Heartbreak and Highways

Hello,

I'm not quite sure where I left you all because the last 48 hours have been a goddamn whirlwind and I'm having trouble plotting it all out.

The Canada tour came to a close with one final visit to Niagara on the way across the border back to the States. Standing on the edge of the monsterous horseshoe falls, with water-spray blasting in your face, half a foot deep in snow, Dave and I looked at each other and gave a silent, mutual nod. We knew, beyond knowing, that we had to get as close to the equator as possible, as soon as possible.

The (replacement) tour bus dropped us back in Chinatown around 9pm, conveniently enough right next to the Hostel where we'd spend our last night with Michelle.

We caught a bus to Philly the next morning, and all too soon a cab swooped in to take Michelle away to her Science duties and away from us altogether, leaving us (me) broken-hearted outside the Hard-Rock Cafe. It was so sad.

To combat the blues, and test the new Boys-Only travel team, we planned out a quick hop across town to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, also known as the building with the steps that Rocky Balboa runs up at the end of a given training montage in a given Rocky movie. Yes we did run the steps, yes we did look like idiots, yes we do have photos. Unfortunately my laptop acting the fool so I can't upload them just yet. Suffice to say, they are touristy.

With a successful cross town bus ride under our belts, Dave and I were ready to tackle the Big Adventure. We found our way to the City Hall train station with 18 minutes to spare before the next airport train would arrive. Feeling peckish, I offered to dash up a few flights of steps to Pizza Hut and grab us some eats before the train got in. Stupidly, Dave agreed that was a good plan.

I made it to Pizza Hut ok but horror of horrors, there were no pepperoni's. The kid behind the counter assured me there would be Pepperoni's ready in 5 minutes, so I gave him my order and began wringing my hands.

I finally got the food and dashed back down to the platform, just in time to see the airport train pull up with a big NO FOOD NO DRINK sticker on the door. I managed to put away 1.5 slices of miniature pizza and 1 third of a medium diet pepsi in one mouthful, but had to dump the rest of the food. For the second time today, my heart was broken.

My spirits lifted a little when we go to the airport and the Thifty Hire Car Courtesy bus materialised in front of us immediately, very shortly after we were at the hire counter. Even considering the pizza incident above, this was the point where things went badly.

The booking on the Thrifty computer didnt include any insurance for the car or a GPS. That wasn't a problem, we just rang it up on the spot. The problem was that with the 15% holding charge Thifty pulled out of nowhere, the cost for hiring the car jumped up to a surprisingly large figure, and I had no idea if my credit card had enough to cover it.

Dave had apparently been hassling me all week to add some extra money to my credit card in case something like this happened. When I think back, I can kind of picture him saying it, but couldn't recall anything really concrete at the time. I HAD transferred SOME extra money to it the night before, but for the life of me I couldnt remember how much. The real stickler was that we could only use one credit card to make the purchase, and if the first transaction was declined, the card was locked out for 24 hours, so I had to be sure we'd get it right the first time.

The Thrifty Counter had no internet. We pumped a few lbs of change into their public phone but couldnt make it connect to anything other than a recorded message (in spanish). The only option was to ride the Thrifty courtesy bus back to the airport (enduring Superman eye-lasers from Dave) to find either some Internet or a working phone to get an exact balance on the card. Heart-breeeaaaaakkkkkkkkkk.

After a reverse-charge call to a very tired sounding Dad, and some exchange rate shenanegins, we finally confirmed that my card could probably cover it. We juggled some insurance options back at the Counter to make it cheaper too. Unfortunately we can no longer get away with destroying buildings, cars and people are still ok.

The card was swiped and praise god the car was ours. Seconds later, a couple of black guys working at the other counter pointed out that we were returning the car to L.A on the anniversary of Notorious B.I.G's . They even threw in some of his more famous quotations in case we didn't understand the gravity of the occasion. That, for me, was the icing on the cake. We had the car, we had a whole country to explore, and we had black guys quoting Biggie. Magic.

I asked Dave to drive first, because based on the flow of the days events so far, I was about due to crash something into a traffic island. We set the navigation to Washington D.C, simply because we couldn't think of anywhere else. A few miles into the journey, however, we pulled into a truckstop and bought an American Road Atlas. There, on the index page, with the whole country laid out for us, we concluded that we were cold, and decided to go to Miami.

For those playing at home, Miami is pretty much the south-eastern most point of the USA. We haven't yet done the mileage/time calculations, but we're pretty sure we can get there, have a swim, deal some coke and solve a homicide, and still have time to make it where we need to be.

The car is perfect for road tripping too. Its big (huge), quiet, has a pumping stereo and capable power. The only problem is the steering is a bit vague, and combined with the cars excess girth and our unfamiliarity with left hand drive means we're more often than not straddling two lanes like a drunk lady riding a mechanical bull.

The goofy handling combined with the aformentioned capable power earned me a set of flashing blue and red lights in the rear view, having been at the wheel for less than two hours.

I'd taken my driving cues from our New York taxi driver who insisted we must do the same speed as everyone else, regardless of the posted speed limit. So there I was, just outside of Baltimore, clipping along at 75+ in a 55 zone with this cop cruising along beside me. He was there for so long I figured he was cool with it, so I ignored him. Apparently he was taking the time to run the tags on our car, which came back as expired.

So we pulled over and had a chat. He seemed charmed by our accents and goofy colonial naivety, so he let us off with a warning about the speed and mumbled something about the tags, which roughly translated to "dont worry about it".

Dave was soon bored with taking orders from a bitchy sounding GPS unit, so he turned it off and started feeding me directions from the Atlas. We skirted around Washington and headed east in Virginia, Front Royal, Flint Hill, Sperryville, Culpeper and several other names too hilarious to mention. Dave took over the driving, and we basically ran all the backroads that were paralell to the main highway. It was really really pretty, even in the dark. So many beautiful Old White Money houses, each with its own pile of Chevy Silverados in the driveway and an American Flag on the roof.

After creeping around some residential neighbourhoods in Charlottesville, sniffing out wireless connections we could use to find directions to an internet cafe, we decided to stop farting around and put in one last burn for the night and make it to Richmond. And thats where we are now, the Richmond Holiday Inn. We got in around midnight and the amenities are very nice.

I am very excited now for the rest of the trip. We are one working laptop and cigarette lighter power adapter short of being completely self-sufficient in that car. Travel calculations permitting, we plan to hit Miami, then head north west, find some desert (or anywhere with temps above the 30F's), then head to Texas, then the Grand Canyon, then who knows.

I will return with pictures when I can.


<3

-md