TLGSRTA - Day 5 - The Hunt for the Plaque

7/7/15, “The Hunt for the Plaque”

Kalispell, Montana

“Is it not a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt for so small a thing? So small a thing!”  While Boromir was lamenting about a small gold ring that the Fellowship spent 13 months trying to destroy, the same could be said about the 3-foot by 2-foot bronze Plaque my mother and I, along with a significant portion of the Glacier National Park NPS staff, four hours attempting to locate.  This was not the first time we have done this together.  Unfortunately, it will be the last time.  Here, on our last great summer road trip adventure, on our last day together, it was all about the hunt for the plaque.

When we spoke to my father two nights ago, we were sad to admit that we hadn’t had any great meals yet on the trip.  After I closed last night, we headed out to dinner, which turned out to be the best meal of our trip.  A little dive that had rave reviews and soup only referred to as “good soup.”  The soup was very good, maybe even the best of the meal, though the orgasmic buffalo steak and scrumptious huckleberry milkshake certainly gave it a run for its money.  They were sold out of fish, so mother had to have the pork chop, though she allowed that the soup and bread and sides was enough of a meal and barely touched the pork.

After dinner, I lit up an Ardor and began sorting my photos, a process which I will need to finish tonight so that I can post my album tomorrow.  After my pipe, still light out at 10:30 PM, I headed to the lounge for Wi-Fi and did some office work.  We were unsure of the schedule for today, and I left open the option of waking up at 6:30 AM, getting a stamp at Many Glacier VC, and heading back to meet my mother for breakfast at 7:30 AM before making our way through the park.  The alternative was to still do the 7:30 AM breakfast and then go to Many Glacier together, which would push our day back by at least an hour.  That was fine, since we had plenty of time today.  The main part of the park was a 50-mile road with a good hike at the Logan Pass VC, where we believed the Plaque to be.  We could have gotten to our hotel at 3 PM if all went well.  All did not go well.

It was 9 PM when we got to our hotel.  It didn’t matter.  This wasn’t going to be an “every stamp” visit, but I still wanted to get as many stamps as possible.  However, the most important thing was the Plaque and saying “Mainland US Complete” as I lit up my last Partagas.  Finding the Plaque at a US WHS is rarely easy, in such contrast to how prominently and proudly displayed they are at Canadian WHS.  In fact, three WHS we have visited display the Plaque next to a bathroom.  Next to a fucking bathroom.  In contrast, cf. my pictures of the Canadian WHS Plaques, especially the one in Quebec.  Well, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Breakfast was an ordeal, somehow taking a full hour, which now put us two hours behind schedule, and my stress levels were rising, especially since I read that the parking lot at Logan fills up around 10:30 AM, and heavy rain was forecasted in the afternoon.  I wanted to get that hike in at Logan before the rain.  The natural beauty of this site, however, quickly ameliorated my stress.  We went to Many Glacier VC, and I got my stamp.  We wanted to do a short nature walk to the lake, and the trail maps were not very informative, but the ranger was on the phone on a lengthy conversation.  She was clearly talking to her supervisor, and we had no problem with waiting as long as it took for her to write down her tasks for the day, but, when she started flirting with him and suggesting he come visit her district with a bottle of wine, in spite of our visible impatience, our stress levels quickly returned.  Once she hung up, she half-heartedly apologized, and I knew what was going on.

She had a crush on her supervisor, and I kind of forgave her.  If a girl I had crush on called me while I was at work, I would be in hurry to hang up.  In fact, I remember when I had a crush on one of my coworkers, and I took any excuse to visit her desk and discuss things in person that could have easily been answered by email.  “The heart wants what the heart wants,” my mother offered when I told her my theory.  That did not stop us from being annoyed with her.  We asked her about a short hike, and she told us about this two-hour loop.  I said that I wanted something shorter.  She asked how long we had in mind.  If my mother hadn’t quickly said we wanted a thirty-minute hike, I would have sarcastically offered that I wanted a hike that was “shorter than that phone call.”  She told us where to go, and we soon found the trailhead.

I lit up a Las Calaveras, and we made our way to the lake and back, taking plenty of ceremonial pictures.  We made our way into the parking, gassing up by our hotel, and my mother commented on the dramatic beauty of the landscapes.  A year ago today, I was at Wrangell-St. Elias National Park, which has similar landscapes but is an order of magnitude more dramatic.  Nothing can quite compare to that, but this is a close second.  Yellowstone, Yosemite, and Grand Canyon, traditionally known as the “big three,” might round out the top five, though Olympic always holds a special spot for me.  We got our stamp at St. Mary’s VC and headed up the famous, historic Going-to-the-Sun Road, on our way to Logan Pass VC, where the Plaque was alleged to be.  We had no doubt that it would be there.  This was going to be a special moment for us.  Unless we go to Italy or some other country together, this was to be the last Plaque we saw together, on our last great summer road trip adventure.

We went to the VC, got our souvenirs there, got the stamps, but no Plaque to be found.  We asked the ranger.  She said that it was out back on a big rock by the trailhead.  Really?  Were they actually properly respecting the Plaque here?  We got ready for our hike and walked out together.  We found the big rock with a bronze plaque, but it was upright, not horizontal.  Fuck!  That meant that it was the International Man and the Biosphere plaque.  No worries, the WHS Plaque is usually right by the MAB plaque.  Surely it was on another rock nearby.  No, it wasn’t.  Hmm, now the panic started to set in, but we were used to this.  It was Great Smoky Mountain National Park all over again.  We checked every rock, we looked all over the parking lot, we asked the rangers again, including one whose job it was to man the parking lot.  One ranger thought it might be at headquarters, which closed at 4:30 PM (it was then noon), the other, the one who had been there for a while, said he’d never seen anything like it.  This was discouraging.  We were not going to worry about it yet.  I had read about it maybe being at wayside on the road, and we’d check every wayside.  If we couldn’t find it, we’d go to headquarters, and, if anyone knew where it was, they would at headquarters.  We were going to enjoy our hike first, and then we’d go to headquarters.

Even though I hadn’t found the Plaque yet, nothing was going to stop me from lighting my Partagas and announcing, “Mainland US Complete,” though it was not the triumphant moment I had expected, and there were no tears of joy.  We went back to the trailhead, and I lit up the Partagas.  “Mainland US Complete.  All 48 states, all 18 World Heritages Sites.”  No other words were necessary.  It held so much meaning.  I remarked that it would be two years until I went to Hawaii and that I had already done Alaska.  We made our way up the trail, enjoying the breathtaking views and the close up mountain goats, and we took plenty of ceremonial pictures along the way.  It was a wonderful hike, but we were starving, and we had to figure out the rest of the day.

The Plaque was most important, and we forewent lunch and another hike to get to headquarters as early as possible.  We stopped at a pullout for a lake view, but that was it.  We checked every wayside, but we couldn’t find the Plaque.  After about an hour, we were near headquarters, but we first stopped at the Apgar VC, where I got another stamp, while my mother asked if they could call headquarters about the Plaque.  The ranger thought it was there, and she called headquarters to confirm, expressing little confidence in the women who was manning the desk there.  Her confidence, or lack thereof, in Amanda was misplaced.  I think I’m in love with Amanda now.

Anyway, Amanda had gone outside to look for the Plaque, and the ranger at Apgar said that she had seen it there.  She relayed that Amanda had said they had “all three designations there.”  No, no, no, that didn’t sound promising.  A WHS plaque is one designation, not three.  Did they have three Plaques?  The ranger at Apgar showed us a picture of the outside of the building.  No, it was just a small plaque with three logos, including the famous diamond in the circle of the WHS program.  That wasn’t it.

We made our way to headquarters.  When we got there, Amanda took the lead in finding the Plaque for us.  She basically went on a treasure hunt for us, looking all over headquarters, asking people who might have known, having them call other people.  The Park Service must have spent eight man-hours on this project, maybe more.  They were relaying phone and radio calls.  Rangers were driving around chasing down leads.  This was a serious treasure hunt for them, and they kept apologizing.  We were starving and joked about ordering a pizza to headquarters.  We should have.

We were there for two hours.  The two top answers were Logan Pass VC and a wayside called The Loop, both of which we had already checked.  We were able to confirm that there were only three plaques at Logan, none of which was the WHS Plaque.  The Loop had two plaques, but they were both too small to be the right one.  Amanda stayed on the task, asking anyone and everyone who might now, literally asking every staffer she saw or could reach.

She went above and beyond the call of duty.  In fact, the whole staff did.  One thing led to another, and they got in touch with the former employee, the guy who would have installed the sign 20 years ago.  He thought it might have been at Goat Haunt.  How do you get to Goat Haunt?  You have to drive up through Canada, to the Waterton part of the park (where they have the Canadian version of the Plaque) and then take a boat ride back across the border.  We spoke with someone who had been working at the park for decades and he swore that there was no Plaque of the right size anywhere along the Going-to-the-Sun Road and that it wasn’t at Waterton either.

As 5 PM approached, which was well after closing time, we exchanged contact information, and called it a day, hunger starting to kick in, as we had skipped lunch in exchange to allot more time to the hunt for the plaque.  Amanda was so wonderful about everything, promising to find it for us, especially after we told her this was our last World Heritage Site, that we had seen them all, a slight stretching of the truth, since I excluded Hawaii and since my mother had not been along for all of them, but it was close enough to the truth.

The veteran walked outside with us, and he thought Goat Haunt would be a good place to look, which I will be doing tomorrow.  As I was taking my ceremonial pictures with the unofficial plaque, I got a phone call with a Kalispell area code.  This had to be it, the good news, that they had found the plaque.  The head curator, I think that was her title, Mary was her name, was on the other end of the phone.  She had spoken to the park’s wilderness director, who said it was at Goat Haunt.

Encouraged, we went to Apgar for ice cream, which was slightly disappointing.  Resigned to getting the Plaque tomorrow and alone, we had a more pressing problem.  We needed to exchange the car, the fuel gauge issues becoming a serious problem.  We headed to the airport, but they couldn’t help us, since the location was locally owned, but he called around, and the nearest corporate location was in Canada, but we would only be able to exchange it for an American-registered car.  We were now absolutely starving.  We exchanged contact information, too, and made our way to Kalispell for dinner.  I then got another 406 (the area code for Kalispell).  It had to either be the car or the Plaque, good news either way.  It was the car.  I could exchange it in southern Alberta.  Perfect.  Kalispell had a charming historic downtown, right where our restaurant was, but there was a thirty-minute wait.

Apparently, we had chosen the hottest restaurant in town.  I could not wait that long to eat, so we went to a soda fountain, where I got a hot dog to tide me over.  I was glad we had waited.  The meal was perfect.  Fried calamari, a buffalo burger, and two local huckleberry beers, maybe the best meal of our trip.  Over dinner, we reflected on the ups and downs of our trip, and my mother allowed that this was the most awe-inspiring National Park she had ever visited.  We were both proud of ourselves for not killing each other.  These six days were the longest we had ever spent alone together.

We stopped for Blizzards at DQ afterwards and then headed to our hotel.  After we settled in and called my father, we headed downstairs.  She printed her boarding pass, and I went outside, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get to sleep.  We have to be up in five hours, her for her early flight, and me so that I can make my way up to Canada as soon as I drop her off.  I wrote yesterday about how much I love the Wild West.  We are now in the North, and it is even more beautiful here.  As I make my way further north, it will only get more beautiful, just like all the beautiful girls we have seen with the Northern look, even Amanda, especially Amanda.

TLGSRTA - Day 4 - The Wild West

7/6/15, “The Wild West”

Saint Mary, Montana

Reader, if you want to experience the Wild West, and I mean truly experience it, there is no better place than Montana and there is no better time than summer.  That was what we learned today as we made our way from Helena to Glacier National Park.  I have literally been all around the world, and it takes a lot to wow me.  Today, Montana wowed me, just as North Dakota did when I visited last summer.  The picture you see next to these words?  That’s just a small taste, just the view from outside our cabin.  Every place we visited wowed me in a good way.  Like most guys, I love Western movies and anything to do with cowboys.  How many of those took place in Montana?  I’m sure a lot of them did.  While that way of life has mostly been lost to history, it is still preserved, as best as it can be, here in Montana.

After I finished my Jericho Hill last night, I crashed almost immediately.  I woke up early this morning to deal with IT issues on my computer so that I could work remotely the rest of the trip, the resolution to which was far simpler than I had expected.  After that was resolved, I got straight to work, even working through breakfast, which consisted of a perfectly good plate of bacon, eggs, and hash browns.  This was Montana, of course they can do that up right.  We are in the American heartland.

After I got caught up on work, we hit the road and went straight to the Capitol building.  There was a sticker on the sidewalk that said, “SELFIE SPOT” with two footprints facing away from the building.  I took my Official selfie there, and we noticed that there were a lot of cars in the Official parking lot.  Hmm, I realized that it was a Monday.  That meant they might be in session.  They weren’t.  It was just staffers, but we were able to walk around inside and learn a little about the history of the Montana governorship.  The Capitol building was extremely impressive, worthy of the third largest state in the country, and it put its counterparts in Juneau and Austin to shame.  My mother was shocked that there was no security there, but I said I wasn’t surprised.  For neither the first time nor the last time this trip, I offered as explanation, “It’s Montana.”

We went next door to the gift shop, where I got a flag pin, and we then made our way to Grant-Kohrs Ranch NHS.  We had no idea where or what it was.  Once we got there, we were both so pleasantly surprised with the experience.  It is an active cattle ranch owned and operated by the government, and it looks just like it must have a hundred years ago.  The Objectivist in me would have objected to the government owning and operating a cattle ranch, if the site wasn’t so damn charming.  I lit up an Aroma de Cuba, and we headed to the ranch, where we got “cowboy coffee.”  I had a vision of the scene from one of my favorite movies of all time, “Dances with Wolves,” in which Kevin Costner plays a soldier separated from his unit in the Wild West.  There is a scene where he makes coffee, just like that, with the Native Americans.  I loved that scene.

We then headed to Glacier National Park, our last stop for the trip.  We stopped for lunch along the way, and I got my lunch at the gas station, which was quite decent, pizza, bread sticks, and a milkshake.  I ate it while my mother got her food at the grocery store.  I took the wheel for the first time since arrived in Jackson what now feels a lifetime ago, and we continued north.  The driving was fine, except for my mother’s fretting about me being too close to cars or being about to hit a deer over a hundred feet away.  However, that was only a minor nuisance compared to the construction-induced traffic jam we hit that delayed us by half an hour.  I just cared about one thing, getting the stamp at Two Medicine VC before they closed at 5 PM.

We made it to the park entrance with plenty of time to spare, and I took my ceremonial picture at the entrance sign.  This was it.  When I got back to car, I announced with a pang of regret that this was probably going to be our last World Heritage Site together, unless we did an international trip together. We enumerated each and every WHS we visited together, 8 in the US, 14 abroad.  I have three more for myself for this trip, but she will not be joining me in Canada.  We got our brochure at the entrance and headed to the Ranger Station.  I got my stamp, we got the list of stamps for the park, which included a few that involve strenuous and lengthy hikes to chalets in the wilderness.  Needless to say, we will not be getting every stamp, but we got the stamp there and found out where the Plaque was.

We then found a place where we could take a nice walk through the woods and along the lake.  All throughout the drive today, I kept saying that Glacier would be even more amazing than Yellowstone.  When we saw the breathtaking views from the lake, we agreed that I was right.  It takes a lot to wow me.  Today, in the Wild West, this has wowed me.  A year ago this time, I was writing about how much I loved the North.  It is possible that I love the Wild West even more.

Somehow I forgot to properly close out this entry.  Well, okay, so after our walk, we headed to hotel, and we went to our cabin, which was so charming and rustic.  The cabin had even more breathtaking views, so I poured myself a drink, relit the Four Kicks I had been smoking on the trail, and proceeded to write the first half of this entry.  We then went back to the lodge, the only place I could get Wi-Fi.  I went to publish and realized that my entry had stopped short, so I proceeded to finish this entry, which I will close so that I can finish publishing, and we can head out to dinner.

TLGSRTA - Day 3 - The Audible

7/5/15, “The Audible”

En route, US-287 N, Montana

It seems that every big summer trip I take entails me calling an audible.  To my readers who are not familiar with American football, and audible is when the quarterback changes the play because of conditions on the field.  In my travels, it means changing my itinerary based on things going differently than planned, either for better or worse.  My astute reader will notice from the dateline that I am no longer in Yellowstone, and we are instead bound for Helena.  We were not supposed to get to Helena until lunchtime tomorrow.  Instead, we called an audible, and we will be at our hotel in Helena in about an hour.

I suppose it would be in order to recall these audibles.  When I went on my big Eurotrip in 2013, I had not planned to go to Copenhagen.  My plan for Denmark was to go to the first WHS over the border, stay at a nearby hotel, and then go back to Germany the next morning.  I had booked my hotel in a town called Vejle or Jelling, depending on the translation, and I was prepared to do that.  The night before, I was looking at the maps and thinking things through.  I began to wonder if it would be possible to visit Copenhagen.  Could I work things around, could I make it happen?  In truth, I just wanted to see that famous statue of the Little Mermaid.  Ironically, one of my favorite people in the world just posted on Facebook this morning a picture of herself next to that famous statue, and I have been listening to and singing “Part of Your World” for a significant portion of the day, but that’s not important right now.

What I am recalling is that, when I left New York for Germany, I had not planned to include Copenhagen.  It was not until that night that I even considered it.  I went to bed that night, thinking that I wouldn’t be going to Copenhagen.  However, I planned out the route anyway, just in case.  I called it the “Copenhagen Option.”  I suppose that what we discussed last night and tonight would thereby be called the “Helena Option.”  Anyone who wants to read my full entry on Copenhagen is welcome to do so, just contact me for the text, since it is not published online.  Anyway, what happened was, I had that chart on my phone, the itinerary for how the Copenhagen Option would play out.  The deal I made with myself was that I would continue to Copenhagen if I could get to the Little Mermaid statue in time to take a picture before dusk.  In the end, I made it by less than five minutes.  “Wandering free, wish I could be, part of your world.”  During that trip, I truly was wandering free.  I wanted to call an audible, I did.

The audibles we called in Alaska last summer were due to circumstances out of our control.  We had to do a couple of National Parks on a different day because of weather, we had to spend a night at Coldfoot because our car got stuck in the mud, stuff like that.  Sure, we had flexibility built into our schedules, and it was not all negative audibles.  There were days when we finished our activities in half the time we had allotted, so we changed things up, or the night we unexpectedly spent in Copper Center.  Those were good audibles.

Then came tonight, the “Helena Option.”  We were only half serious when we discussed it last night.  We would be finishing up our day today at the north end of the park, which meant we’d have to double back, a total of three hours of driving tonight and tomorrow morning, to go back to our hotel and on to Helena.  It meant that we would not get to Helena until lunchtime tomorrow and not get to our hotel by Glacier National Park until very late tomorrow night.  At breakfast, we more seriously considered the option, thinking of the logistics.  It would mean forfeiting our hotel room and having to pay for a night at the Hampton Inn in Helena, but we’d save money on food and gas.  We’d shake everything up a bit, but it’d cut back on the driving, and it would make our time at Glacier much easier.  My mother basically left it up to me to decide.

After breakfast, I went back to my cabin while she finished up some emails.  I went to the bathroom and then walked out my cabin to see my mother walking towards the cabins.  “Let’s do it,” I announced.  We hurried to pack.  It wasn’t a sure thing, yet, and we didn’t check out of the hotel or make a new reservation in Helena.  It was still an option, but it was coming closer and closer to reality.  We took everything we needed so that we could just continue north after I got my last stamps.  There were still so many variables, and it felt like Copenhagen all over again.  Until we got the last stamp, there was still a possibility of turning around.  I did not book my hotel in Copenhagen until I took my picture at the WHS in Vejle and decided I would make the Copenhagen option a reality.  Today, we decided to make the “Helena Option” a reality.  How did that play out?  Well, I’ll write that portion when we get there.

Helena, Montana

While Helena may certainly be “my kind of town,” my mother is certainly in no hurry to say the same.  Mark Twain might have famously quipped that “comparison is the thief of joy,” but I disagree.  I get so much pleasure from comparing things in my travels, from saying that Yellowstone compared to the Grand Canyon in this way, Wrangell in that way, etc.  What about Helena?  Well, I suppose it reminds me more of Fargo than any other place I have visited.  I loved Fargo, and I like it here.  I wouldn’t want to spend more than a night here, and I can hardly believe that this is the capital of the third largest state in the country, but I like it here.  I’m glad we exercised the “Helena Option.”

When we were discussing the Helena Option, we never really considered anything other than the Hampton Inn, which was kind of steep in terms of price.  When we stopped for dinner (more on that later), we looked up other hotels.  The closest one to the Capitol was a place called Jorgenson’s Inn and Suites, but my mother objected, since it was a chain hotel, and she had never heard of it.  It was half the price, so I wasn’t sure why she was objecting.  We could even get two rooms, so we wouldn’t disturb each other with disparate sleep schedules, and I could even get a smoking room.  It had a 4-star rating on Google.  She still objected without fully explaining her objection.  It was her money, and her sleep schedule, so I didn’t really care.  It was just the irrationality of it that bothered me.  She does not travel the way I do, and even staying in the cabin was a stretch for her, but she managed.  Staying in a possibly seedy hotel was too much for her.  It had good reviews.  I was fine with it, but we kept the Hampton Inn in our GPS.

I appear to have gotten ahead of myself.  We spent an epic day in the park, and I have spent too much time recalling our discussion about a hotel where we would spend less than 12 hours.  Before I recall the rest of the day, I will need to pause and pour myself a stiff glass of bourbon.

Where did I leave off last night?  Right, I was publishing my entry and finishing my drink before dinner.  Well, dinner was a disappointment, and I think it was 10:30 PM by the time we left, and I almost fell asleep at the table.  The food was okay (good trout cakes and disappointing wild game Bolognese), but the service was atrociously slow.  The restaurant was undercrowded and overstaffed, yet 9:15 PM was the earliest table we could get, and I think it was close to 10 PM before we got any food.  We went straight back to our cabins, and I passed out almost immediately, no smoke, no dessert.

We went to breakfast, where I ordered almost exactly the same thing as yesterday, only getting blueberry pancakes instead of pecan.  That was when we considered the Helena Option.  Once we packed, I made a quick stop at the VC, and we made our way south.  If we were to exercise the Helena Option, we would first need to get seven stamps for Yellowstone NP, plus the stamp for the Parkway.  It was very ambitious.  Fortunately, most of the stamps were available until 8 PM, and most of the stamps were in a relatively straight line.  In fact, from the first stamp at the south entrance to the last stamp at the north entrance, we really only doubled back on maybe 15 miles of road, and we hit very little traffic.  I was certain we’d really be pushing it to get to last stamp by 8 PM and feel short of time, constantly rushing my mother to get moving.

In fact, it was the opposite, with her rushing me so that we wouldn’t get to Helena too late.  This was the day with the things she wanted to do, all the stops were the scenic vistas that interested her most.  Not to say I didn’t want to do them all, just that these stops were more interesting to her than yesterday’s were.  We quickly made our way to the south entrance, where I got the stamp at the Snake River Ranger Station.  Okay, for the purpose of this entry, I am going to refer to every place that had a stamp as a VC, whether it is a Visitors’ Center, Ranger Station, Information Center, or Bookstore.  After I got my stamp, we had to proceed two miles down the road to the Flagg Ranch VC, which served as the VC for John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Memorial Parkway.  The parkway was its own NPS unit, which meant I couldn’t just get a stamp.  I needed to treat it as a separate unit, which meant it needed a cigar.  We left the VC area, and I lit up a Las Calaveras and took a ceremonial picture alongside the parkway.  I smoked it with my head out the window for the two miles we drove back up to the park, then let it extinguish naturally.

Our next stop was the VC at Grant Village.  There was not much to see there, though they had all sorts of lodging and services, and I got my stamp.  West Thumb VC, a couple of miles more up the road was where they had the interesting vistas and walks.  I got my stamp, and we took a ceremonial picture with the hot springs, but I couldn’t get close with my cigar.  I found a nice wooded trail nearby, so I walked that trail, while my mother went down to see the hot springs.  The trail ended almost as soon as it began, but it was secluded, and I got to finish my cigar.

We got back on the road and headed up to Lake Village, where we got lunch, an experience onto itself, between the slow line for paninis and my mother getting overcharged.  I had Wi-Fi, nothing else mattered.  The best views and walks would be near the VC at Fishing Bridge, a couple miles up.  We headed there after lunch.  They had an auto repair place, a VC, and the eponymous bridge (which no longer allowed fishing) where there were great views.  We figured we would spend about an hour there.  After I got my stamp, I lit up my Cabaiguan, and we made our way to the bridge, stopping at the auto repair place.

I went into the office, where I saw a woman on the phone, standing up, and a man sitting down.  I walked in, and the man shushed me and then walked into the garage with me.  Okay, that was odd.  I asked him what he new about fuel gauges.  He didn’t, but he was just a tourist.  Oops.  He told me that the mechanics would be back soon.  I walked outside, and my mother and I were going to go to the bridge and come back.  The mechanic showed up almost immediately, so I asked him what he knows about fuel gauge.  “They go down when the gas goes down,” he smartly answered.  “What if they don’t go down when the gas goes down?” I shot back.  I explained what happened, and he confirmed our suspicion.  The fuel gauge was fucked up from overfilling the tank.  Oh well.  We headed to the bridge, where we took our ceremonial pictures, enjoying the nice views of the river.

I finished my cigar, and we headed to Canyon, worried that we were fighting a losing battle against the approaching thunderstorm.  This was where Yellowstone Falls was, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, the thing my mother had been talking about seeing all trip.  By the time we got to the VC, she was just wanted to get some ice cream, and start to make our way to Helena.  I insisted that we at least see the falls, but first we did get our ice cream, which was quite good, and then we headed to the trail head.  I lit up a Heisenberg, fittingly since we still didn’t know if we were exercising the Helena option.  The next stamp was a bit of an uncertainty.  This trail had the best views of the park, but my mother was more concerned with making sure I didn’t fall off a cliff and how late we would be getting to Helena.  We only did about half the trail and took our ceremonial pictures before heading back.

We had managed to avoid the rain for the most part, but the rain hit us almost as soon as we got on the road, making the drive to the buffalo ranch kind of treacherous.  We had seen a couple of buffalo along the road as we drove to Canyon, but we saw so many more, including a herd with puppies, as we drove through the Lamar Valley to the Buffalo Ranch.  It truly brought everything together, and it would have been disappointing if we left without seeing any buffalo.  Okay, so this stamp at Buffalo Ranch.  They have a gift shop there, but it’s only open on request.  You need to go to the bunkhouse to ask someone to open it for you.  I’m not the only person who goes there just for the stamp, but it was kind of sketchy and uncertain.

We found the ranch with minimal difficulty, enjoying the vastly different landscapes we saw for this portion of the drive, but it was pouring out when we got there.  I ran to the bunkhouse, walked in, and announced, “I’m here for the stamp.”  There was no doubt or confusion there.  This was a regular thing for them.  He said he would open the bookstore for me.  I ran back to the car, gave my mother a thumbs up, the meaning of which could not be doubted, either, and grabbed my brochure and folder, and ran to the bookstore.  I overinked the stamp and had some difficulty getting a clean stamp, but it worked out okay in the end.  I got the stamp.  That was what mattered.

It was slightly after 5 PM, and we would not get to the north entrance until after 6 PM, but he said they were open there until 8 PM.  That would be the last stamp.  If we got that stamp, we’d continue to Helena.  If not, well, we might have to audible the audible.  We stopped at Mammoth on the way out of the park so that I could take another ceremonial picture at the Plaque and so that my mother could go the bathroom, which was convenient, since the Plaque was unceremoniously next to the bathroom.

We then went to the north entrance, where the VC looked to be under construction.  Oh no.  After all this, the last stamp, it wouldn’t be open?  No, it was just closed off partially, but the building was open, and I walked in and found the stamp.  This was it, the 14^th and final stamp.  I stamped my brochure took some ceremonial pictures of the fully stamped brochure.  It’s possible it’s the only one in existence, the only brochure stamped with all 14 stamps.  Actually, it may very well be.  I then took some more pictures with the brochure with the Roosevelt Arch in the background.  On to Helena.  I wrote a proposal as we drove from Gardiner to Livingston, where we stopped at McDonald’s for dinner.  I wrote another proposal after we left, and then proceeded to write the earlier entry once we turned onto US-287.  After I finished, we called my father and updated with the details of our day.  He asked if we had any good meals this trip.  We couldn’t say that we had, other than breakfast, really.

We said our goodbyes and were soon in Helena, which was basically a bunch of hotels, restaurants, and casinos alongside the road.  There was a noisy train, and the highway was noisy.  The Hampton Inn would not do for my light sleeping mother.  I could have slept in the car.  In the end, we wound up going to Jorgensen, and it was half an hour from the time we got to the Hampton Inn to the time I was in my room in Jorgensen.  I moved the big chair to spot looking out the window and sat down, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and get some sleep.  Tomorrow will be a long day, but not as long as it would have been if we had started from Old Faithful, four hours south of here.  As it is, we might even hit a VC or two at Glacier NP tomorrow.

TLGSRTA - Day 2 - Here We Are

7/4/15, “Here We Are”

Mammoth Hot Springs, Wyoming (Yellowstone National Park)

There was is an apocryphal story about this day in history, 239 years ago, that King George wrote in his journal, “Nothing of significance happened today.”  First of all, news took weeks or months to cross the Atlantic, so there was no way he would have known about that famous document that begins, “In CONGRESS, July 4, 1776,” and he actually did not even keep a journal.  Today, news travels around the world in seconds, and I keep plenty of journals.  This one, the one that I share with the public, the one that details my travel adventures has plenty to say about today.

After I closed last night, I went back in my cabin and, I don’t quite recall how it happened, but, my computer slid off the bed, damaging it badly.  A piece was cracked, and I was worried it would stop working at any moment.  It has held up so far.  My stress continuing, I went back to sleep, hoping everything would be better in the morning.  It was.  I had a great breakfast, consisting of coffee, Montana grain pancakes, bacon, and eggs, all delicious.  We went the Old Faithful VC where I got my brochure and did my WHS stamping.  We were soon on the road.

We set out to collect six Stamps and the Plaque today, but the trip is about more than Stamps and Plaques.  It was about enjoying the natural beauty of the region.  We did it all.  Our first stop was the VC at Madison, where there was a charming little basin of water and a mountain called National Park Mountain.  Apocryphally again, this was the spot where the National Park was invented.  For my first cigar of the day, I chose an ESG, and we walked around a bit.  We then got in the car and headed towards the West Entrance.

There was lots of traffic going the opposite direction, and there was a long line at the entrance station.  The stamp was outside the park.  One thing led to another, and we decided we’d get lunch in town in West Yellowstone, Montana, where we’d get the stamp, and, by then, the traffic would die down.  West Yellowstone was everything we hoped Jackson would be, and we had lunch at a charming cowboy restaurant.  I got the bison steak, which was quite decent.  We then headed back into the park, and we had gambled right.

The traffic was gone, and we went to Norris Geyser Basin, which had a stamp and some scenic walks, where we could literally feel and smell the sulfur from the geysers.  I chose a Headley Grange for the walk, until a ranger told me that I couldn’t smoke it in the geyser area.  We went back to the car, and I finished it en route, sticking my head out the window to smoke.  There was another nearby stamp at the Museum of the National Park Ranger, which was a charming old backcountry ranger cabin.  Our next and final stop would be Mammoth Hot Springs, the main village inside the park.  I have been rather light on details, both due to time constraints and because words cannot really describe the idyllic beauty of these drives and walks.  Pictures can come closer, but they fail, too.

We made our way to the Albright VC, where the Plaque was alleged to be.  I had figured it would be outside.  No dice.  I went inside and still couldn’t find.  I started to panic.  I implored my mother to find me the Plaque, as she had so many times before.  She asked at the desk, and they said it was downstairs.  We went to the bookstore, bought some gifts, got my stamp, and then headed downstairs.  We were both appalled with the lack of respect they showed the Plaque, squirreling it away next the restrooms.  With some difficulty, we managed to get a few good pictures, but the disappointment of this charming village soon grew.  We went for ice cream, underwhelming.  The general store had some souvenirs, but it, too, was disappointing.  We gassed up, and I calculated that the tank was simply registering an extra 4 gallons of gas, which meant we could only ever fill it up to three quarters of a tank.

Since I couldn’t smoke at the hot springs, we took a walk along Beaver Ponds Trail, which afforded nice views of the hot springs.  That was where I smoked my Cuban for the National Park, an Hoyo de Monterrey.  After we were done walking, we headed back, and my mother went into town, while I went across the street to find a bench with a nice view, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that we can begin to make our way back to the hotel.

Old Faithful, Wyoming (Yellowstone National Park)

I have frequently written in my personal journals about pure happiness and pure good, about how rare it is for me to feel pure happiness for any extended period of time, about how there are so few relationships (by which I mean any type of relationship, romantic or otherwise) in my life that a pure good, that most relationships have a mix of good feelings and bad feelings, that I choose the relationships that provide more good than bad.

Along those lines, one of my happiest travel memories was during the greatest of our summer road trip adventures.  It was at the Grand Canyon 14 years ago (not 16 years as I had thought).  I woke up first thing in the morning, remembered where we were, and just ran outside to see the Canyon, which was visible from just outside our cabin.  I was so happy to be there, and it was a pure happiness, no nagging doubts in the back of my mind about work or girls or money, just a wide-eyed 13-year-old excited to be at the Grand Canyon.

I suppose I had a similar experience with Old Faithful this morning, though it was not pure happiness, but it was still happiness.  The geyser is visible about a minute from our cabin, but we did not see it erupt until this morning, after breakfast, only catching the tail end of it.  We again only caught the tail end of it this evening.  It is called Old Faithful for a reason, and I’m sure we’ll see the full eruption at some point.  A year ago tonight, I was at Juneau with Sokol, enjoying an Opus X outside Juneau, having a conversation that would wind up shaping the next six months of my life and the three months afterwards during which I dealt with the fallout of those three months.

Tonight, I sit here alone in Yellowstone National Park, enjoying a Davidoff, and I am finally happily alone, both physically right now and in general.  “To say ‘I love you,’ one first must know how to say the ‘I.’”  I have never had trouble saying the “I.”  With this Independence Day, I will focus on the “I,” on loving myself and the few people in my life who truly add value to my life.  You know who are, there are only ten of you in the world.  If you are not one of those ten people, do not think that even ties of blood will make a difference.

Okay, so after I closed, we headed to Fort Yellowstone, which used to serve I guess as the civil headquarters of the Park, and I finished my cigar there.  We then headed back to our hotel, and Old Faithful was about to erupt when we got there.  The time it took us to drop off our bags and grab our drinks caused us to miss the beginning of the eruption.  I lit up a Davidoff and headed to the Snow Lodge, where I could get Wi-Fi, had the rest of my cigar and drink, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish.

TLGSRTA - Day 1 - Here We Go

7/3/15, “Here We Go”

En route, I-80 E, Utah

Here we go, our last great summer road trip adventure is underway with a scenic drive through Utah and Wyoming.  On any other trip, this day would be an absolute highlight, breakfast at Utah’s “most iconic” restauarant, a quick stop at Fossil Butte NM, lunch in historic Jackson Hole, and a couple of hours at Grand Teton NP.  That is the plan for today, and, yet, it is basically a travel day.  Compared to the adventures that await us, this day is boring, but here we go.  After I closed at the airport last night, there was quite a delay getting airborne.  The flight itself was relatively unadventurous, though the plane took off close to an hour late.  It was close to 11:30 PM by the time we landed.  We got the car and headed to the hotel.  There was a Wendy’s and a gas station right by the hotel, so my mother checked in while I went to the gas station, Wendy’s being closed unless you had a car for the drive-thru, and I did not feel like going back to get the car just to get a Frosty.  Instead, I stocked up at the gas station on snacks for the road for both of us and a car charger for my phone.

When I got back, it was almost 1 AM.  Whether it was the caffeine, our naps, or the general stress of travel, we both had trouble sleeping, and it was 2 AM by the time I fell sleep.  I woke up with a start, my watch saying 8 AM.  It seemed we had overslept.  The diner opened at 8 AM, and we were supposed to be on our way to Grand Teton NP at 8:30 AM, 9 AM at the absolute latest.  I woke up my mother.  I then realized I had forgotten to set my watch back.  Yes, it was 8 AM in New York.  It was only 6 AM in Salt Lake City.  I alerted my mother to my mistake.  Needless to say, she was none too pleased.  We both had trouble getting back to sleep.  As we were getting ready, I had a nagging suspicion that I had left something off of my itinerary, some NPS in Wyoming en route.  Sure enough, I had forgotten to list Fossil Butte NM, which was 10 minutes off of the highway.  I quickly readjusted, and we got ready.

She went down to the lobby for breakfast, while I made my way to Ruth’s Diner, the “most iconic” restaurant in Utah and a veritable breakfast spot.  While the iconic part was probably inside, everyone was sitting outside, the whether so beautiful.  That is what I did.  As soon as they sit you down, they give you one of their famous “mile-high” biscuits, which is deceptively good.  I asked my server what dishes they were most famous for, and she mentioned the benedicts.  The article that named this place the “most iconic” restaurant in Utah recommended the pulled pork benedict.  I asked her about it.  “That’s my favorite,” she replied.  Excellent.

It truly brought breakfast to another level, each bite an explosive sensation in my mouth.  They sell the coffee mugs, and I asked my server if I could just purchase the mug I was using.  She said that was fine and added the nominal charge for the mug to my tab.  I went back to the hotel to pick up my mother and got in the passenger seat.  The drive has been very scenic, and we are now approaching the Wyoming border.  After I wrote a proposal, I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can go back to my proposals once we enter Wyoming.

En route, US-89 N, Wyoming

Here we go, by the time I finish this entry, we will be at Yellowstone National Park.  The big one.  As my mother and I drove this afternoon, we tried to piece together the great summer trips we took, figuring out why we never went to Yellowstone.  It was always in the back of our mind, but we did other things instead, none of them bad trips.  I think there was some element of as I grew older the desire for us to take epic family trips simply faded, and Yellowstone simply never happened.  It is happening now.  Here we go.  We have finished the opening acts, the amuse bouche and the appetizer.  Tomororow is the main act, the main course.  Tomorrow, on the Fourth of July, we will finally do Yellowstone, Stamps and Plaques and all.  We will do it up right.  As we drove through Grand Teton National Park, it felt almost perfunctory.  I kept thinking in the back of my mind that it was just the appetizer.  Wait, here we go, here’s the sign.

Here we are.  We have Officially entered Yellowstone National Park.  It only took us 16 years.  It is fitting that our last great summer road trip adventure will take us here.  It was 16 years ago, to the day maybe, that we went to Grand Canyon National Park on what was and always will be considered our greatest summer road trip adventure.  It brings tears to my eyes as right this, both thinking of the epicness of our last 16 years of travel and the knowledge that is our last big one.  Our GPS says that we will be at our hotel within an hour, but that is ambitious.  Anyway, I was writing about how, as we were driving through Grand Teton NP, something that would, under any circumstances, be a major thing unto itself, we just wanted to get it over with, scarf down our appetizer so that we could get to the main course.  We just wanted to get out stamps, take a few pictures, and get out of there, moving on to the next site.  In fact, the route we were taking, Grand Teton NP was literally unavoidable.  The route from Jackson, WY to our hotel in Yellowstone NP literally went through Grand Teton NP, and it truly felt that way, that we were just getting our stamps because we were there.

Okay, so what happened after I closed in Utah?  As I mentioned, our first stop was Fossil Butte NM.  It has been 11 hours since I had my meal at Ruth’s Diner, and we have not had an Official meal since then.  It might be another two hours before we have dinner tonight.  I am starving, and the snacks have come in quite handy.  Actually, I need some more.  Okay, so we made our way to Fossil Butte NM, which wasn’t much, but it was an NPS.  We were tight on time, since my mother wanted to walk around historic Jackson, and I wanted to make sure I got every stamp at Grand Teton NP and at least made a pass at getting the full enjoyment value out of the NP.  We got our stamp, I lit up a Las Calaveras, and we found our scenic overlook.  In a touch of irony from the trips we used to take (I guess both of our bodies have changed significantly in the past 16 years), she didn’t want to do too much walking, while I was pushing for a longer hike so that I can finish my cigar.

We compromised, and we agreed that I could smoke the rest of my cigar out of the window, and then I would ditch it and take over the wheel.  It turned out that we were taking a slightly different route, so we found ourselves at a gas station.  I told my mother to gas up while I finished the cigar, and then I would ditch the cigar.  She seemed none too pleased with the idea of gassing up and admitted that she didn’t know how to gas up.  I told her that I had confidence in her ability to figure it out.  I was wrong.  As I smoked my cigar, I saw two Asian tourists standing there, watching her attempt to figure it out.  I did not find out all of the details until later, so I will recall them in their proper place.

As we approached Jackson, a drive of about 150 miles, I noticed something.  The gas tank was still at full.  No, that was not possible.  It should have been at least half empty.  This couldn’t be right.  I mentioned it to my mother.  She said that she really filled it up well, putting as much in it as she could.  Wait, what?!?  Yeah, she kept filling it up, even after it shut off.  Huh?  She thought the pump was broken, since it kept shutting off.  No, no, no, there’s an auto-shutoff mechanism.  It automatically stops once it’s full.  She didn’t know that.  It’s actually kind of a big deal, you’re really not supposed to do that.  She could have flooded the mechanism or something.  I don’t know a lot about cars, but I know you’re not supposed to do that.  We decided that we would simply gas up every 200 miles.  That would handle it, or so we thought.

Jackson was quite a letdown, yet somehow we spent an hour there, getting liquor, Wendy’s, and gas.  Right, so we went to the gas station, and I asked the guy if he knew anything about it.  No, he never drove a car in his life.  He rides a bike.  Fuck.  Well, I went back to the pump.  It would only put 3 gallons in the tank.  Fuck again.  We had driven 150 miles since our last fill-up, and we could only put 3 gallons back in the tank.  We could be in dire straits if that kept happening.  We talked about replacing the car in Helena, keeping spare gas in the tank, no idea what to do.  When we finally got data service, I looked it up online.  Sure enough, overfilling the tank like that can fuck up the sensor, which meant two things.  First, the gauge would constantly register as full.  Second, since the tank would think it’s full, we would have trouble properly filling up the tank.  We were probably going to have to replace it in Helena.  I did not relish that thought.

Anyway, there were four stamps to collect in the Park, and I had to do a few other things to make the Park Official.  We did it all, we got all four stamps, and we had some great vistas along the way.  When we got to the Jenny Lake area, we did our little nature walk, and that was where I lit up my Punch, the first Cuban of the trip.  We had about an hour there, which gave us plenty of time to walk and enjoy the views.  We got back in the car, hit the last VC, discussed how we would literally just have to keep track in our heads of how much gas was left in the tank, calculating how much we put in and how much we’ve driven.  We then made our way north along US-89 towards Yellowstone, and I proceeded to write this entry en route, which I will now close, as it looks like our estimated arrival time of slightly after 8 PM will be on point.  Tomorrow’s the big day, though I’m sure I’ll write again from the hotel.

Old Faithful, Wyoming (Yellowstone National Park)

Well, here we are.  A year ago today, I was writing from Glacier Bay National Park, now Yellowstone National Park.  Two years ago today, in Edmonton.  Three years ago today, I was in New York.  However, for four Independence Days now, I will be at a US or Canadian World Heritage Site.  2012, we did our first cave tour at Mammoth Caves National Park.  2013, I did my epic drive up to Wood Buffalo National Park in Canada, and I did my first little walk there around 11 PM.  2014, we did our boat tour of Glacier Bay National Park.  2015, tomorrow, we will do our big tour of Yellowstone National Park, Stamps and Plaques.  That’s what July 4^th has been about to me for four years running now.  It’s funny, last year, July 3^rd, everything went perfectly, except for the Stamps and Plaques.  This year, everything somehow has seemed to go wrong, except for the Stamps and Plaques.  I was five for five on Stamps today, and we are saving the Plaque for tomorrow.  Tonight, I will enjoy the peaceful tranquility of our cabin in this wooded area as I sit outside enjoying my cigar and bourbon, just as I did three years ago.  I still have a shot or two of that bourbon left from Kentucky.  If everything goes well this trip, defined quite simply as “Mainland US Complete” and “Canadian Prairie Complete,” I will celebrate with the rest of that bourbon when I get home.

I cannot begin to describe the tranquility beauty of where I am, nor can my cell phone camera capture the view of the moon and stars.  I will not even try.  It has been a very long day, and we have another long day ahead of us, so I will be brief.  I intend to crash literally the second I finish my cigar and bourbon.  After I closed, we were soon at the Old Faithful Inn.  One small problem, our cabins were at the Old Faithful Lodge, not the Old Faithful Inn.  We had to drive back around a little, but we got everything sorted, took our ceremonial pictures with Old Faithful, and discussed dinner logistics.  I wanted to eat at the Snow Lodge, in no small part because that was the only place to get Wi-Fi, and I had pretty much been off the grid all day, except for a few small pockets of service.  The meal was slow and disappointing, though the sausages were really good.  I think the Diet Coke and bread was the best part of the meal.  I also got a huckleberry cheesecake to go.

After dinner, we walked back to our cabin, and I tried to set up the fan.  I tried to put into a window, which caused the screen to fall out, and as I tried to grab the fan, the wire knocked over my new coffee mug, destroying it beyond repair.  Fuck.  Well, nothing to be done about it.  I went outside to fix the screen and then came back inside.  I figured out the logistics for the next two days, the most efficient way to get my Plaque tomorrow and get every stamp before we left.  I reviewed it with my mother, who was pleased with the minimal amount of driving my optimization entailed.  We then parted ways to our separate rooms, and I lit up a VSG and poured myself some bourbon.  I had to go to the bathroom, and, without getting too graphic, I soon felt a dampness around my feet.  It was nothing from my body.  No, the bottom of the toilet was leaking.  I wiped it up with towels best I could, but my pajama bottoms were soiled with a gray liquid, which I severely hoped did not contain any bodily fluids.  I washed my feet and rinsed the feet of my pajama bottoms.

After everything was sorted, I went outside with my cigar, bourbon, and chair, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get some sleep.  Tomorrow’s the big day, as it always is on July 4^th.  I think next July 4^th I will be in Nova Scotia, 2017 in Newfoundland, getting the WHS there.  I am absolute loving this July 4^th Plaques and Stamps thing.  I have no idea what I’ll do starting in 2018.  Maybe back to watching the fireworks locally, since nothing will be able to top these six Independence Day adventures.

TLGSRTA - Day 0 - This Is It

The Last Great Summer Road Trip Adventure

7/2/15, "This Is It"

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York (JFK)

As my mother and I sit at Kennedy, preparing to embark on our last great summer road trip adventure, just like the ones we used to take when I was in grade school, it would be easy to reflect on what has changed in the past fifteen years, both in our lives and in the world, but that is not what this entry will be about.  No, this entry will be about something else entirely.  This is it, the big one, the last great summer road trip adventure.  We have been talking about this trip for fifteen years.  We did all the great trips, Grand Canyon and the surrounding Parks, Tennessee and the surrounding states, the Great Lakes, California, the Pacific Northwest.  We saw it all.  We never got around to doing this one.  Whether we just ran out of summers before I went to NYU or if we never wanted to deal with the difficult logistics, whatever it was, we never got out there.

Now, here we are, on our way to Yellowstone National Park.  It is not just going to be Yellowstone.  It will be Grand Teton, Yellowstone, and Glacier National Parks.  More than five days together, the longest trip the two of us have ever taken alone together, my father being unable to join us.  It’s not just a jaunt to Yellowstone, like our jaunt to Acadia two years ago.  No, it’s our last great summer road trip adventure.

After I drop her off at the airport on Wednesday, I will then continue across the Canadian Prairie, visiting sites in Alberta, Saskatchewan, and Manitoba, before flying home in ten days.  It is the last great summer road trip adventure.  After this trip, there will literally not be a single site left in the continental U.S. that is worth taking a vacation day to visit.  Sure, I will take a day off for my brother’s wedding, which is a month from today, and I’ll visit Crater Lake National Park while I’m there.  What else is left?  Places like Congaree National Park and Port Chicago Naval Magazine National Memorial?  Hardly worth getting on the airplane to see those sites.

This is it.  The last great summer road trip adventure.  At the end of this year, I will be doing my big Asia trip, but no driving.  Next summer, Rio, again, no driving.  At the end of 2016, Australia, which will include some driving, maybe, but not much, mostly flying.  Summer 2017 trips, while they will be numerous and epic, none of them will include significant amounts of driving.

No, this is it.  The last great summer road trip adventure.  In the fifteen years we discussed and planned it, we never realized how big of a deal it would be, that we were quite literally saving the best for last.  In a few days, we will be standing in front of the Plaque at Glacier National Park, and I will utter the words that will bring a tear to my eye: “Mainland US Complete.”  There is no one else in the world I’d rather have standing next to me when I say those words.  Why?  Because no one else in the world fully understands the meaning behind those words.  It will be over two years before I go to Hawaii and complete my travel goals, but, for this trip, the last great summer road trip adventure, Mainland US Complete will be a great thing to say.

As for Day 0, well it’s been quite an adventure.  Connor came over last night, crashing on my floor again.  He was still there in the morning.  He has in own key, which is fine, since he is one of the few people in the world I trust absolutely.  We said our goodbyes, and I went to the office.  It was an extremely stressful day, rushing to get everything out before I left.  To make matters worse, I dropped my phone, and the screen broke, so I had to fix it during my lunch break, the stress of which left me with neither the appetite nor time to get lunch.  When it was time to leave work at 3:30 PM, I hurried to Hop Won for what served as my pre-departure lunch.  My usual guy was there and asked about my suitcase.  I told him about my trip and that I wouldn’t see him for a couple of weeks.  I talked about all the details and answered his questions.  Although I was tight for time, I was glad to engage him in conversation.  He’s practically a friend, I’ve known him that long and see him that frequently.  However, time did takes its toll, and I had to place my order.

After I scarfed down an egg roll and some spare ribs, I lit up a Cohiba and headed to the cigar store.  Raymond and Connor were there, having finished watching a movie or two at my apartment.  The car service called to say they had a flat tire, just as my mother arrived.  There was much chaos and confusion, and people were giving me cigars.  It was really confusing.  My mother introduced herself to Connor, not having met him before and exchanged greetings with Raymond while I was in the humidor.  Eventually I said my goodbyes, and we caught a cab.  My computer was having issues, which messed up my work stuff, which further led to more stress.  Eventually, we got through security, and I was plugged in by my gate with two hours before my flight.  I worked for an hour or so and then proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as we are about to board and embark on our last great summer road trip adventure.  This is it.