East Coast Wanderlog, Finale

I went to bed last night about 2:30 AM and had every intention of getting up at 6 AM to go to the soccer game. However, as I lay there, I realized that if I showed up at the game, having arrived by bus, I would invoke a sensation of pity in my friends, and they would feel compelled afterwards to invite me over or to somehow manage to give me a ride how. And, if they weren't able to do either of those things, they would then feel bad. So, rather than bring all hassle or bad feelings, I turned off my alarm and slept the night away.

Not able to sleep right away, though, I nearly got up and posted another blog entry. I felt bad about the short one I left yesterday. Laziness won out.

This afternoon, with lunch in front of me, I pulled up Hulu and decided to give Dollhouse a shot. Because Hulu only has the five most recent episodes, I had decided to wait on this series, as the first episode had already disappeared. In fact, when I got there today, episode no. 4 was the earliest. I decided to go ahead with it anyway. I'll just be a Johnny-come-lately.

This will be the final episode of my travelogue. There's not much more to say.

I arrived in Raleigh, NC, again on Thursday afternoon. For anyone who might need catching up, Raleigh is where my brother and his family live. It's a beautiful area of the country, full of hills and tall trees.

When I got there I discovered that Katie, best friend of my niece, would be staying the entire weekend as well, as her parents were out of town. Christina and Katie are so much fun to watch when they're together— they make one forget how awful some teenagers can be!

If you'll recall, Russell and I briefly stopped here on our way south, and I git my first chance at that time to meet Tesla and Darwin, the new family dogs. Their reactions on seeing me again were no different than they were the first time— Tesla shied away from me, and Darwin very actively did not like me, preferring to stay in the kitchen and bark at me from a distance whenever possible. In fact, their reactions stayed largely the same throughout my visit. Eventually, Tesla let me pick her up— with visible reticence!— but Darwin never let go of her dislike for me. She must have had an early negative experience with someone who looks like me. That distresses me a bit as I love dogs so much.

'My room' upstairs is everything one could hope for when traveling. The bed is big and comfortable and there's wireless in the house. Even though I didn't immediately resume blogging, it was so nice to be able to re-connect to the world on a regular basis. Up until this point, my access was non-existent or tenuous. At Russell's parents the wireless wasn't configured correctly and would allow no Internet access. At his sister's house, there was no wireless at all. In Atlanta, at Russell's, he had no wireless set up, but I could see the many networks of his neighbors. For several minutes each night I could piggy-back on one of their unsecured networks to get some basic communication. The connection was never strong and rarely lasted long though.

Sad to say, everyone knew exactly how to keep Uncle John entertained while he was visiting— the Wii and the PS3 came on immediately. There were, however, no new games for the PS3 so it rarely made a re-appearance during the weekend. The Wii, however, had some fun new additions to its library. I was introduced to Boom Blox and could hardly put it down the rest of the visit. Among its many modes of play, Boom Blox offers a Jenga-styled experience of removing pieces from 3D tower. Other games have one throwing balls at stacked blocks to knock them all down or to knock certain ones down. And these games are but a small part of the experience. Had I a Wii, I would probably by this game immediately. We also played Tiger Woods Golf, which was quite fun as well. I was never much of a golfer, but I almost always have some sort of computer golfing game available to me. If I had a Wii, that might be my new one.

So Friday morning I stayed at home and slept in while everyone else went to work or school. I got up late-ish, and got to enjoy a few hours of the Wii and listening to Darwin bark at me before Jeff came home (early). The rest of the day was pretty much spent with errands, which was fine by me. As I have often said, when I'm in a new place (or relatively new) I can spend hours just looking out the windows of the car Jeff and I stopped by Tiger Direct and said 'Hi' to my nephew, Austin, at work. Then we went to pick up the girls at school and had a late lunch at Steak-n-Shake. As it was Friday, pizza was on the menu for the night, but as the afternoon and early evening progressed, we learned that the younger generation had other plans. Austin went out with friends and the girls got picked up for a night at the movies. So pizza was enjoyed by only Denise, Jeff, and myself. It was good pizza, and I was touched by the very sincere offer I got from both Jeff and Denise to use 'my room' for a longer period of time, if the job situation never gets better here in California.

Denise had pre-enlisted Jeff and myself to assist on Saturday morning at the Raleigh St Patrick's Day Parade. Denise and Christina would be representing the Girl Scouts by selling cookies and water, and Jeff and I were to help carrying the cookies and water back and forth. It sounded like fun, but the rain was so steady that the parade was cancelled on Friday. So Saturday ended up being relatively play-by-ear. When I got, somewhat late again, and only minutes after Jeff, Denise was already gone, though, and she didn't return for a few hours. Naturally, this meant more Wii time for those of us still at home. (Austin was at work.) The day passed this way. Eventually Denise returned home, and a plan for the evening was decided upon. Denise wanted to try a new Irish pub that had opened up. However, when the six of us got there, the place was wall to wall with seasonally Irish celebrants. We changed our venue to a Dave & Buster's knock-off aimed at a younger crowd, and enjoyed a somewhat non-descript meal accompanied by rounds of Hangman on the napkins, and followed by some time in the arcade.

On Sunday, Austin was back at work, and the girls spent the afternoon bowling with friends. That left Denise and Jeff and myself alone again so we went downtown to the Raleigh History Museum and checked out a pirate exhibit that was currently in town. I have never been one much to enjoy pirates. Even early on, I recognized that what we were being served as 'pirates' was surely far from the truth. I enjoy a good pirate movie for the adventure and fun of it without ceding that it is anything like a real pirate story. This exhibit, however, really opened my eyes to the pirate experience. There was enough information and enough recreations and artifacts gathered together to give one a slight taste of what it must really have been like. Plus, the Carolinas were a hotbed of real pirate activity, which proximity made them even more interesting. I left the exhibit having quite enjoyed it and having had my eyes opened for the first time to what others might see of interest in pirate history.

I left Raleigh bright and early Monday morning— well, dark and early, technically! I was crammed into a window seat, by choice, and couldn't believe the level of rudeness I saw amongst my fellow passengers. Something needs to be done about carry-on baggage. With the airlines now charging for 'excess baggage'— that is, for even one checked bag!— they have turned the already bad carry-on situation into a nightmare. No one wants to check bags any more. As we're supposed to do, I stow one bag under the seat in front of me. Since I now carry a laptop with me, I put my laptop overhead. Other people come on with two full-size bags and don't even pretend to stow one under the seat in front of them any longer. On this particular flight it got so bad that the passengers started bitching at each other about who was right and who was wrong. Then the guy two seats over from me bitched at one of the flight attendants for allowing the situation to get out of control. I wish she had slugged him right then and there. I wanted to ask the guy if he really thought that she was the one making the policies that were now so out of control. It turned out that both he and the guys sitting directly next to me were both business fliers and had not a moment for conversation or pleasantries during the entire flight. I'm not one to spend a lot of flying time yakking with my neighbors, but I do try to establish some sort of common ground to make for a friendly flight.

So, that's it for my grand travelogue. I wish the end had been as interesting as the beginning. I hope anyone that made it all the way through had a enjoyable read... at least most of the time.

I started writing my story for the Blizzard contest the other night. I only have another week to get it submitted so I won't have any extras in my blog for awhile. Big things are coming though. I hope you'll stick around for them!

Until next time!

"Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story."— Peter S. Beagle

Wait For It...

I'm somewhat muddle-headed tonight so I'm going to skip the end of the travelogue for now.

My car is so bad right now that I can't drive it the five miles downtown to my bank. So, I had to catch a city bus today to go get a cashier's check for the rent. Not a big problem really. I don't mind the city buses except on those days or at those times when they're packed. The Omnitrans bus system doesn't seem to be laid out extraordinarily, but it's adequate. I have no problem reading or playing a game while I'm on it.

Other than that, I've been super groggy all day. I don't know if tomorrow will be better. I'm contemplating getting up in six hours and riding the bus out to Redlands to watch Jessica play soccer.

Until next time!

"I shall need to sleep three weeks on end to get rested from the rest I've had."— Thomas Mann

East Coast Wanderlog, Part 14

I wanted to slap the news bimbo on the TV this afternoon. She was making a segue from a news story to the weather, and she said that it was a "pretty chilly day in the Southland." It was, in fact, in the mid-sixties. People are so accustomed to wearing one thin layer of clothing year round here that they've lost all perspective on what conditions like 'cold' and 'chilly' really are.

Sorry for starting off in a sour mood, but I just got back from the laundromat. I hate the laundromat. If I ever get to live some place with my own washer and dryer, I will be the happiest man. Ever.

Meanwhile, back in Atlanta:

OK, yesterday I told you how beautiful I found Atlanta to be. Let me start out today by saying there's one thing I will always dislike about the South: Even today there are too many people who would sign up to fight on the wrong side of the Civil War. When I see someone displaying a Confederate flag, it might as well have an arrow on it, pointing to the bearer, and say "I'm with Stupid." I'm not saying this as someone descended from the winning side— hell, most of my ancestors weren't even in this country at the time— and I'm not saying it as someone raised in Yankee states. I'm saying it as someone who can see that the Confederacy was formed around amoral beliefs. You don't embrace a rotten apple. You throw it away with all the other trash.

That said, on our first full day in Atlanta, Russell and I headed outside of the city to Stone Mountain. Stone Mountain is a huge state park centered around an enormous granite outcropping. It's hard to convey properly, but it's as if an enormous loaf-shaped mound of granite were slapped down on the land. It's far bigger than a hill and something less than a mountain. According to Wikipedia, its summit is over 800 feet higher than the surrounding land.

Aside from this, one thing that makes Stone Mountain famous is the bas relief carving of three Confederate leaders on one side. This was begun (and abandoned) by the artist who later went on to complete Mt Rushmore. This carving wasn't completed until 1972. Of course, Stone Mountain is also considered to be the birth site of the modern Ku Klux Klan.

We entered the park and drove a few miles to a spot near the train tracks. Our intention was to catch the train and ride once around the park. After 30 minutes and no train, however, we got back in the car, and drove around to the steamboat landing. That's where we found out that neither the steamboat nor the train were running. If the South ever does rise again, it apparently won't do so on a Tuesday.

The docks where the steamboat is moored are on a wide portion of the river. There is an isthmus of sorts jutting out into that river, on which a tower of stands. From the tower loud carillon bells (or a recording thereof) ring out quite pleasantly. As we left, they were donging a cover of 'Blue Moon.' We also saw a lot of geese here— thus the geese pictures in my Flickr stream. Trust me, there are many more geese pics that did not get uploaded.

Other than for a little more driving around the city, we didn't do much else in Atlanta. We rented a few movies, tried a couple different restaurants, and I worked on Russell's computer during the downtime. The day following our trip to Stone Mountain, I was in bed through the middle of the afternoon with a near-migraine, which spoiled my last full day in Atlanta. When I had recovered from that, I went for a walk by myself in the latening afternoon. I found a park just a few minutes walk down the street. The park opened up to an amazing view of Atlanta's skyline. I sat there for some time, enjoying the cool, clear air, as couples and other solitary people walked or jogged by. Many of them had dogs as well. It was so pleasant just to sit there after hiding my head in the dark for the previous several hours.

That evening we enjoyed the movies we'd rented, and the next day, in the early afternoon, I flew out of Atlanta's airport, landing in Raleigh a short time later. I will say that I have nothing but good things to say about Atlanta. I have made the joke elsewhere that I probably do not appreciate history enough to ever live in Atlanta... but that sense of history may have come more from Russell than the actual city itself. I look forward to visiting again some day and seeing more of the city.

As short as this has been, I'll leave off here for the day. In all likelihood, I'll wrap up the travelogue tomorrow with my final days in Raleigh.

Until next time!

"Every year in the South they have re-enactments of the Civil War. Why would you want to re-enact an ass-kicking?"— Ted Mac, comedian

East Coast Wanderlog, Part 13

Some TV networks get it, some don't.

Caught up on most of my TV watching, I decided to give Castle a shot. I'd seen the first episode of this show a few weeks ago, back in Raleigh, and thought it was OK. I may have given it a brief review here— I forget. The show boils down to Nathan Fillion's character and the repartee between him and the woman cop. From the three episodes I've seen now, the crime stories each week are fairly uninspired. Anyway, I found the episodes on Hulu, but instead of playing through the Hulu website itself, the shows are linked back to ABC.

ABC is bad news when it comes to online viewing. Their viewer software runs in a separate window and has to be loaded every time you go to the site. In addition, the commercial breaks are more frequent— roughly twice as frequent as Hulu— run longer, and require the viewer at home to click after each commercial has finished in order to resume the program. The ABC viewer also does not 'remember' where you were in the video stream if you interrupt and return to it later. If you return to watch the second half of something, not only do you have to wait for the viewing software to load again, but you have to endure the initial commercial again as well as another commercial when you skip (approximately) back to where you were before. Given the fact that Castle is somewhat lackluster and formulaic, I believe I'll forgo having to endure the ABC software just to catch it.

If you've visited my front door any time in the last nine months, you're doubtlessly one of the many people to tell me that my front door knob was falling off. About a year ago, the insides began breaking apart, and after a few months the door knob was almost completely useless. Holding it at an angle, I could apply just enough lateral pressure to pull the door shut. The lock was completely unusable. So, since then, I've been using the deadbolt to lock the door when necessary. (In my neighborhood, it's always necessary!) I had sworn off the deadbolt many years earlier after discovering that it had a slight catch and frequently didn't want to withdraw the last 1/8th of an inch. This made it nearly impossible at times to open the front door, and I have frequently had to use the back door to get inside, whereupon I then had to spend some time coercing the deadbolt to finally slide completely free. A few months ago I happened to be in a hardware store and walk past the doorknobs when it occurred to me to by one and replace the two faulty pieces of hardware. Yesterday I finally got around to it— after a wrestling session with the deadbolt— and it turned out to be surprisingly easy. I didn't even have to use the directions. In about 20 minutes I had both replaced, and what a joy it has been since then to pull the door shut without having to worry about pulling the knob off. I briefly felt like a mechanical genius!

Back outside of Asheville, North Carolina, I awoke fairly early on Monday, the 9th of March. I could hear one or more people moving about upstairs (Kath and/or Bob), and I could hear Russell sawing logs in the next room. Quite refreshed, I showered and repacked everything for our exit later in the morning. Then I crept up the stairs, not wishing to startle anyone. Kath was nowhere to be seen and Bob had taken off to work for the day so I stepped out onto that wonderful porch. The air had a hint of morning coolth, and everything was quiet. I stood there for a few minutes before hearing a woodpecker in the distance. Then, with no notice, I saw another woodpecker fly up to and land in a tree about 40 feet ahead of me. In a few minutes, it began its singularly noisy hunt for food. It made me so happy to stand there and listen to the woodpeckers.

In short order, Kath found me, and Russell awoke. She was soon off to work, and we packed the car and made our own departure. We were not on the road very long before Russell realized he'd forgotten to pass on something to his sister from their mother. So, our second stop of the morning was at Kath's place of employment, a bereavement center. (Our first stop was at The Waffle House, a wonderful restaurant I would eat at all the time if we had any here in SoCal.) Back on the road again, we wound our way down out of the NC mountains, bound for South Carolina. I, of course, began dozing on and off immediately.

Around lunch time we hit Russell's Alma mater, Clemson, in South Carolina. We circled the campus once in the car, with Russell pointing out all manner of highlights, then Russell made a brief attempt to contact two old friends, neither of whom was available that day. So, we got lunch at one of Russell's old hangouts before hitting the road again.

The remainder of our trip through South Carolina and Georgia, to Atlanta, went quickly. Try as I might, I couldn't stay awake. Despite wanting to get to Atlanta before three o'clock and bad traffic, we didn't get there until sometime after 4 PM.

For the first ten entries of this travelogue, I have been able to weave together my memories with the events of the day. In Atlanta, however, I don't have that luxury. With the exception of several layovers in the airport, I've never spent any time in Atlanta prior to this visit. (Unless we stopped in the city during a family vacation thirty or more years ago, and I've completely forgotten.) My anecdotal history with Atlanta consists of making a layover there in the summer of 1981 and running into a guy I knew vaguely from my college dorm the year before. So, I apologize in advance if it seems like I have nothing to say about Atlanta despite spending more time there than almost any other place on this vacation.

Russell and I approached the city through one of its suburbs, Buckhead. Buckhead is a big city in its own right, and were it not placed right next to Atlanta, one would doubtlessly hear about it more. It has its own downtown full of skyscrapers that I initially mistook for Atlanta itself. Buckhead is much newer than Atlanta though, and as you drive around its different neighborhoods, you can't not notice how clean and new it all looks.

Leaving Buckhead we then spent the better part of an hour slowly circling Atlanta. We avoided the downtown initially in favor of the historical neighborhoods. What beautiful big houses are everywhere! After we finally reached Russell's neighborhood, we veered off and headed into downtown, it now being late enough to avoid most traffic. I found Atlanta to be a great looking city, and I'm sure I would enjoy spending more time there. It has a bold skyline and many vantage points around the city to admire the view, several of which are quite near Russell's home.

There's not much else to say about this day. We threw our bags into Russell's place and relaxed for a bit. Then we went to an 'old Atlanta' establishment for dinner, a restaurant named The Colonnade. The Colonnade is delightfully placed in the heart of a burgeoning pornography neighborhood— there were titty bars all over the place!

Part 14 tomorrow.

Until next time!

"I've always liked Atlanta. And not just for the strip clubs, but the shopping and the food."— Jon Stewart

East Coast Wanderlog, Part 12

My immediate path has become clear to me... but now I have to figure out how to get from where I am to the path.

I need to start eating better (less) and working out. I have a genuine desire to do these things— until I wake up in the heat of the day, starving. Then, all I want to do is eat. I also noticed that this week I haven't been writing as much and have returned to my old sleep patterns. My creativity seems to be tied to getting up at a reasonable hour— I think largely because I can go to Starbucks during the day but that comfort is denied me in the middle of the night. So, I hope to get things flipped around again soon so I can get more writing done.

The poetry challenge is being pushed back once again. The deadline for the Blizzard writing contest is coming up in a few weeks, and I need to make sure I devote all the time I need to that. Writing for potential fame and profit now; poetry later.  :-)

Yesterday I spent the day perhaps more indulgently than any other day since I started this unemployment period. In my post I mentioned how I watched the first two episodes of the final season of Queer As Folk. After writing, I jumped back in. I ended up staying up until 5 AM this morning to watch the entire 13-episode season in one marathon session. It was great! QAF has always been one of my favorite soaps, and once I began watching the last season, I couldn't stop. It reminded me of the time, several years ago, when I took a previous season over to my friend Gina's house and we sat there watching episode after episode. If you can get past the gay sex, which is a bit much even for me at times, this show is highly recommended. The characters aren't the one-dimensional stereotypes that TV usually show us. I wish there was a 'hetero-friendly' version with edited sex scenes that I could give out to my friends so they could all share in the show as well.

Meanwhile, Sunday morning, 08 MAR 09, in Raleigh, NC:

Russell and I got a reasonably early start to the day after having a lifeless breakfast in the hotel. Our goal for the day was Asheville, NC, where Russell's sister and brother-in-law live. We wanted to make the four-hour trip by 3 PM, which shouldn't have been a problem as we took off shortly after 10 AM. However, as we passed through Durham, Russell decided to stop in and visit an 'cousin' who lives near and teaches at the School of Mathematics and Science. (I'm such a nerd that when i saw that school I thought how wonderful it would have been to go to a school like that instead of a regular high school!) I say 'cousin', because that's how they think of themselves. In fact, I think they are cousins once removed, but I don't remember too clearly as a lot of family connections were thrown at me in a short amount of time.

In addition to teaching, Russell's cousin is also an accomplished artist. Her medium is found objects, and she creates some delightful pieces from the objects she finds and binds to her vision. There were many pieces of work around her house— animals and other objects made of sticks and fabrics and weird bits of metal— and I spotted several other pieces in the homes of Russell and his sister. Had there been a mention of selling any, I would gladly have bought one for myself.

Anyway, I stayed in the car while Russell knocked, unannounced, at his cousin's door. Apparently she had her it's-too-early-and-I-haven't-had-any-coffee face on when she answered the door, but she warmed up upon seeing Russell. I joined them inside a few moments later. We sat and enjoyed a round of sodas, and I listened mostly as Russell and his cousin caught up. About 45 minutes later we hit the road again.

North Carolina is a beautiful state to travel through and I heartily recommend you do so if given the opportunity. Unfortunately, I slept through much of the state, including our gradual ascent into the mountains. I tried to stay awake, but sun and quiet and the rhythm of tires is too much for me.

Russell's sister actually lives outside of Asheville, to the east, in a town named Swannanoa. Upon reaching the town, he exited the highway and took off over roads we in California would think of as 'country.' In a few minutes we were back in an area called Buckeye Cove, a lower green area, surrounded by the hills. The houses, as new and modern as anything, are all far enough apart that bad neighbors are not an issue. Kath and Bob, in particular, live far enough back that as soon as you get out of the car you can't hear anything except the sounds of a forest. You can distinguish individual bird calls, it's that quiet. I was deliriously relaxed as soon as we parked.

Kath and Bob have a split level house with a large porch on the top-floor front, which you can walk up to. We spent our first hour together kicking back in easy chairs and enjoying a beautiful day out there on the porch. Had everyone else disappeared, I could've grabbed a book and spent the entire afternoon snuggled up in one of those chairs.

After awhile, however, Kath and Bob had a party to go to. They invited Russell and I, but I begged off because of my anti-party DNA. So, while they went to the party, Russell and I threw our bags in the house and then headed out to see the area. Again, Russell was an excellent tour guide. Asheville is a beautiful city, and, as anyone who has ever lived in the area will tell you, it's where all the ex-hippies went to live. Maybe that's why I loved the area so much! I was never a hippie so I can't be an ex-hippie, but I admire the good parts of the hippie movement and wish that I had been involved with it. I guess I'm a wannabe ex-hippie.

I could give you the short version of Asheville's history, but Wikipedia would do a better job. Suffice it to say that the city was largely abandoned and moneyless for decades while other cities were building and re-building. So, downtown Asheville is left with a grip of older style buildings that never got torn down while other cities were renovating. This anachronistic feel adds a real charm to the city.

From downtown we headed out to the Grove Park Inn, an old hotel that catered formerly to the very wealthy. Now it just caters to those with enough money to throw around. Asheville is also home to the Biltmore, another old-time luxury estate. In Asheville's early days, it was a retreat for the super-wealthy of the East Coast. Check out my pictures of the Grove park Inn.

We met Kath and Bob for a nice Italian dinner that night and then made our way back to their house. An attempt was made to watch Our Man In Havana, but I used part of this time to phone my parents, and Russell fell asleep during part of the movie. I slept very well that night on an inflatable mattress in Kath and Bob's lower workout room.

Part 13 and our arrival in Atlanta in the next post!

Until next time!

"Ah, west and wewaxation!"— Elmer Fudd in Wabbit Twouble

East Coast Wanderlog, Part 11

I very nearly skipped posting today— or at least delayed it until sometime later tonight. It's been a lazy day on my end. I sifted through today's Craigslist job postings with no luck, then I ran over to the store to get some coolant for my car and some fried chicken for my belly. During lunch I cranked up episode 1 of the fifth and final season of Queer As Folk, one of my favorite shows. Because it's been so expensive, I never bought the fifth season on DVD, and it's only just recently surfaced in my Netflix queue. I immediately watched an entire episode, followed by a second episode. That's a lot of TV for me for one day.

Speaking of Craigslist, I enjoyed an ironic moment on the phone with a friend a few days back. I believe I've described my single biggest gripe with Craigslist personal ads before, but allow me to summarize: Succinctly, 90% of all ad responders on Craigslist are idiots who don't bother to read the ads they're responding to. If you post an ad looking to meet someone and there is a single qualification in your ad— for instance, looking for someone with red hair— 90% of the responders will not have red hair. That's how stupid most of the responders are. About six weeks ago I happened to meet my friend Lauri for an fun evening and I was trying to explain this Craigslist phenomenon to her, but it wasn't making sense to her. Then I spoke with her on the phone a few days ago, and, without realizing what she was trying to describe, she was complaining about the Craigslist phenomenon back to me. It seems she had recently been posting and meeting only the worst that Craigslist had to offer. You coupled people have it so lucky— you don't know how fucked up the dating pool is these days.

Anyway, you're not here to listen to my dating rants. Back to the big story:

On Saturday morning, we got up early(ish) and hit the road. Naturally, Russell's mother would not let us leave before serving a final delicious breakfast and packing us some food for the road. Honestly, I could've stayed another week, his mother is such a wonderful hostess and cook! She even made pimento cheese sandwiches for us— from scratch! I say that with a bit of wonder because I've eaten pimento cheese many times in my life, but it's always been from a jar. It never occurred to me that someone could make it from scratch. Let me tell you, it was 100% better from scratch too! Later in the day, when I ate my sandwich, I was in heaven and mourned that there weren't more sandwiches for us. (As I write this, I am craving pimento cheese spread!)

We finally got on the road about 10 AM after a hearty round of goodbyes. I felt a little guilty driving off with Russell who had been with his folks for a month. I didn't want them to think that I was taking their son away!

Our path was to the south. One of the joys of traveling on the east coast is that you're constantly reminded of your progress. The states are small, and about the time you get used to being in one, you are crossing into another. If you ever wonder how far you have to go before reaching the next state, many of the states post their mile markers in descending order so that you know exactly how far away the border is. It really helps to make the miles pass. Unlike California, where you can get on a big open road and drive from sun-up to sun-down without ever leaving the state.

From New Jersey we passed into Delaware, and we passed through Delaware in a matter of minutes. (We only went through a small portion of the state.) From Delaware we passed into Maryland. In Maryland I discovered the latest thing in highway technology— a rest stop between the north- and southbound lanes, meaning you didn't have to exit the toll road to enjoy it. On top of that, it doubled as a food court, as there were half a dozen restaurants in the rest stop. Whoever designed it should be given a raise! I was able to get a cup of Starbucks, and Russell bought cookies from some ingenious Girl Scouts who had staked out the rest stop.

For those who are curious, we were traveling down Interstate 95. Before too long we found ourselves approaching Baltimore and decided to leave I-95 long enough to loop around the south side of the city. This worked remarkably well, and we were not once slowed by traffic. Again, in California, one loops around heavy traffic in order to get stuck in slightly less heavy traffic. In no time at all Washington DC lay on our horizon.

I had been warned that Washington is always good for traffic delays, but, even though it was now well into the afternoon, we ran into no problems at all. There was a stretch of a mile or so when we slowed down for what turned out to be a small spot of construction. That was all. As we passed through the city, there was an exit for Pennsylvania Avenue, and had we not been expected in Raleigh later in the evening, I would have suggested we exit and drive past that famous residence.

Virginia followed DC, and after driving in the state awhile I couldn't help but notice that the state is apparently no longer 'for lovers.' If you're old, like me, you'll recall that 'Virginia is for lovers' was a long-run tourism ad campaign. You used to see billboards and bumper stickers all over the place. No longer. You're on your own now in Virginia.

At the North Carolina border, we stopped at the welcoming center and rest stop. Russell picked up a map of the state, and I called my brother to let him know we were on our way. (Regular blog readers will recall that he lives with his family in Raleigh.)

I have to confess that I turned out to be an uninspiring travel companion beginning on this day. I warned Russell when I got to New Jersey (or sometime before then) that I fall asleep while traveling. Most of the time I absolutely can't help it. Despite whatever may be interesting to view outside the windows, the rhythm of the road puts me right out. This happens on trains and airplanes as well. For some reason that I can't explain, however, this drowsy never struck during those initial days in New Jersey. I rode the train in and out of New York, we spent the day driving around northern New Jersey, and another day driving around the southern part of the state. During all that traveling I never once fell asleep. Our trip south was a different story! I could hardly keep my eyes open most of the day, and it only got worse the next day. I felt so bad, leaving Russell basically alone for most of the day. My naps probably explain why I found the drive south quick and pleasant though.

Just past standard dinner time, we hit Raleigh and made our way to my brother's house. After a rest of a few minutes, though, the three of us headed out for dinner. If you'll recall, during my previous visit to Raleigh, we had tried to eat at a local Brazilian BBQ only to discover it closed for a private party. It was open on this night, however, and the three of us enjoyed a spectacular meal. I would rate the Brazilian BBQ that we go to here in California as slightly better— the buffet part of the meal is better and it's much cheaper— but the Raleigh restaurant had a wonderful live band performing jazz.

After dinner, Jeff, my brother, gave us a tour of the plant at Grenwich Bay. If you ever have the opportunity, do get a tour from him, because it is fascinating to see all the machines that perform the magic. It is also the best smelling tour you will ever take! After the plant tour then, we checked into a nearby hotel and got some shut eye.

Sorry this wasn't a more interesting post today, but it was a day spent driving. Part 12 tomorrow.

Until next time!

"Maryland is for crabs."— tourism motto for the state of Maryland

East Coast Wanderlog, Part 10

I swear, I did not think it would take me this long to write about my east coast trip. I am both astounded and happy to be at this point. However, I believe the remaining days of my trip will be covered much quicker.

Before I begin, let me pitch a TV show for a few minutes. I have become addicted to 30 Rock this season. When it debuted a few years ago, I watch some episodes and didn't think much of it. I missed most of the first season and all of the second season. This year for some reason I decided to give it another shot— and I was instantly hooked. The writing is very clever, and the show is not afraid to stray into 'wacky' for laughs. At the heart of the show's success are the characters portrayed by Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin. Their relationship— completely non-sexual, not even at the level of Sam and Diane during the fighting years— is fueled by the smartest repartee on television. It reminds one so much of the repartee in Bringing Up Baby or any of Katherine Hepburn's comedies. It could also be straight out of the Bob Hope and Bing Crosby Road movies. The rest of the characters are smartly written, and, much to my chagrin, the Tracy Morgan character has really grown on me. (Although, I still dislike that he has adopted this same character as his off-screen persona as well.) I'm not exactly sure when it airs, but Hulu always has the five most recent full episodes available for viewing. Check it out!

I used the conversion feature of my Kindle last night. I was poking around the Kindle forums when I saw that Baen books distributes a number of their science fiction books for free. So, I went to their website and checked out what was available. Most of it was stuff I had no desire to read, but I found several that were intriguing. All I had to do was register their email address as one authorized to send to my Kindle account. After that, I had four books sent to me for free (from Baen). Amazon charges 10 cents per conversion so I ended up spending 40 cents total to receive the books. They are otherwise indistinguishable from Amazon's own books.

Meanwhile, back in New Jersey:

Russell and I had agreed in advance that after our day in New York we could sleep in the next day. So I did! I had a wonderful night's sleep up in the attic and didn't stir until after 9 AM.

Our agenda for this day, Friday, was to visit Atlantic City. I just wanted to see the city and drop a few quarters into the slot machines. Russell had a larger nostalgic agenda planned for himself as he used to work in Atlantic City for Resorts International. In addition to spending some time running a carnival booth on the Boardwalk, he also drove a little tram up and down the Boardwalk. Unlike Las Vegas, where the casinos are all next to one another (for the most part), in Atlantic City, they are spread along the length of the Boardwalk. From one end, you cannot even see the casinos at the other end. Thus, the tram that would take tourists and other visitors up and down the Boardwalk.

I related to Russell and his family over one meal my own dim recollections of the Boardwalk. When we lived in New Jersey, there was no legal gambling and, naturally, there were no casinos. There was an active Boardwalk, however, and we once visited. For west-coasters, the best comparison is Venice Beach and the Santa Monica pier mixed together. There were tourist-y shops and carnival attractions, including rides, all up and down it. At one spot there used to be one of those giant slides, all metal with three or four gentle bumps on the way down. You would pay your dollar (or whatever) and ride down on a burlap sack. Or, more often, you would get on the burlap sack, and quickly have it fly out from underneath you so that you were riding down on your pants and knees, clutching the burlap sack like a victory flag. For some reason, even though I was terrified of heights at the time, I agreed to ride down the slide once. I had not counted on the stairs one took to get to the top of the slide, however. Much like that slow clackety-clack ride up the first hill of a roller coaster, sliders had to hoof it up a narrow staircase on the side of the slide. There were rails, of course. On one side was the slide itself, and on the other side was free air. I was frightened long before I got to the top, and, to make it worse, in my memory the back end of the slide was a plummet straight down into the ocean. The bottom end of the slide deposited one neatly onto the Boardwalk, but the back end hung over nothing but Atlantic Ocean. At least, that's how it is in my memory. I've never been able to confirm that. Needless to say, after clutching my burlap safety blanket all the way down, I never rode another giant slide again!

We set out for the New Jersey shore an hour or so before Noon. It took us about 90 minutes to get there, plus a few minutes for refreshments along the way. When you are yet a few miles from Atlantic City, it is a beautiful sight to behold. Most of the coastline here is marshy and flat, so when you take the final bend of the road leading you to the shore, the city appears in front of you like a mirage. It is white and golden in the hazy sun. Casino towers jut upwards from various places around the city.

When you cross the marsh, however, and enter the city, it is far different. Though many neighborhoods near the Boardwalk and the casinos have been torn down and re-erected over the years, their essential seediness remains. The older, un-renovated neighborhoods are even worse. So, long before one even gets close to a casino and the promise of riches, one is hit by a wave of poverty and desperation. I have long heard that all the revenue generated by gambling and casinos was never shared with the city itself, and it would be hard to deny that charge.

The next shock we discovered was that we had to pay, in advance, to park at a casino. If you, like me, do most of your gambling in Las Vegas, this seems unnatural and wrong. Why should a casino charge for parking? After all, they're going to get the money anyway. This was my next big hint that I wasn't about to enjoy the same gambling experience that I do occasionally in Las Vegas.

We eventually found our way into the casino operated by Resorts International. Again, what a shock. It reminded me of the Indian casinos we have here in California— miles and miles of slot machines peppered with wheelchairs and oxygen tanks. The atmosphere was sad and desperate. I found several slot machines to throw my money into, but got little joy in return. Continuing through, then, we exited out the back side of the casino, on to the Boardwalk. It was chilly and windy outside. We passed by a few cats, several sea gulls, and a couple dozen other strollers as we walked north. We passed by Trump's Taj Mahal without entering.

There isn't much else to say about Atlantic City. Maybe, had we come at a better time of the year, there would have been more to do. One entertainment pier that we passed by, full of rides and attractions, was completely closed up for Winter. We quickly wandered back to our entry point, got in the car, and drove home again. I had been curious to see Atlantic City. I believe that curiosity has been forever satisfied.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 11.

Until next time!

"Everything dies, baby, that's a fact, but maybe everything that dies some day comes back. Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty, and meet me tonight in Atlantic City."— Bruce Springsteen