Tales From the Road Pt III - February 26-March 2, 2007

We're here, we're queer, we're... more or less vertical. Actually, a lot of the time since we arrived in our new home has been spent supine, or walking around running into things-- each other, the cats, the walls... This trip took it out of us, and we've agreed that it truly earned the title Worst Move Ever. The cats agree. In any case, just to finish the story, here's what happened since the last update I sent out: We got stuck again, in Salt Lake City. We tried to get out, we really did. But the Fates were clearly against us, and much as we fought them, those bitches are just too strong for human beings, and in the end they won. We got up early, thinking that we could beat the worst of the snowstorm that was predicted and get into Nevada, where the weather was suppsed to be clearer. But the snow came early, and by 6 am it was already falling steadily. We dithered around for an hour, then decided to head out anyway, because we were getting conflicting reports about what was happening to the West, and we thought we might get stuck for good if we stayed. I figured the actual conditions would probably be less dire than the drama queen SLC news anchors were saying, and that even if we had to pause in Wendover to wait for a couple passes to get cleared or reopened, we'd still get through to Reno without too much trouble. Just exactly what we'd do with the cats if we had to wait around was an open question, but still, I figured it was better to bash on through than to wait around to get buried in Mormon slush. But as it turned out, we had other problems to face before the slush even had its chance at us. When we got outside, we found that two idiots had parked directly behind our truck and trailer, completely boxing us in. What were they thinking? Or were they thinking at all? We'd gone to some trouble to park out of the way, just as we had everywhere on this trip. But these two wahoos had pulled up right behind us, either assuming they'd be leaving first (why? they'd certainly arrived much later!) or else just not bothering to think at all. The front desk clerk managed to track down one of these stupid people, who did come out to move his enormous Lincoln. But we still had to take ten minutes to maneuver around the other car and get out of the lot. Argh! Next problem: the moment we pulled onto the highway, the real snow started coming down. Fat, wet flakes just on the point of freezing covered our windshields and built up on the road. Within minutes, my windshield wipers had turned into great big popsicles with all the clinging snow. The bumper to bumper traffic slowed, and visibility reduced to the point where all we could see was the cars directly in front of us. Phil needed to get gas, and we'd planned to do that as soon as we hit Highway 80 again and were headed out of town, but the exit he chose had no gas stations, just lots of hotels, and then it turned out to have no re-entry to the highway, either. At this point the traffic had gotten better, but the visibility had decreased to just a few yards, and the snow was falling faster than ever. I pulled up behind Phil in an empty parking lot where he'd gone to turn around and try to figure out where to go next, and just said, "Okay, we're staying, I'm going to call around for another hotel." And that's what we did-- we found a much nicer LaQuinta north of SLC (if anybody's traveling through there, go up to Layton rather than any of the in-town places-- much nicer area, much nicer people), checked in, got upgraded to a suite by the lovely lady at the front desk, whom I'd talked to on the phone, hauled the cats inside one more time, and headed off to find breakfast at the Cracker Barrel across the street. All of which was lovely, reassuring, welcoming... and then it stopped snowing and the sun came out, so we both felt guilty about not driving on after all. In the end, it turned out we'd made the right choice after all, because the storm was raging off and on all across Nevada-- Reno got six inches of snow, and Donner Pass, where Highway 80 goes West of Reno, was closed or required chains all day. So we couldn't have gotten anywhere anyway, and meanwhile we had a great place to stay and a day off to rest again, which was a godsend. I slept, Phil worked remotely for TheatreWorks, and in the afternoon we went down into SLC to see the Mormon Temple and downtown and a few other areas. Very strange place- lots of impressive buildings (the convention center attached to the temple is pretty spectacular), and lots of oh-so-perky young ladies in long skirts very eager to tell us all about every building and also, by the way, ask if we were familiar with the Church of Latter Day Saints. To which I could honestly say, "Oh yes, I know all about you," and make a quick exit. The downtown area outside of Temple Square seems to be dying-- I remember it as being pretty vital and lively when I drove through with my friend, Keren, a few years ago. But maybe that was just left over from the '02 Olympics, or something, and now it's all falling apart. In any case, once we got away from Mormon Central there were lots of empty storefronts, and what shops and restaurants were still around looked pretty unimpressive and seedy. We headed back up to Layton and had dinner at the Olive Garden (I know, I know-- the Depths of Suburbia, not to mention the ultimate in Corporate Food, but it was fine, and the service was very good, and besides, Phil, as a good Italian boy, has always felt some sort of weird responsibility to experience Olive Garden once, and this seemed to be the perfect time and place.) The next day there was a little snow over a couple passes, but nothing that slowed us down too much, and we breezed through Nevada and I felt very at home again, what with the vast desert distances, the bare and craggy mountains (beautifully picked out in snow, which certainly shows them to their best advantage), and the slot machines at every truck stop. Ah, Nevada, spiritual home of all things slightly sleazy, with no apologies or embarrassment. And the rest of our trip went more or less as planned. We had dinner with my family that night, and admired the results of my parents' latest redecorating projects (rebuilding their house has become an ongoing, never-ending thing for some reason. They used to only do it in honor of special occasions, like when my sister got married, but now it's constant. I'm wondering if this is what my future holds-- of course, I'll have to actually own a house, first. Or else just spend my days constantly repainting a rental. Yippee skip.) We also did a mini-tour around downtown Reno on the way back to our hotel, and stopped by the Grand Sierra (which is still the MGM Grand to me, site of my first dance job and a huge part of my history) which made me feel sort of sad and old, and where there's far too little left of what the place used to look like. I didn't get to see any of the friends I'd hoped to meet up with, because we were just too tired and useless by that point. And I don't think either Phil or I was able to appreciate all the stuff I'd looked forward to for this part of the trip, like the beauty of the mountains west of Reno, or the snow, or any of my own good history there. When we left in the morning (after an hour or so of last minute panic, because there were chain requirements over the pass AGAIN!) we realized we were into our 8th day of moving-- EIGHT DAYS, people, which is about four too long, in my book, and two more than we'd planned for when we set off!-- all we could do was keep going without thought or any wasted time. Enjoying the drive and appreciating its beauties was far beyond us. That last day of travel is probably worth a travelogue all on its own, because it starts with one of the most spectacular drives you can do on any major highway, and ended, for us, with a cruise through a fabulous, and fabulously weird, area of California that I hadn't seen before-- sheer, vertical green hills with towering windmills lining their backs and ridges, their vanes rolling steadily and ponderously atop their hundreds-of-feet-high stalks. But honestly, it was all too long, tooooooo looooonnnnnnnnggg to be dealt with, and when we turned up at Phil's office in Menlo Park, I know we looked like roadkill. We left the truck at the office, installed the cats at our corporate apartment (where they are finally calmed down and no longer hanging from the ceilings in hysteria), and collapsed. And then the next day we got up, unloaded with the fabulous help of a last minute crew thrown together by one of Phil's staff people, returned the truck and trailer, and collapsed again. And yesterday, we began to feel like human beings again-- finally! Today, Phil's at his first full length work day and I'm starting the process of looking for work and settling in. Oh yippee. Keep your fingers crossed, and wish me luck in this, please. Attached is a final picture of Bob the Truck, returned to the others of his kind in the Penske lot. You will probably be hearing more from me in the fairly near future, because some of you have suggested some projects that I want to try, and I'll be looking for an audience. Stay tuned. But meanwhile, we're here, we're settled, and we even seem to be liking it. We're looking for rentals, and hoping for the best-- keep sending those good thoughts, y'all!