Day 3 Addendum: Wyoming

I forgot to mention two important happenings in Wyoming. Wyoming isn't really all that iteresting, so I consider us to have been incredibly fortunate to have run into so many interesting things.

Number one: we drove past this sign:



We drove through a city with a population of one! It was magical. It intrigued me. Why would someone live in a city all by himself? It intrigued me so much that I, of course had to Google "Lost Springs, WY" when I got the chance. That brought me to this website.

Kind of ruined some of the magic.

The second event in Wyoming: I killed an endangered species (specie?).
I didn't mean to. It just kind of scooted out in front of my car. I had never seen one of these buggers before - I thought they only existed in movies - and I was so excited to see it on the side of the road! And then it bolted out in front of my car, and I couldn't stop. And I squashed it. I felt awful. I felt so bad, that I have made a rather sizable donation to


the Save the Tumbleweed Foundation.

Day 3: Somewhere That Starts with a K, SD → Hermosa, SD → Cheyenne, WY → Georgetown, CO

A couple hour drive brought us to Hermosa, SD: home of, perhaps, the most famous rock in the United States: Mount Rushmore. Now here's the thing about Mount Rushmore. (Well, maybe not the thing about Mount Rushmore – there are actually lots of things about Mount Rushmore. But here's a thing about Mount Rushmore – a thing that no one ever really talks about and one, I'm afraid, you may not be able to fully appreciate unless you get to visit the monument.)

~~~One of the three actual pictures I have of myself from the trip~~~

Are you ready for this? It is clear, when you visit Mount Rushmore, that Abraham Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt had a thing for each other. “What?” you might say. “We had gay presidents?! That's as crazy as saying we've had a black president!” I know. I know. But it's true.

~~~We'll NEVER have a black president~~~

“But how do you know, Brian?” you might ask. I'll tell you. See, the Mount Rushmore monument is set up so that you can't see it until you're almost there. You would think you could see these giant faces on a giant mountain from miles away. But that's not the case. The US was very shrewd about the placement of trees and other mountains, so that you can't see the monument until you're right up on it. And you approach the monument by circling up around a mountain toward it. And in the very first angle you see of Mount Rushmore – if you peek between the trees, when they think nobody's looking - Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln are very clearly kissing each other.

And it's not just as if their lips happen to line up if you look at them from a certain angle. There is a certain intensity in their eyes. And I'm pretty sure Lincoln's tongue is sticking out just the slightest bit. And I don't blame them. If any one of us were stuck in a confined space with the same three guys for 50 years, we'd all get a little curious. But here's the kicker: There are NO pictures on the Internet of this hidden-through-the-trees angle. A government cover up! By the same government who pushed Proposition 8 through. By the same government that... does other shady and sneaky conspiratorial things! (I'm not gonna pretend to know about what I'm talking about).

~~~The government has annihilated all pictures of the presidents actually kissing. But if you can picture seeing this from an angle slightly to the right, you can see what I'm getting at~~~

Anyway. By the time you get around to the front of the monument, Ted and Abe have figured out that they have company, and are back to being stone-faced, non-kissing super-president guys (though I'm pretty sure that they're still holding hands behind the mountain).

~~~They're TOTALLY holding hands up there~~~

So. We saw the mountain. And then left the mountain. And the drive to Wyoming is notable for two reasons: 1) Though we seemed to be having zero trouble with our steering at this point (stupid, good-for-nothing, lying, son-of-a-gun mechanic. Mechanics always lie...), at almost the exact same moment, both my check engine light and my anti-lock brakes light came on. This will become important during the next installment 2) It started to rain. This will become important in the next paragraph.

~~~My dashboard: Shortly after leaving Mount Rushmore~~~

We stopped in Cheyenne, Wyoming. (Cheyenne is the most populous city in Wyoming. There are a tad more than 50,000 people in Cheyenne. It's a very small big city.) We stopped at a place called Sanford's Grub and Pub, where everything is comically large: the menu has a trillion choices, they serve your food on a pizza pan, the glasses are a small step from being classified as buckets, and the forks are difficult to fit in your mouth. The food was good, but as we were sitting there eating and watching The Weather Channel, we noticed that The Weather Channel was showing the remnants of a giant tornado. Which had touched down not too far from Cheyenne, Wyoming. Remember that rain from the last paragraph? Is was leftover tornado-rain. We'd almost been swept of to Oz, and hadn't even realized it.

~~~Just missed seeing this guy~~~

Both of us were sad we were so close to a tornado, and didn't get to see it.

~~~Official Weather Channel Screenshot of the tornado that ripped through Wyoming~~~

We headed toward Denver, CO, but got too close to ski country before we decided to turn in for the night. Once you get too close to ski country, you see, they stop offering nice, cheap, convenient campsites and, instead, offer expensive ski lodges. Chalets, if you will. We split the difference and crashed in the most expensive Super 8 I've ever been in.

~~~Super 8 Motel in Georgetown, CO~~~

Next Up: Colorado (or: "Wheeeeeee!")

Day 2: Beloit, WI → Minneapolis, MN → Somewhere That Starts With a K, SD

Day 2 started off, strangely enough, in Beloit, WI, where we went to sleep. We pulled out of the motel parking lot (slowly, tentatively, cautiously – so as to not clip the car next to us [when your power steering goes {for those of you who have never had the pleasure of having this happen}, it totally messes with your mind. I'd been driving the same car for nine years, and it's always had the same turning radius. Now, in an instant, I need to pull harder, turn wider, go slower. Messes with your mind. Like when you accidentally buy your underwear a size too small, and have to walk around like a cowboy all day long. From the outside, nobody knows why you're acting like an idiot. On the inside, though, you know things are all wrong, and know that your life, as you know it, has changed forever...).]. (I beg forgiveness to the punctuation gods for that last mess there.)

~~~When your underwear's just one size too small~~~

A relatively uneventful drive to Minnesota ensued (though my biggest – and possibly my only – regret on the entire roadtrip was neglecting to stop in Wisconsin for some cheese. It's Wisconsin. It's what they do. It'd be like traveling to Buffalo and not stopping to hear people complain about the weather.

~~~Cheese: It's what they do~~~

Neither Amanda nor I is a real malls-y kind of person. But we found ourselves in Minneapolis. And Minneapolis is known for two things. And one of them is the Mall of America. And rumor had it that the Mall of America had an indoor roller coaster. And any place with an indoor roller coaster can't be that bad. (Actually, it can be. Does any remember that godawful indoor roller coaster at Darien Lake, “Nightmare.” Ugh. But, you know, Space Mountain's pretty cool, so...



I was expecting all sorts of great things from the Mall of America. I wasn't sure what I was expecting – I wanted to be surprised – but, in addition to the indoor roller coaster, I was hoping for all sorts of other awesomeness: a giant Willy Wonka-esque chocolate factory, maybe, or a Minor League baseball team: the MoA Sbarros. Maybe a shrine dedicated to hit 90's television shows, or something. I don't know.

~~~Mall of America: Not quite this awesome~~~

Mostly it was a mall. A big mall, for sure. But still just a mall.



With an overpriced aquarium. (Which totally had sea dragons. Which are totally my third favorite animal ever. Which totally almost made the overpricedness of the aquarium worth it. But not quite.)

~~~Sea dragons: Third only to manatees and naked mole rats~~~

There was one thing I'd wanted to buy at the Mall of America. You see, I've never bought a pair of jeans. I don't like wearing jeans. I never have (though I did go through a phase in high school when I wore [mom-bought] jeans, because sweatpants just weren't that cool anymore, and I hadn't discovered khakis yet). There are times in every man's life, though, when he needs a pair of jeans. And what better place to buy your first pair of jeans than at the largest shopping center in the United States? (Quick fact: the Mall of America is owned and operated by Canadians. Go figure.)

~~~The result of wearing sweatpants to high school~~~

So, I tried on some jeans (including a pair of stonewashed Levi's that were five sizes too small – just for fun), and it was the worst experience of the entire trip. I left the jeans store sweating and nervous and jerky, and with a whole new respect for all you jeans wearers out there. I don't know how you do it. Jeans wearers, and those guys with the giant holes in their ears, and Japanese foot bondage women: putting yourself through some kind of hell, just to look good... I don't really get it.

~~~What some people won't do to look good~~~

To ease my nerves, we stopped at an oxygen bar at the mall. They hook you up to all these tubes, and pump in all this pleasantly-flavored oxygen, and massage you, and play relaxing music, and give you energy drinks. I'd never felt so guilty about breathing before...

~~~Tell me this shouldn't be illegal~~~

So we left the Mall of America jeans-less. Actually, we left the Mall of America everything-less. Except for one small playing card-sized box. And that box was awesome. Because in that box were Jelly Bellys (I can't find the correct pluralization of “Jelly Belly” on the JB website. I'm going with “Jelly Bellys” simply because it better retains the original charm of “Jelly Belly.”). But not just any Jelly Bellys. These were Jelly Belly BeanBoozled Jelly Bellys. Jelly Belly BeanBoozled Jelly Bellys work like this. There are all sorts of Jelly Bellys in the box, and some are awesome flavors like peach and caramel corn and plum. But some are awesomely disgrossting flavors like baby wipes, vomit, skunk spray, and rotten egg. And they look exactly the same!



So we'd each take a same-colored Jelly Belly – for example, green – and pop in in our mouth. Except we wouldn't know if it was going to be pear or booger 'til we started chewing! Funny thing is, of all the flavors I tasted (we got gypped; there were no moldy cheeses in the box), the only one I had to spit out was cafe latte. The similarly-colored earwax was surprisingly more pleasant.



Off to downtown Minneapolis now, where we caught a ComedySportz Minneapolis match. Which, again, was fantastic. Anytime I get to watch other ComedySportzes play, I'm blown away by the talent exhibited and impressed with the unique style each team has. On the way to the arena, though, we noticed that an unusual amount of Minneapolitans eat on the roof.



So, of course, we had to try it. After the CSz match, we found a restaurant with roof seating, and waited around for a long time for a seat. It was open seating, and worked an awful lot like finding parking at college, or finding carrion in the desert. Circling, circling, circling, circling – waiting for someone to finish eating.



Or, at least, waiting for someone to get drunk enough to fall of their seat. I did question, at one point, the sensibility of letting people get drunk. On the roof. Of a four story building. But the food was awesome (their motto was, “Good seafood isn't cheap” [and it wasn't]), and the view of downtown Minneapolis and the surrounding areas was beautiful. And I was absolutely blown away by how many people were out and about on a Thursday night. Places were packed. 'Sno Buffalo – that's for sure.

We planned on taking turns driving through the night, and working on alternating sleeping schedules. Which worked fine. Until 6 am when we were both too tired to drive with our eyes open. We pitched a tent (which is actually a lot easier than they make it look in the movies) in some city in the middle of nowhere, and prepared for day number 3.

~~~Us. At 5:30am~~~

Next up: Hermosa, SD (or: “Abraham Lincoln Was Gay?”)

Road Trip Day One: Tonawanda, NY--> Cleveland, OH-->Chicago, IL-->Beloit, WI

The Brianmobile left Tonawanda, NY for San Jose, CA at 8:26 am on June 3, 2009. Before leaving, I'd put almost $1000 into getting the car into tip top shape (or, more accurately, as good a shape as a 9-year-old car with 95,000 miles that I really haven't done a whole lot of maintenance on can be in). I got the A/C in order, replaced a tire, got it washed inside and out, and fixed something on the inside that I didn't really know what it was, but my car guy said I needed. And car guys never lie.


~~~Would you doubt anything my mechanic said?~~~

Three hours later, a mere 1/40th of the way through the 6-day trip, I was on the phone with AAA (my membership was, it turns out, a well-thought out gift from my mom less than a month before). I'd never had any trouble with my car, over the past 9 years. Yet, here I was, three minutes past Cleveland, OH, convinced that I was not going to make it to San Jose.



Amanda (a very good friend of mine and, as it turns out, fantastic road-tripping partner) and I had just finished a very nice picnic lunch on the Cleveland waterfront (very nice, that is, if you don't count the Giant Ohioan Mutated Death Bugs of Death and Destruction that were attacking us and our picnic lunch and quite certainly, I'm convinced, going to eat us alive if I hadn't threatened them with my very manly biceps), when we hopped it the car for the rest of the ride to our ultimate Day 1 goal: Chicago.

~~~Bug of Death Attacking Cleveland, OH Resident~~~

Three minutes later, in my rearview mirror, I spotted a suspiciously smoke-like substance wafting up from the back of my car. My car does not generally have suspiciously smoke-like substances wafting up from the back of it, so I pulled over to investigate the problem. With much difficulty. Because it seems that my power-steering system had blown. Or something. I wasn't sure. Because I know nothing about cars.

~~~I don't know much about cars. But I know this isn't good.~~~

I called AAA, and then set up the chairs, tent, sleeping bags, and grill to wait for the notoriously slow AAA tow truck guy.

~~~Waiting for the Tow Truck Guy~~~

He was there in less than 8 minutes.



Since we'd already had the grill set up, I offered him a hot dog. He obliged. He towed my car to the car place, no trouble. They told us to come back in an hour; it would be an easy job to reattach the power steering hose. We went for a walk, came back in an hour (after a round 2 bout with the Death Bugs), and he said to us: “All right. Just gonna take her for a quick spin around the block to make sure everything's okay, then she's all yours.” I didn't bother to correct him that the Brianmobile is definitely a male. Granted, a somewhat effeminate male. But a male, nonetheless.

~~~The Brianmobile: Not a "she"~~~

After a quick whirl around the block, the car guy pulled back into the parking lot shaking his head. Car guys shaking their heads is not usually a good sign. It's usually an expensive sign. Sure enough we “probably have to replace the power steering pump.” I asked him if I could get to San Jose on the one I had. He said “probably.” That was enough for me. I had an 8 o'clock show in Chicago to get to. We pulled out of the car place, using all of our might to turn the steering wheel and headed toward Chicago.



We were worried about getting to Chicago in time for the 8 o'clock Second City show. The GPS had us getting there at 7:58. We got there at 6:58. Turns out there're these newfangled things called “Time Zones.” They work kind of like time-traveling machines. But you can't go anywhere you want whenever you want. You can only travel back in time an hour at a time at certain times. Time Zones must be run by the same people who manage my frequent flier miles.



So, we got to Chicago with plenty of time to spare, found a parking space with relative ease (quite a feat in Chicago), and headed to the Second City show. Which was fantastic. Super funny stuff. Totally worth the ticket price (which wasn't all that much for anything in Chicago; probably cost less than a hotdog on the street would've). Improv at its best. Comedy at its almost-best. Go see it if you get the chance.



The plan was to sleep in a tent the whole way out there, and save a bunch of money. But we didn't really plan ahead, and weren't really sure how the whole camping thing worked. Turns out they frown upon camping on the shoulder of the Interstate. So we hit up a motel in the fine city of Beloit, WI. Which mostly consists of gas stations and motels for people who had planned on camping somewhere between Chicago and Minneapolis, but decided to pull over and find a motel instead.

~~~Penalty for Sleeping on the Shoulder of the Interstate. Apparently.~~~

Tomorrow: Minneapolis (or: “Fish on the Roof”)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!