9/28/14
Boise, Idaho
Today I did something that I will only do one more time in the rest of
my life, something that I will do for the last time this month three years from
now. I checked a new state of my
list. Idaho is the 49th state
that I have visited. There is only one
more: Hawaii. Granted, I could pick any
weekend I wanted, take a flight from JFK-HNL, go find some beach roast party,
light up a Cuban, eat some kalua pig, take an Official U into the Pacific,
knock off that 50th state, and be back at work Monday morning. That is not how I will visit my 50th
state. It will be an epic, and I mean
epic, 18-day trip that knocks off the last of my 30 Goals and takes me to Guam
and Samoa. Speaking of my 30 Goals, I
completed the second one of my goals today: all US Winter Stadiums. In fact, I managed to visit the sites of all
4 Stadiums during this year, the year of a Winter Games. I have actually now been to the sites of all
Olympic Stadiums in the U.S., Summer and Winter. It gave me a great sense of pride and
accomplishment to be able to say that as I walked out of Rice-Eccles Stadium
this evening, since each visit had its own story.
Before I get on to recounting the events of
today, a brutal day in the rain, not the fun and relaxed day I had hoped, I
must recount a bit of philosophy that I am working on. It is nowhere near fully developed, but it is
a good start. Three months ago, I
offered my idea of romantic attraction as a function in three variables. That was the math side of me. Simply put, it said that romantic attraction
consisted of three aspects: physical, emotional (or mental), and chemical
attraction. It was a bad definition, and
I was still using Rand’s definition of love, so I said that emotional
attraction, the shared values and mutual respect definition, which would more
properly be considered mental attraction, was the only type of love.
As I was driving, it struck me that that was
the wrong dichotomy (well, trichotomy), especially since it ignored passion and
compatibility. Chemistry is not
compatibility. Those are two very
different things. Yes, chemistry is an
aspect of compatibility, but it is not the only aspect. Likewise, physical attraction is not passion. Yes, again, it’s an aspect. Without physical attraction, there can be no
passion, but physical attraction alone is not a sufficient Efficient Cause of passion. I am not sure where the mental attraction
fits in. I know that is possible to feel
desire solely based on mental attraction (I am thinking of a specific person
here), but I never got the opportunity to test if I would have felt passion
towards her, nor will I ever get that opportunity (we are too incompatible in a
very fundamental way). Further, passion
and desire are not the same thing. They
are similar, but they are not the same. I am still trying to
reshuffle the physical/mental/chemical trichotomy into this new passion/compatibility
or maybe desire/compatibility dichotomy.
Last semester, Amelia called me a pure Rationalist. I had not yet studied the Rationalist
philosophers, so I just thought she was calling me purely rational. I took it as a compliment, but it is not
true. I am not a Rationalist. Everything cannot be deduced rationally. Sometimes you need empirical evidence. This question, this definition of love, a
question I have been trying to answer for probably the past ten years or more,
is one that requires empirical evidence, which I have been gathering
practically my whole life, not that I plan to be looking for any more empirical
evidence any time soon. “I cheated on
you in the name of philosophy” is not an excuse anyone would buy, and it is not
an excuse I would try to sell, nor am I even the type of person capable of
infidelity because it is as dishonest to yourself as it is to your partner, and
I am incapable of lying to myself. For
now, I am going with what I call the Sochi definition of love: wanting to hold
someone in your arms and never let go.
Wanting to hold them is the desire, never wanting to let go is the
compatibility. I have quite a bit of driving to do tomorrow,
and I intend to better develop this theory by the time I get to SLC.
Alright, the adventures of today, and there
were plenty. I don’t remember if it was
raining when I woke up, but it was certainly raining by the time I got on the
road. Breakfast was meager, but I wasn’t
too hungry, so it was fine. My plan was
to light up my smallest Cuban, walk to the Capitol, take my picture, go to the
Mormon Temple, take my picture there, and walk back to the car. I figured that I would be done with the Cuban
by then, so I could light up my Davidoff Nic Toro once I got on the
highway. It is the cigar that pumps me
up for the first long drive of the trip, and I always feel alive and ready to
drive to hell and back when I light it up.
One problem, well, two. First, I
forgot that State Capitols don’t get cigars.
I am so accustomed to lighting up the Cuban in front of the State
Capitol, as those two things are often the last aspect of saying a state
Complete, but I never have a cigar in the Official picture. On top of that, it was either wet or rainy,
so that made for a slower smoke. In the
end, I was underwhelmed by the Mormon Temple, so I didn’t even bother walking
there, and the Montecristo lasted half of the way to Idaho.
When I saw the Welcome to Idaho sign, right
at the border, since it was long and flat road, I was pumped, but I still hadn’t
lit up the Nic Toro. It was raining, but
that didn’t stop me from getting out of the car to take my picture. There was no place to take the Official U, so
I knew that would have to wait until I got to the NPS. I got back in the car and lit up the Nic
Toro, but I wound up still having some left by the time I got to my
destination. The speed limit was 80 mph,
the fastest I had ever seen in the U.S., so I had no trouble breaking 100 in
both states, though I kept my cruise control at 89 for the drive. My GPS thought the speed limit was 75, and
the signs were new, so it must have been a recent change, which meant that I
was able to shave significant time off of my drive, arriving well ahead of
schedule. I got my stamps at the VC and
got a trail map and some guidance on a hike that would take me about an
hour.
It would have been the perfect
hike, if it wasn’t rain and if I hadn’t gotten lost. Yes, I got lost, and it was one of the most
terrifying experiences of my life, but more on that later. The views were breathtaking. It was called City of the Rocks National
Reserve, and it certainly was a city of rocks.
I lit up a Cohiba and hit the trail, quickly finding the perfect spot
for my first Official U in Idaho. I did
the first part of the trail, almost slipping on the wet rocks a few times, with
little trouble. I then went to do the
extension. That was where the trouble
began. The signage was either lacking or
did not match the brochure. I was
quickly lost. I have a good enough sense
of direction that I was pretty sure I could have turned around and just
retraced my steps, but it seemed like I was heading the right direction towards
the parking lot. The sign posts just
were useless. I started to get a little
nervous, and it quickly turned into fear.
Due to the rain, no one else was hiking.
My water supply was dwindling. I
didn’t have any food. The rain would
have caused very quick hypothermia. I
didn’t have cell service.
Eventually, I
found a sign that said “Bath Rock,” which was where the parking lot was. I followed that sign, and it seemed like I
was back on the trail. I was not. I was lost again. Then I started to panic. To be afraid was rational. It would allow me to recognize the dangers
and do what needed to be done to cope with them. To panic was irrational. I reminded myself of that and calmed
down. I walked back towards the signpost
that said “Bath Rock” and looked at my trail map. I guessed where I was and where I needed to
go back to the trail. I calculated how
long the walk was to the trail based on where I thought I was. If it took longer than that, I would retrace
my steps. It would take longer, but it
would get me back. Sure enough, I
guessed right, and I found the trail.
When I found the signpost for the trail, I kissed the signpost and
headed back towards the parking lot. I
saw the view where I had taken my Official U, and I knew I had gotten it
right. I was freezing and soaking
wet.
I looked at the timestamp on my
picture, and, while it seemed like I had gotten lost for an hour, the whole
hike actually took less than an hour, so I was well ahead of schedule, and I
had time to stop for my first Official meal in Idaho. I got a steak and fries, figuring that that
would be the perfect local meal. It was
great, but the panic from getting lost had killed my appetite. Someone people eat when they are stressed. I lose my appetite. I got the rest to go, saving it for later,
knowing I would be hungry during my drive at some point. That was that, the Cuban, the Official U, and
the Official meal. 49 States down, 1 to
go.
I lit up a My Father and headed
towards Golden Spike NHS, where, in my mind at least, Nat Taggart drove in the
golden spike to complete the Taggart Transcontinental railroad. Yes, Reader, I know that it was actually the
Union-Pacific railroad, but that was not what went through my mind when I was
there and smoking my Prensado. I was now
in need of gas, and it was getting tight, tight enough that I used my GPS and
drove out of the way a little bit. I
finished my steak and fries while I filled up.
From there, it was time to go to the 2002 Winter Stadium, the other
point of this crazy trip. It was looking
like I would 45 minutes ahead of schedule and arriving at my hotel well before
10 PM, except for two things, parking and traffic. The public parking area was quite a distance
away from the stadium, and the traffic around the stadium, right before the
game was brutal. It wound up taking me
an hour to do the whole experience, putting me right back on my original schedule
with an arrival time of 11 PM, though I knew I could shave off another 30
minutes once I got back on I-84. I was
right about that.
The Stadium was well
marked with glorious signs that it hosted the 2002 Winter Games. There were also signs that said no
containers. My water bottle. What would I do? They didn’t care. I walked in, took my Official U and some
pictures and walked out. That was
that. I had completed the second of my
17 goals. I had visited every Olympic
Stadium in the U.S., Summer and Winter.
I headed back to the car and got on the road. I was right, in the end, I shaved off half an
hour, even after stopping for gas. The
hotel, guest house, actually, had a weird check-in procedure. They email you the code for the front door
and leave the key in a drawer inside. It
seemed like a recipe for disaster. It
was. My key was not there. Ugh, what would I do? Well, I just tried calling the number of the
hotel. No answer. I left a message and started looking around
for the key.
I got a call back. She couldn’t find my reservation. I had the confirmation email in front of
me. She was looking at the wrong
day. She was about 10 minutes away, so
she drove down, gave me the spare key, and let me in. She was nowhere near as apologetic as she
should be. It didn’t matter. I chose this place because it had a balcony
with a view of the Capitol. That was all
that mattered. I got situated, lit up my
Ardor Duo Punto, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so
that I can move the mattress outside and get some sleep.
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