The Road Trip From Hell
Last week a friend and I decided to take off on a little road trip. We planned on driving to Yellowstone and home in five days, taking in as much of the scenery as possible. This is what happened.
Sunday: Hung out with Barry, had a nice visit.
Monday: Spent with Barry, drove home that night.
Tuesday: Got home at 12 in the morning. Slept. Proceeded to pack, get food together, camp stuff. Cleaned car, made it all sparkly inside and out. Picked up my friend. Made reservations at a hotel in Tri-Cities that night. Left at seven at night. Took Highway 2 until Monroe, the I-90 and headed over the mountains. Had plenty of good music, it was nice and cool at night. Stars were out. The moon was huge and red, eerie in the desert. Got to Richland and the hotel. Watched free HBO and a creepy movie I'd seen before (The House of the Spirits)... Then slept.
Wednesday: Woke up, went down to car. A bright green condom was on top of it. Picked it off with a stick. I'd never seen a condom before, out of the wrapper at least. (Poor sheltered little me!) It was creepy. Ick. Didn't have much of an appetite after that, but got the free breakfast bar. (Fruit Loops.) Started driving... very hot... don't have air conditioning in my car. A somewhat nice drive. Got to Lewiston right on the Washington/Idaho border. Stopped at a Baskin-Robbins and had a huge dish of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream. Looked at the road maps and trying to figure out where we were going. Then I remembered that, oddly enough, the Lewis and Clark Caverns aren't in Lewiston and Clarkston, they're in Montana. So we figured on getting to at least the bottom of Idaho that night. Drove on... then, as soon as we had crossed the bridge to Idaho, my SRS light came on. The air bags threatened to explode at any moment! What do I do?! I dunno... so I figure I'll do what any red-blooded American would do in an uncertain situation as such-- Ignore it. Got to Boise (what a horrible, horrible little town!) Called the Honda dealership, they said they didn't know and that I could bring it in to get serviced at seven the next morning. I thanked them and figured I'd just wait 'til the way back to get it fixed, up in Couer d'Alene. Stopped in Boise for some quick food. My friend got sick and couldn't eat anything, and wasn't feeling too well. We decided to drive on for a while and get a hotel. Got to Mountain Home, Idaho and went to the KOA campground, which wanted 20 bucks for a night of camping, and their showers were closed. After a day of driving in 100 degree weather with no air conditioning, a nice cold shower sounded pleasent. So we got a nifty hotel. There was a good-looking young fellow waiting behind us in the lobby.
Thursday: Woke up, went down to car. Got my camera, planned on taking some bitchin' pictures of this awesome retro hotel. The owner and his wife started freaking out and screaming at me and chased us off of the property. Whatever. It was very nice, overcast and rainy that day. We started heading north-east. Stopped in Craters of the Moon, got some good pictures hopefully. Went spelunking. Ate lunch. Kept driving. Got to Yellowstone, lucked out and found a camp site. Of course there weren't any showers there, but oh well. Set up tent, made tasty food. Creepy people were camped right behind us and kept staring at us. Then one of our propane tanks started leaking, so I was all freaked out and didn't know what to do with it. So I put it on the ground and went to bed. Wasn't feeling too good.
Friday: Woke up, went down to car. Attempted to make breakfast, but the second propane tank wouldn't open. Sigh. So packed everything up, drove over to Canyon and took a very nice shower. Went over to Canyon Village and had lunch. Continued driving. Couldn't stop anywhere in Yellowstone because it was way too crowded. Oh well. Whatever. This is possibly the worst day of the trip. We drive and drive and drive and get to Missoula, and are fairly tired. Happy to be there just before sunset. So we get Taco Time, my friend gets sick again. We drive over to the KOA. They want thirty dollars for a campsite. We figure, whatever. We just want to sleep. So they show us our place to camp. It's in a fenced in area with the sign "Dog Corral" outside it, when we get there, old wrinkly people are walking their ugly yippy dogs there. No way. I am not sleeping in dog shit. That's unsanitary. So we decide to get a hotel. Leave. Drive. No hotels in all of Missoula. None in any of Montana, for that fact, after I call around. The Montana state fair is happening. Hell. Nothing in Idaho, either. The closest place in Idaho is Moscow, which is way far south of where we're headed. So we drive. We have to drop in at this lovely little town called St. Regis. It's about population 600, we roll up to the only gas station in town, and there's about 100 people standing outside the Conoco. Okaaaay... whatever. I go in to pay for the gas. There are slot machines and a bar in this gas station. What a brilliant idea! Mixing booze and a place for cars! Why didn't I think of that?! There's a local woman in line in front of me, talking with the clerk. She's cashing food stamps for beef jerky, vodka, and quarters for the slots. There is a 12 and 13 year old girl behind me, the 13 year old is barely able to hold a baby on her left hip. A nasty, icky, creepy homey-g in a wife beater and yellow stupid-pants moseys on over and proceeds to grope these girls. The boy is my age. (Nineteen.) The girl shifts the baby to her other hip so he gan paw her more easily. Girls these days are so considerate! The day isn't over yet. We get to Spokane, and it seems there is nowhere in Spokane. Everywhere we check is booked. I go in to the last decent looking hotel, and they have one room. The jaccuzi suite, for 140$. Okay. We'll take it. I go to the car to get money. Someone rolls up behind us, runs in, slams the door in my face. He gets the room, the clerk gives the guy the room even though I'd said I wanted it. Whatever. Fuckheads. So we start to drive around to the red light district, the sleazy creepy parts of Spokane. (As if there's anywhere that isn't.) Somewhere along there I pass out, thankfully not while I'm behind the wheel. We get a hotel, an angry Korean lady gives me the key, and my friend and I go to the room. There's two 40s of Mikes' Hard Lemonade in the fridge. It's a nice gesture but me being me, I don't drink. I would have, but Barry told me it makes him sad to think about me drinking or doing drugs or anything like that. And since I tell him everything, I would have told him about that, and I didn't want to make him sad. So I fell asleep.
Saturday: Woke up, went down to car. Room service was harassing us to leave, we'd slept in. So after a quick shower (the hot water would get really really hot and then turn off every couple seconds), we left. Doo, doooooo.... driving... everything's okay... People can't drive but whatever. We roll past Moses Lake, I don't even bother glaring hatefully because I'm not in a playful mood, I'm more in a depressed mood. I try to ignore it as we drive through. We need gas, but I refuse to contribute to the economy of that place. So I decide to go to Ellensburg. We can make it. And we do! Get gas, keep driving... SLAM ON BREAKS! What the hell is this shit? I-90 westbound is at a dead stop. (No pun intended.) I turn on my CB radio (hooray, drunken truckers with southern accents!) and find out what the dilly, yo. Fatality accident. The truckers are saying that the cops aren't there yet, no one was wearing their seat belts and that there's bodies all over. I'm already in a depressed mood, so I decide it'd be in my best interest to "flip a bitch" (pull a U-turn) and exit the on-ramp. I tell everyone as they're driving the wrong (well, correct) way that they should follow suit and turn around, they're not gonna get anywhere for the next 5 hours. So we get on 97, then on 10 and back onto 90, then exit at North Bend and take Highway 2 home. (Highway 2 has these funny signs along it that proclaim it is a "STATE SPONSERED HIGHWAY OF DEATH! hahahahaha. It's funny 'cause it's true. Well, if people would learn how to drive and pass... hmmm...) We get home, finally! Ugh! SLEEP! But my trip isn't over, oh no...
Sunday: Woke up, went down to car. At six in the morning. That is just simply too early... I drive for four hours out to the coast to see Barry. He can tell I'm looking sad, and gives me what is possibly one of the best hugs I've ever had. Most people might laugh at that, but seriously... Later that day my dad shows up and meets him. Eeek! But everything goes well. Okay, slick. So I find a camp site down on the beach and put up my cheater-tent (on of those 'self erecting' tents. Hehehe.) I don't bother putting up the rain-fly. If there's one thing I'd learned from the past 5 days, it should be to expect the worst. Oh well. I'm a bumbling idiot.
Monday: Woke up ... to the feeling of rain dripping on my face. Tossed all of my camp stuff into the backseat. The pop-up tent set itself up in my tent, I still haven't tried to get it out yet. Hehe. Got pictures taken with Barry, had a very very nice visit. Drove home, and slept.