I-40 Part 3: DISASTER STRIKES (but, then so does luck)

FRIDAY, JULY 28
Flagstaff, AZ

Just as we entered into the most picturesque portion of our long drive (a side trip to Petrified Forest National Park), our digital camera dies. It's dead, and I have no idea why.

You can only imagine how overwhelming my sense of loss is.

The Petrified Forest was quite nice - there was so much more wood there than I would have hoped to imagine, especially since the NPS makes such a big deal about stealing some. (It's a $275 fine, and they include a helpful narc sheet in your park map to rat out people along the way.) Kevin and I joked that we should try to walk out with a gigantic log just to see if anyone would try to stop us.

We would have explored more of the park, but for a few problems: it was crazy hot, and in the middle of the day; I didn't have appropriate shoes; and - most troubling - those sign-of-the-Apacolypse thunderheads looming overhead just waiting to explode and smote.

SATURDAY, JULY 29
Santa Nella, CA

My heart is breaking in a million pieces with every mile I drive.

Kevin and I woke this morning with a similar realization: it's Saturday! This means hours of NPR entertainment! Wait, Wait and Car Talk and maybe - maybe!! - even This American Life. No longer will we need to ford our way through radio purgatory!

Alas, NPR stations break up and die as we cross into the Mojave Desert, leaving us with just the random smatterings of Spanish-language programming, "classic" rock stations, and vitriolic conservative talk radio.

Here are some final observations about contemporary radio:
(1) I tremble in fear at organizations like Focus on the Family and the radio shows they pump onto national airwaves, even if they are full of important "information" and "facts," like the "fact" that public schools turns children into homosexuals. R-i-i-i-ght.
(2) Why did Miami Vice dredge up Phil Collins? We've heard In the Air Tonight and Tonight, Tonight at least once per hour. Kevin rightly points out, "Well, I've heard that Gnarls Barkley song as much as Phil Collins."
(3) Beyonce and Jay-Z are poised for world domination, hindered only by the weakness of that Deja-Vu song.
(4) Radio stations in California play The Doors way more than most other radio stations. Kevin and I suspected this was true while driving around for two weeks a year or so ago, but it was confirmed during this long drive.
(5) Kevin adds, "I realized on this drive that Ozzy Osborne's Crazy Train is one of my favorite songs to listen to in the car."

SUNDAY, JULY 30
Palo Alto, CA

My eyes are infected. I think. They're really grossly red, which is a good look when interviewing and applying for apartment, as if I'd had to have one last hit in the car before coming inside. I'm pretty sure that the root of my problem came from that long, hot desert we crossed in the middle of the afternoon yesterday, with all of the dry air blowing on my face, but a cursory look at WebMD suggests that I might have caught untold numbers of foul infections from the random pillows, towels, and washcloths that we've been using at these dive motels across the country. If I have eye herpes from a skeevy Motel 6, I might cry, if I could produce tears.

I tried to cry earlier in the day, at the Palo Alto Main Library, when the frustration of finding an apartment and being perpetually lost and homeless in this foreign city that's supposed to be home came crashing down. Tears were not forthcoming, however.

I might just be dehydrated.

The worst part of my eye infection is that I have to wear my glasses, which are at least 3 years out-of-date and don't fit comfortably on my head after they were stepped on by someone.

Alas, it's difficult to be me.

MONDAY, JULY 31
Palo Alto, CA

WE HAVE AN APARTMENT!!

It might have been the easiest thing we've ever done.

We visited one (1) apartment.
We applied for one (1) apartment.

And, presto!

It has redwoods, and cypress trees, and eucalyptus trees. It's a decent size, and in walking distance to some cool shops and restaurants. It has a few pools, and a few tennis courts, but did I mention the trees? Really, it's like we've moved into an Ewok village.

This is good news as we've checked into perhaps the skeeviest motel in Palo Alto, and our truck is parked on the most central of central streets, just begging to be hotwired away.