August 30, 7:30 AM CST Flew out towards San Diego.
August 30, 9:30 AM MST Layover in Denver. Promptly book it to the bar and down several Bloody Mary's and some Oatmeal stout. Seriously, Colorado's got good beer.
Theres this older dude there who is a retired Army Lieutenant from Colorado Springs, and we talk about the election for awhile. He thinks McCain is a joke, but Obama doesn't understand war (he was a Hilary Clinton supporter, oddly), and leaves me with the best quote ever:
"Honey, you don't create lives by pulling out early."
August 30, 2:00 PM PST MoLinder picked me up at the airport and I got a tour of San Diego, which is beautiful and friggin' hot as balls. Apparently, I arrived on the only humid day of the year.
August 30, 7:00 PM PST Padres game. +10
August 31, 9:00 AM PST Wake up and hit the San Diego Zoo. Pandas. I win, bitches. Giraffe feeding: long purpleblack tongues wrapped around my hand. But best thing ever: the spotted hyenas were out. I love the hyenas. Love. MoLinder and her sister might have been getting kind of annoyed with me. + 40
August 31, 8:03 PM PST Started packing the car.
August 31, 10: 26 PM PST While engrossed in a Ford-sized game of Tetris, we run out of beer. - 5
Shit don't fit. - 2
We upack duffels and shove their contents into plastic Target bags so it all fit in six-inch nooks and crannies scattered throughout the car. We slip shoes into convenient holes between boxes and oddly-shaped carrier bases. Pilot chairs pull forward and tilt up, quilts and sleeping bags are unrolled, spreading across our seats to maximize space. - 10
We stretched that car's capacity and weight limit with possessions, knowing fully well that the next day, we'd add two cats and ourselves. Goody goody gumdrops.
September 1, 7:30 AM PST Wake up and start adding the final items to the car.
September 1, 8:30 AM PST We are pissed that not everything fits and throw silent tantrums.
September 1, 8:31 AM PST I switch out my own slightly broken suitcase for a garbage bag and toss it in a dumpster. My heart cracks, a little. - 15
(I would like to give a retrospective shout out to my suitcase and all the goodies that MoLinder had to leave behind at the last minute so she could move back to Chicago and be my new roommate, including but not limited to: shelves, end tables, pretty framed pictures, and a very posh coffee maker. Your sacrifice brings me to tears.)
September 1, 9:04 AM PST We hit the road.
And by "hit" I mean "start driving" and by "road" I mean "road." Route 66 starts in LA, and we're not driving all the way to fucking LA and then sitting in traffic, so we just go northeastish until we hit it.
We're armed with mahfuckin' Triscuits and coffee and are invincible. I am absolutely giddy, and dreaming of all the poeple we'll meet. Shitty motels, greasy diners and bearded bikers at cheap bars, Harley gangs and classic scenes. It's all very gritty Norman Rockwell in my head. I cannot wait. + 10
September 1, 10:00 AM PST Pretty pretty mountains. + 10
September 1, 10:54 AM PST We hit The Road.
And by "hit" I mean "merge onto" and by "road" I mean Route 66." + 5
We are out of coffee. Actually, I think I have some left, but it's all lukewarm and just makes me tired instead of invincible. Fucking coffee. I need a cigarette. - 4
September 1, 11:15 PM PST I make MoLinder veer onto Historic 66 for our first detour at Baghdad Cafe. It takes us like ahlf an hour to find it, because we're idiots. It's right on the fucking road. Every time we pass a red building, I'm all, "THERE IT IS" and I whip out my disposable camera because my other one is five years old and made of crap. Eventually we pass the actual cafe and I make MoLinder pull up in front of it so I can lean out the window and snap a picuture, and that's it. We're done there. + 2
This would become a pattern throughout the rest of the trip.
September 1, 12:08 PM PST Desert. I've only seen it from planes or Vegas hotel rooms. But now I'm seeing it up close, in all its nothing and glory. + 10
September 1, 12:10 PM PST Fucking hot as crotch*. The desert is fucking lame. I yearn for snow. - 20
* that's for Bluestreak.