I'm basically done with my cross-country drive, spending an unnecessary night in Newport Beach, Calif., before picking Adam up at LAX, and I learned quite a bit along the way. I've done the drive at least twice before—there must have been a third time, but I don't recollect the details—but never on this route.
Interstates can be beautiful. Or at least one is: I-70, west of Denver. I actually drove from Denver to Vail at night, so I can only assume from the rollercoaster of a road that the scenery is stunning. I know for a fact, however, that west of Vail is spectacular, all the way to I-15 and then on much of it, too. Adam has a friend who was curious about the scenery, so I behaved stupidly threw caution to the wind and snapped pictures every now and then. I probably would've taken more—despite driving 80 miles per hour—had the latest iPhone software upgrade not made disconnecting it from the stereo input a hassle.
Elmore Leonard saved my life. The iPhone problem meant that listening to music was touch and go—at times, the phone wouldn't let me play music and use the Bluetooth, which I wanted in case somebody called. (Radio? It's generally awful, especially when you're zooming from market to market.) But I had brought two Elmore Leonard audiobooks that I bought years ago for no reason I can remember. I love Elmore Leonard, and he's awesome as an audiobook. I had Up in Honey's Room (read by Arliss Howard) and Be Cool (read by Campbell Scott), and their use of voices was astounding. It was a transformative experience for me—not only did I think I'd prefer music (only to find that books passed the time much faster), but the entire medium blew my mind. Since I don't expect to listen to those two books again, I'll happily send them to anyone who might have a long drive coming.
Vladimir Nabokov nearly killed me. At one truck stop, I looked through the audiobooks. I didn't expect much: Elmore Leonard is the only mass-market author I'll read, and I don't care how that sounds. But there it was: The Eye by Vladimir Nabokov. Never heard of it, but how bad could it be? Well, let me tell you that I also learned on this trip that you can tell when you're getting tired/bored/sleepy because your mouth drops open and stays there, as if stuck in a perpetual half-yawn.
I did listen to the radio quite a bit. Lorde's "Royals" is the hottest song right now. Katy Perry's latest is a strong second, but I can't listen to one more girl-power pop song. And I liked Robin Thicke's "Give It 2 U" until I watched the video. He's so awkward.
I used to think whole milk was decadent. Everywhere I went for coffee, there was one pitcher out: half and half. And maybe some creamer packets. In New York City, you see half and half, whole milk, skim, soy, et al. I've never had so much cream in my life.
The Midwest is conflicted. As soon as the anti-abortion, pro-Jesus billboards started—in Pennsylvania, keeping up through Kansas—it was matched by advertising for adult stores (mostly the Lion's Den, but also Passion's, which has a wanton relationship with the apostrophe). Same people?
An apple a day.... Last weekend, Adam and I bought a bag of apples at a Connecticut farmer's market, so I brought five along, thinking they might come in handy. Did they ever! At this point, if you want to eat something other than fast food or convenience-store crap, you have to wander a mile or two off the Interstate, into whichever town is nearby. That sounds like no big deal, but momentum is a drug, and even a ten-minute detour feels like Odysseus's visit with the Lotus-Eaters. Until I began forcing myself to go out of the way for a cheese sandwich (supermarket deli counters!), those apples were the only fresh food I ate before dinner.
There's a new Mike & Ike's flavor. It's supposed to reference strawberries, and it tastes like an air freshener.
Nineteen hours is too much driving for one day. Trust me. When I finally stopped, I went to the hotel bar. The bartender asked how I was; my answer was "I need liquor."
You should get the HotelTonight app. I had planned on staying at motels, but I don't think I can handle them anymore. (The smell.) But I don't like wasting money, and hotels can be such a ripoff. So I used the HotelTonight app over and over: It shows deals for that night at hotels in various cities. Sometimes the hotels weren't that great, but if I had done any due diligence I would have discovered as much. It was worth it alone for the $139 rate I got at the Sebastian (below), a cushy new hotel in Vail. When you sign up, use the code ETORKELLS and we both get $25 off—you upon sign-up and me when you book your first room. When I first learned of HotelTonight, I never thought I'd need the app, but it has turned out to be super handy, and I suspect I'll use it again.
The "resort fee" is spreading. Both the Sebastian and the Westin in Lake Las Vegas charged a $25 "resort fee." (It's simply a way for hotels to charge a higher rate without displaying a higher rate online, since now we all can compare prices so easily.) When I mentioned to the Sebastian that I had only used the restaurants and the valet parking, both of which I paid separately for, the clerk removed the charge. The folks at the Westin, meanwhile, handed me a card they have at hand for people who complain. I went down the list of items covered in the resort fee and explained that the only one I used was the wi-fi. "So I paid $25 for wi-fi?" I asked, and they just shrugged.
Westin is no longer a hotel brand. It's a motel.
This is something I had never seen before. The Westin is offering guests $5 in restaurant credit or 500 loyalty points for each day they refuse housekeeping. That just barely covers a bottle of water in the lobby café.
The weirdest place I have ever visited? Lake Las Vegas. I can't remember wanting to write about a place so badly. I think I'll cover it in a second post; there's simply too much to say.
Go on, ask for a different room. At the dumpy Canterbury Hotel in Indianapolis, I could clearly hear my neighbors through the connecting door, digging ice from the bucket, sneezing, chatting. I went down to ask for a new room and the clerk said they'd have to charge me because I'd been there for more than 20 minutes. "Then we might as well open the connecting door," I said. "In fact, we might as well have a three-way." (The new room was better.) And the Island Hotel in Newport Beach put me in a room with a baby on the other side of the connecting door. (The new room was better.) Below: My bathroom at the Canterbury—you have to squeeze through that opening to reach the shower and toilet.
Four days on the road and you lose it a little bit. Outside Las Vegas, I noticed a hang glider landing near the highway. And then I spotted two more coming down right overhead, watching them first through the windshield and then through the sunroof. I actually applauded, but I may have simply been giddy about being nearly finished with the drive.
What at trip! Glad for you it is over.
Posted by: jim | 27 September 2013 at 01:17 PM