Good people, good food, and good (exceptional) views can cure a lot of homesickness and loneliness.
Uncategorized
Dispatches From America: Day 4
Today was the worst day of my drive. I found myself incredibly restless, tired, lonesome, and out of place.
The drive from Bismarck to Bozeman is mostly high grassland, which is nice for a little while, but sort of feels like someone is pulling a Hollywood set, for a boring movie, alongside the car. The weather today didn’t necessarily cooperate with my body’s interest in oxygen consumption, either. It was in the mid-50s for most of my drive and if you know me well, you know that warm weather suits me better than anything under 60 degrees. 70 degrees, really. And really, when the speed limit is 75 mph, it’s hard to drive with the windows down and hear your podcast/NPR/music.
Some of you may have seen my video blog from beneath Salem Sue, the world’s largest fiberglass cow. Salem Sue was not a victim of the federal government shutdown as it has yet to achieve National Park status (get on that, Hoeven and Heitkamp). Setting aside the stigma of roadside tourist traps, it was the highlight of my drive, save for the 50 miles or so that I talked to Amanda tonight. The air was cool. The view was lovely. It was all very relaxing.
Where I think I’m going wrong here, besides the fact that I’m traveling across the entire country alone, is that I’m driving too much every day. If I were breaking this down into two 3-hour driving sessions with an hour break in between, I’d be much better off. But I’d also be back somewhere in Minnesota right now, and spending more money on hotels, food, and gas. So you take the good with the bad, I guess.
Notes:
-You can add New Mexico, Washington, Wyoming, and Guam (yes, Guam. In Miles City, Montana) to the list. Kansas really needs to get with the program.
-I tweeted about this (@midatlanticbias) in the morning but at the complimentary breakfast, I saw a man fill a plate with breakfast potatoes and then proceed to cover those potatoes in: cheese, four packets of butter (“my butter fix,” he said to an old man), mayonnaise, an egg, and an incomprehensible amount of salt. If the Midwest had a flag, I’d want that man’s plate on it.
-I saw my first snow between Bismarck and Dickinson, ND. A lot more snow on the mountain tops here in Montana.
-There’s a place called “New England, North Dakota.” It’s like a combination of all of my hells.
-Another thing I tweeted: the cowboy hat thing. Maybe it’s just my big city, East Coast way of thinking, but every time I see a man in a cowboy hat, I assume he’s just some ironic hipster from Greenpoint. It just doesn’t seem real to me. I know that it is.
-Pete seemed to be a big hit yesterday and I thought a lot today about his “polite but unfriendly” line and it really rings true. I find myself getting a lot of looks at gas stations and rest stops (license plate and funny looking car probably do it) but no inquiries. I’d really appreciate an inquiry rather than a “look.” I like to feel like I belong, wherever I am, and I do not feel like I belong in the middle of these United States.
-I always assumed that Eastern Montana was going to be beautiful like the rest of Montana. Come to find out, most of that part of the state is just an extension of North Dakota and that makes for some really boring driving….
-…and then, all of a sudden (not really, but go with me here) I turn and I see MON-TANA. Wide open space. Snow-covered mountains. Horses. Cattle. Water. And a highway sign that says, simply, “Crazy Mountains.” Indeed
-Finally, I am sure that there are typos and words that unintentionally spit out to my fingers that I’m not proofreading here, so thanks for bearing with that. I’m doing the drive, then writing about the drive. Proofreading the drive, well, I just don’t have the energy.
-Tomorrow will take me south for the first time in this trip, to Salt Lake City, where I will, for the first time since Tuesday morning, see familiar faces, in the form of Brian and Ali Spittler. They’re going to get the Raw and Uncensored Story of Pete from Bismarck. Be jealous.
Dispatches From America: Day 3
Pete sees me as I walk into the Pirogue Grille before the bartender/maitre de does. His eyes light up. Pete is looking for someone to talk to. Luckily for Pete, so am I.
Unluckily for me, Pete is drunk. There are two glasses in front of him, both half-consumed. One I make out to be an old-fashioned. The other might just be straight whiskey. There are two seats at the bar. One is in the far corner, the other is next to Pete. I choose Pete over solidarity. I’ve had enough solidarity over the last three days. I sit.
Pete can tell right away that I’m not from here, despite my flannel shirt. Maybe it’s the skinny jeans. Maybe it’s the haircut. Who knows what it is. He asks me where I’m from. I tell him I’m from Washington, DC. I explain the road trip thing. He immediately wants to buy me an old-fashioned, but I’m driving. He seems upset so I let him buy me a Deschutes Black Butte Porter.
Pete talks. And talks. And talks. He tells me that I chose the wrong restaurant. This one is to bourgeois. I chose the restaurant, I explain, because it was a recommendation from a former colleague and because it is TripAdvisor’s number one restaurant in Bismarck. And, let’s be real, I like bourgeois things.
Pete has a lot of theories about North Dakota. He grew up in Grand Forks. He loves Grand Forks. He lives in Bismarck now because that’s where the good-paying white collar jobs are. He thinks North Dakota should be split into Western North Dakota and Eastern North Dakota. Like, actually split into two separate states. “Bismarck makes Fargo and Grand Forks look like Greenwich Village” he repeats to me multiple times.
The bartenders are annoyed by Pete. One of them wants him to leave, but I keep him out of trouble (i.e. I slow down his drinking) by asking him questions. I ask him what it was like in Grand Forks during the flood of 1997. The images of that flood, for whatever reason, are still etched in my brain. I truly thought, as a 13 year old, that an American city was destroyed by that flood. Years later, I found out that Grand Forks was doing just fine. Pete confirmed it. I ask him about the economic state of the North Dakota (lowest unemployment rate in the U.S., y’all) and whether it’s just as good as the national media would have you think (Pete: “Hell yeah it is. We are (expletive) riiich.”)
He talked about the metal scene in Grand Forks. He recommended a few bands that I would never listen to and can’t remember the name of already.
Pete wants me to go out to a bar with him, and quite frankly, that’s probably exactly what I need (to go out and talk with people and try to relax), but I don’t like being around drunk people, and Pete is very drunk (so drunk that he was concerned about my ability to drive back to my hotel after drinking one beer and eating a large meal of bison, rice, and vegetables). So I tell him I’m beat from driving (which is true) and he accepts.
I didn’t intend to write about Pete earlier today, but I was struck when I was driving back to my hotel room, by the thought that until Friday, that will probably be the most interaction I have with anyone. And beyond that, Pete will forever in my life be the official representative for the state of North Dakota. And he described North Dakota to me in a way that makes me not like it very much at all. He described North Dakota, the place he grew up and a place that he clearly loves, as a drunk, weird, slightly Canadian, polite, unfriendly, xenophobic, socialist…um, mecca???
Pete held in his hands the ability to shape North Dakota for me. And he did. But he shaped it into a place I don’t really understand and don’t much care to.
As I left, Pete asked me if I was going to write about my trip. I told him that I was writing about it for my personal blog. He looked at me suspiciously and asked if I wrote for Vice or Vanity Fair. I assured him I did not. He then asked that I mention him, use his name, and say that he is a “Badass Motherf****r.”
—
Tomorrow, I’m heading to Bozeman, Montana, which is a bit of an audible (Casper, Wyoming was my original intended destination). I’ve never driven in Montana and have long considered it to be the number one state in America that I hadn’t seen that I wanted to see. Granted, Montana from I-94 is probably not Glacier National Park, but I’m looking forward to seeing Big Sky Country for the first time.
Notes:
-Add these states to the list:
Nevada
Vermont
-Radio in rural America is basically: Christian Talk, Christian Music, Christian Talk, Country, Christian Talk, that one Verve Pipe song
-I’ve listened to very little music and only a few podcasts so far. I’ve relied on either the radio or on the sounds of the road. And it’s a good thing because…
-Somewhere in western Minnesota, I discovered a radio program called “The Swap Shop.” The concept is simple and amazing. There’s a host (if you’re a sports fan/southerner, think Paul Finebaum) who takes calls from people who want to sell things. Here’s a sampling:
Host: Caller?
Caller: Hi. Thanks for taking my call. I have three kittens. They’re orange with white stripes. Two males, one female. They’re all de-clawed. Very nice kittens. $25 for one or $50 for all three. I also have a set of wooden shower curtain rings that I’d like to sell for $5. 555-6525. Thanks.
Host. Thank you caller. Caller?
I listened for 5 minutes. People were trying to sell: dogs, cats, stoves, cars, car parts, agricultural equipment, and televisions.
-I took a rural highway from Minneapolis west into South Dakota, before taking a U.S. highway up to I-94 in North Dakota. One of the real advantages of this strategy is you get to see actual towns and people. One of the real downsides is that nearly every tractor trailer that drove by shot up little rocks into the side of my face. At one point, I actually had to check for blood.
-I reached my 24 hour mark (total time driving the car) at the junction of I-29 and US12 in South Dakota.
-Finally, I leave you with this bit of wisdom from the sign in front of a Presbyterian Church in North Dakota: “Big Bang Theory? Give me a break.” –GOD
Dispatches From America: Day 2
When dining alone, always sit at the bar. If the bar is full, wait for someone to go to the lavatory and steal their seat (And food. And date.) DO NOT under any circumstance, sit alone at a restaurant at which you are not a regular, during dinner, especially if it’s packed to the gills.
Of course, I speak emphatically about this subject as I put myself through the great horror of DINING ALONE tonight in Minneapolis.
I ate at Pizzeria Lola, one of Food and Wine or Bon Apeitit’s best pizza restaurants in America. The pizza was terrific (I got “The Boise,” natch. Potato, caramelized onions, fontina and (added) smoked bacon.). Eating alone isn’t necessarily the worst thing in the world. There are times when it’s a fun experience. Namely, when you’re sitting at the bar and can talk to strangers. It’s much harder to talk to strangers when they’re on a date at the table next to you. People don’t really like that interaction very much.
Today’s drive took me from South Bend to Minneapolis, with a stop in Chicago for breakfast and a stop in Madison for a mid-day walk.
I’ve never actually “been” to Chicago. I’ve been to Chicago. I went to a White Sox game. I saw Wrigley Field from the outside. I drove on Lake Shore Drive. But that’s it. One day on my first cross-country trip when I wasn’t a very smart traveler. Today was my second experience in Chicago.
Very often, I find myself bothered by Chicagoans love of Chicago. I come from a school of thought that says you should resent the place that you’re from. There are obvious and non-obvious exceptions (basically, it’s a case-by-case basis) but in general, I am comfortable with those who don’t like the place they grew up in. I mean, we all leave for a very good reason, right?
Chicagoans are loyal to their city like no other American citizens. New Yorkers will defend New York with a sense of irony. Californians will “subtly” mention to you that “IN CALIFORNIA, WE….” Bostonians have no right defending their city. Etc.
Chicagoans embrace their city. They truly LOVE their city (I’m really into using the CAPS lock button right now). And so, long story short, I pretend to hate Chicago because I love being a contrarian. But I’ll say this: the little bits of Chicago I’ve seen are pretty great and I’m sure I would really love it if I, you know, spent more than a few hours there.
—
When you’ve spent two weeks eating nothing but steamed beets, you’re probably really going to enjoy that first ribeye. And when you’ve spent hours upon hours of time in your car, when you’re presented with a really lovely city, you find yourself skipping through the streets with glee.
Now, I care very much about how I’m perceived, so I didn’t skip, but my heavens is (Downtown) Madison, Wisconsin a lovely place. I sent Amanda a text while I was taking a 45 minute driving break and told her we need to get a weather transformation machine so that we can move to Madison immediately.
I haven’t seen any of Minneapolis really. I got here at 7 p.m. just as the sun had set and I was frankly too tired to drive downtown and go for a nighttime stroll. Maybe in the morning. Tomorrow’s drive will, god willing, take me to Bismarck, North Dakota, aka The City Where Dreams Are Made.
Notes:
-To yesterday’s list of states, you can add:
Arizona
Diplomatic Plate
Minnesota
Montana
North Carolina
North Dakota
Oklahoma
Ontario
-I saw my first Fiat, not in Chicago, but in Madison. It remains the only other Fiat I’ve seen. I doubt I’ll see another one until I get to Oregon.
-Roughly 94% of the road between DC and Minneapolis is currently under construction. I need to look into starting my own business that sells orange construction cones.
-The notion that I would “disconnect” from DC and politics and all of that has already been put to bed. I listened to the President’s press conference today and listened to about 5 different NPR affiliates all of whom had stories about the local impact of the government shutdown. Seriously, Speaker Boehner badly needs a “Come to Jesus” moment. “Jesus” in this case being the House Democratic Caucus.
-The radio edit of Trinidad James’ “All Gold Everything” left me wondering if musicians, primarily rappers, record two different versions of their lyrics or if they just go into the studio and say the words “Phoney” “Sucker” “Shhhh” “Women” and “Stuff.” Any insight would be greatly appreciated.
Dispatches From America: Day 1
I never read “On The Road,” but I could venture a guess that Kerouac’s road tripping didn’t involve him making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at a rest stop outside of Cleveland.
A few years ago, when Amanda and I drove DC to San Diego, I chronicled the trip and, looking back at it now, I find it trite. There was some part of me that actually thought I was going to “get something” out of a six-day cross country road trip with my life partner.
That’s too easy. If I’m going to get something from a road trip, it better be this one. Day one, however, was not the day where I got much of anything.
Today’s drive wasn’t difficult, per se. Two hours of heavy rain certainly wasn’t fun and never being able to drive with the windows all the way down was a pain, but as far as driving, it was easy. And boring. REALLY BORING.
The only highlight really was my version of the license plate game. I opened my notebook in the passenger seat next to me and kept track of every state’s license plate that I saw (tractor trailers are excluded. As are rest stops. I have to see the car driving on the highway. I’m serious. I debated these rules with myself.). Here is that list:
Alabama
Colorado
District of Columbia
Florida
Illinois
Indiana
Iowa
Maryland
Massachusetts
Michigan
Nebraska
New Hampshire
New Jersey
New York
Ohio
Oregon (in Rockville, MD)
Pennsylvania
Tennessee
Texas
Virginia
West Virginia
Wisconsin
Other notes:
-I have seen 0 other Fiats since I left Washington, DC. My guess is I’ll see one in Chicago tomorrow.
-Never eat chili the night before you go on a long road trip.
-When in Rome (or South Bend, Indiana) eat at Fiddler’s Heart Public House. Tell them Jason sent you. They’ll have no idea who you’re talking about.
-When in Rome (or South Bend, Indiana) don’t necessarily stay at the Waterford Estates Lodge.
-The entrances to Notre Dame Stadium are named after famous coaches at the University. Not pictured: Tyrone Willingham, George O’Leary, or Charlie Weis.
I’ll try to make this more interesting tomorrow by picking up a hitchhiker in Wisconsin, though it’ll probably just be the guy from Bon Iver.
National Championship Game Prediction (September Version)
Your Reminder That McLeod Bethel-Thompson Is A Person: The 2013 NFL Preview
When Johnny Comes Signing Hats Again…Hurrah! Hurrah!: A 2013 College Football Preview
Fast Kicking, Low Scoring, and Ties? You Bet!
And…just for fun, the three clubs who will be promoted from SkyBet to the Premier League for the 2014-15 season: Brighton and Hove Albion (that’s amazingly one team), Leicester City, and Charlton Athletic.
All Star Representatives
And, as an aside, I expect Yasiel Puig and Bryce Harper to be in the final five voting in the National League.