Saturday, December 17, 2016

Vivir Lars Vegars: Chapter 2

The drive to the Canyon was worthy of a movie montage what with the stops at racist outposts and all.

But as we neared Mecca, I couldn't see any sign of it. "How will we know when we're there?" I wondered. Will we just drive into it like Thelma and Louise? I'd always pictured Margaret as my Thelma, not Jaime, but he'd do in a pinch. 

Turns out you can't just accidentally drive into it because you have to pay thirty freaking dollars at the door. 

Anyway, I'm not going to focus on the majesty of it because most of you know, and I'd never be able to do it justice. But what I can do is focus on how cold it was, and the fact the cold prevented me from taking cute photos of myself at one of the greatest natural wonders of the world. 

Anytime we go somewhere new, I am Jaime's unpaid personal photographer. I try to capture him at his best angles during precious hipster moments. He doesn't ask for it, but nor does he return the favor, and it really hurts me. 

What he doesn't realize is that he has hitched his wagon to the least photogenic person in the world. One snap after 5 minutes of pleading does not yield the fruit it would if he were the subject. You have to try and try and try again. He barely tries the first time! 

Anyway...

One thing we like to do to piss people off is walk great distances. We're usually urban hikers, but we can handle being in nature, too. The path along the rim of the Grand Canyon may have been our finest. 

At some point, Jaime mentioned for the bajillionth time how he'd really like to see some giant elk or something. His words were still hanging in the air, as I caught my breath and my eyes locked on a gaggle of gigantic bucks mere feet from the trail. 

He gleefully but sneakily ran towards them while I prepared to watch my husband be hoofed to death. It was cool and all, but his love for animals really turns me off and grosses me out.

One of the best things about traveling with Jaime, and I believe I've mentioned this many times, is that we're ready to call it quits at almost exactly the same time every time. 

The giant fucking hole was no exception, so we got back into the world's most boring car and pulled onto Route 66. 

I forgot to mentioned that this all took place on Thanksgiving day, and finding a place open for dinner was very difficult on such a small highway. We finally found a place that claimed to serve Greek food, but was really just the best kind of shitty diner.

They had about five things on the menu (one was a Greek salad for $15, and that's what made it a Greek place), but nearly everything had meat. 

I apologized to our server for having to work Thanksgiving day. However, she assured me that she wanted to because everyone in her family was working anyway. She tried her best to work with the annoying vegetarians, and I really appreciated it even after she plopped down the chicken and dumplings soup of the day in front of me.   

We smiled at the Indian family next to us who'd left the restaurant after looking at the menu and were back a second time totally defeated but unwilling to let their children starve to death.

We continued to our cute vintage motel and ding-a-linged the bell. Another Indian lady stepped out from the back. 

Vivir Lars Vegars: Chapter 1

When frantically searching for the cheapest tickets to get you the furthest from your jobs in Kansas City over a holiday weekend, you're going to go to Las Vegas. You may not like it. You might even hate it. But it's your only option.

We decided to make it an ironic trip.

Instead of resenting us, my mom suggested we go to the Grand Canyon while we were out there a somewhat sore spot for her because in spite of the dozens of family road trips we took, I'd only ever been there in utero. Jaime couldn't even say that, so I spent time planning. My least favorite thing to do.

We spirited away on that airline with the flight attendant who told us to close our eyes and pretend we were flying Delta while he pretended he was getting a Delta paycheck. We didn't die.

After shaking their exotic coconuts at each other, the Brazilian guy at the car rental place told Jaime we could chose any car we wanted in the economy row! He blew past the cute cornucopia of brightly colored Chevy Sparks to a black sedan.

It reminded me of the time we were at a famous ice cream place ordering a banana split. The woman asked us what three flavors we wanted, and he excitedly blurted out, "Vanilla!"

I wasn't driving nor the one who needed leg room, so I got in the damn car but not before I made note of the group of women ahead of us who'd chosen a yellow convertible.

I hoped they'd noticed how hot my husband is.

Our first stop was Hoover Dam. Actually, our first stop was a place called something like Fidel's Neato Tacos open 24 hours. Fucking amazeballs.

Hoover Dam was pretty cool, too.

This is the best picture we got of it.


We left the dam and started our long journey through the open desert where the landscape morphs every 80 miles into something even more breathtaking than before and ends in a giant fucking hole.