Goin' Back to Cali, Day 6 - Henderson, NV

Brad told me we were driving 530 miles today - but he can't read his own writing. So when I found it odd that we didn't appear to be near our destination, yet my driving shift was supposed to be nearing its end, he showed me his directional notes (because Hertz is too lame to have provided us with a navigation system to DRIVE ACROSS THE COUNTRY) - and yeah, his notes said 570. I cannot tell you how much farther 40 miles seemed right then - it was sort of a low point.

But now we are in Henderson with Brad's parents, just outside of Vegas. We are positively thrilled to be somewhere familiar and very close to California for two nights!

Entering the state of Nevada was a somewhat unusual process. There's a mandatory checkpoint at the Hoover Dam, and we were ready for a thorough question-and-answer session: Where are you folks coming from? Where are you heading? How long have you been traveling? You know, some normal questions that might actually be useful information for government security to ask before allowing a vehicle to cross into one of the nation's highest security regions. Instead, I pulled up to a stop sign, rolled down my window just because it seemed like the right thing to do...and the government official, standing about 7 feet from the car, gave us a cursory glance and waved us through.

WHAT?

That's our nation's sad attempt at security? I mean, at least humor me and ask if we packed the bags in the car ourselves.

Okay, time out for a second. I just looked up at the news, and apparently, the Colorado Center for the Blind is teaching blind teenagers how to drive. Because, you know, teenagers are such good drivers with their full sight available to them.

God help Darwin.

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 5 - Albuquerque, NM

(At a Texas gas station, Moby decided he wanted to drive - no, seriously - we didn't put him in that seat.)

Today, as we drove further across Oklahoma into and through Texas, something strange stood out (aside from what was, at least until very recently, the largest cross in the western hemisphere - an honor you really should just let a city have without going after it, no?). Gas prices were below $3/gallon for the first time I can remember seeing in...well, in a very long time. And as we passed sign after sign at stations displaying prices as low as $2.85, it hit me that this just isn't fair. It's not unfair because in California, we pay more than just about everyone else in the country for gas - no, I get that. It's unfair because Texas gave birth to the man who led us into this oil crisis in the first place, and yet in his home state, they pay less than the rest of us! Frankly (and my apologies to the Texas natives out there), I think Texans should have to pay $6/gallon until they properly apologize for the atrocity known as our president.

Meanwhile, what has happened to the 2008 presidential election - which, thanks partly to the aforementioned, has shaped up to be one of the most impactful in our nation's history? Specifically, what the hell is the McCain campaign doing? I don't even say that from a partisan point of view. Seriously, I'm going to take a step back and be as unbiased as I possibly am capable of, and say his entire campaign staff needs to be fired. From the folks "leaking" to the press that their new strategy is to turn the page on the economy and focus on Obama's character...to whomever is giving Sarah Palin a microphone at rallies; some heads need to roll.

First of all, someone needs to get Palin up to speed on the actual strategy of the campaign (which again, I realize, is pretty much impossible to identify at this point). Last Friday, she was talking the big talk about swooping down on Michigan for more campaigning when she was politely informed that the McCain campaign had decided to cease efforts there. That was just days after she agreed with Obama's sentiment about launching cross-border attacks into Pakistan from Afghanistan - something McCain has mocked repeatedly. (In their father-daughter interview with Katie Couric, McCain did his best to clean up this most recent Palin gaffe.) Earlier this week, Palin suggested that she'd really like to revisit the Reverend Wright controversy, despite the fact that McCain himself has declared it "off-limits." At least she got the go-ahead to revive the months-old, laid-to-rest William Ayers connection.

Oh, for the love of God, someone get this woman a newspaper so that she can join the rest of us on today's date.

So while McCain and his cohorts are condoning (by not responding to) shouts from crowds at rallies that Obama is a "terrorist" and they should "kill him," McCain himself is simultaneously issuing statements that he doesn't support such "inappropriate rhetoric." But let's make something very clear - McCain doesn't support these statements simply by not making them himself - but he is happy to have others do the talking for him.

Look, I obviously am a huge Obama supporter. But I'm making simple and fair observations here. Little quips like, "That one!" are meaningless to me, hardly rooted in racism and simply indicative of McCain's grumpy old (losing) man nature. But it's vicious lies, and irresponsible and dangerous mischaracterizations that fuel negativity and hatred in this country, that make me shake my head at the botched McCain campaign. It doesn't even seem that McCain WANTS the campaign to go there, since he could easily have taken it down that road in last night's debate, and really didn't. So I just wish he'd show some of the backbone he is careful to remind the nation he has as a Vietnam Veteran and former POW, and substantively denounce the despicable actions of his camp.

Until the next debate...

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 4 - Oklahoma City, OK

I didn't know what to expect from Oklahoma City. If we weren't driving through and staying the night, I'd surely have forgotten the city even existed. I don't say that just to be mean - it's true. So I decided to really examine the city and highlight what I've learned:

1) Carrie Underwood hails from Checotah, OK.
2) Troy Aikman is from somewhere nearby.
3) Church is really, really important.
4) But yet, the adult superstore is bigger here than I've noticed since being in South Dakota. (What is it with the traditionally Native American states?!)
5) Furthermore, they like to gamble a lot.
6) Church + XXX + Gambling = "You call it abortion, we call it murder."
7) University of Oklahoma is home to more National Merit Scholars than any other school in the country. (Take that, Harvard. I'm kidding, we all know this claim isn't even remotely true.)
8) P.F. Chang's has very good food.
9) P.F. Chang's has extraordinary service.
10) Oklahoma City is messing with my mind.

Now, on to more important things.

Why is John McCain attempting jokes during a debate that many believe to be critical to his ailing campaign? Has no one told him he's not funny? Seriously, if Brad were running for president, and was up on stage in front of millions of viewers making bad jokes that no one understood, I would tell him. It's time for Cindy to come clean and tell her husband he is old and awkward and no one gets it. She might also remind him that he's ruining her chances of moving into an eighth house and getting more camera time to show off her latest Botox treatment.

In fact, let's altogether scrap the third debate between the senators in favor of Michelle vs. Cindy. Did you see the icy exchange between those two on stage post-debate? Yikes. This is where the real story lies. Maybe this is what Palin meant by "putting on our heels and taking off the gloves." Or whatever she said.

Tomorrow, it's a new time zone - and hopefully, new food options.

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 3 - Memphis, TN

I have a question for you.

Why do you need fireworks year-round?

On the way from Asheville to Memphis, we passed numerous fireworks superstores. No, not the little stands that go up in June and come down in July. I mean big stores that specialize in fireworks. But I can only assume since they remain open that they get a steady stream of business.

So I ask again...why?

Here are some scenarios under which I might suggest setting them off:

1) The Dow hits 10000 again.
2) After all that church-going, Jesus actually shows up at your house.
3) Inauguration Day - like, no matter who wins, it's a celebration of sorts, right?
4) "My kid made the honor roll at Memphis Middle School."
5) It's just a fun way to light a cigarette in tobacco country.

But I digress.

When we arrived at our hotel in Memphis, we were greeted with typically friendly, southern hospitality - and a suited-for-a-country-song story about the hotel registrar's dog:

Me - "Checking in, last name Ramey, R-a-m-e-y."
Hotel Dude - "Very good, here you are."
Me - "And I have a dog as well, I'm not sure if you have that there..."
Hotel Dude - "Of course, no problem, ma'am. What kinda dog you have?"
Me - "Oh, he's a mix. Maybe Lab and Akita, could be some Chow..."
Hotel Dude - "Oh wow, that is great! Where'd you get him?"
Me - "The shelter."
Hotel Dude - "That's the best. My sister got both of her dogs that way. I got a dog, too..."

And here comes the country song, translated directly from the story that followed from him:

"Brother found my dog in a dumpster,
Left out behind a McDonald's.
Got my dog outta the dumpster,
Gave him to me did Ronald.
My dog had been run over by a car,
And had a messed up leg.
Me and my brother drove far
To the hospital for Dr. Craig.
Now my dog walks on three,
Instead of the usual four.
But you know, I love him so much...
Maybe even a little bit more."

What do you say to that?

We finished the night off with some excellent Memphis barbecue . And tomorrow, it's on to Oklahoma City. Many thanks to anyone in advance who can send me some thoughts on what could possibly be interesting about this destination. (No points for college football or basketball, since we will not be able to see either.)

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 2 - Asheville, NC

Ah, back on the road - that old, familiar feeling returns so quickly. Driving a few hundred miles every day, crossing our fingers for a decent food stop, checking into a new hotel every night, and unpacking and repacking the car...oh, it's the only way to travel.

For the route back, we're only hitting "major" cities since there are no extended stays at national parks or other points of interest, and the South scares me too much to veer far off the beaten path. So far, things are going well - albeit some strange encounters and experiences at last night's Sheraton.

If any of you ever travel with your dog, you know that some hotels provide you with fun doggy packages upon check-in. Usually, we're talking anything as small as a couple of treats to make the welcome more pleasant; though Kimpton Group hotels provide toys and treats and all sorts of fancery for their "VIP" guests (these are the canines). W Hotels will even make sure your dog has his own bed, and walk him upon request.

Sheraton is a Westin hotel like the W, but the lines of distinction are pretty clear - particularly when it comes to dogs. Last night, upon check-in, I had to fill out and sign some forms that promised Moby wouldn't pee on the walls, poop on the floor or bark all night. After doing that, the woman helping me proudly reached behind her into a cabinet, and pulled out what she called, "a special package for our VIPs." Oh yay, fun - a cute little bag - I bet it's stuffed with some goodness Moby will enjoy.

Fast forward 10 minutes. Brad, opening the bag, says to Moby, "Let's see what we have!" (Yes, it's normal to talk to your dog.) And after rustling through some tissue paper, he pulled out...a surgical glove. Pause for confusion. Then he reached back into the bag and pulled out...a second surgical glove. He removed the tissue paper and shook the bag. Out fell...a paper dog tag.

Now, let's review just so that I can make sure you get this straight. The Sheraton provided us with surgical gloves, apparently to give Moby a proctology exam; and then a paper dog tag that would smudge and tear within 24 hours. And they put it in a cute bag, as if that would somehow disguise the super shitty "gift." (Although I have to admit, I have done this before - gotten a really cute and oddly expensive bag at the stationery store for a gift I knew just wasn't that great - hoping the bag would distract the recipient, and at least look good to others who may never know what's actually inside.) But come on, surgical gloves?!?

No, seriously - I have to presume this was their attempt at a poop bag. Brad and I discussed, and it's all we can come up with. You put on the gloves, your dog poops, and you pick it up. Now, what you do with the gloves at that point is where things get fuzzy for me. Do you try to slip one glove off and around the poop, like a bag of sorts? How do you avoid getting poop on your hands? Do you walk around holding it until you find a trash can? There are just far too many things wrong with this method.

Suffice it to say, we threw away the welcome package - thanks, but no thanks. And moments later, the party next door started.

You know the sound of a bunch of girls standing in a circle dancing, with a different girl going into the center of the circle and doing some sort of bootylicious move that elicits high pitched squeals and "Woooos!" That's what was happening in the room next to ours - until 1:00 in the morning - when we were ready for bed and had the hotel shut down Total Request Live.

It was actually a great night's sleep, until we woke up to learn that the elevator wasn't working - and we were on the 7th floor. Not a huge deal if you don't have enough luggage to, oh, last you for two months. Yeah.

But after all was said and done, we made it out of Richmond safely - which was all I really wanted. And to turn that frown upside down, we discovered a chicken and biscuits chain called "Bojangles" that truly may have been some of the best fast food eating I've ever had. I'd Yelp it if I didn't think that was just a little bit weird, and might seriously call into question my other reviews.

And now, here we are in Asheville. No surgical gloves, no Dance Dance Revolution (DDR) and we're housed on the first floor.

Goin' Back to Cali, Day 1 - Richmond, VA

It's been a few days since my last real post, so there's lots to cover here.

First, let me just say that I am so glad Mary J. Blige was once an alcoholic drug abuser with serious man problems who has since found love and the lord, because that really has helped her write and perform some great songs. Please don't lose all the drama, Mary. We need some of it for the music.

On a less pleasant note, the hot water our NYC building didn't have beginning on Thursday never returned. Thank God for Exhale Spa, so that I could actually take a hot shower yesterday. I suppose the timing of our departure couldn't have been better. I mean, it only could have been better if our landlords had actually informed us they expected us to be out by 11:00 this morning, and the housekeeper was coming at 12:00, and new tenants were moving in at 2:00. But yeah, other than that, our timing couldn't have been better.

All of the Manhattan stars aligned before our departure, creating the perfect storm of lunacy. In addition to not having any hot water in our building for the past couple of days (which led to the notice posted on the door being vandalized by angry tenants), we met an awesome crazy man on our way to dinner last night. I made the mistake of too openly admiring his dog:

Me - "He's so cute!"
Crazy Man - "What about the dog?"

Um, whoa.

The man went on to spend 30 minutes talking to us about his desire to cross-breed more Labs with Great Danes; his intent to work at Google so that he could take his dog to work (I didn't have the heart to tell him that's a Bay Area thing only); the great book he was working on that "could be bigger than Harry Potter," and enlighten us about the "PGA" - that's "Pretty Girl Alert" - that he makes use of to try to meet women. (I, by the way, am proud to say I set off his PGA.) He raved about chamber music and ballroom dancing, and informed us he runs up to 140th and Riverside Dr. every morning to swim 2 miles at 6:30 a.m. That extreme physical activity, um, was not apparent. But kudos to him. A Cal alum, he started to disparage Stanford alums as "pretentious jerks." It was awkward when he discovered we're both pretentious jerks.

Ah, I'm going to miss these crazies.

But alas, we made it out of New York alive - shitty American SUV and all. No, seriously, I can't believe people buy American cars. We drove out here in a Subaru Tribeca. It was awesome. It appeared too small to accommodate us and all of our stuff, but true to Japan, it was small and amazingly efficient. Now, we're tooling around in a Chevy Trailblazer. And true to America, it's large and totally inefficient. We could hardly figure out how to cram everything in the vast interior of wasted space, and after poor Moby was clobbered by a suitcase and a duffle bag, we pulled over 3 minutes into the drive to fix it - then pulled over 5 minutes later to rearrange entirely, after heading the wrong way on the Hudson Pkwy. Honestly, when the rental car company requested options for this vehicle, they sprung for a steering wheel and tires. That's it. On a positive note, the lack of ammenities is a great theft deterrent, since the car already looks like it's been stripped.

New York now seems like a long time ago, since we are now officially in the South. How do I know? We stopped at one of MANY Chick-fil-A restaurants (thankfully, it's not Sunday), a drink option was sweet tea, and the woman I ordered it all from called me "Baby" and "Boo Boo."

God bless this place.

Road Trip Day 13 - New York, NY

This posting is just to acknowledge that we made it and we're all settled in - well, mostly. But I'm exhausted and will post as usual tomorrow. Goodnight!

Road Trip Day 12 - Cleveland, OH

What the hell is wrong with the USA Olympic track team? Why can't they run fast or far, clear a hurdle, or hold a baton? Lauryn Miller must have oil on her hands, because this is the second Olympics in a row where homechick has not been able to grab the damn thing. Here's a tip, Lauryn: when your teammate is running towards you with the baton, you have to start running too.

Although hey, at least our athletes are old enough to participate in the Olympics. The Chinese women's gymnastics team is so about to get their asses handed to them with only two bronze medals they can keep, and virtually all of their golds going to the Americans. Doh.

But I digress.

So Cleveland is a lot like Andrea Zuckerman on 90210 - she was on the show, but you just didn't ever want the storyline to be about her.

However, in the grand scheme of the drive from Chicago to Cleveland, it became evident that there are worse places. Take Gary, Indiana for example (yes, Susan, Ryan and Sherri - we passed through the great state - though I'm sure this is not what you were talking about). The VH1 Rockumentary "The Jacksons" really did not highlight their birthplace as...accurately as it could have.

I've also now realized that no matter what route across the country you take, it's ALL southern. In fact, the "Southern" accent is poorly named - because there's nothing geographical about hick talk, as it turns out. We are now in the eastern time zone, and yet, people still sound like they just stumbled out of the woods with a shot gun in one hand and a bottle of Wild Turkey in the other.

So after spending an admittedly inordinate amount of time trying to decide on a hotel for us on our last night before NYC, we've landed in Independence, Ohio - a suburb of metropolitan Cleveland. Perhaps the vivid flashbacks of pantless man at the last unplanned hotel we stayed at had me too afraid to tempt fate. We've settled into a very nice Sheraton where it looks like everyone gets dressed before they go outside, no matter what the hour. Go figure.

And no, that pretty scene in the picture is not Cleveland.

Road Trip Day 11 - Chicago, IL

Chicago certainly makes a better impression on me in the summer than the winter, and now I finally get all the hoopla about this city. The lakefront beach is a really fun scene and quite picturesque - unlike any other city I've been to. With the tall buildings and traffic providing the backdrop for the bikinis, it really is a unique urban oasis.

It's too bad they don't really want dogs to enjoy that urban oasis. This morning, we walked down to the concierge to get some tips on where to walk Moby - assuming Millennium Park would be a major stopping point. Not so much. It turns out the mayor has declared most of the parks off-limits to dogs, going so far as to install video surveillance and station security to ensure our four-legged friends don't enter. She goes on to tell us that after some lengthy scientific studies, they found that dog poop feeds rats, and that bolstered this anti-dog policy. WTF? Was this guy attacked by Kujo as a child, and now is wielding his mayoral power against all dogs?

Anyway, the concierge was very nice and clearly not in support of these policies - so she provided us with detailed albeit confusing information on where we could go with him - all around the lake and a small park across the street from the Ritz Carlton where Oprah walks her dogs (whom we did not see). And so we set out on a 3-hour tour of the city.

Upon returning, we readied ourselves for one of the highlights of our road tour - a Cubs game vs. the Reds. Now, I'm not gonna lie - I'm not a baseball fan. I think baseball is best enjoyed from the comfort of a park suite with a glass of wine and TVs showing something other than the game - such as basketball. But Wrigley Field did not disappoint as an experience, which we got to enjoy with our friends Aldo and Patty (who has family here). After some deep dish pizza and beer (which most of you probably know I don't really drink - but you can't legitimately order a Cosmo at a Chicago pizza joint), and a stop at a retail concession stand to outfit myself appropriately, we were game ready.

I find it...interesting...that we paid $100/ticket on StubHub to sit in unassigned bleacher seats. But apparently, that's how one is supposed to enjoy the game. Apparently, one is also supposed to throw trash on their home field when their team loses. This is so bizarre. Water bottles and beer cups rained down on the field after a 2-1 Cubs loss. Oh, and also a man fell on his face in the bleachers trying to exit the stadium - ouch.

In keeping with the theme of Illinois and Cubs colors, Brad decided to wear his Obama '08 shirt. Funny how even in a blue state that is the home of the Democratic presidential nominee, he got some jeers - my favorite of which came from a homeless man. Is it mean that I pointed out that without a mailing address to register to vote, he really shouldn't comment?

After heading to a local bar in Wrigleyville with Aldo and Patty post-game, the evening wrapped up with a Kenny G spotting on the El platform. Okay, he wasn't really Kenny G, but he did perhaps have a man-perm and was wearing a blouse. God bless you, Chicago.

Road Trip Day 10 - Chicago, IL

Sometimes, bad things happen to good people - and beginning late last night, we were those good people.

We headed out with Moby for a final walk around 1 AM. I didn't expect to see anyone else out and about, but I was prepared in case we did bump into anyone. For example, I was fully clothed. Too bad the man who stumbled out 1 minute behind us was not. Alone and confused, this 50-year-old man pranced about in his wife beater - JUST his wife beater. Maybe he had on shoes. I'm not sure. It was a little hard to evaluate his foot apparel based on the fact that he wasn't wearing pants - or underpants. It was like a bad dream, which is all I can hope he was having when he marched outside in this manner. But it is worth noting there was some sort of business function going strong in the bar when we checked in, and his situation was more likely the result of too many fuzzy navels. The best part of it all is that he had the nerve to give US the stink eye! Yo, Harvey Keitel, YOU'RE the one not wearing any bottoms.

You can imagine this led to a sleepless night. So when we woke up knowing we were hitting the road for Chicago, we needed a good jumpstart. Perfect, there's a Starbucks across the street - and it's a drive-thru! Ah, God must have felt sorry for us when he stuck us with KFC instead of Popeye's last night - this is his apology. But hmmm, that's weird. The menu board is covered. It's also weird that no one seems to be inside. And extra weird is that there are chairs stacked on the tables. Hold on. You are not seriously telling me that at 11:00 in the morning on a Tuesday across the street from a business hotel with a conference in full schwing, the only coffee joint in town is closed...right? Really? REALLY, Fairmont, Minnesota? You thought why provide Starbucks when there is 5-cent coffee with plastic-wrapped-54%-fat-muffins right across the street at the BP gas station? I hate it here.

So after eating a burger and fries from Dairy Queen for breakfast (our first of two trips to Dairy Queen today), we put the shame of Fairmont behind us and excitedly pressed on towards Chicago. We passed monuments such as the Jolly Green Giant in Blue Earth, Minnesota - pictured above. Might I suggest our road games of "Countries A-Z" and "Athletes A-Z." We ended in a tie on the first game, but gave up on J in the second game after discovering just how many "Johns," "Jims" and "Joes" have played sports.

All was well and good until we slammed into Chicago area traffic - and Chicago area drivers. What is wrong with this city's infrastructure? Why did I pay 4 tolls on a highway that didn't cross over water? And why did the tolls range from 80 cents to $1.60? Finally, why are there no lines indicating lanes at the tolls where signs demand that you "stay in your lane?" And speaking of signs, here's a good one: "Don't be a loser. Don't drink and drive." I'm sorry, did a 12-year-old girl come up with that great slogan? Don't be a LOSER? I imagine that just barely beat out "Don't be lame" and "Don't be retarded," closely followed by "Don't be gay."

But despite all of this...Chicago (insert jazz hands) is fantastic. The Hotel Monaco, fast becoming one of my favorites, welcomed us with a nice upgrade to a suite. And we only had to cross the street to enjoy big food served by the world's friendliest waitress, surrounded by giant tv screens displaying the Olympics. And as you all know by now, I love the Olympics. Yay, Shawn Johnson! You are cuter than Mary Lou Retton in '84. And that is why I shall call you "Pie."

Assuming everyone keeps their pants on, it's going to be a great 2 days.

Road Trip Day 9 - Fairmont, MN

Yeah, I don't really know why we're here either - except that this is the halfway point between Mt. Rushmore and Chicago, our next destination. And apparently, we really didn't want to be here, since somehow, despite checking out of our hotel at 11:00 this morning, we didn't check into the Fairmont Holiday Inn until 10:30 at night. That was definitely an accident.

Another accident was me calling the Super 8 Motel from the road today and booking a room there instead of the Holiday Inn, then marching proudly to the Holiday Inn desk and demanding that there'd been some sort of mistake when they said they didn't have my reservation. As a result, we're now in a seemingly temporary room with a Murphy bed (yes, that's one of those beds that folds down off the wall). But at $39, it still beats me having to break my promise to myself never to stay in a Super 8.

So what the hell did we spend so much time doing today? I have NO idea. I just know we kept following Wall Drug billboards and eventually ended up at this Western bazaar selling crap no one should ever, ever buy. Native American headresses, spurs and gummy candy are all examples of things you might find at Wall Drug. You can also get free ice water, and free coffee and donuts if you are honeymooning. I'm not making this up. We settled on smoothies and a photo of Moby below a very apropos sign.

Then we took a small detour through the Badlands to start our journey. It's basically exactly what it sounds like - a bunch of bad land you wouldn't want to be stuck on. In my opinion, that loop could have been 5 miles, not 35 miles. It was fascinating for the first few minutes, but then it was just hot and dusty. Plus, when we learned the resident prairie dogs were infected with the plague, AND there were rattlesnakes present, I was shockingly uninterested in getting out of the car.

Now here's something interesting. It appears there are 3 things this region is so proud of, it deems them billboard material: Water Parks, Adult Superstores and The Right to Life (is it any coincidence that this last message once appeared outside of a cemetery - yikes?). Okay, the water parks stand on their own - I mean, sure, it's hot here in the summer. I can see how it might be refreshing to learn that there is one just off the freeway on your way to...BFE. But does anyone else raise an eyebrow at the juxtaposition of the adult superstore and the pro-life proselytizing? Doesn't God frown upon porn? I just want to know how many bible-thumpers almost flip their cars exiting to the nearest "Trixie's Treasures."

So after many hours and the sad realization that we would not make it to our hotel at a reasonable hour, we decided we should get dinner. This is more than a notion when you're on I-90 near the South Dakota/Minnesota border. And then finally, it called to me - KFC. Yes! We haven't actually had true fast food on this trip so far (by design), cat-bear burgers yesterday exempt. And chicken sounded so good. After passing the first one by accident and cursing for the next 5 minutes, knowing we wouldn't cross another for at least an hour (try 2 hours), we pulled off in Worthington, MN for some satisfying Colonel goodness. And after one bite, it all came rushing back to me...KFC is the WORST of the chicken chains! Damn you, KFC! I might as well be eating Long John Silver's.

Road Trip Day 8 - Keystone, SD

Huh. Roosevelt had a moustache.

Mt. Rushmore is the coolest national memorial to see in 15 minutes or less. After driving more than 500 miles from Montana across some of the bleakest stretch of highway in America, we decided to go straight to Mt. Rushmore in the evening upon arrival, and get out of dodge via the Badlands tomorrow. I think this was a strong move.

As it turns out, it's not enough simply to BE an American at Mt. Rushmore. You must WEAR America. "Freedom Is Not Free" tshirt, Olympic stars and stripes warm-up suit, and flag vest are all acceptable design options. Oh how Ralph Lauren must frown on this interpretation of domestic fashion.

But there were many more unnerving highlights about this day's travels, beginning with the woman pushing her baby in a stroller down the highway when we set off this morning from Yellowstone. Lady, WHAT are you doing? Are there no sidewalks in southern Montana? Is there no open space to which you could have driven your baby for a day out in the sunshine?

And let's talk about our lunch today. Now, at the Stoneville Saloon, they proudly advertised, "Cheap Drinks, Lousy Food." If only we had gotten that omen before we chose to eat at Michelle's Munchies, somewhere in one of the many Native American towns we passed through. I went inside and ordered what I *thought* were two hamburgers, fries, and oreo "snowstorms" (these are like Dairy Queen "blizzards"). Fries and snowstorms, fine. Hamburgers, dear God, no. 7 hours later, I am still waiting to uncover what type of meat we actually ate. Cat? Bear? We'll unfortunately never know unless our toilet starts meowing.

NOTE: In honor of our Native American brethren whose towns we passed through today, Brad, Moby and I have taken new names until we cross into Minnesota: Distant Bull Arrow, Thundering Big Paw and Whispering Warrior. Yeah, there's that little to do on an 8-hour drive.

Road Trip Day 7 - North Yellowstone `

SUGR DDY. There it was, on the Montana SUV license plate in front of us in proud, bold letters, as we re-entered Yellowstone from the North side. Nice.

Today was more driving through Yellowstone, but bison, not geysers, were the highlight. They really aren't pressed to get out of the road, as the picture here through our windshield indicates. Here's how we spent 5 hours:

1) Drive to a waterfall/lookout/mud volcano/steaming thing.
2) Confirm that Moby cannot walk on the trail, and observe from a distance.
3) Encounter people with their own guesses as to Moby's breed - best guess of the day is "wolf."
4) Spot funny-looking people, like the man wearing a Daniel Boone beaver hat.
5) Repeat, running into bison in the road along the way.

The day wrapped up with us dumping the stupid Gaper Guide, who's brilliant lesson of the day was that sulphur smells like a bad fart (really). And we enjoyed a surprisingly delicious Italian meal at a restaurant called Pedalino's that Yelp can't even find for me to review. But we couldn't get out of there before an older couple from Berkeley spotted Brad's "Biggest Upset Ever" tshirt, referring to the WTF football victory over USC last year. And Berkeley people are always...special. Especially the older ones.

For at least 10 minutes, as we're itching to get outta there for (surprise) the Olympics, we have to hear that they met at Cal, he's in public health, they're very disturbed by the lack of Democrats in Montana, and oh by the way, they used to live in New Jersey...so of course they know everything about New York and here's what we have to do and here's how the subway works. Okay, this is why no one likes Californians.

562 miles tomorrow. God help us.

Road Trip Day 6 - South Yellowstone and Gardiner, MT

I'm not sure I'm that into geysers.

After taking a somewhat agonizingly long time to make our way through Yellowstone to Old Faithful and eventually to our home base in Gardiner, Montana, that's the conclusion I came to. The highlight of the day for me was actually coming to the realization that people in other parts of the country are so...NICE. I've long suspected that San Franciscans can be a little frosty (I think it's the fog and bad parking), and it's not much better in LA (I think it's the haze and paparazzi) - and today, I put my stake in the ground. We Californians just aren't the friendliest bunch - at least not in our own state. But it's been all smiles since we hit the road - especially when it comes to Moby.

But people still say the damndest things. For example, take the nice man from San Bernardino we met at Old Faithful (yes, that's California - but again, the rules change when you leave the state). He approached us with his two boys (and later his wife, who looked kind of like Kenny's mom from South Park - sorry, she did) to ask about Moby's breed. We're talking and all is going well until he talks about how he acquired his own dog, who is apparently a 45-pound version of Moby. He explains to us he was out paintballing, and he and his buddies heard something rustling in the bushes. He thought it was a bobcat, so he got out his knife (which of course, you carry on you at all times) and was prepared to "gut it." Pause here. Now I might alternatively suggest you simply move away from the bobcat rather than stab it. But hey, different strokes. Back to the story, turns out the "bobcat" was his now dog. Way to go, buddy. Good thing you didn't kill your dog.

We continued to meet really nice, if not insane, people all day. And of course, we continued to see the standard morons who get out of their cars off the side of the road to approach, you know, a small herd of bison with a calf, for example. Go ahead, dude. Be our bait so that the bison will look up and we can capture the photo from the car.

Speaking of insane...I invested in the most horrible idea ever for our tour through Yellowstone for these couple of days. It's called the "Gaper Guide." Now, when described online, it sounded to me like a navigational device cum tour guide - perfect for the car-centric Yellowstone experience. Turns out it's a talking moose with a gaggle of strange animal and tree friends, as well as the ghost of President Roosevelt. I'm going to take a moment to allow you to absorb that. Perhpas that's why the woman gave us that, "And don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out" look when we picked up the device yesterday. It is the most horribly annoying little thing ever, and provides absolutely no useful information at all. It spent the better part of the day calling out scenic overlooks once we'd already passed them, "super secret cool spots" that were populated by dozens, and random historical facts without any context. I hate you, Gaper Guide.

The day eventually wrapped up in a new state. Gardiner is certainly everything you'd expect a town right outside an entrace into the world's largest national park to be - kitschy. The "true Montana steakhouse" next door to our Best Western certainly did not meet my expectations...more on that in my Yelp review. But after two nights without a TV in our hotel room, we'll deal. Depriving guests of this standard feature during the Olympics is totally uncivilized.

Until the next post...Michael Phelps, you're a God. Nastia Liukin and Shawn Johnson, thank you for bringing pride back to American female gymnastics, all but lost after Kerri Strug's one-legged vault. And Tyson Gay...please don't be on steroids.

Road Trip Day 5 - Grand Teton National Park

We saw a bear.

That about sums up the day. For all my kvetching about not seeing any animals and wondering if the trip to Africa just rendered elk too lame for me to care about...we saw a bear.

I was very prepared in case we saw a bear. Here's what you have to do:

1) Hold your arm out straight and give a thumbs-up. Your thumb should cover the outline of the bear. If it doesn't, you're too damn close. Back your ass up.

2) If the bear is at a distance from you, make a lot of noise and make yourself appear bigger than you really are. I guess you're screwed if you're shopping in petites.

3) If the bear charges you, curl up into a ball and cover your neck and back (which is hopefully already covered by a backpack). Oh, and cry. Cry sad, sad cries.

So, which of these did we have to do, you ask? NONE. Because the bear was just off the side of the road as we approached in our car. And unlike the morons in the cars in front of us who got out and started charging the bear with their cameras until the ranger saved their dumb asses, we remained totally out of harm's way. Where's Darwin when you need him?

This is the first day we were out without Moby because we did some trail hiking, which would not have been so cool for Moby (according to park rules, at least). And it is true that all hell would have broken loose had Moby even seen one of the little chipmunks out and about. But God bless him, he was photographed like wildlife right here at the resort. We were standing outside talking to a couple other folks, and suddenly I heard these doggy kissing noises behind me, and sensed camera flashes. Moby may be featured in National Geographic...or some random Asian photo album.

Back to the trail hiking...since when did it become acceptable to bring your infant on a mountain hike? While we're at it, why are you trying to drag your all-terrain stroller vehicle up a rocky mountain trail, only to discard it off to the side in the vegetation about 1/2 mile in? And why, God, WHY are you wearing a sundress?

Oh well, it's off to a new state tomorrow - Montana - where we're going to try not to get mistaken for prey and shot.

Road Trip Day 4 - Jackson, WY and Grand Teton National Park

Ahhhh, our shortest drive so far - only 90 miles! Once we got past all the fields with abandoned school buses (I'm not really sure what to make of this), it was really beautiful. Our first pit stop was Jackson, which I'd say is like a cowboy's version of Park City. And now finally, I know where catalogues such as "Orvis - Fly Fishing" and "Coldwater Creek" call home. I'd always wondered who was ordering over-the-knee fishing boots AND peasant skirts online.

After a short stint in the Wild West that ended with lunch at a Thai restaurant (go figure), we made our way to Jackson Lake Lodge in Grand Teton National Park. Not surprisingly, it's very picturesque. However, we keep seeing signs alerting us of wild animals crossing - moose, elk, bears and the such - and the only animal we've encountered so far is a snake. It was long and black with a yellow stripe and no doubt deadly. Okay, I actually didn't see it, Brad did - he moved me forward up the path before I could, um, react.

Otherwise, things have been fairly uneventful today. And aside from the jackass wearing the trucker hat with a rooster on it, and the waitress with crimped hair in the lodge restaurant...no one has committed a total fashion crime. Good job, Wyoming.

Now it's on to more Olympics viewing in the resort's one and only lounge, where some dude is pulling a Max's Opera Cafe and singing and strumming on a guitar - oh good - www.kevindanzig.com. Meanwhile, I may have almost tripped an old lady getting to one of the remaining available tables. But hearing the American male gymnasts talk trash while throwing gang signs is well worth it.

Road Trip Day 3 - Idaho Falls, ID

Okay. When day shed its light on Salt Lake City, the ugly truth was revealed - there is a lot of bad hair and worse fashion in this town.

Last night, it was all Michael Phelps and burgers - this morning, it's all pouffy bangs and Mom jeans. Seriously, Ken Paves and The Blues Jean Bar need to get here stat. And while we're at it, you know what else is lacking? DOGS. The only ones we've actually seen belong to homeless people. And as we made our way down the city streets with Moby, the youth hipsters and fellowshippers descended on us like he was the Lion King - more on that when we get to Park City.

So what great sights did we see in Salt Lake City? Well, let's see - everyone told us not to go to the namesake lake because it smelled and sucked (I guess every city has its Pier 39); and my desire to see the Golden Spike after having spent four years educating college tourists on Leland Stanford's laying of it in Utah to connect the east and west by continental railroad...yeah, that quickly waned when we discovered how far it was off the highway. Alright, Park City, here we come!

Oh, Park City - now this is Utopia. A pet boutique next door to a pet boutique that's across the street from a pet boutique...toss in a bunch of 5-star resorts and restaurants, and here's where Jesus is retiring. If the Salt Lake City denizens marveled at Moby's uniqueness, Park City locals simply marveled at his utter...dogness. From the waitress at the "Mexican" restaurant who ran more quickly to get him water than get us menus (although really, she was quite nice), to the 40-something couples traveling together who then shared their own dog photos on their cell phones...these people might be insane...and we might need to look into fractional ownership here.

Now, it's on to Le Ritz. No, not THE Ritz...LE Ritz. There's positively nothing between Park City and Idaho Falls (pictured above), but when we arrive, Le Ritz doesn't disappoint. This small hotel is situated right on the Snake River and smells like cinammon and bubble gum...everywhere. We settle in, and enjoy a gnat-swatting walk down the river pathway to dinner where we spot a man wearing a tshirt that reads, "You Don't Know Me," circa Jerry Springer '97. We make our way to an extraordinarily average brew pub, based solely on who is broadcasting the Olympics (shocker). Brad doesn't want me to be too mean in my blog posts, but I would be remiss in not observing that at this restaurant, a female patron is wearing a bedazzled faux-Harley Davidson tank top with Salt Lake City Mom jeans and a fanny pack. I don't know what her hair looked like because I was blinded by the bedazzling and had to look away before I made it to the top of her head.

Thanks to everyone for reading and sending/posting comments!

Road Trip Day 2 - Salt Lake City, UT

The morning began with no power. It happened as soon as I reached for the remote to turn on a little Olympic action. Of course. After giving the hotel about 15 minutes while Brad showered in the dark, I called down to the front desk. "Oh honey, it's not the hotel - it's the whole town." Huh? How does an entire town lose power when there's no bad weather and seemingly has been no accident? Sigh...

So yes, the power came back on. Brad casually asked the front desk as he checked us out, "Is there a Starbucks in town?" Shocker, there's no Starbucks in Winnemucca. But there is a Delizioso Espresso (yes, that's how it's spelled), which I shall henceforth refer to as "Nobucks." It sufficed.

Now, how do you know you're not in California anymore? You get pulled over for driving 12 miles/hour over the speed limit. Come on, where's the Basic Speed Law when you need it? And then, when the officer comes to the car (while Moby is barking ferociously at him), he is more concerned about the fact that Avis actually rents out SUVs than the matter at hand - Brad getting his first speeding ticket. Ultimately, it was reduced to 5 miles/hour over. Lame.

So as we made our way considerably more slowly, things were actually quite lovely. We enjoyed a nice lunch stop at Angel Lake in Nevada (pictured above), where Moby met some other dogs. And then it was onward to Salt Lake City.

Here's the weird thing - I might love it here! Maybe it's the awesome Kimpton hotel we're in tonight in the much more happening than expected downtown...maybe it's the good burger place we went to...maybe...maybe it's the Olympics. Holy crap, between Michael Phelps the dolphin-man and the men's gymnastics team that fields a group with a Prince Harry look-alike, these games are incredible! I am screaming and shouting at the tv and actually coming up with my own deductions for the Chinese routines that are, by the way, like flawless. Whatever. Their coach just claimed he'd jump off the highest building in Beijing if they didn't take Gold. Come ON, that's a little dramatic, no? Meanwhile, the American men are chest-bumping and exclaiming, "That's how we roll!" about the Bronze. Hey, it's all about perspective.

Road Trip Day 1 - SF to Winnemucca, NV

Winnipeg? Winnipoo? Winniwhat? Wikipedia. These are all of the names we assigned to our first destination, Winnemucca. There's not much to say about this city except that it's in Nevada and it's not Vegas or Reno.

But don't you dare think for a moment there wasn't excitement in getting here. Hello, Truckee. Oh Truckee, little quaint town next to Tahoe. How lovely you seemed as we drove through "downtown." Old saloon-type-looking places and all sorts of things you expect to see at the Western show at Knotts Berry Farm. Fantastic.

And look, there's our spot, the "Truckee Diner." It has outdoor seating for us and Moby - it'll be perfect. So we sit. And we scan the gross menu and settle on really not even average food. Another group shows up - a mom, her two daughters, and their two chihuahuas. And all is going as expected until...WHOA! Why is that SUV fish-tailing totally out of control down the street, screeching, guys inside screaming, and...HOLY CRAP! They just plowed into that parked car! And wait...oh no he did not just back up into another parked car and proceed to TAKE OFF...down a DEAD-END STREET. Oh, snap.

The owners of those cars are now outside. A blockade has been created with a van and people standing in the street (see photo above). And here comes the po-po...turning the wrong way down the street, away from the actual scene of the crime. How they did not notice the mass of people in the street and the obvious bruhaha, I have no idea. But suffice it to say, hit-and-attempted-run man is about to have a very, very bad day.

It's tough to top that, but other highlights along the way included a billboard advertising a "Free Pool Party" Wednesdays and Fridays at the Sands Resort. I'm not sure who they are inviting, by the way. But that can't be good. And of course, another billboard advertised the "Pussycat Ranch" where "Truckers are Welcome" for bar, massage and...ranch. This is so awesome. It's not the Mustang Ranch or even the Bunny Ranch I'm way too familiar with from HBO documentaries, but it's an animal ranch of some sort - I'm satisfied.

And so tonight, we lay our heads at the Red Lion Hotel and Casino. Roar.