Travel-blog, Day 6

My one lasting memory from Joshua Tree will be the wide-open sky. With no trees overhead, no lights for miles, and no fire at our site, I was able to see the entire sky, and it was beautiful. It reminded me of my days back at college, taking a basic astronomy class to get my science credits out of the way. We were in Walla Walla, and unfortunately the lights at the Washington State Penintentiary had the sky somewhat bleary. But, one night, we went out to the college’s “observatory” (a shed with some telescopes in it in the middle of a wheat field north of town) where nothing was hidden, and the whole universe was naked before me.

Above my head at Joshua Tree, I once again could see stars that I’d forgotten had existed. I was able, once more, to see the Milky Way winding through the sky. I was able to see satellites zipping through space.

Nights like these are beautiful. And, unfortunately, they are far too rare.

By morning, the dreamy memory of the night’s luminosity dwindled as I started hurriedly packing camp. After eating some tasty All Bran and yogurt, clinging in vain to the hope that an occasional act of obedience to the diet gods would blind them to the crap I was eating whenever opportunity knocked, it was time to roll sleeping bags, pack tents, and clean up.

As usual when camping is taking place, JLowe was in a lovely mood. JLowe has definite moments where it’s better just to stay out of his way. With people who don’t know him well, the only way to pick up on these is to notice that he’s no longer talking, and to see his jaw flexing as he bites his tongue. His eyes also get set into a stare, and he blinks less as he waits for you to stop annoying him. For people who do know him, the clues are all the same, but amplified in some way by some pheromone or something he sends out that says “stand the hell back and leave me be.”

I smelled the pheromone, and I stayed back. JLowe’s moods are caused, to some degree, by a certain rigidity borne into him by his upbringing. Not to besmirch JLowe. His rigidity comes from well-thought out plans. It’s only off-putting when JLowe doesn’t work very hard to let you in on the plans, to let you understand his rationale. In not ceding to him, you frustrate him. In not taking a moment or two to pre-explain to you, he frustrates you.

Unless I had learned this long ago, I might not take this so well. I’ve learned to step back, let JLowe work, and figure things out later. And it’s a good system.

JLowe’s abruptness this day was caused, in part, by the space limitations of his vehicle, the fact that this was the first time we’d fully unpacked it, and by his desire to follow his pre-determined morning camp-breaking order while his wife worked on some other, less coherent agenda. Between packing the camp and packing the car, he was preparing to lose it.

Fortunately, he settled down as we all sensed the building tempest and left him some space. We all hopped in the car (ladies in back, JLowe and I up front) and began our journey east. JLowe slowly simmered, then cooled, and then it was time to rotate.

Lady Lowe took over, and shortly after we engaged ferocious cross-winds that threatened to blow the streamlined brick-shape of a Honda Element over onto its side. I sat in back, trying to sleep, but the occasional lurches didn’t militate in the favor of slumber. So, I read.

I brought several books with me on vacation. I thought that I’d get through one of two. As it was, I was having a dickens of a time handling even one. I chose Dracula, as I’m a vampire fan, had seen several iterations of Dracula on-screen, and was to the point where I wanted to see where it all began. A good book, but a long read.

Next to me sat JLowe, now getting riled up over something new. About a week before we left for our vacation, JLowe lost his wallet. So, he’d had to cancel all of his cards and order new ones, none of which arrived in time for the trip. As we drove, he repeatedly got calls from his friends at 24 Hour Fitness, reminding him that he had failed to make his automatic payment due to a problem with his card, and to please call to solve the problem. During the trip, he called no less than 3 times. He was called no less than 3 other times. And, at least on one day, he was called twice. And spoke to people both times. And both people claimed they were logging it so that he wouldn’t be bugged.

Whatever. It certainly wasn’t doing anything to make JLowe happy. No, not at all.

Couple this with the fact that Lady Lowe managed to misplace her camera in LA, and it still wasn’t found. At this point, she was certainly upset about losing her camera, and that fact worked its way into conversation enough that JLowe was visibly, if not audibly, frustrated. He could do nothing to solve the problem, he hadn’t caused the problem, and thus he didn’t want it to become an issue which overly impacted the vacation.

His jaw was grinding. His gaze was set. It was time to leave him alone.

Thankfully, sleep came.

Somewhere in this day was a search for ice cream. I don’t recall who started it (I suspect my pregnant wife), but there was a strong desire building in the car for an ice cream snack of some sort. We pulled off at a gas station with a food mart, and while filling up went in to look for a treat. The ladies found the ice cream case, but it was devoid of anything they desired.

Everyone went back outside. We noticed that there were at least two other food marts nearby. Everyone else jumped into the car. I took the opportunity to stretch my legs, and walked across the road to the next market. When we rendezvoused inside, we found more satisfactory treats, and then we were once again on the road.

I realized, as we drove through the desert eating our desserts, that I was now nowhere near South Beach, diet or otherwise.

Eventually we came to Phoenix. Not knowing anything about the town, I’d booked a motel that was on the same road that The Missus’ brother, CTam, lives on. We got off the freeway, passed his apartment, and then drove for miles. Everywhere we looked was desolate. Our motel, a Ramada Lite (or something like that) looked one step above a by-the-hour joint. My choice for lodgings was not lauded by my cohorts.

We waited for CTam to get off of work. We were only in town overnight, so all that was in the cards was dinner. JLowe and his lady went looking for cheap cameras and other discount shopping opportunities. The Missus and I took a nap on our first real bed in days.

That, I must say, was luxurious.

Eventually CTam called, and it was time for dinner. He came to meet me and The Missus in our room, and noted that we’d booked in the worst part of town. The entire road, between our Ramada and his place, was ghetto central in Phoenix, and we were lucky we hadn’t been mugged, beaten, prostituted, and flogged during our drive.

We asked him not to divulge this to Lady Lowe, who can be a bit squeamish in low-security environments.

We went to dinner at a competent, but not fantastic, Mexican place which had good Corona and cheap food. After, I further foiled my pre-vacation diet when we joined CTam at Cold Stone, where I had chocolate ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough, caramel, and more chocolate in it. So bad, but so so so good.

I noticed at the table during dinner that my nose was getting runny and I was feeling not-so-great. I chalked it up to allergies. This, it would turn out, was a misdiagnosis.

After dinner, we chatted with CTam some more, and then it was time to depart. He had morning classes, we had to drive to the Grand Canyon. The visit was too short, for certain. But we couldn’t wait to get out of our motel, so it all worked out in the end.