Road trip across America

I am happy to report that Matt and I recently arrived safely and relatively sanely in New York. And so did our cats! I cannot underscore enough what an accomplishment this is for two animals who consider any of the following to be catastrophic, unmanageable changes: seeing a packed suitcase, hearing the doorbell ring, getting locked out of the bedroom. 

Some of the things we got to see along the way:

(1) Corn

(2) Corn

(3) Corn 

(4-7) Corn

If you were to ask me what our trip was like, I'd produce a rough breakdown as follows:

To put things in perspective, one of our favorite stops on this trip was Omaha. (On the plus side, this trip really gave us a chance to figure out who we are in the context of world and country: a couple of arrogant California pricks.)

Driving, day 1: Moraga - Winnemucca, NV. 

I didn't take any pictures here, and there's a reason: it's Winnemucca, Nevada. We stayed in a Motel 6 next to some meth heads who had their dirty laundry dangling outside the room. The smell of human feces wafted up from the staircase. (It didn't help that it was Burning Man season, either.) We ate Mexican food on a patio under the freeway underpass, then played penny slots.

Driving, day 2: Utah 

The only sights we really saw were in Utah, where we briefly stopped at the Bonneville salt flats.

We stayed in Park City, Utah. The bed had a hard wooden platform so the cats couldn't hide under it, but they still squeezed themselves behind the bed skirt.

Driving, day 3: Wyoming

By day three, the scenery started getting rapidly more boring, but at least the cats started warming up to the trip. It was also about this time that Matt and I perfected our cat crating technique. I don't want to give it away because we are about to become millionaire internet sensations when we post an instructional video on Youtube, but "the Cashew" involves scooping the cats into a crescent moon shape, and rolling them like roly-polies into the crate.

Before the trip, I watched a movie called "Waitress" about a girl working at a pie diner. It was terrible! Nevertheless, I immediately started craving pies. Luckily, Wyoming had a pie diner! It looked like a Goodwill, and the pies were basically pre-made crusts with Jello mix inside.

Our hotel had this beautiful piece of art which looked like it was picked up fresh from Ross in 1982. It's hard to appreciate the fading colors and dusty frame from the photo, but you can tell Matt was inspired by it.

Driving, day 4: Nebraska

Driving through Nebraska was like a punishment. Even the corn looked like it wanted to commit suicide. If we want to send a message to criminals, maybe we should sentence them to drive across Nebraska, over and over, for a year. Matt was freaked out the whole time because everyone reminded him of characters from "The Hills Have Eyes" or even worse, "Gummo":

We saw a lot of trucks and... almost nothing else.

The motels in Nebraska don't even bother trying to lure you in. And really, what would be the point? If you're considering staying at a motel in Nebraska, it's probably not by choice. All you really need to do is say "SUN MOTEL: our rooms may or may not have beds" and some poor soul who's been driving across Nebraska for 4 hours will stop there to end the driving pain for the night.

We stayed the night in Omaha, which, surprisingly, we really liked! Mostly because there's a cute little downtown area with a bunch of restaurants and breweries. I did a beer tasting:

But we were less impressed with our hotel because it was hidden in a maze of confusing freeway onramps. Also, the room across from us contained what seemed like a family of zombies. One of the children whispered "hello. goodbye." while pulling something out of her mouth. Then, another time we left the room, the mother was making barking noises in the hallway. All we could do was shoot her a horrified look, as if to say, "Please eat the people at the Christian camp next door, not us."

Day 5: Iowa 

Everything I said about Nebraska also counts for Iowa, which was slightly less bad.

Day 6-7: Pennsylvania to New York

The scenery finally picked up when we hit Pennsylvania! There were lots of wooded hillsides, little farmhouses, etc. which creeped me out slightly because they reminded me of old-timey America stuff, like the Salem witch trials, or the Scarlet Letter. Or maybe even Wicker Man, the worst movie ever made. In Walmart I almost screamed when I saw a lady walking around in a bonnet.

I don't know who took this picture, but I stole it because it does a good job depicting how creepy Amish women are.

(I realized only halfway through the drive that neither the Scarlet Letter nor the Salem witch trials took place in Pennsylvania. And also began to wonder when Amish people started shopping at Walmart?)

And of course we were excited as soon as New York City signs started popping up. I wanted to play Ride of the Valkyries as we drove into the city, but then at the last minute we rerouted all the way down to Staten Island and never got to have our triumphant moment passing the New York skyline. And anyway, we were too stressed out to listen to anything, what with having to pay tolls every ten feet.

Right now we are still settling into our one-month sublet in Bushwick, Brooklyn. (Or maybe "East Williamsburg", if you're a broker.)

We don't really know anything about New York, except that we emphatically do not fit into our neighborhood.  For example, we don't look like this:

Brooklyn may be one of the only places in the country where it is appropriate for a male host at an upscale restaurant to pair an unbuttoned dress shirt with short shorts, a backwards hat, and sock-less sneakers. Matt decided he didn't fit in as soon as he realized he could not afford hipster glasses (top left). I decided I did not want to fit in because I am unwilling to wear a cotton tie-die romper, or magenta parachute pants with Charlie Chaplin suspenders. [**Edit, 11/18: I did accidentally dress like a mime on Friday. Maybe I'm finally getting into the spirit of things.**]

Another reason we don't really fit in is that our apartment complex is what I would consider a semi-hippie commune / college dorm building. Aside from the smells of weed, incense, garbage and tuna wafting through the hallways, every day at 4:30 pm we hear someone who sounds like they had a tracheotomy chant "I am" repeatedly for thirty minutes on the roof (or maybe, "Nottingham"). Our hosts, a gay couple who are away for work, have lovingly decorated the apartment with a testicles motif, with ballsack-themed items of all sizes and types (including even the Wireless password, "ballface").

It's pretty different from our beloved "Culver City adjacent" neighborhood in L.A., sandwiched between Kaiser Permanente, Carl's Jr., the crackhead-magnet "We buy your gold!" store, and drug-laundering-facility-posing-as-flower-shop.

New York quote of the day: "1.50 for a loaf of bread? You can't beat that with a baseball bat!" (for full effect, read in thick NY accent)