride along around the Canyon, along the South Rim. Every so often, there would be a pull-off or a small road that led back to a scenic overlook. We took advantage of as many of these as we could, taking many pictures. (I'm starting to get the hang of the "panorama" function.) Of course, these turnoffs were situated at the worst possible locations, between two blind hills or with no warning. They were all packed, and I cannot begin to imagine how backed-up the place is in the middle of tourist season. It was bad enough as it was, here towards the end of the off-season.

(Also: I dislike crowds. It's not because I have anything against people in general [a lot of my friends are people], but these crowds were inconsiderate and rude, slowly walking when someone wanted to take a picture, taking up the entire two-way walking area as if they owned the Canyon, or yapping loudly. Just about every foreign country was represented there - one would think that they were hosting the Olympics somewhere nearby. That's not to say that we didn't have fun with it, though - a foreign couple asked my dad to take a picture of them, and, my dad being my dad, made a bunch of bizarre jokes, half of which I know for a fact they didn't understand.)

The vistas from the turnoffs were stunning, and even though some were but a few minutes up the road from the last, they all provided vastly different pictures and angles. The canyon's layers were gorgeous, and the rock formations and stair-step patterns that could be seen looked small, but I know they must have been as tall as large apartment complexes. (They say that the Grand Canyon is about the size of Delaware. Honestly, I didn't know that Delaware was that big.) The Canyon really defies description, and I hope that the many pictures that we were able to take provide a semblance of the scale of awe that we were presented with.

The last stop at the Grand Canyon was a large tower, which was decidedly anticlimactic at its top, but an adjacent patio-like wing provided a fantastic 360-degree panorama opportunity, though I know that I included some heads at the bottom of it. (Decapitated tourists: coming soon to a picture near you!)

At this point, we were very sick of crowds, so we decided to head on up to Zion National Park, due north in Utah, right after having a delicious pizza at a local joint. (I even liked the crust, and I am not usually a crust guy.) The drive out was slick - the road sign said "fresh oil." This prompted waves of "what in the name of all things soft and fluffy does that mean" before we hit it - a recently repaved road, the lines that demarcated the lanes barely visible. Other tourists passed us on this two-lane road going well above the speed limit, and even more so above the limit of what was safe and sane to drive at. (Hilariously, we caught up to most of these people later on.) Roads banked on steep grades going down the mountain (the Grand Canyon is thousands of feet above sea level), but eventually this repaved section ran out and we got on the road we wanted.

As soon as we crossed out of the painfully poor villages of the Navajo reservation, the scenery changed to what I thought was stereotypical of Utah: large red rocks, swirled patterns in white layers of strata, precarious rock formations carved from years of wind, mountains disintegrating into what looked like solid gravel foothills, vast plateaus and mesas stair-stepping in the distance, passes sliced through solid red rock, and highways running right next to tall, imposing mountains. Our last stop in Arizona came at the very, very small town of The Gap (or simply Gap, as the road signs brusquely put it), where we pulled into a gas station for a topping-off of gas and snack supplies. This itself was rather interesting - my mom and I had to get out and distract a large tan dog that was hanging out right where the car needed to be, before going in for foodstuffs. Once we came out again, the dog came up again and looked at us with the classic "puppy-dog-eye" look - a look she pulled off very well, but we were not going to stop until well into Utah.

Before I knew it, we were indeed in Utah, and since Utah follows the customs of Daylight Savings, we appropriately adjusted our clocks forward one hour. This is our fourth state in a row without a welcome center - but I can rather understand Utah lacking one, as the road we came in one was sparsely populated. (In fact, dogs seemingly outnumbered people in The Gap, and Stetsons outnumbered both of them combined. [Stetsons are cool.])

The landscape continued to become more desolate - and more beautiful as well - as we approached Zion National Park. Once we got into the park, though, everything changed.

Zion is probably the most stunning, gorgeous land that I have ever laid eyes upon. I could not snap enough pictures before the camera's battery began to falter and stumble upon its last electric legs, and we saved the battery for only the most stunning of available vistas, of which there were many. Trees shroud rocks around the winding road, and the red-tinted mountains go straight up for a long ways. The most amazing thing about the drive was a mile-long unlit tunnel through the Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel, which was built from 1927 to 1930 and was considered an engineering marvel at the time. (We all still think that it's a marvel today.) Switchbacks, with hairpin turns, was the trademark of the descent.

We got to the hotel and checked in, and seeing that there was no Guy Fieri-approved locales at which to dine, my dad asked the fellow at the front desk, who directed us to Oscar's Cafe - a place so jammed with people that the benches outside looked like their maximum capacity might be reached. However, once we got out and and noses feasted on the delicious scent thickly filling the air. After that smell, we decided that there was no question - we would be eating there.

Oscar's takes a very long time, but the burgers beat out Hi-D-Ho for best burger on the trip. In fact, mine was probably the best burger that I've had, making it (in my mind) worth the wait that we endured. (These burgers were indeed massive, but I polished mine nearly completely off - then started in on what remained of my dad's fries. This was after the guy at the front desk told us that it was too much for anyone to eat.) We would have continued our trip tradition of getting dessert, but considering the inordinate amount of time that it took to get anything made in what apparently was a small kitchen, we decided not to.

Tomorrow, we hike Zion National Park, then get to Bryce Canyon late in the day. The day after, we hike around there some.

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The Great American Road Trip - 8 - Forest, Crater, And Observatory

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 24 2012 · 84 views

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We were warned by our waiter at the Standard Diner yesterday that there would be winds today, and he was not wrong. As soon as we got onto the road, we were buffeted with high winds. Our first stop of the day saw us pulling off the road into a place called Fort Wingate, of which all the sings to it were covered in illegible graffiti. It took us into a reservation, but the fort (or what remains of it) was not open. We saw a historical mark outlining its history, and realized that its Native American-slaughtering past most likely prompted the residents of the reservation to deface the signs leading to it. I can hardly blame them. Wingate today is a sleepy town, of which the only thing of note would be a high school rodeo arena.

Back into the high winds again, we got into Gallup with the intent of acquiring something to eat or drink. We got some (eventually ... everything was packed), but the most interesting things about Gallup were off the beaten path: a statue of a Navajo code talker, crouched down and talking into a radio, and a roadside motel which took the form of individual tepees. This was memorable not just for the way it looked, but that inspired a location from the movie "Cars."

As we traveled from New Mexico into Arizona, the landscape went from forests to sparsely brush-populated red mesas, which would abruptly stop at a certain height. An Indian tribe lived on top of one mesa, but came down on foot daily to farm. (Arizona does not follow Daylight Saving Time, which means that, for half of the year, it's basically in Pacific Time - though we'll be going back to DST Mountain when we get into Utah. [Insert appropriate lip-blubbing sound here.] I'm not sure which is more bizarre - the fact that DST still exists, or that Arizona doesn't follow it.)

Our first major stop for the day was the Petrified Forest. While I expected the park to be basically lots of petrified wood, the name is misleading. Half of the gorgeous park is an area called the Painted Desert. It went north of 40, then looped south of 40 to get to the actual petrified forest. The winds on top of the ridges and hills were absolutely unrelenting. In big gusts, we'd have to hunker down, one foot in front of the other, hunched over so that the wind pelted our backs with not only its own molecules but also bits of sand. That wasn't pleasant, though the scenery was absolutely stunning. Desert formations, similar to that which I've been told are in the Badlands, undulated in the large valley below, affording many photo opportunities. After that, there became a series of mountains called "tepees" - so called because the layers which make them up are different colors, and they really do look like tepees from the right angles.

The forest itself was much smaller than I had expected, though many of the logs were chopped up or hauled off before (and even after) it became a protected area. Also, many of the logs are still deep underground. The logs are freaky - they look like wood, but their interior has quartz, and their striations smooth silica compounds. It was almost like the texture of amber in some places. While I would have liked to have gotten out and seen more things, the wind was so atrociously gusty that it would either threaten to rip out our arms as we held on when it got behind them and opened them up, or would fight us as we tried to open the doors to get back in. Oftentimes it was a struggle; the wind barely died down as we were there. (Besides, once you've seen petrified wood, you don't really need to see a whole lot of it to get the full effect of how cool the place is.)

Once again back on I-40, we got to a place called Meteor Crater, which was formed approximately 50,000 years ago by a meteor that hurled to earth at over 26,000 miles per hour. (A tongue-in-cheek speed limit sign read "CARS: 50. METEORS; 26,000.") Once inside the complex, and having briefly toured the museum, we went outside.

Oh my word, this thing is mind-blowingly massive (and clothes-blowingly windy).

It was, for lack of a better term, a 70 story-deep bowl in the middle of the ground. It's about a mile wide, with a flattened base where tiny fenced-in areas can be seen. (They were not tiny for those that go down there, however - there was a 6-foot astronaut and a 3x5-foot flag down at the bottom, pasted to the side of the fence, and they could not be made out from the rim where we were.) The gusts must have been at least up to 70 miles an hour, maybe even 80, but we weren't in danger of blowing away since handrails exist. Up at the highest point possible to walk to, the wind was blowing at our backs and pictures looked the best. The scale of this thing is indescribably monstrous, and though pictures would not do it justice, it is unfair for me to even attempt it with words. Inside the visitor's center, we purchased a small meteorite fragment - and it is so eerie to touch a scrap of iron that came from the middle of space.

Except for the constant battering of wind against car, the drive to Flagstaff was uneventful. Our big meal of the day came at a Mexican restaurant called Salsa Brava, which obviously has been able to capitalize on Guy Fieri's cameo there. While the fare was rather standard Mexican, it was so much better because everything was fresh. They even provide a salsa bar, with seven flavors ranging from "mild" to "pineapple habañero." (I skipped on it because I didn't know if I'd like pineapple in salsa.) The guacamole was chunky, table-made (everything is fresh, as I said), and delicious, though hot as well.

The portions we were served were massive but delicious - while Mexican fare, its freshness trumped anything that could be eaten anywhere else. (Apparently, the vast mounds of food that were placed before us weren't even close to a 14-pound monstrosity that they have on the menu. Our waitress told us that they would give for free two of them to anyone who could eat that much in one sitting. Needless to say, no one has ever done it, though many have attempted it. "It was totally disgusting," she told us, and the look on her face told us that she was not lying.) Their key lime pie ties Neely's pecan pie for deliciousness, and my mom - as is her newfound custom - snapped a picture of the pie carcass, unduly fascinated that there was a "food" setting on the new camera.

We found and subsequently checked into our hotel, then after a bit of planning, we went to the Lowell Observatory, most famous being the site that Pluto was found at. We saw a very interesting round building, complete with a white dome and light fixture that looks like a stylized version of Saturn. Around either side, there were wooden spiral staircases that went up to a mezzanine level that itself looped around the top, chock full of old books in bookcases up against the curved face of the wall - of course, they don't allow you to go up there anymore. We also saw lots of old, fragile-looking, cumbersome instruments, and were amazed how much they were able to accomplish with so little compared to what they have now.

Outside this building, we got in a line to look through a telescope to see Saturn, and talked to a British fellow that seemed to know what he was talking about. We took turns seeing Saturn, and though it was a white outline of the planet, you could still make out its characteristic rings, and even the faintest whispers of its gaseous body. My mom went back to the visitor's center because she was getting cold, but my dad and I went to the main telescope, which - though you couldn't look through it due to what the winds would do to the over-110-year-old structure - was still awe-inspiring. The best thing I can describe it as would be a wooden, old-fashioned re-imagining of the TARDIS interior from Doctor Who, except instead of a console in the middle that goes "vworp vworp vworp," there was a massive telescope. Wheels were jammed where the circular walls met with the dome, and there was even a small plaque on one of the ladders, giving astronomers of the day instructions on how to operate the telescope.

Tomorrow, we get up early and get to the Grand Canyon, where we will take a helicopter ride over it.

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The Great American Road Trip - 7 - Sand And Lava

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 23 2012 · 107 views

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We once again got up early and went to White Sands National Monument. White Sands is made of gypsum, not quartz, making it white, fine, and very soft. The gypsum literally comes from dissolved residue of mountains. The dunes are held together by sand that's underneath it, gluing them together so they don't blow away in the high winds. (My dad and I decided to test how hydrophilic this gypsum was, so we spat on the top of a dune - to our surprise, it semi-solidified, forming grainy but sort of gelatinous blobs. We decided against a spitball contest.) The dunes, for all their uninhabitability (yes, plants live out there), harbor more life than I would have remotely expected. Pretty purple flowers grow out of the dunes, as well as tufts of grass. Some plants build themselves into the sand and, as the sand blows away, it leaves a pedestal - basically a stump made of hardened sand. The sand overtook the road, and all you could see was white sand and blue sky.

In the visitor's center, we continued our trip theme of people letting things open so we can walk around and buy about six dollars' worth of goods. The shop was interesting to walk around - New Mexico continued its trend of being more ecologically-minded and progressive by exhibiting goods such as CD cases and photo albums made from two sides of an old license plate. We got a christmas tree ornament for my mom's collection - a large red chili pepper. (For a place that has little water, these people sure like their spicy foods.)

Of course, one cannot go to White Sands and not bring a sled. We borrowed three disk-shaped sleds from the Alamogordo hotel, disks left over from people who didn't want them anymore and didn't sell them back to White Sands for some cash back. I waxed these sleds in the hotel room, noticing a fine, fine layer of sand on them, a harbinger of what we were to see. We sledded down a steep dune, at an altitude nearly a mile high above sea level. Is was fun, but we got winded fast. We were out there for about an hour in all, taking turns trudging up thin, sliding sands at about a 55 degree incline for a few seconds of fun zipping down it in the groove that we made. My mom, on her few turns, got the most distance out of all of us, screaming as if she was being pursued by a swarm of bees brandishing knives, after which she hit a patch of vegetation and got slightly airborne, smacking down on the ground. When I hit it, I tumbled over, rolling over once on the hardened sand. It kind of hurt. (Though it's soft on the sides of the dunes, the top is solid - almost hard to walk on, even with the modicum of padding that our socks provided us. [We were told at the hotel by a dune-sliding veteran that tennis shoes would hold about five pounds of sand, and lacking the sandals that she suggested, decided to go sock-only.]) On the way back, we saw a very cute mouse. It darted in and out of its hole in random patterns - going out, munching a twig, reversing back in, going out, in, farther in, back up, etc. We also saw a completely white lizard, adapted to its environment of pure white. In fact, I didn't see anything until I really looked hard - and even then, it looked barely more than a lizard-shaped outline in the sand. There was also a smaller hole which we thought was a snake, but we got out of there before we could find out.

White Sands also reflects the sun so much that it's cool to the touch - in fact, cold to the touch in some parts. I'm used to sand being hot if baked in sun, but White Sands just reflected everything. It's also vast - 275 total square miles of endless dune, 115 within the Monument itself. (The rest is missile range.) There's so much there for sledding perusal that it could be in the middle of the tourist season and it would look as deserted as it did when we were out there - before the crowds, as is our modus operandi this trip.

We went back to the room and cleaned up because the sand is so very, indescribably fine - there is still some stuck in the larger grooves of the brake pedal. It just gets everywhere - and showering it off was rather unpleasant, because it had decided to use the thin layer of sunscreen that still existed on my forearm as an adhesive, and even made the water a little thicker as I washed it off.

We took a deviation to a town called White Oak - a town advertised as a ghost town but still has about 50 people. There was a gold mine near the area but after World War II the town became essentially how it is today. There's a house with Victorian architecture, among other interesting buildings in the region.

After White Oak, we saw another strange state park - the Valley of Fires, which, though hot, had no fire. It did, however, go through just but a small portion of a large dried lava field that erumpently erupted 4000 years ago. The rock is dry, cracked, and pitch-black. A lizard with strange coloration darted in front of us on the trail, and the cacti flowers feel like plastic. They use Hawaiian names to denote the various types of lava. You could see it for miles just like White Sands, and I got a couple of panorama shots.

Heading up and down various mountain ranges coming up from the Valley of Fires, I spotted a fox similar to the one that apparently has a vacation home in our backyard, though this fox was slightly bigger and tan colored. I also spotted a huge dust devil that must have been about 25 miles out. It was huge - at first, I thought that it was a tornado, but then saw that it petered out into what - as the dust devil lost steam - could easily be mistaken for a cloud. The mountain range in the far background two mountain ranges - the Magdalena range shorter and closer in, and the larger San Mateo mountains out in the distance, easily 40 miles out. The latter range reaches to 10,000 feet regularly.

We got into Albuquerque and, having only had about five small Nutter Butters, two small glasses of apple juice, and two large bottles of water to drink for the entire day, decided that we needed a big meal. Of course, Albuquerque has a number of Guy Fieri places - but my dad had his eyes on a place called the Standard Diner ever since our stay in Amarillo. While the name makes it sound decidedly mundane, everything from its façade to the unique mix of futuristic retro in the interior was unique. It served tons of classic diner fare, but they all had twists to them. Everything on the menu looked delicious to an absurd and maybe borderline illegal degree, but I eventually had the Chicken-Fried Steak, while my mom and dad both got the Finer Loaf - a meat loaf with bacon in it. (There was a mix-up here - my mom was going to order the Mac and Cheese with Bacon, but there was a confusing exchange and they ended up getting two Finer Loafs and the Mac and Cheese on the side. Oh well. It was good anyway.) The dessert was also delicious - not too sweet, but light enough to finish a meal off. We got the small sizes, which were alike in the fact that they were all served up in square, oversized shot glasses. (Dad was so infatuated with the place that he wants to go back for a burger tomorrow for lunch.)

Having nothing else to do in Albuquerque, and seeing that, finally, there was a minor league game in town, we went over to see the Albuquerque Isotopes take on the Fresno Grizzlies. The catcher for the Grizzlies, one Eli Whiteside, caught Jonathan Sanchez's no-hitter for the Giants a few years ago. The first Isotopes batter hit a home run over the right-field fence. The starting pitcher for the Isotopes took a no-hitter into the fifth inning, but the reliever blew their lead in the sixth, making the game tied 6-6. As we were about to leave in the top of the seventh, in order to get to the hotel in time, the Isotopes took the lead again. (The Isotopes won the game, 8-7.) Some guy way up in our section tried to get the wave going a couple of times, moderately succeeding occasionally. Most times, though, the fans seemed too lackadaisical to care.

The roads of Albuquerque, I have decided, have all the undesirable qualities present in Oklahoma City, Amarillo, and Lubbock. Wind, darkness, strange road systems that our GPS didn't know, and lanes that ran out without much prior warning. (At least they gave you some warning.) The GPS then wanted to, absurdly, send us in circles in a residential area, which the hotel person told us was completely normal. Eventually, we decided to ignore it and within minutes found our hotel. Our room is the finest hotel room we've been in since we got a large suite in Pittsburgh as a reparation for our having to sleep in a mock room.

Tomorrow: Flagstaff, AZ.

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The Great American Road Trip - 6 - From Caverns To Alamogordo

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 21 2012 · 97 views

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We woke up in Carlsbad early, and got to Carlsbad Caverns. It is eerily quiet at the top of the mountain where the visitor’s center is – the only thing you can hear is the gentle waving of the flag on its pole. They are redoing some of their elevators, so only two are in action, making the wait slightly longer than it would be otherwise.

The Caverns are huge, and I mean huge. I’ve seen caves before, but this was just huge. The only part of the cave that is self-guided is the Big Room, which is indeed big, a gigantic room that winds around in a massive cross outline. (I took tons of pictures.) Some of the most interesting sights were such formations as the Lion’s Tail (a stalactite covered at its hanging-down end by “popcorn,” which looks like … well, popcorn), a few grottos, solidified bat droppings, the Bottomless Pit (which is only a little over 150 feet down), and the entrance to the Lower Cave, which has 112 miles of cavern. Some parts of the lower cave house microbes that actually eat cancer cells, so naturally, only scientists are allowed down there for research purposes. After walking around the entire trail – a little over one mile – we got back up the 75 stories to the visitor’s center right when the obnoxious school kiddies were starting to cram in.

We went back through Carlsbad for lunch, and then went on to Artesia, which was named for the artesian wells that provide the necessary water for irrigation and crop growing. In Artesia, they have very interesting sculptures places on street corners, in front of buildings, and the like. We got a good look at three (two fellows on their horses and one large one where a group of men strike oil), but I’m sure that there are more than just the ones that we saw.

Amazingly, there were actually full orchards of pistachio trees in some of the arid land. We were all surprised to learn that pistachios could not only grow, but thrive in such an environment.

After Artesia, we began winding into mountains, and into the Lincoln National Forest, where trees begin to dominate instead of flatness, sagebrush, and lizards with ostensible death wishes. The terrain is lush – or at least lusher than what we’d been accustomed to. We even went through rain as we climbed up to Cloudcroft, a city at 8,250 feet above sea level, where we got on a trail to see if we could get to some outlook or overlook. After walking a little ways up the trail and seeing nothing but trees, trees, and more trees, we went back to the car and began the long descent. A small plateau brought another equally small city.

We stopped at an outlook right after a brief but unlit tunnel, where the landscape dramatically opens up. A valley runs to the right of the road, with a mountain with precarious rocks perched upon some of its facets beyond. The road itself was hewn (or blown) from the rock face of another mountain. Beyond, one could see all the way to White Sands National Monument, about 35 miles away, and, before that, the city of Alamogordo.

Alamogordo is in a basin, between the Sacramento Mountains that we traversed and the San Andreas Mountains that we could see in the distance. Going in, we saw two people painting a mural on the entrance of an 82^nd Airborne Memorial.

With no known local joint to eat at, we asked the hotel staff if they knew of any places. They pointed us to a place called “Hi-D-Ho,” which they said served excellent burgers. They were right – the menu is emblazoned with a tiger, and reads “Home of the Tiger Burger,” as does the first thing we see as we went in. The green chilies were viciously hot – hotter than I had expected – but the patties were handmade on site. Between the burgers and their broiled – not pan-fried! – taco meat, they go through roughly 80 pounds a day. It’s an institution, as it’s been there since 1952. (It’s changed hands only two or three times in that span.) It was even featured in Rachael Ray’s magazine a while back. (I didn’t know that she had a magazine.)

After that, my dad decided that our car needed a wash, so we decided to go through a car wash. Of course, this is where the fun began. The machine that took the cash didn’t go in properly, and it only went in after an extensive battle of wills/tug-of-war – of course, backwards from what it showed was the proper way to put bills in. After we went in, it refused to spray or wash our car – the lights that denoted when to go forward, stop, and go back would only tell us to go forward. We didn’t even get another chance at going around, as a guy driving a truck decided that he wasn’t going to back up or go forward, just sit there at the entrance.

Tomorrow, we wake up early, eat breakfast, and get to White Sands and Albuquerque.

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The Great American Road Trip - 5 - Carlsbad

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 20 2012 · 142 views

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After spending the night in Amarillo (where my dad suggested that we get back home by way of Maine), we got back on the road. Like last night, though, there serendipity in navigating Amarillo's confusing street layout: we saw from our car the Cadillac Ranch, which is a number of upended Cadillacs, trunks to the sky, half-buried in dirt. It is the exhibition of Stanley Marsh III, a man who got involved with the pop art craze. He also reportedly has purchased a number of billboards in the Amarillo area, posting on them bizarre and cryptic messages. We saw none of the latter, but got a good glimpse of the former.

The roads down into Lubbock and then away from Lubbock towards the New Mexico border had more than their fair share of unbanked curves - with no signs to warn of these curves. On the contrary, speed limit signs were abundant, but in weird locations: sometimes 70-MPH speed limit signs would be smack-dab in the middle of a tight curve. On straightaways through towns the speed limit would go 70-65-60-55-40-35 with only maybe a hundred yards in between changes - then it'd go back up to 70 again. Every little town was generally the same: a grain processing factory (or some other factory, such as a chemical one), which the railroad ran through, and some buildings around it.

We never did see the Texas welcome area, but we did stop at a rest area outside of Lubbock. It was actually very up-to-date, and even included a tornado shelter somewhere inside. (We couldn't find it, and I postulated that they only open it during storms.)

Scenery changed from dry brush to nearly flat desert when crossing into New Mexico, though New Mexico's desert is still rolling hills with dots of sage. We even saw a tumbleweed when we were nearing Carlsbad. A curve in the road three miles ahead looked like it was maybe a hundred yards ahead. There were also small mountains in the background - mere foothills of the Rockies. Also of note in the New Mexico desert were salt flats, interspersed intermittently between signs that directed truckers to the potash mines. New Mexico is also in Mountain Time: three time zones down, one to go.

In the New Mexico desert, there were trains that must have extended out to over a mile in length, down in valleys and so far away that we could see their entirety without having to move our eyes or heads. In Carlsbad - which has a downtown area with Adobe-style buildings described as "cute" by my mom (high praise) - there is a dried-up canal that must only work when it floods.

Tomorrow: breakfast at 6:00 and Carlsbad Caverns by 7:30 at the very latest. This was the last big travel day for a while - tomorrow begins the touring of the natural scenery that is so abundant in this section of the country.

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The Great American Road Trip - 4 - Extreme Wind

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 19 2012 · 82 views

I apologize in advance for any spelling errors this may inadvertently contain. It's after 11:30 and my body still thinks that it's an hour later.

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Today, we got up and went around Oklahoma City a bit. The burger joint we were to eat at - a little place called Nic's Grill, which came highly recommended by DeeVee - was closed due to it being a Saturday. We moved on quickly and got to our next stop, the OKC bombing memorial.

It's highly moving stuff, it really is. Words really can't do emotions justice, and even less so in this case. You really do have to just see it.

Two black walls frame a large one-inch-deep reflecting pool, which glitters in spots from the coins tossed into it. The walls have "9:01" and "9:03" cut into the top of them, symbolizing 9:02 as the time of the blast. On one side of the pool lay a small hill, upon which sit 168 chairs, arranged in order of casualty by floor. Smaller chairs represent children. On the other side is a memorial garden, which has its end at a façade that has remained unpainted since the blast. It now houses the museum. Also part of the memorial is the a tree that somehow, miraculously, survived the blast, and is now known as the Survivor Tree.

Admittedly, I knew little of the attack before I went there, other than its perpetrator and his actions. There's an element of knowledge gained along with emotions felt when looking at these sorts of things. In a way, it's much scarier than the September 11th attacks, since instead of an attacker from without, the evil dwelled within the nation before inflicting such lasting pain on his own people - and then showed its most contemptible face when refusing to show remorse.

Afterwards, we wanted to see some of the downtown area, but seeing as we weren't planning to stay in Oklahoma City for very long and didn't want to get utterly lost on roads that our GPS insisted were not there and thus get behind on our schedule, we hopped back on I-40 and zipped on out.

One thing that I must mention about Oklahoma - it's ridiculously windy. All the time, there is anything from a brisk breeze to an all-out hurricane-like gale. Since there are not many geographic formations to stop it, the wind really does come sweeping down the plain - at the risk of drivers. The wind makes trees shiver and sometimes grow deformed, high poles sway precariously, flags stood straight-out constantly, and we kept getting battered by the closing doors and trunk of our car. Another interesting thing about the wind was how the cows adapted to it - they grouped themselves together, rear ends facing the brunt of the wind. They also grouped around shade if it was hot, still oriented in that odd direction. Chicago really shouldn't have the nickname of the Windy City - that should go to OKC.

Highway winds still gusting, the terrain was flat, only with rolling hills. As we got farther and farther west, even the rolling hills stopped - we could see for 9 or 10 miles straight, the micro-size silos in the distance the best view we could get of some Texas towns. Rodeo places occasionally popped up, though they were not in use. Wrought-iron signs straight from the old west delineated the territory of farmers - some haven't been changed since the turn of the century. Oil derricks and windmills, became more and more common the more west we got - some old-fashioned windmills which still worked as intended, as well as some more up-to-date alternative-energy-generating streamlined white ones. There's still a lot of wind energy that Oklahoma can tap, and I'm interested to see how they develop this in the future. Brief geographical interludes brought us canyons that dropped off, widening and shortening, cutting winding paths through the brush-dotted parched earth.

In Texas, the speed limit amps up to 75, and they don't even have a place to greet you until 100 miles into the state - on the other side of Amarillo! We haven't even seen this place yet, and we're halfway through the Panhandle! (I guess it's more of a "Congratulations, You Survived Amarillo!" place than a "Welcome to Texas!" place.)

Our first stop in Amarillo was the Quarter Horse Museum. Since we aren't nearly the same encyclopedia of horse facts that my grandmother is, and never will accrue that much equine knowledge, we still were able to enjoy the museum and its Hall of Fame. (I admit, we spent some time amateurishly giggling at hilarious horse names, but there is a lot of history in the museum, and we could still be ambling around it right now, reading all of the text everywhere, if we didn't have to sleep and go somewhere the day after.) They still use horses to move cattle from pasture to pasture, for instance - it's much easier than using vehicles. More hilariously, though, we learned that a horse named Possum was an important horse in the line of Traveler, and we learned a bit about the entire breeding process - without details, of course.

The Amarillo Sox are an Independent League team, which means that they aren't affiliated with any other professional baseball teams and as such have to rely solely on ticket sales, sponsorships, etc. to operate the league. We got to the stadium early, but it was a little too early - I'm just surprised we every got there, considering the mass of utterly boggling one-way streets. We finally checked into the hotel, then went back downstairs to see if we couldn't get a bite to eat before the game began.

Well, we couldn't eat in hotel due massive wedding party catering and planning, so we went elsewhere instead, navigating once again the bizarreness of the one-lane roads. By the time we got back and ate, it was time to leave for the ball game.

On our way to the game, our GPS tried "murdering us" (in the immortal words of my dad) because we requested that it not get us on I-40, which would have probably done that same job more easily. We eventually meandered around and got on a part of old Route 66, and we saw some crews filming part of the Food Network show "The Great Food Truck Race" - or at least, I think it was, because of the inordinate amount of food trucks and equally inordinate amount of cameras packed around in a place that usually wouldn't get filmed.

We got off into a residential area, mistakenly believing that the GPS wanted us alive. We went over a heinously large bump in a residential area - it was so massive, in fact, that I think our axles will need psychiatric help. (This thing must have been half a foot down and back up.)

Eventually, painstakingly, we got to the Sox game in about the second inning. There was a bigger crowd there than I remotely expected for an Independent League game. The Sox were winning against the Winnipeg Goldeyes when we left after the sixth inning to get back before dark and its associates, the drunk drivers, set in. The Sox had everything sponsored, and since they had no large scoreboard, the PA announcer had to to the job. Every foul ball, every strikeout, every walk, and every hit had some sort of sponsor - and it got to be comical.

Some "vuvuzela" - long-tubed, obnoxious horns that sound like amplified air horns, a staple at soccer games - were present at this game. At every available opportunity, the vuvuzela players would belt out a honk, sometimes making them lethargic-sounding when their lungs tired out. It was 86 degrees, but windy and shady, so thus very nice. There were eccentric characters there - there was a man with a massive gray beard and headphones on, gesturing around to the folks in the front row. A man with a top hat and large facial hair was sitting near the aforementioned vuvuzela bearers. All in all, the fans were supportive of their Sox - and the man at the front desk of the hotel said that they're even more supportive of their minor league hockey team. Go figure.

I don't want everyone thinking that this carousing about the country is solely for baseball games and local food joints. While that's part of it, the real meat of the trip is the next leg. Tomorrow, we're getting to Carlsbad, New Mexico, and the Mountain Time Zone. After that, we'll see Carlsbad Caverns, White Sands National Monument, the Petrified Forest, and then the Grand Canyon. After that come Zion National Park, Bryce Canyon, Salt Lake City, and finally, San Francisco.

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The Great American Road Trip - 3 - Arkansas And Oklahoma

Posted by Sumiki , in The Great American Road Trip May 18 2012 · 98 views

wait so we updated the forums

huh

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Still full from the Neely's barbecue, we all just had a few glasses of juice for breakfast. We learned that the BBQ festival was more smell than eat, so we scratched it from our itinerary.

We realized last night that we were staying near the famous Peabody Hotel, which is famous not for being swanky (which it is - everything is marble or intricately carved wood) as much as it is for having five ducks, which live on the roof and parade from the elevator to the lobby at 11:00 in the morning and 5:00 at night. This dubious tradition started some time in the 40s, when a few of the hotel's proprietors got drunk and thought that it would be an excellent idea to put live ducks in the fountain. (I'm sure that would make complete sense if you were drunk.) Surprisingly, the ducks liked it, and thus the legend of the Peabody Ducks came into being. It was a very big deal - I estimate that at least a few hundred people were crammed into the opulent lobby.

Seeing the Memphis Redbirds gate open, we went in to look around and see if we could get a pennant ... but no, that was not to be. I don't know why they opened the gates without opening something else up, but apparently they did. Realizing that this wasn't a big deal, we hopped in the car and headed west once again.

I crossed the Mississippi River for the first time. It was ... a river. I'm not sure why I was expecting something more, but it was still awesome to know that we were going over the Mississippi. We then entered into Arkansas, where we stopped in the visitor's center to collect more maps than necessary.

We got into Little Rock (North Little Rock, if you want to get technical), where the Arkansas Travelers, the double-A minor league affiliate of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim (itself the most confusing name in all of professional sports), play. There was a game that night against the Naturals, but we had to get all the way out to Oklahoma City within the day and stopping in Little Rock would have thrown our plans well off course. There were very nice people there, who led us through the front office to the store. We got a pennant and a postcard there, and the man who helped us actually knew the guy who let us in at the Nashville Sounds stadium. After that, they let us in the empty ballpark ("as long as you look like you know what you're doing, you'll be fine," the man told us), where we got a few pictures.

Another long stretch of hills, curves, and valleys lay along the rest of I-40 going into Oklahoma. The Ozarks were to the north and the Ouachitas to the south - the latter is one of very few mountain ranges in the world to run east-west. (Its highest point, Mt. Magazine, is a little over 2,000 feet. There's also a place where you can apparently mine for diamonds inside a volcano.) Arkansas is much more of the Breadbasket than it is of the South, but is similar to Tennessee in a lot of ways: its roads are very well kept, the people are cordial, and outside of the metropolitan areas it's very rural. It's a leading producer in pretty much every agricultural product, save citrus. While the Memphis residents didn't seem to think much of Arkansas - I didn't see what they didn't like about it.

(Side note: Arkansas and Oklahoma have the right idea: through road construction, they go one lane in either direction. This prevents idiotic drivers from getting down to their equally idiotic instincts and jockeying for position in two-land road construction.)

We then entered Oklahoma (or occupied north Texas, for some people), where we stretched our legs and each got a half a sub sandwich. Aside from a few crackers in the car, we had eaten no solid food for the entire day. (Note to self: Neely's fills you up. A lot.)

The OKC joint we were going to eat at ... was closed. Apparently they easily run out of food, though that just prompts me to wonder why they don't just store more foodstuffs to begin with.

Apparently, the interstate was so new that our GPS didn't know that it existed, and kept telling us to suicidally turn our car into concrete walls. Obviously, we were not going to do that - and spending the majority of over seven hours cooped up in a car, unable to stretch out, made us a little antsy to say the least. For outsiders such as us, the street system of OKC is somewhat confusing, though we eventually got to our hotel.

Once inside, I collapsed onto the soft bed. We debated going back out but we eventually just ate at the hotel; we were just too beat to go out somewhere. (My dad ordered mashed potatoes and a baked potato along with his steak. I have no idea why.)

Tomorrow: more of OKC before our next stop in Amarillo.

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He's the lord of all strangeness. - Ignika: Nerd of Life

How awesome is Sumiki on a scale of 1 to 10? - Waffles
42. - Black Six

[He's] the king of wierd, the prince of practicality, the duke of durr! - Daiker

Sumiki is magic. - Cholie

Sumiki says, "Do I creeeeeeep you out?" Yes, he does. - Waffles

Sumiki is a nub. He's cool, but he's still a nub. - Ran Yakumo

"What is a Sumiki?" You may ask. But the answer to that is still unknown, even to the Sumiki itself. - Daiker

Ah, Sumiki. - Electric Turahk

LISTEN TO SUMIKI - Cholie

Sumiki is best snickerdoodle. - Takuma Nuva

BZPower = Sumiki + McSmeag + B6. And Hahli Husky. - Vorex

What's a Sumi? Does it taste good? - Janus

I would have thought Sumiki wanted to reincarnate as a farm animal. - Kraggh

EAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH - Kakaru

Sumiki: the horse_ebooks of bzp - VampireBohrok

Everything relates to Sumiki. No really, everything. - Daiker

He's in worse mental condition than I thought. - Obsessionist

I'm just wondering why I'm looking at some cat dancing ... I suppose the answer would simply be "Sumiki." - Brickeens

I was like a beast, screaming through the mind of Sumiki at the speed of sound. I.. I wasn't strong enough to stop myself. What I saw was the end of infinity, through which one can see the beginning of time, and I will never be the same. - Portalfig

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Every week, I post a new "Tuesday Tablescrap", a small MOC not worthy of a topic, but something to post and inspire me to build more.

10/25/11 - Duplo Flower
11/1/11 - Slender Man and Masky
11/8/11 - Bizarre Black Spaceship
11/15/11 - 2001 Monolith
11/22/11 - My Little Slizer 50
11/29/11 - Punching Bag
12/6/11 - Thunder and Escorts
12/13/11 - Three Concepts
12/20/11 - Kaxium Alternate
12/27/11 - None (Christmas Break)

1/3/12 - Daiker
1/10/12 - None
1/17/12 - Volant
1/24/12 - Nidman's Chute Shoop Shop
1/31/12 - None (Brickshelf down)
2/7/12 - None
2/14/12 - Atomic Lime
2/21/12 - Spearhead
2/28/12 - Glatorian Kahi
3/6/12 - Seeker
3/13/12 - Skyscraper
3/20/12 - Microphone
3/27/12 - Toa Vultraz
4/3/12 - Flammenwerferjüngeres
4/10/12 - Umbrella
4/17/12 - Lime Beetle
4/24/12 - Special - Flame Sculpture
5/1/12 - None (BZPower down)
5/8/12 - Purple Ninja
5/15/12 - The Original Sumiki
5/22/12 - 7/24/12 - None
7/31/12 - Tahu
8/7/12 - None (BrickFair)
8/14/12 - Special - Chess Set
8/21/12 - Heavily Armored Wasp
8/28/12 - Spaceship Drill
9/4/12 - Scuba Vehicle
9/11/12 - Orange Guy
9/18/12 - Strange Flying Thing
9/25/12 - Goblet
10/2/12 - None
10/9/12 - Aim .............................. Down
10/16/12 - Gold Bot
10/23/12 - Teal Mech
10/30/12 - Special - Teal Mech (#2)
11/6/12 - Bits and Pieces
11/13/12 - Two Spaceships
11/20/12 - TARDIS Interior
11/27/12 - Christmas Creep
12/4/12 - Toaraga
12/11/12 - Fireplace
12/18/12 - Abstract Duckling
12/25/12 - None (Christmas)
1/1/13 - Black Bot
1/8/13 - 1/22/13 - None
1/29/13 - Handheld Rhotuka Launcher

Posted Image
Formerly known as the Bring Back Teal Club, the Unused Colors Society is a club that serves to promote colors that are little-used or discontinued, such as teal, old purple, or metallic blue.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Leaders:
Sumiki
Waffles

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Members:

ChocolateFrogs

ToM Dracone
xccj
Uzmakikunai
Novek
Nukaya
Overlord
Kaymac
(((DARKNESS)))
lunaticCircuitry
-Toa Lhikevikk-
DeepFriedZombies
Dirk Strider
GUYUGKUYG
Toa Flappy
Lime Paradox
McSpit
RotationalBasis
Mesonak
chunkeh!
Toa Robert
The X
Nuparu574
Dave Strider
Akuna Toa of Sonics
Commander Helios
Popup2: The Camel
~Shadow Kurahk~
Luna
Rho
~System Of A Down~
Kohrak Kal17
Brickeens
Jackson Lake
Thunder on the Mountain
McBobby
Ackar's Follower
Rahkashi
Bitter Cold
Tobi
Vinylstep
Nidman
Doc Scratch
Mendicant Bias
Eyru
Kagha
Darth Eryzeth
Millennium
Tschurtlschnatchen
kopakakid
Toa of Vahi
~Legoman~
noob
Makuta GigaDon
WORT WORT WORT
~Toa Drokonas~
Kwydjybo
Progenitus Worldsoul
Toa Kuhrii Avohkii
-Morgoth-
Bohrok Kal
Toa Neya 2011 Edition
~prisma son of dawn~
Nidhikiandco
.: WoLVeRINe :.
Zokau
DragonxFlutter
Lebon
ChocoLvr13
Uzumakikunai
Dokuma
Carnifex
Xetra
Metrongana
Alternate Velika
HercuLesss
Absol'd
SquishyFrog
Ynot
qUESTIE
SonicBOOM XS
Tavakai
Schnee 1
Brickeens (again!?)
Kakaru
The Great Forgetter
Kylus
Thomas the Tank Engine
Roablin
Aho-Chan
Jonah Falcon
~MatoroIgnika~
Vocals
Oh my miru
Element lord Of Milk.
e=mc^2
Lexuk Toa Of Insanity
Michael J. Caboose
GlatorianJaller
knuckles chaotix
The Bean
Kyronex
Lord Kaitan de Storms
Jaicho
Toa of Dancing
/Got_Your_6/
ZamorBob
Daiker
Toa Arzaki
The Oncoming Storm
Darkrylles
Lego Obsessionist
Toa of Pumpkin
christo1096
Unit#phntk#1
Teal Armada
Toa Zehvor Blackout
Mr. M
Chibinuva
Vohon
Mylo Xyloto
Lord of Ice
Celu
Architect
Rix
.:ENCRYPTION:.
~~Zarkan~~
TornadoToad
Fantasia
Gamzee Makara
Zarayna: The Quiet Light