The X-Files: The Experience - Day 2 - The Return Journey (Or: Deja Vu)

4/3/16, “The Return Journey” (Or: “Deja Vu")

Albquerque, New Mexico (Old Town)

Fourteen months ago, sitting in this gazebo, in this exact spot, as my first trip to New Mexico last year came to a close, I wrote about my love affair with the Southwest.  I wrote about this was truly the land of enchantment.  This is my third trip to New Mexico in fourteen months.  It is no less enchanting the third time than it was the first time.  I love the Southwest no less now than I did then.  I am even wearing the exact same suit as I wore last time, maybe even the same shirt.  I am experiencing a strong sense of déjà vu.

Typically I would simply call the last Day of a trip “The Return Journey,” but I feel a need to subtitle it for numerous reasons, in no small part because I returned to three places today that I had previously visited, not even counting the airport.  When I first sat here fourteen months ago, it was because I wanted to have a cigar and write my entry, but my laptop’s battery was almost dead.  The gazebo had an electrical outlet, making the only place where I could have my cigar and charge my laptop.  I have a more portable laptop now, so I don’t need the electricity, but I am still smoking my cigar by the outlet as I write my entry.

It has been a long and exhausting day, but we have an hour before we need to be at the airport, so I have at least half an hour to write this entry, maybe a little more.  The agenda I had set for today had us visiting what I had thought were three new National Park Sites for me: Petroglyph, El Malpais, and El Morro National Monuments.  We went to sleep almost as soon as I had finished my pipe last night and closed my entry.  Around 5 AM, the smoke detector in the room went off.  I got out of bed.  I smelled smoke.  Fuck.  I woke up Frankie and started to gather my stuff.  If there was a fire, we’d just hit the road and get breakfast on the way. Then, I started to realize the smell of smoke was probably from last night’s pipe.  After four beeps, the smoke detector stopped beating.

We went back to sleep for an hour before waking up to my phone’s alarm.  We got ready and headed down to breakfast, much the same as yesterday’s breakfast.  The time crunch would be getting to the third NPS before they closed the trail at 4 PM.  We left the hotel at 7:30 AM, and it would only be a total of five and a half hours of driving, or so I thought, which would have left us an hour for lunch and an hour at each of the first two sites.  I did not anticipating needing the full hour for any of those three activities.  I lit up a Fratello for the first part of the drive, and then we stopped for gas.

I lit up a Hoyo de Flores for the balance of the drive, and I still had some cigar left when we got to the VC.  This seemed very familiar.  I was getting a sense of déjà vu.  I wondered aloud if I had been there before.  No, I didn’t think so.  I even checked my social media and blog post from my last trip.  No sign of having been there.  The VC did not seem familiar.  I got my pin and my stamped brochure, and we headed to the trail.  The sense of déjà vu got stronger when we got to the parking lot.  It looked very familiar.  I then realized I had visited it on my first trip to New Mexico last year, not my last one.  I found the picture.  It had been at the very beginning of my first trip, when I was at the height of my moping, so of course the memory was fuzzy.  That, after visiting 245 NPSs, they all start to blur together.  Well, we were here, we had plenty of time, and Frankie had never been here, so we hiked up the trail.  We got to the top and recreated the ceremonial picture I took fourteen months ago.

I put the next stop, El Malpais NM, into the GPS, and we stopped at a Dairy Queen for lunch on the way, just like I had lunch at Dairy Queen last year on the last day of my last trip to New Mexico.  I had the same thing as I had last time, a chicken strip basket and a Blizzard.  We made our way to El Malpais NM, or rather, the address that the NPS website had for the site.  It was a repurposed VC, where I got my stamp and a free pin.  The actual site was about 30 miles away. Fuck!  That would mess up my timing.  If we had to go 30 minutes there and 30 minutes back, that hour could be fatal to my timing.

Fortunately, it turned out that the 30 minutes was actually on the way to the next site.  In other words, it was 30 minutes to the monument, then just another 30 minutes to the next site.  That was perfect.  It would give us extra time to explore the sites, should we choose.  We would only be limited by the amount of hiking our bodies could handle.  When we got to the parking lot for the first trailhead for El Malpais NM, we were completely off the grid.  We lit up a pair of Casa Magna cigars and wondered around a bit.  The trail was like 7 miles, so we weren’t going to do that, but we enjoyed looking at the volcanic rock in the area.

We continued down the road, stopping at the VC for El Malpais, which confirmed that El Morro NM, both the VC and the trailhead, was only half an hour away.  We were great for time.  We headed straight to El Morro NM.  I did my business at the VC there, and we learned about the hiking options.  There was a half-mile trail and one that was a mile and a half.  We could start on the shorter trail and make our mind.  There were beautiful mountain views along the way and we finished our cigars on the trail, taking plenty of ceremonial pictures.  There were petroglyphs and inscriptions on the rock formations, so it had as much cultural value as natural.  By the time we finished the shorter trail, we were too exhausted to go any further, so I gave Frankie the keys, and we headed back to the car.

I put the restaurant into the GPS and took a nap.  When I woke up, we were back on the grid, so I got caught up with my social media postings and messages.  My friend Pete was going to meeting us at the restaurant with his girlfriend.  Pete is the brother of one of my best friends, but I would consider Pete a friend on his own.  We have crashed at each other’s places and shared numerous meals together, and we are connected on pretty much every form of social media.  The restaurant, El Pinto, is considered New Mexico’s “most iconic” restaurant and is one of the best Mexican restaurants in the country.  It was where I had my last meal during my last trip to New Mexico last year.  I lit up an Ardor for the ride to the restaurant, and we were there within an hour.

I put our name down for a table, and the table was ready not long after Pete and his girlfriend arrived.  It was good seeing him again.  I was only interested in two things on the menu, their two most famous items: nachos and red chili ribs.  I got half portions of both, which wound up being too much food.  Way too much food.  We had a round of drinks, the three guys getting their famous margaritas, while Pete’s girlfriend had a glass of wine.  We talked and joked during the meal, Frankie and Pete having similar jobs found a lot to discuss.

When the food came, I was shocked.  Either “half” portion looked like a full meal.  I struggled to eat both plates.  I failed.  I was overstuffed from eating what I did manage to eat.  After the meal, Pete and I talked about when we’d next see each other in New York, and then we all went outside to say our goodbyes.  Frankie and I drove to Old Town, and I parked on the same block I parked on fourteen months ago, maybe even the same spot.  I went to the same gift shop as last time and sat down in the familiar gazebo, where I lit up my Avo and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that we can start to make our way to the airport.

Albuquerque International Sunport, New Mexico (ABQ)

For the third time now in fourteen months I have sat at this gate, waiting to board Jetblue Flight 66 back to New Mexico.  My usual bench is in use, though it appears it might actually be about to free up.  If it does, I will switch over to it.

Ah, yes, got it.  Three times I have sat on this bench in the past fourteen months.   I suppose I will take more journey to New Mexico to allow me to say “New Mexico complete” before I turn 30.  In the fall of 2013, I was supposed to take a trip to the Southwest.  It would have been a 10-day trip, and I would have said “Southwest Complete” by the end of the trip.  It was going to be an epic trip, probably a top five trip of all time.  Then, the unthinkable happened.  The government shutdown a few days before I was scheduled to leave.  I was crushed.  It ruined my whole trip.  I could not visit National Park Sites if the federal government had shut down.  I still went to Dallas for the weekend, but I had to cancel the bulk of the trip.

I repurposed the funds to other trips, and I went to Panama instead the following weekend.  While that cancellation cost me Southwest Complete, it enabled me to accomplish other travel goals more easily.  Later in the month I went to Phoenix and saw the National Parks there.  I stayed with a friend in Phoenix, and I planned to make it an annual trip to knock off Arizona complete.  Instead, I wound up becoming very close friends with Connor, who’s from New Mexico.  It is now looking like I will say “New Mexico Complete” before I say “Arizona Complete”, and saying “Southwest Complete” became a 40 Goal, instead of a 30 Goal, though I now hope to visit every NPS and state capitol (in other words, each state “complete”) by the time I turn 40.

My affinity towards the Southwest has not diminished, though I still lament not having been able to take that epic trip, in no small part because it was going to be the last epic NPS run that I would have ever done on a trip that spanned two weekends.  There will never be another one.  I will knock off the remaining sites on 2-, 3-, or 4-day trips, unless I do a cross-country road trip with friends one day, but that wouldn’t be an NPS run.  Somehow, sitting on this bench better embodies the drastic change in my travel methodology that resulted after having to cancel that trip.

Alright, so after I closed in Old Town, I finished my cigar, and we headed to the airport, stopping for gas and to clean up the car.  I returned the car, and we went to the terminal, where there was no line for security.  I headed to the gate, only to find my usual bench occupied, so I chose another one with a similar view, where I sat down and proceeded to write this entry.  I then moved to my familiar bench, where I proceeded to finish this entry, which I will now close, along with closing outing this trip.  Next stop: Antwerp to see the 1920 Olympic Stadium and possibly a stop in Bruges.

The X-Files: The Experience - Day 1 - I Want To Believe

4/2/16, “I Want To Believe”

Roswell, New Mexico

No dateline could better capture the mystique of alien allure than that one.  “I want to believe” is what Detective Mulder says about aliens.  He has a poster in his office with those words.  Here in Roswell, I want to believe, but I don’t believe.  I don’t believe that aliens landed here almost 70 years ago, and I don’t believe that our government, through 12 presidential administrations, would have have been able to cover up the evidence of an alien crash landing.  The museum here in Roswell pays testament to the people who do believe and those who want to believe.  To me, it was just a cute series of displays and exhibits.  I’m sure something weird happened in Roswell 70 years ago.  I just don’t believe it was aliens, even if I want to believe.

This concept of “I want to believe” can also apply to religion.  Many people, believing that a corporal vision of life that can only explained by science and logic is inadequate, want to believe.  Many people genuinely do believe, but others merely want to believe.  They want to believe in an all-powerful deity, but they cannot reconcile that with the evil of the world or their other beliefs.  That is where faith comes in.  Faith is what allows people who want to believe to believe in what they might not otherwise be able to believe.  I do not have faith in anything other than science and logic and my senses.

That brings me to our adventure of this morning, the demonstration of one of mankind’s pinnacle achievements in science and technology.  We woke up to the wakeup call at 6:30 AM, got ready, and headed down to breakfast.  Breakfast was the traditional Hampton Inn fare, quite good, I had a waffle, sausage, and scrambled eggs.  Frankie forewent the waffle.  I let him take the first shift, as I was still half asleep.

As soon as we got on the highway, I put on Red and lit up my Davidoff Escurio Toro.  It was a nice drive, and we were at the checkpoint line by the time I was done with my cigar.  Not long after that we arrived at the big parking lot.  It was very crowded.  We weren’t the only ones who wanted to do this.  Frankie was far more excited than I was about this, as it was one of his true bucket list items, learning to fly a plane and running a marathon being the other two remaining.  I got a hot dog, and we took a ceremonial picture at the radiation sign and then walked towards ground zero.

I lit up a Diamond Crown and announced, “I have become Death, destroyer of worlds,” slightly bungling Oppenheimer’s famous quote.  It was also a National Historic Landmark, and the plaque was right on the monument that denoted ground zero.  This was it.  We were here, at the site of the first nuclear explosion in human history.  We took our ceremonial pictures and walked around as we talked about the science behind it.  There was no need to want to believe.  This was science.  After we were done, we headed back, stopping at the gift stand.

It was my turn to drive, and I drove until we got to the next town, Carrizozo, an hour away.  We stopped for Mexican food, which was quite good, and I got caught up on my messages and social media.  After lunch, I lit up a Camacho, and we got back on the road, arriving in Roswell before long.  The town was pretty much exactly what we expected, a tourist trap for believers.

We went into the museum and walked around the exhibits, taking some ceremonial pictures.  We then looked around the gift shops, all of which were hawking the little green men.  I told Frankie I wanted to do my entry, so I got my laptop and headed across the street.  I found a nice bench with a view of the museum marquee, where I lit up a Graycliff and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that we can head to the hotel once I finish my cigar.

This idea of “I want to believe” can apply to so much more.  Here I am at my hotel, staring out the window at what is most likely just an unimproved lot, but it makes for a good photo, and I want to believe that it is the “crash site” from the Roswell UFO.  When I get my new pipe on Christmas morning, I want to believe that Santa left it, and my mother understands that well enough to not say that she left it.  When I leave my Harry Potter wand next to my bedside, I want to believe that it will protect me if the Dementors come in the middle of the night.  There are so many more examples of times where “I want to believe,” and I’m sure my readers will be able to supply their own examples in their own lives.

After I closed on Main Street, I walked around with the rest of my cigar, seeing if I could find anything X-Files related or something that said, “I Want To Believe”, but I got some other items.  I then went back to the car, and I did a sharp U-turn to head to the hotel, which was only 3 miles back down Main Street.  Once we got to the hotel, we relaxed a bit before headed out to dinner.  It was between two choices, either Big D’s Downtown Dive or Cowboy Cafe.

I opted for the latter, and I was glad I did.  We had a very nice waiter, who had lived here his whole life and never been east of Texas.  I ordered way too much food, loving the menu and wanting to try everything, especially the chicken fried bacon and the steak strips, which were both exactly what they seemed to be.  Due to a bit of a confusion with the waiter, I wound up getting two dinners, as opposed to the option of getting an extra protein added to the regular meal.  It was a nominal difference in price, and he wound up giving me a free slice of pie, impressed that I had eaten so much, especially given that I was an easterner.  I only had one of the set of sides, but I finished both proteins and most of the blooming onion we got.  It was all so good.

As we drove to the restaurant, Frankie told me about his experiences with the paranormal, and I could tell he really wanted to believe.  We asked similar questions of our waiter at the restaurant, and the waiter shared my belief that any sufficiently advanced alien technology that could travel interstellar distances would not crash and would not be seen unless it wanted to, and, if it wanted to be seen, no government could have possibly covered it up.  That does not, however, dismiss my allowance of possible contact with primitive man.

After dinner, we went outside, and I looked up and saw something that I hadn’t seen in months: stars.  It was a clear night, and I could even see the little dipper.  We then headed back to the hotel, and Frankie went out to have a cigarette, while I ventilated the room so that I could have my pipe.  I realized the bed would afford me the best view of the “crash site,” so I sat on the bed, where I lit up my Ardor and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish, finish my pipe, and go to sleep.  We will want to be getting an early start tomorrow so that we can visit all three NPS before they close.  After that, we can have some free time in Albuquerque.

The X-Files: The Experience - Day 0 - The Truth Is Out There

“The X-Files: The Experience”

4/1/16, “The Truth Is Out There”

Aboard B6 65, En Route JFK-ABQ

In a few hours, Uncle Frankie and I will be landing at the Sunport, as it’s called, in Albuquerque, New Mexico.  This is my third time aboard this flight in the past 14 months.  The first two times were to visit World Heritage Sites and National Parks.  This time it’s a lot a different.  Twice a year the Trinity Missile test site is open to the public.  This was where Oppenheimer prophesized, “I have become death, destroyer of worlds.”  When Frankie forwarded me the information, I was quick to suggest that we go.  That is what is happening tomorrow.

The truth is out there.  I will not go into an epistemological exploration of truth.  To many people, they believe there is a fundamental failure in the way the world has been presented to them.  The philosophers believed that they could find the truth through reason.  The religious scholars thought only through god could they find the truth.  The conspiracy theorists believe the government was hiding the truth from them.  While the sites we will visit on this trip most closely relate to the last category, there is a common thread here in the people who believe that the truth is out there.

Me, I believe the truth is already known, for the most part.  It is possible that aliens landed before recorded history, and we may never know that, but I do not believe that our government covered anything up at Roswell.  We do not know the exact process by which a nuclear bomb is utilized, but we know enough, and we will see tomorrow what there is to see.  Then, Sunday, we will race around to a few National Park Sites as I trudge my way towards “New Mexico Complete.”  Monday morning we will be back at the office, and it will be a great trip as we tell our coworkers about our adventure.

Today began much like any other Day 0.  I had gone for autographs last night (a success with Ed Harris and his wife), and I wound staying up later than I needed to just to pack and get ready.  It was close to 2 AM when I finally fell asleep, and I woke up to get ready, arriving a little late at work.  I got done everything I needed to do over the course of the day, forgetting completely about my no longer traditional pre-departure lunch at Hop Won, as I had some leftover McDonald’s in the fridge.  I was going to get a new bag to replace my broken computer bag, but the luggage store had closed down a couple of weeks ago after being there for years.  I was thwarted.  I would have to continue to use my ripped computer bag.

Frankie (and the other inspectors) had a meeting until a little after 4:30 PM, and I had arranged a car to meet as at the cigar shop at 5 PM.  I finished up at work after my boss came out of the meeting, and we then said our goodbyes before heading the cigar store, where I introduced Uncle Frankie to everyone.  I had left a cigar there, a My Father special edition, during lunch, and I smoked it a bit until 5 PM.  There was more than half a cigar left, but the driver let me smoke as we made our way to the airport.  We tipped well.  The flight was a few minutes after 8 PM, and we got to the airport a little after 6 PM, so we were good.

There was a long line for security, but it moved quickly.  It was around 6:30 PM by the time we cleared security.  We went to a nice restaurant past security and got burgers and fries and something called Philly Cheesesteak egg rolls.  I stopped to get some chocolate, and we met at the gate, right before they started boarding.  When we booked the flights, I had suggested we choose a window and an aisle seat in the second to last row, figuring that the middle seat between us would be the least desirable seat on the plane, so we would get the three seater to ourselves.  I figured right.  There was a long delay on the tarmac due to weather conditions, and it was 9:30 PM by the time we took off, an hour and a half behind schedule.  Once we were airborne, I updated my travel spreadsheets and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, as the beverage service is now here, and I will try to rest my eyes after that.

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Here I am, back in the land of enchantment, though I am not exactly in the most enchanted part.  We are at the airport hotel, where we will sleep for less than 5 hours before making our way south to the Trinity site.  That is the main draw of the trip, though other attractions will include Roswell, some new NPS, and revisiting my favorite locations in the Albuquerque area if time permits Sunday night.  It is past 3 AM in New York, past 1 AM local time, so I will be brief.

I fell asleep almost as soon as I was done with my drink and snack, waking up in time for us to make our final descent.  We took the shuttle to the rental car station and I tried to recall the last time I took a rental car bus.  We just had to walk up to the car, get in, drive out, showing my ID at the gate.  I put in the hotel into the GPS, and it was a 7-minute drive, enough time for Frankie to have a cigarette, not enough time for me to even think about a cigar.  We got to the hotel, or rather, where the GPS said the hotel should be.  No hotel.  I used my phone, and it turned out to be back towards the car rental place, probably only a minute away.  In other words, it took us 15 minutes to get the hotel instead of 5 minutes, no big deal.

When we got there, we checked in, grabbed some coffee, and headed up to the room before heading back down for a smoke.  I find a nice area blocked from the wind, so the cold was tolerable.  Frankie lit up a cigarette, while I opted for a L’Atelier, my shortest cigar.  As we smoked, he told me about his past selling water treatment chemicals in Rhode Island.  This was before 9/11, when a flight from Islip airport to Providence was probably quicker than driving into Manhattan.  After two cigarettes, Frankie went upstairs, and I proceeded to write this entry, which I will close so that I can publish and get to sleep.

South Carolina - Day 2 - Revolution

3/27/16 (Easter), “Revolution”

Columbia Metropolitan Airport, South Carolina (CAE)

My time in South Carolina has come to an end, and I am already thinking about when I can plan a trip to Alabama, which would be the last state in the South where I haven’t properly visited yet (I had breakfast there one morning when I was 16 as part of our Tennessee trip).  I love the South.  I really do.  “Backwards” the liberals back home call it.  There is nothing backwards about this part of the country.  It is just a simpler part of the country, with a simpler way of living, with simpler values.  It is a place where the dreams of our Founding Fathers still live.

I will discuss more the idea of the Revolution (and the Rebellion) in my reflective entry from the plane, but today was spent almost entirely exploring Revolutionary War battle sites.  It was a rush to fit all three in and make it to the airport in time.  The absolute latest I could have left the hotel was 7:30 AM if I wanted any reasonable chance of making all three sites and getting back to the airport in time for my flight.  I had hoped to be on the road by 6:30 AM, though.  That didn’t happen.  I almost fell asleep at the cigar store last night, and he didn’t kick me out, letting me finish my cigar while he cleaned up.  I took an Uber back to the hotel, ate my cannoli, and collapsed.

I woke up a little before 6 AM, which was too early.  I couldn’t get back to sleep.  I finally got out of bed around 7 AM, and I was still exhausted from last night.  I was still full from my large and late meal last night.  I would not be stopping at the Waffle House.  I think it was 7:40 AM when I left the hotel.  Fuck.  I was also dead tired, almost falling asleep at the wheel.  I had lit up a Centurion for the ride, and after I ditched it, I stopped at a gas station to rest my eyes for a bit and get some coffee, having forgotten to take the free coffee from the hotel this morning.  That helped.

I got to the first site, Kings Mountain National Military Park a little before 10 AM.  I could work with that schedule.  I’d have half an hour at each site, and 4 hours of driving, which would get me to the airport at before 3:30 PM for my 4:35 PM flight, assuming everything went right.  I told the ranger my plan, and he seemed doubtful I could do that.  I’ve heard that before.  I will refer my readers to a Google search for the details of these battles, but the battle at Kings Mountain was an important victory for the American Patriots against the British Loyalist forces.  I lit up a Fratello for the work around the battlegrounds and took my ceremonial pictures.

I then headed to the next battlefield, Cowpens National Battlefield.  That was an even more important victory for the Patriots, and it lead to the end of the British control of the South.  I walked around a bit, continued my cigar, and took my ceremonial pictures, the same thing I do at every NPS.  I had been to 244 of them by that point.  Then I was starting to get hungry, and I was running low on gas.  The timing was tight, but I was still on schedule.  I stopped at a Citgo to get gas, along with a corn dog, chips, and a Diet Coke.  It was raining on and off all day, and I wasn’t really in the mood for a cigar for the drive.

I got to the last site, Ninety-Six National Historic Site a little before 1:30 PM.  It would be an hour and a quarter to the airport from there, which meant I could spend half an hour at the site, and I would be at the airport at 3:15 PM, assuming everything went right.  I did my business in the VC and started walking the trail, lighting up the Cohiba my sister-in-law had gotten me from her trip to Cuba.  This was it.  It was the last NPS in South Carolina for me.  The Patriots lost the battles here, but it had set the seeds for their later victories at Kings Mountain and Cowpens, and we won the war.  All’s well that ends well, I guess.  When I got to the main field, I took my ceremonial picture, and announced, “South Carolina, wait for it,” pausing to take an Official sip of water, “Complete.”  Then asking myself (out loud) how and when I could go to Alabama.

I got back to my car a few minutes after 2 PM.  It was just over an hour to the airport.  I was on schedule to get to the airport right at 3:15 PM, assuming everything went right.  Alright, enough with the suspense, everything went right, I got to the airport right on schedule.  I dropped off the car and checked in.  I then headed out to the smoking bench, where I had some marshmallow Peeps (four bunnies), lit up a L’Atelier, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can head through security and to the gate.  I will do the reflective entry and properly close out this trip on the plane.

Aboard DL 5569, En route CAE-LGA

The American Revolution was not about tea, no more than Civil War was about slavery.  Everyone gets the first part of that, they understand it was about wanting our independence?  Or was it?  No, it was not.  The American Revolution was about us wanting representation in British Parliament.  “No taxation without representation.”  Remember that?  It wasn’t, “No taxation.”  It wasn’t, “Free tea for everyone.”  It was, “No Taxation WITHOUT REPRESENTATION.”  That is why it is inaccurate to talk about how we fought off the British or the misquote, “The British are coming!”  The colonists were British.

That is why the terms Patriots and Loyalists are more accurate.  One side, the Patriots, wanted their independence, after other methods had failed, and the other side wanted to remain loyal to the Crown.  This had nothing to do with tea.  The tax was a small tax to finance, I believe, the French-Indian War that was fought to protect British colonists.  The colonists just wanted to have representation in Parliament to make sure their tax was fair.  That was it.  They didn’t get it.  They went to war.  If they could have remained part of the British Empire (like Canada did), they would have, so long as they could have had representation in parliament.

The Civil War, likewise, was not about slavery.  President Lincoln himself said he would have been okay with letting slavery continue if it meant peacefully holding the country together.  “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”  That was the problem.  Slavery was too divisive of an issue for our country to remain whole, half slave, half free.  There was no solution.  We are seeing a similar division now, but it is not a geographical division.  It is, for the most part, an urban vs. rural distinction.  The biggest difference between the so-called red states and blue states is that the blue states have larger urban populations.  Atlanta is much more a blue area than upstate New York.

This latest campaign cycle and the issues I have addressed earlier have been more divisive than anything since the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s.  As I mentioned yesterday, this new liberal agenda, calling people bigots on a prima facie basis, is as divisive as anything done by the right.  Slavery has ended, and we have full equal protection under the law for all minorities.  The liberals now want to set their sights on racist thoughts, having successfully banned racist acts.  While I fully condemn racist acts, and I do not condone racist thoughts, I either more strongly condemn what the left is doing right now.

The spirit of revolution lives on in the South, and to call someone a bigot without fully understanding them or where they come from or why they think the way the way they do is as prejudiced as what the liberals are condemning.  The spirit of rebellion lives on in the South, too and I am seriously concerned where our country is heading.  Since we do not neatly fit into geographically-based ideologies, there could not be a civil war, but if the actions we have recently seen in Nevada and Oregon are any indication, we are heading towards a very bad place.  I fear that Mr. Trump has gotten much more right than he got wrong.

Progress can only be built on cooperation.  It cannot be built on division.  Progress cannot come about by using terms like “bigot” and “homophobe” to condemn anyone with whom you disagree.  We are moving backwards in this regard.  Our Founding Fathers had it right, and those on the left would do well to better follow their examples.  Otherwise, we may very well see another revolution, and not the type of revolution that Senator Sanders mentions.  That is not a revolution.  That is tyranny in sheep’s clothing.  I will briefly pause now to have my in-flight snack before I do my more personal reflections on the trip and the South in general.

I have been to 49 states.  Of those, I have slept at least one night in, I believe, 46 of them.  The exceptions being Alabama, Oklahoma, and West Virginia if memory serves me right.  I have been to every region of the country, other than, of course, Hawaii.  I have thoroughly explored every region of the country.  From sea to shining sea, I have seen America the beautiful.  Why then does the liberal media in the Northeast think it is completely appropriate to denigrate one or more of those regions?  Reader, the feeling is mutual.  That is why Senator Cruz knew it would be an effective campaign tactic in some parts of this country to criticize Mr. Trump for having “New York values.”

The South is one of my favorite regions, though I do prefer the scenic beauty of the Pacific Northwest, and I’m kind of fond of all the states that border Canada, actually.  If you work in a newsroom in a big tower in Manhattan and have never driven through the country roads south of the Mason-Dixon Line, you don’t get to criticize the values that Mr. Trump’s supporters in this region hold.  You just don’t.  I love driving those country roads, seeing the tiny houses on the big plots of land.  It reminds me of a simpler time, and, with simpler times, come simpler values.

I have been light on the domestic travel of late.  Since the Last Great Summer Road Trip adventure I took with my mother in July, I believe I have only been on five domestic trips, oh, six, my brother’s wedding Oregon.  The other trips were two in the Northeast with my friends, both of which were driving trips starting in New York, one to New Jersey and Pennsylvania, the other to Connecticut and Rhode Island.  All blue states, all as liberal as they get.  I then took trips to Atlanta, not leaving the city, the very blue city, and South Florida, again, very blue.

Reader, do you see where I am going with this?  Not since Montana over 8 months ago have I been somewhere that votes red.  That’s a long time to be surrounded by liberals.  My values are mostly conservative, so it bothers me to see liberals attack conservatives as brutally as bigots attack minorities.  Why are the attacks instigated by the liberals condoned?  Well, having been in blue areas for the past 8 months, I never gave it much thought.  Now I am starting to realize the irony.  Next weekend will take me to the thoroughly purple state of New Mexico.  After that, my domestic travels will bring me to Philadelphia and perhaps Maine in June.

I will go to Texas with my mother in October, and I do not know when I would go to Alabama, but it would not be before then.  That means it’ll be 6 months before I set foot in a red state again.  That’s a long time.  I have an exciting summer of international travel ahead, including Rio and Rome.  It’s just a shame that I am running out of domestic sites to visit.  When I set out to see the world, I guess I knew I’d very quickly run out of domestic destinations.

Okay, so, um, I almost missed my flight.  After I closed, I figured I could smoke until 4:05 PM and then head to my gate.  Well, I meandered, and I stopped at the gift shop, and security took longer than I expected, even though there was almost no line.  It was like 4:18 PM when I finally cleared security.  They close the gate 15 minutes before departure time.  That meant I had two minutes to get to my gate.  It was a tiny airport, so that was no problem.  I went to the board, and my flight’s gate was not listed.  Uhhhh.  I figured it was delayed or something.  I went to check out the airside gift shop.  Then I heard it.  They were announcing the final boarding call for my flight, at Gate 8.  I ran to the gate, and they asked me if I was Margolin.  I told them that I was.  They said they had put someone else in my seat and could give me the exit row, which had two open seats.  Perfect.

Well, almost perfect.  Someone did wind up taking the other seat, but the exit row gives me more legroom, and I have an aisle seat, so it was more comfortable than the cramped seat from the outbound flight.  As soon as we were airborne, I proceeded to write my entry, which I will now close, along with closing out this trip.  Next stop: New Mexico with Uncle Frankie to see the Trinity Missile site, along with some other National Park Sites.  It’ll be a fun trip.

South Carolina - Day 1 - The Swamp

3/26/16, “The Swamp”

Columbia, South Carolina

The sun has set over South Carolina, and my adventures of the day have ended so that my night’s activities may begin.  There are 59 National Parks in the United States, of which 4 are on the islands of the South Pacific (2 in Hawaii and 1 in American Samoa) and the Caribbean (1 in the Virgin Islands).  I have now been to the other 55.  The first one I visited was Everglades National Park in Florida, 17 years ago.  Since then, I have visited National Parks in 26 states, from Acadia National Park in Maine to Kobuk Valley National Park in the northwesternmost part of Alaska to Joshua Tree National Park in Southern California to Dry Tortugas National Park in the Florida Keys, I have been to all 55.  It was no easy task, and it took numerous trips of varying lengths and intensities, but I have been to all 55.

Next year will bring me to the Virgin Islands and the South Pacific, where I will finish my quest.  But now, I will recall my day of travelling through the swamplands of South Carolina.  It should have been a simple day, just the National Park and the BBQ joint before I got back to the hotel at 4 PM or, if I was ahead of schedule, I would have the option of fitting in another National Park Site.  That did not happen.  In fact, it was 7 PM by the time I got back to my hotel in the capital.  What happened?

Well, it was a series of not exactly unfortunate events.  I got to the Waffle House around 8:30 AM.  I ordered biscuits, sausage, grits, eggs, coffee, and, of course, a waffle.  My food came just before 9 AM.  At some point my chipper waitress’s large iced coffee from Starbucks spilled behind the counter.  After she mopped it up, she was called into the manager’s office.  When she brought me check, I asked if I should pay her or up front.  Very surlily, she said that I could either but that she was standing right there.  I handed her my card.  When she brought the CC slip, she hovered until I signed it, as opposed to what I’m used to when they tell me to take me time with it and come back later.  Thinking she might have just been fired, I wondered if I should give a more generous tip than usual.  I did not.  The check was small, so I gave 20% and rounded up to the next whole dollar.

I then continued on to the National Park, stopping at Rite-Aid to get some Nexium, which I had forgotten to bring.  It was much cheaper than in New York, so I got two 3-packs of 14 pills each.  It was 10 AM by the time I got to the VC, now an hour behind schedule, the possibility of the extra NPS for the day lost.  I did my stamping and got my t-shirt and pin before dropping it off at the car.  They had repurposed pill bottles and film canisters as portable ashtrays filled with sand.  I loved that.  They let you smoke on the trail, but they took stops to ameliorate the environmental damage that a cigarette butt or ash would do to the ecosystem.

I lit up a Romeo y Julieta Churchill, one of the last ones that I brought back from Cuba, and got on the boardwalk.  I found a nice photo spot and announced, fighting back the tears, “All Mainland US National Parks.”  It started in swamp not far south of here, and now it ended in another swamp.  I then continued along the boardwalk and recalled the other 54 National Parks I had visited, not a single bad memory among them, including what is still considered the greatest trip of my life, the one to the National Parks of the American West with my parents about 15 years ago.  My mother and I will be doing another trip this October to Texas, to see the Alamo and the associated newly designated World Heritage Site there.  She was with me for so many of these National Parks, other friends for other National Parks, some, like this one, on my own.  As I recalled the other National Parks, I did so geographically, not chronologically, so I was constantly skipping back forth over the span of the 17 years.  I continued walking and turned around eventually.  After about an hour and a half, ten minutes from the VC, it started to pour.  I got back to the VC, ditched the cigar, connected to the Wi-Fi, and got caught up on social media.

I then put in the town of Hemingway into my GPS, which was my lunch destination, Scott’s BBQ, South Carolina’s “most iconic restaurant.”  There was a road closure.  I didn’t have a cell signal.  It really messed things up.  It added at least half an hour to the drive.  Finally, I figured out how to get around it and was on the highway.  I lit up a Camacho for the drive, and it was after 3 PM by the time I pulled in.  This was the day of their annual picnic.  What are the odds?!?  Well, 1 in 52, I guess.  I parked on the grassy lot and headed into the BBQ joint.  I was definitely in the heart of the South.  Other than a few tourists, there was not a single white face inside, and it was a long line.  A very long line.  It was 3:30 PM by the time I was sitting down with my pound of BBQ.  It was good, really good.

I then went across the street to check out the picnic as I messaged back and forth with my friend about the new DC movie.  I went back to my car and got an OpusX, which I lit up as I walked around the picnic area.  One of the women from inside came up to me, shocked that I had managed to put away a whole pound of the BBQ.  She could never do it.  It was now past 4 PM.  I was supposed to be back at the hotel by then.  I made my way back to the hotel, stopping at Walmart to get a snack at the McDonald’s there, along with some Easter goodies.  It was still raining, so I didn’t light up another cigar for the ride home.  Around 7 PM, I pulled into the hotel and gave the valet my keys.  I headed up to the room to relax for a bit before I had to head out in time to get to the State House before sunset.

I went to the State House and took my ceremonial pictures.  There was a big statue of Strom Thurmond.  He was fun.  The President Pro Tempore of the Senate when I first learned what that term meant.  He was a bit of a racist, though, but well, more on that topic later.  I found a spot with a nice view, where I sat down, lit up a PDR, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can head to a cigar store a few blocks away and watch the UNC game, maybe order some food if that’s allowed, who knows.  Tomorrow, I should be able to say “South Carolina complete.”

It was Kansas, not UNC, and they lost an exciting game.  More on that later.  I am in the cigar shop, surrounded by descendants of slaves.  I do not mean that in a disparaging way, not at all.  I am merely highlighting the demographics of this region.  The workers here appear to be descendants of slave owners.  That is the demographics of this town.  College students and descendants of slaves and slave owners.  Hemingway, where I went for BBQ, were all descendants of slaves.  As I drove today, I had thoughts about how racism or, more precisely, anti-racism.

I came to the conclusion that anti-racism is far more divisive than racism is, in present day America.  I am using the term racism as a catchall for any type of LGBT discrimination, whether it is based on race, ethnicity, or sexual orientation.  If we accept that 30% of the population is bigoted, actually I should use that term, posting on Facebook about how bad racism is, or encouraging people to unfriend Trump supporters, or liberal media talking about the “backwards” society that led to passing laws such as the one in North Carolina or the one pending in Georgia, or companies threaten to boycott entire states because of those laws, that is divisive.  That is more divisive than the old man sitting on his porch drinking a PBR next to his confederate flag.

There is a difference between racist thoughts and racist acts.  The goal of the civil rights movement in the 1960s was to eliminate racist acts.  It worked.  The goal of the liberal agenda today is to eliminate racist thoughts.  It is failing miserably.  It is dividing our country.  It is helping Mr. Trump secure his nomination.  After Obergefell v. Hodges, it was no longer enough that same-sex marriage was fully legalized, the liberal agenda then consisted of getting people to fully accept same-sex couples, in thought and act.  That was the reasoning behind the pizzeria in Indiana that was crucified for saying they would not cater a same-sex wedding.  Reader, what gay couple gets their wedding catered by a pizzeria?  It was the case with the bakery in Colorado.  Was it really the only bakery in town?  It was not about getting a cake for their wedding.  It was about eliminating bigoted thoughts.

Reader, where are the people who say, “I understand this is the way you feel about [disaffected group], and I accept that, but just please leave me alone.”  Because there are conservatives who say, “Look, I don’t accept your lifestyle, but I’m not going to stop you from living it.”  That is what is happening with these non-discrimination laws.  Discrimination in the private sector or my personal life should not prohibited by the government.  If I want to say that I don’t want to date a black girl or have a gay friend, the government would not force me to do so, but it attempts to regulate private sector employment in such a fashion.  The proper response to a bigoted employer is negative advertising and boycotts.  That would work.  It would work big time.  The government should not step in.

Instead, it creates a divide between the bigots and the tolerants, as I’ll call them.  The actions of the tolerants are further dividing this country by hardening the resolve of the bigots and making it a campaign issue.  If people want to be bigoted, let them.  Don’t demonize them.  You are demonizing 30% of the population when you do so.  That is called dividing the country.  Racially-motivated violence should be treated exactly the same way as any type of violence.  Private sector discrimination should be allowed.  It is not the job of the government to tell people how they should think, no more than it’s the job of the liberal media to do so.  If you look at the comments on Facebook of the news articles, they are brutal, they are as bad as anything the bigots post.  It makes me feel sympathy towards the bigots.  It makes me support their right to be bigoted.

That is why we have a continued divide of our country, and it is a serious problem.  My reader should note the law that came out of North Carolina, it’s not an anti-gay law.  It just allows people and private sector employers to be bigoted, if they so desire.  It even prevents racially-driven discrimination.  I will not even address the bathroom issue, as it is just too stupid.  Seriously, that’s where the trans-rights movement wants to make their big stand?  On bathroom usage.  You’re going in there to perform a biological function.  Segregate it by biological sex, not gender identity.

I don’t see a solution to this divide anywhere in sight, and it’s going to keep getting a lot worse.  One more thing, I read an article for philosophy class that addressed how anti-discrimination laws were not the solution.  It was written by a trans-rights activist, so I didn’t give it much credence, but now I think he had a lot right.  Anti-discrimination laws do not adjust the underlying problem, namely the reason people are bigoted.  That is what must be addressed, not specific acts of discrimination.

Anyway, so, after I closed at the State House, I headed to the cigar shop, and it was a nice little place with a mediocre humidor.  I picked out three cigars and set down in front of the TV, along with a beer.  They said I could order food if I wanted.  I was surrounded by the mix I described earlier, and I lit up an LFD.  Kansas lost the game, which messed up my bracket, since I had them winning the whole tournament, but it was a close and exciting game.  During the second half, I ordered some pizza, which was really good.  After the game, I got another beer and lit up a Tatuaje.  I then sat back down on the couch, where I proceed to write this entry, which I will now close, as the shop is about to close.  I guess I’ll publish when I get back to the hotel.  I need to get an early start tomorrow.

South Carolina - Day 0 - Back at It

3/25/16, “Back at It”

LaGuardia Airport, New York (LGA)

It has been six weeks since I have last written here.  In that time, I have not left New York State.  In fact, I don’t believe I have been more than 50 miles from my apartment.  Not much has happened in the past six weeks, but so much has.  I suppose it would be more accurate to say that what has transpired over the past six weeks is merely the logical continuation of what I recounted in my entries from Peru.  The presidential race has played out exactly as would have been predicted based on its state and events that I recounted six weeks ago.  Whatever has occurred in my personal and work life could easily have been predicted from what I recounted six weeks ago.

I have seen a bunch of movies, stayed up late many (every?) Tuesday nights watching the election returns, and, other than last weekend, my weekends were spent much the same way as the weekend before I left for Florida.  I spent most weekends working, and I had breakfast at McDonald’s every weekend morning.  Last weekend, I finally saw my parents again upon their return from Florida.  It was the first time in over a month that I had slept somewhere other than my apartment.  That must have been a record.

Now, I’m back at it.  This weekend South Carolina, next weekend New Mexico, the weekend after Belgium.  Oh, yes, Belgium, the tragic events in Brussels of Tuesday.  I will address that from Antwerp.  Undeterred by terror, that trip will continue.  I have never cancelled a trip out of terror before, and I will not let those attacks deter me.  It was a very unadventurous Day 0.  I had gone to see the new DC movie last night.  For my non-comic fans, that does not mean a movie set in our nation’s capital.  It was as bad as the reviews promised, and it has the potential to tank the entire DC Cinematic Universe.  Besides, I’m not yet ready to forgive Ben Affleck, and he is not a good Batman, not at all.  Jesse Eisenberg, though, makes the perfect Lex Luthor.  He’s come a long way from playing Mark Zuckerberg.  However, it was a late showing, so it was about 3 AM by the time I finally got to sleep, and I hadn’t packed yet.

Pack.  By that I mean throw a few cigars and clothes into my computer bag and pack up my sleep machine.  This is a weekend in South Carolina, not a week in South America.  I lit up a cigar while I packed and would drop it off at the cigar store on my way to work.  I had a very productive day, and I was planning on doing my usual (well, not so usual anymore) pre-departure lunch at Hop Won.

One of the inspectors asked me what I was doing for lunch.  One thing led to another, and we wound up having a (dry) lunch at an Irish pub a block from the office.  That took up the whole hour, so I didn’t have time to finish my cigar.  I finished up at work and got ready to leave, only for the front zipper to break.  I would not have time to get a new bag.  I went to the cigar store to finish my cigar and caught a taxi to LGA.  I had the TSA PreCheck printed on my boarding pass, so I breezed through security.  I headed to my gate, reflecting on Donald Trump’s recent comments (similar to those previously made by Vice President Biden) that LGA resembled a third world airport.  I thought about all my trips to the third world.  They have many airports that are nicer than LGA.

I got to the gate and went to take a picture of the departure sign, only to be told by the gate agent, for the first time, in any airport, anywhere in the world, that I couldn’t take a picture of the sign.  I took the picture anyway and made a face that was more appropriate to an emoji than a human being.  I then set down across from the gate, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close.  This will be my third trip to South Carolina, and I will reflect on the details of those previous trips tonight from the capital.

Columbia, South Carolina

Until today, I never quite realized that South Carolina is in the heart of the South.  Sure, I knew all the demographics, so much of which had been drilled into my head by CNN commentators last month.  Sure I knew the geography.  At least, in theory, I knew it was in the South, but my two previous trips had taken me to the touristy areas, the white, rich touristy areas along the coast: Hilton Head Island, Charleston, and Fort Sumter.  That is not representative of South Carolina.  Once I walked into the McDonald’s, I knew I was in the heart of the South.  When I asked the front desk clerk at hotel with a bit of a drawl, “Is the coffee still on?” I knew that not only was I in the South, but that the South was already in me.

It should be noted that I am not using this term as a euphemism for an area with a high population of black people.  The south has a demographic that represents, unlike the rest of the country, the descendants of slaves and slave owners.  You don’t see that demographic in New York or Detroit or Los Angeles.  It is unique to the South.  Here in the center of Columbia, I am near the big University, so the demographic is slightly skewed, but the point still stands, and it will stand when I walk into Waffle House tomorrow morning.

A year ago this month I had a similar experience in Jackson, the capital of Mississippi, I was at the fancy hotel with the tourists, the rich, white tourists, but the Waffle House had a demographic more representative of the state of Mississippi, which, again, was not the same as my previous experience in Biloxi.  I have been to Atlanta, to Jackson, to Baton Rouge, to Nashville, and now I am in Columbia.  I guess that just leaves Montgomery.  Over the next two Days, I will thoroughly and completely explore South Carolina, enjoying being inland in the state for the first time.

10 years ago, I came to South Carolina for the first time.  I was so excited, it would be the last state east of the Mississippi I needed to visit.  We went to Hilton Head Island.  We drank cold drinks by the pool.  I sat and smoked (?) and read Lord of the Rings on the balcony.  That was not South Carolina.  6 years later, when I set out to see the world, I drove from Orlando to Charleston, in one day.  The next morning, I went to Fort Sumter, and then I drove back to the Orlando, only stopping in Charleston and at some National Park Sites.  That was not South Carolina.  This trip, I will experience South Carolina for what it is, and I will understand why it is a state that chose Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Trump in its primary elections.  I will understand why it is as solid of a red state as it gets.  I will understand all of this, the same as I understood it in Mississippi this time last year.

After I closed, we soon boarded the flight, or, more accurately, we took a bus to the plane, and I will not get until the details, but it was a very cramped and uncomfortable, though thankfully short flight.  I worked on updating my travel spreadsheets, and we soon landed in Columbia, which had a much nicer airport than LaGuardia.  I got the car, which was extremely shiny and fancy, a Chrysler 300 that had to be a 2016 or 2015 model year.  At that point, I realized just how starving I was.

I wound up stopping at a McDonald’s, as described above.  The menu was a little different than New York, and I got a Southern Style Chicken meal and Sausage Biscuit.  It was delicious.  I then headed to the hotel, which, again, reminded me of the hotel in Jackson.  The woman at the front desk was very friendly (and pretty), and I’m not sure how I started talking with a touch of a Southern drawl.  She put me in a room with a view of the State House, gave me the address for a Waffle House on the way to Congaree National Park, and confirmed that the coffee was still on.

I went up to the room, changed into some casual clothes and put, what else, the UNC college basketball game.  It was halftime.  I charged my electronics up a bit and grabbed a Diamond Crown.  I headed down, refilled my coffee, and went outside.  The benches in front of the hotel did not have a view of the State House, which had its flags at half-mast.  I wondered if it was for Brussels.  I did, however, find a grassy ledge with a great view of the State House, where I lit up my cigar and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish while I finish my cigar.  I suppose the UNC game will be over by the time I go back upstairs.