The Lightning Field is actually an art installation consisting of 400 steel poles in the middle of nowhere, but I swear we were driving through it on our way to Albuquerque. Bolts of lightning off in the distance seemed to follow us north. At the top of every mountain we climbed, downpours, high winds and ominous clouds made for a stressful drive. The last 22 miles to Albuquerque were the longest 22 miles of my life. But we made it.
As we got off the highway to search out a hotel and some food, we were greeted by a crazy person on the side of the road screaming nonsense until we pulled up beside him and he said to us very calmly “Hey guys”. Sure the New Mexico Welcome Center had gorgeous views and free coffee, but what could be more inviting and make you feel more at home than this?
Word of advice to those of you who might be travelling through West Texas or New Mexico; be prepared to stop for the border patrol. That’s right kids, our first run in with the long arm of the law. All fairly standard questions, are you citizens, where are you going, do you have drugs shoved up your rectum, is there room for illegal workers in all that crap you’re toting? We answered truthfully, of course (yes, Albuquerque, not to my knowledge, there’s barely room for me) and were sent on our way without causing an international incident.
The drive into to New Mexico was beautiful. At least until the rain started. Luckily, the Volvo doubled as an ark and we made it in safely to beautiful Albuquerque while also rescuing two of each animal we saw. Another word of advice; if you’re trying to rescue coyotes, wear gloves and eye protection, they’ve got some bad attitudes.
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Friday the 18th started out so well, leaving Austin ahead of schedule, not brutally hot, a good start to our next leg of the journey. 290 west out of Austin to I-10 to El Paso. Through Johnson City, the birthplace of Lyndon B. Johnson, Fredericksburg, another one of those crazy little German towns scattered across Texas, and suddenly it sounded like we were being followed by an airplane. It wasn’t an airplane after all but the exhaust on the Silver Comet:
We stopped at the first rest area we saw just to confirm the issue, and also to see if the on duty mechanic could help us. Alas he didn’t do exhaust work. We were 200 miles from Austin, 400 miles from El Paso, and the closest place that might have a mechanic open on Saturday was Fort Stockton Tx, 200 miles away. Our minds were made up, Fort Stockton here we come.
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The rural highways of Texas are a strange and interesting thing. The speed limit ranges anywhere from 60 to 70 miles per hour, but often, there are traffic signals at the intersections. So the plan is to go as fast as you possibly can, and then slam on the brakes to avoid, you know, being killed. It’s an odd choice for a highway. It’s as if the powers that be couldn’t decide whether they wanted travellers to speed through the state, or stop at every corner to see what nutty activity could be taking place. The highways here seem to be the tangible product of a state that can’t seem to make up its mind about its image.
Texas is filled with so many contradictions that from one town to the next you find yourself wanting to live there or cursing the very ground. There are cute little towns filled to the brim with art galleries, live music, and open minded people who smile at you from store windows. Then there are not so cute towns, less like towns, more like a few aging buildings dotting the desert, that make your foot push the accelerator just a little harder. (more…)
After over a month on the road, we were feeling the need to search out some good pizza. Unfortunately, we were in Texas. Why is it that there’s no good pizza outside of the northeast? I don’t know about the west coast, I haven’t been there obviously, but what about this huge swath of land in between the coasts? Did no Italians that knew how to cook ever make it away from the shores?
Our overpowering hunger for some good pie brought us to Brooklyn’s in Allen Texas. This was a small chain of “old time” New York style pizza parlors made to look like New York City through the eyes of someone who has never been. Their slogan was “A Taste of the Old Neighborhood”, and they even had this:
That’s right, Hudson River Water. Yeash, what are they thinking? I guess they’ve never seen the Hudson River as it flows past New York City.
And than there was the food. Boy were we disappointed. Bland, bland, bland. Did I mention it was bland? We found it necessary to dump all sorts of extra seasonings on each and every slice, cheese, hot pepper, oregano. Even than it was barely edible.
I think I’m going to wait until we get to the west coast to try again, otherwise does anybody know of a place that will deliver to San Francisco from New Haven?
Sometimes I’m lucky. Rarely, but sometimes. I think it’s really just statistics though. If you’re unlucky for long enough, eventually the pendulum will swing the other way. So as luck would have it, the exact weekend we come to Texas is the weekend my old friend Bobby is having a party. It was supposed to be a birthday party/co-party with the people next door, but the people next door bailed on their’s and it was just ended up as a b-day party for Bobby. (more…)
I don’t like Dallas. I’m not sure I ever have. I have some wonderful friends here, and my mom is here, but I don’t think it would be high on my list of must see spots if they weren’t here. But they are, and so at seven a.m., we rolled into Dallas. One of the things I don’t like about Dallas is their love of all things meaty. I’m not a vegetarian, but the south makes me want to be one. If I have to eat one more piece of chicken (fried, Bar-B-Qued, baked, whatever) I’m going to start clucking, laying eggs, and pecking Matt on the ankles with my mighty beak. All in moderation is what I’m saying.But in the recesses of my mind, I remembered a vegetarian restaurant called the Cosmic Cafe. And I remembered what vegetables tasted like. It was a good day. The Cosmic Cafe is an East meets West kind of place, with familiar favorites given an Indian twist. I had the Herban Renewal, nan filled with avocado, cream cheese, spinach, mushrooms, and mozzarella. It was filling without being heavy and the flavors melded together well. I would, however, have added more avocado if I were making it, but that’s only because avocado rules.
Matt enjoyed the Buddas Delight, curried vegetables, dahl (a spicy lentil soup), rice and bread. MMMMMM. The only downside was the samosas- much too oily. I shall overlook it due to the excellence of the other dishes, and the general eccentric feel of the place. I still don’t like Dallas, but what the hell, at least I can fight the beak for a little while.
After a hard day’s work and 12 hours of sleep (that’s right 12- 8 pm to 8 am), we decided to bid adieu to the Crescent City. We had done our share of labor and saw enough devastation to last us a lifetime. We drove around the city looking for free wifi, but come to find out almost everything is closed on Sundays. Everything that is except for the bars. We ended up in the French Quarter one last time to get some beignets, a southern version of a donut. The dough is bit sweeter, and they are covered in powdered sugar. What a great breakfast on a hot and muggy day. While we were eating we got to talking with a bartender at a bar that shared an outdoor area with Cafe Beignet. (more…)
I’m no friend of hard work. It’ true, I’m ashamed, but there it is. I am, however, well aquainted with sipping icy drinks, lazing about, and positioning myself in such a way that it appears that I’m working hard (in actuality, pretending to work hard is harder than just working hard, but it’s the principle of it). The bottom line is that I’ve never been one of those people who consistently work hard, I am one of the lazy. So it is with great amazement that I report that I worked pretty damned hard for Habitat for Humanity, and I’d do it again in a minute. (more…)
