polomex

A few months ago, I told my parents' landlord that if he had any other available properties, Nick and I would definitely be interested in renting from him. He told me he'd keep me informed.

As the weeks went by, and while we were on the road, we kept our ear to the ground about available spaces in Chicago. Given our financial situation and Nick's physical limitations, our options were few.

Tangent: I was a bit frustrated that, every time we contacted people (who were already living in a multi-person dwelling) who said they were looking for a roommate, we would be told, "Sorry, we're only looking for one person, not two." I understand that many folks think two men will take up twice as much space as one. But Nick spends 99% of his time either in bed or on a couch, so how much "space" could he be using?

Last week, I got a phone call from my mother saying her renter had a property available, but I had to call "NOW," lest we lose it to another applicant.

Now, I'm very uncomfortable when it comes to calling people. I can't explain why, but I get anxious when using the phone. I'm even more nervous about calling strangers. And even more nervous about "grown-up" phone calls. I prefer to leave that stuff to Nick, because I don't want to screw anything up. Plus, let's face it, between the two of us, he has the more authoritative voice.

But Nick wasn't home at the time, so I had to put on my big-boy hat and give the owner a call. We talked a few numbers and dates, and we agreed to take a look at the place on the coming weekend.

To be honest, we were already willing to take the place, sight unseen. We weren't sure we could bear another winter with Nick's mother, and while living on the road has introduced us to some neat faces and places, it takes its toll emotionally. I feel like there's a rift now between my Chicago friends and me, and I miss having a spot where I feel "safe," a place that isn't borrowed. So when we heard there was an available apartment within our budget, there was very little preventing us from moving right in. As long as the place didn't look like a scene from CSI, we were taking it.

So, last weekend, during an already scheduled trip to Chicago, we drove down to the apartment to have a look. First floor, no stairs. Already a bonus for Nick. New carpeting, huge pantry. We looked out all the windows, peeked inside all the closets, tested the lights. We looked at the outlets and began plotting where our tech toys would go. It's an old building, so it's nothing fancy to look at, but it's just what we needed. The next day, we visited the owner and gave him a down payment.

And with that, it was official. In 18 days, we will be back in Chicago. As residents.

Of course, with moving comes a variety of expenses, so our activities will be severely limited (more so) over the next couple months. But in the end, it will be worth it to be back home.

After a relaxing, wonderful time in the countryside of Connecticut, it was time for me to get my metropolitan fix. We hit the road, our sights set for Boston, Massachusetts.

When we met our hostess, Hazelnut, we knew we were in for a difficult time. I wish I could say she was temperamental, but she only had one mood: bitch. I decided that the best way to get along with her was to ignore her, and that seemed to work. Nick, however, was determined to have the feline acknowledge him, if not love him. Well, she definitely noticed him... via hisses and scratches. Not even a handful of treats could win her over. I'm grateful we left the place with all our limbs.

In other news, YAY! I finally touched the Atlantic Ocean. And yes, it really was the Atlantic this time. (The last time I thought I was touching the ocean, I was actually looking at the Gulf of Mexico. There was some debate on whether the gulf was considered part of the ocean.)

Unfortunately, while in Boston, we ran into a snafu with Nick's medications. Every state has different laws when it comes to controlled substances, and Nick's pain meds are so strong, they are regulated by the federal and state governments. There was a mix-up concerning Nick's doctor's handwritten prescription and Maryland's strict substance laws. Without going into boring detail we ended up in Newport, Rhode Island for a night, and one more state was added to the map.

Amusing Tweet of the trip: "This month, we visited East Coast. After we passed through NY, gay marriage. After hitting up Rhode Island, civil unions. You're welcome."

We returned to the Boston area and hung out with Bruiser, who had a much different approach than our previous hostess. He craved physical attention, if not outright demanded it, and Nick was more than happy to oblige with multiple pettings and scritches. Boston, like D.C., is jam-packed with historical things to look at and places to explore. I went on a couple drives through the city and engaged in a few touristy things, including my morbid fascination with old cemeteries.

When it came time to leave Boston, I assumed our fab trip was over, but Nick had a surprise in store for me. We drove through the state of New York and, on Independence Day, approached the Canadian border at Niagara Falls, New York. The roads and parking set-up were confusing, so once again, Nick sat in the car and waited for me while I, a bit confusedly, wandered through the park looking for the Falls. While I'm told that the better view is from the Canadian side, I still enjoyed the view and the fact that I was there. I waved hello to my Canadian friends and picked up a couple of postcards before searching for Nick in the parking lot.

D.C. was fun and enlightening, and a moment I will always remember. But it was time to move on before we overstayed our welcome. Our next stop was Wilmington, Delaware.

Our host, Latte, was a bit of a spaz, but she kept us very comfortable and well-fed. We enjoyed the well-decorated space, a few movies, delicious food, and impeccable company.

We took a day trip over to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania that Saturday. I didn't even realize how close we were to the city. Traffic was nasty, both going there and in the city itself, and parking was impossible. So I hopped out of the car and took a quick peek at the Liberty Bell and at Independence Hall while Nick drove in circles. I then picked up an adorable local, and we all went out for lunch. I, once again, indulged in the local delicacy: cheeeeeezsteeeaaaks. *nom*nom*nom*

From Delaware, we drove deep into the trees of East Haddam, Connecticut, where our host, Trouble, greeted us with open paws. Nick and I were here for the longest period of time, six nights, and we enjoyed every single day that we were there.

The ten-room house was a delight all by itself. Our windows were wide open the entire week, and Nick, a rural boy at heart, took deep breaths of the countryside air and fell asleep to the sounds of nature's nightlife. There was a comfortable sofa in every other room, perfect for the Bear to just drop and nap whenever he wanted to. I took advantage of the mostly-hidden yard and sunbathed without distraction, and I couldn't get over the fact that the house we were staying in was about 250 years old.

If that wasn't enough of a "history-gasm" for me, the drives through surrounding areas gave me my educational fix, including a visit to Essex (founded in 1852) and to Gillette's Castle, a genuine castle built as a private residence in 1914.

Our time in Connecticut was a delightful surprise, as we were both concerned that we might become a nuisance from staying so long. But both we and our hosts had an enjoyable experience, so much so that Nick continued talking about it even after our trip was complete.

After a whirlwind weekend in Virginia & D.C., we needed a moment to catch our breath. Monday, we drove through the countryside of Maryland and arrived in Westminster, about 35 miles northwest of Baltimore.

That night, Nick rested his sore back while our fab hosts drove me to a local carnival. Now, I had been to carnivals long ago, but this was less urban than I was accustomed to. At home, in Chicago, a couple of neighborhood streets and a business or church parking lot would be closed down to make room for the games and rides. (Poor nearby residents would be subjected to the noises for most of the day.) Here, the rides were the same, but the setting was very different: bubbas galore. Uff da. And of course, I couldn't help but uncomfortably giggle at the local gun enthusiasts' booth, hosting a rifle raffle.

Sidenote: When my brother and I were young, we took home two goldfish from a carnival booth. We hadn't won them, but the guy was trying to get rid of as many as possible before the fair closed up shop. Now, we all know that those carnival goldfish don't typically live longer than a couple months, and sure enough, one of them died after not too long. The other one? Lived for about seven years. We got the fish when I was in junior high; I had already gone away to college when it finally got the Royal Flush.

The next day, Nick continued resting while I explored Baltimore. My friend and I visited neighborhoods like Federal Hill, Fell's Point, and Mount Vernon. I silently gawked at the cobblestone roads, statues, and memorials. I don't usually show it well, but I was genuinely excited to see all the new places. I was even more excited that two more online friends became real-world friends.

Wednesday, hubster and I retraced our steps and went back to D.C. As I said, I'm not typically good at showing my excitement, but seeing all the politically and historically important structures made me literally bounce in my seat. Before stopping at our host's apartment, we visited a couple of attractions: the Washington Monument and the White House. Nick got as close as he could... which wasn't very close. He sat on benches near Constitution Ave, where the car was parked, while I ran ahead and explored.

Thursday, we hit up the Lincoln Memorial, the Korean War Memorial, and the Jefferson Memorial. Well, technically, I visited the attractions; Nick would either sit on a nearby bench or in the car. He had seen all of the attractions years ago, but sometimes it was disappointing that we couldn't share the experiences together.

One experience that we did share? D.C. traffic. Oy. Not only was the bumper-to-bumper gridlock stressful in itself, but the combination of confusing streets and a bewildered GPS occasionally caused some tense moments, to say the least. Occasionally, I had to play the part of "GPS translator." Nick was so busy watching the other cars on the road that he couldn't always look at the GPS to see what it meant by "Keep right, then stay in the left lane." Additionally, sometimes the GPS wanted to turn into questionable-looking alleys or turn onto streets that were closed off. Once it even suggested turning the wrong way onto a one-way street! How we ever got anywhere is a mystery.

So, remember how I said I was going to get better about writing more often? Yeah... about that. The thing is, I even set up an alarm on my calendar to go off about once a week, reminding me to write something, anything. Oh well.

Back in April, when we returned from our Route 66 trip, we didn't quite know where we were headed next. I desperately wanted to visit the east coast, so I began to put together a gameplan.

If you didn't get the memo, we're on a tight budget. (Ask me privately if you want details.) Hoping to both spend time with friends and tour the states as frugally as possible, we put out the call for available floorspace, couches, sofabeds, and guest beds.

Before I get to all that though, I must mention Bear Pride. Nick and I had some incredible people to thank for our wonderful weekend back home in Chicago. We met new friends and bonded with old ones. From Pre-Welcome Party to Welcome Party to Meet n' Greet to Big House to lobby judging to N2B... it was one of the best weekends I've had all year. Even an unexpected run-in with my ex couldn't ruin it. Thank you, all.

After a multitude of e-mails, text messages, phone calls, and even a Facebook poll, I had my map ready. Nick hesitantly handed the GPS to me, and off we went.

After a pit stop in Kentucky, our first destination was Atlanta, Georgia. This wasn't for touristy purposes though; we just wanted to relax and hang out with good friends there. We enjoyed some good eats, an action-packed movie, and my first skinny dip in a pool.

We bid our adieus and began our journey northward. We rested in North Carolina before arriving in Triangle, Virginia, within throwing distance of Quantico, home to one of the largest USMC bases in the world. The base hosts the DEA's training academy, the FBI academy, the FBI lab, and the presidential helicopter squadron. Awe. Some.

Much to Nick's delight, we caught up with a couple of his friends that he hadn't seen in 10-15 years. It seems that the tradition of throwing fab parties back in Chicago didn't fade away when they moved to the east coast. Nick was concerned because, as he explained, he wasn't as social and mobile as he was back then. And, in fact, he was dragged out to more activities within 72 hours than he's done in 72 weeks, haha. But he can't say that he didn't have a good time.

One of those activities was the infamous Bear Happy Hour at Town in D.C. I was amazed by both the size of the bar and by the size of the crowd. Though, we found out later, some of the crowd had splashed over from the party downstairs. We had the opportunity to say hello to several of our D.C. friends, and I downed two pitchers of beer. *hic* But there is a reason why Nick doesn't go to bars: the stools and benches just didn't provide the support his back needs. So after only a couple hours, we had to leave. We both would have liked to stay longer, but Nick was in pain, and that's a higher priority.

The next day, we went to D.C.'s Gay Pride parade. No, wait... we were in the Pride parade. Oh yes.

I had attended Chicago's Pride parade for the past 12 years, but one visit to D.C., and I was on a float. It was a very different experience being "on the other side." We waved and tossed beads to cute boys on the street. I danced and boogied to my heart's content, and even got a little bump 'n' grind action goin' on with my bubba hubba, all in front of thousands of people. It was, by far, the best way to see the Capital.

Because it was so close to where we were staying (and because admission is FREE), Nick and I visited the National Museum of the Marine Corps that Sunday. Opened in 2006, the military history museum is a cooperative effort between the USMC and the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation.

I walked through almost every exhibit, with Nick joining me when he could and sitting on provided benches when he needed to. While the exhibits from the 1800s mostly used info plaques and display cases, the most touching exhibits were from more recent history, which effectively used video clips and personal accounts. The Vietnam wing was especially difficult: weapons on display, lights flashing, and the dismal sounds of war were everywhere. As I climbed out the back of a cargo plane and emerged in the middle of a camp under attack, a feeling of dread and sadness came over me. Surrounded by "dead" and "injured" mannequins, I had conflicting emotions: I wanted to stay to honor the experience, but I also wanted to run away from the overwhelming discomfort.

The evening took on a lighter tone, fortunately. Nick, worn out from three days of activities, dropped me off downtown at The Green Lantern for the Bears Can Dance event. The DJ was disappointing. There was very little flow from song to song. Every 20 minutes there would be a drop in the beat or an odd song choice that didn't fit. As I looked at the 10-20 guys dancing and watched how they danced, I realized that most guys weren't there for the music itself; they just wanted any opportunity to bump up against some other big boy. But I don't dance that way. I don't typically dance with a partner for more than a few seconds because I actually like to move. No side-to-side Bear Shuffle for me, thankyouverymuch. So this DJ just wasn't cutting it for me. Ah well, it gave me more time to socialize with friends I recognized at the bar.

From there, a couple friends and I stopped by the Truck Stop to see what was going on there. It was late in the evening, but I was totally up for seeing something new and different. When we arrived however, the club was about to close, so the massive place was nearly empty: the DJ, two or three staff, and four guys chillin' at the bar. Surprisingly (or maybe not), I knew two of the people there: the DJ (a tweaked out meth-head who gets lots of publicity these days) and one of the boys at the bar. We recognized each other from the parade, but we had chatted a couple times before that, too. One more online friend became "real," so the visit wasn't a total bust.

And yes, finally, Virginia is where I noted that our host had four slim bookcases filled with DVDs in no recognizable order. The more I looked at them, the more it bothered me. "What if I'm looking for a specific title?" I thought. "Do I have to search the entire wall in order to find it?" I don't claim to be a neat freak--one look in my backpack or bedroom would nix that idea quickly--but I do like things to be arranged efficiently. I can be lazy sometimes, and I encourage any work I can do now that will save me effort later. Apparently though, my future hosts made note of my minor perfectionist moment and ribbed me over it when we arrived at their homes.

Our time in Virginia was short, but it was easily one of the best weekends ever. I wouldn't be surprised if we returned to celebrate another holiday.

If you had to give up swimming, skiing, hiking, or biking for the rest of your life, which would you choose, and why?

I don't do any of these activities on a regular basis, so I don't think it'd be too difficult to give up any of them.

Swimming: I never learned how. Sometimes people ask, "How is that possible?" I don't understand this question. How is it not possible? Where did you learn? I only remember two situations in which an instructor set out to teach me. But they were strangers to me, and I didn't trust them to protect me if something went wrong. Because these lessons never went well, I deliberately began to avoid pools and other opportunities to learn. In fact, that was one of the main reasons I chose the high school that I did: it didn't have a swimming pool. To this day, I am uncomfortable around pools, both out of fear and out of self-consciousness (body image issues).

Skiing: I only went skiing once, in high school. After a few tips and half-assed instructions from a tutor, we were led to the slopes. Woo hoo bunny slope! I was excited and pushed myself forward. It didn't take long to pick up speed. Too much speed, as far as I was concerned. I tried slowing myself down, especially as I was coming awfully close to running other skiers over, but my feet would not cooperate. And if I couldn't slow down, it was impossible for me to stop. At the bottom of the hill, I kept right on going, hitting the fence at the end of the park. Oof.

I told my friends what had happened, and we all laughed a bit. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, though I was frustrated that I wasn't "getting" it. I joined my friends on another hill. I'm honestly not certain what level slope I was on, but I remember the bottom looking so far away. Once again, I was excited and pushed forward. It wasn't long though before my feet were moving in different directions. I fell down, sliding down the hill backwards on my stomach. Oof. I had had enough. I picked up my skis and enjoyed the rest of the day inside.

Hiking: I want to say that I don't do this either, but I suppose that would depend on one's definition of the word. When I think "hiking," I think long, wooded trails, but I suppose long walks through urban environments could also count. If that's the case, I do this almost every time we visit a new city. Most recently, I went on a 3.5-mile walk through Tucumcari, New Mexico, and a 2-mile walk through Los Angeles. I skipped my usual stroll along the Strip in Las Vegas; I've done it so many times, I'm running out of things to look at.

Biking: Yeah, I can't do this either. I got my first (and only) bike as a Christmas present when I was about 8 or 9. It's not exactly easy to learn how to ride in Chicago winter snow, so it sat in the shed for a few months. When the weather was warm enough, my father and I took it to the park. I wobbled a bit, of course, and my dad kept a close eye on me. We made a tiny bit of progress, but my fear of the hard, unforgiving ground impeded me. I didn't get to a point where I was riding unassisted. My father and I decided to head back home and try again another day, when the bratty neighbor kid wasn't following along the whole way.

Only a couple days later, my brand-new bike was stolen out of the shed by some neighborhood fucktards. Seeing as I had only ridden it once, I had no attachment to it, and I wasn't especially broken-hearted. It was years before I understood just how much money my parents (and uncle) had invested in that thing. I never got another one.

On Friday, March 25, we left Laughlin and headed for--yup--Las Vegas. Once again, we landed in Imperial Palace (yay free room!), where once again we were offered the "love tub" room. We declined. Because we "downgraded," the desk clerk gave Nick some free slot play. (And the giggling commences in 3... 2...)

Saturday. Noon. I had been awake for about an hour and was checking Facebook while Nick slept in. Just another quiet vacation day until... BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP. A deafening alarm pierced through our room. BEEP BEEP BEEP. Nick groaned and threw a pillow over his head. BEEP BEEP BEEP. I stepped out onto the balcony. I had a hunch that if the alarm was widespread, there would be several other hotel guests peeking out from their rooms on their balconies. BEEP BEEP BEEP. But no one was there. In fact, the alarm was quieter outside. beep beep beep. Nick sat up in the bed. "Only us," he muttered. Hurricane in New Orleans. Ice storm in Atlanta. Tsunami in Long Beach. And now... fire in Las Vegas hotel.

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

We calmly got dressed and started putting our things together. BEEP BEEP BEEP. "Please remain calm, stay in your rooms, and await further instructions," a voice came over the speaker. BEEP BEEP BEEP Over the alarm, I heard another sound... drip drip drip. Was it coming from the bathroom? BEEP BEEP BEEP No. But close... I looked at the ceiling near the front door. drip drip drip. Water was coming through the ceiling. BEEP BEEP BEEP "What's that dripping sound?" Nick asked. "Water," I said. BEEP BEEP BEEP "So, the sprinklers are on upstairs."

BANGBANGBANG. I answered the door. A short man in a uniform told us BEEP BEEP BEEP to evacuate the room immediately. "Can we use the elevator? There's no way I'm making it down 14 floors of stairs," Nick said, grabbing his cane. BEEP BEEP BEEP Fortunately, the elevators in another tower were still functional. We grabbed our laptops and left for the parking garage. drip drip drip BEEP BEEP BEEP

We went for a drive and grabbed lunch. We knew it wasn't a fire--well, we were pretty sure--and it'd take some time for them to get everything sorted out. When we came back, the front desk attendant said they still didn't know exactly what the problem was, but the sprinklers were off. We were allowed to get our suitcases out of our room and move to another room in another tower.

The rest of our stay in the hotel was quiet, thank goodness, save for the music we could hear coming from Carnival Court. Come Wednesday, we packed up our things and headed for the infamous Kuma (ptooey!) Manor.

Many, many thanks go to our gracious hosts: Wally B, Bowser, Daisy, and Nala. Their roommates were friendly too, fortunately. I was happy to see Nick so comfortable, able to socialize at his own pace and to rest his back when he needed to. I got to chill with some awesome friends and even hit up the newest bar. It was a nice blend of both our ideal get-aways. We must return soon.

After what felt like too short of a stay, we packed up our things and began the long trek home, stopping in Winslow, Arizona; Tucumcari, New Mexico (again); Tulsa, Oklahoma; and Litchfield, Illinois. Good ol' Route 66, or what was left of it anyway. Little towns, little gift shops, a BIG gift shop, and plenty of rest stops all telling the story of "the Mother Road." Up until the Route's complete pavement in 1938, most cross-country travel had to take place on gravel and dirt. The road's completion marked a new era in the U.S., one that brought the entire country together via car.

Granted, we didn't travel on the original Road the entire way. In some places, it doesn't even exist anymore; it's incorporated into the interstate. But we drove along interstates that paralleled the Route, and whenever we stopped for food or sleep, we found ourselves directly on 66. So, for all intents and purposes, I believe I can say we traveled "the Main Street of America."



So, what now? Well, we're pausing here in rural Michigan for a few weeks. We're going to catch up on our laundry and hopefully see a few Chicago friends.

What next? We're still figuring that out. We've talked about going back to Atlanta, as well as Orlando. Maybe even Tennessee. I'm also anxious to see the East Coast and the northeast area. If you have room to spare for a couple of well-behaved husky hobos, let us know, please.

We left California on Monday, March 14, on a bit of a high--an emotional high, you greenheads--and returned to Vegas. This time, we landed in the "love tub" room in the Imperial Palace. This meant that our room had a mirror over the bed, and the shower and bathtub (which also had a mirrored ceiling) were located in the bedroom. Oh heyyyyy.

But this also meant that we were on the second floor of the building, very close to the casino. This ruined any chance of a steady cellular signal, making tethering difficult. I caught up on Twitter and Facebook via iPhone for three days, and paid the obnoxious price for wi-fi on the last day of our visit to catch up with everything else.

Knowing we'd only be staying for a few weekdays, I hadn't intended on hanging out with any locals. The timing was just off. But, completely to my surprise, at least four acquaintances from online were in town that week, all staying along the Strip. I got to hang out with three of them, adding an unexpected highlight to our brief second visit to Sin City. Ron and I discussed some of our favorite table games and strategies, while the Canadians and I enjoyed margaritas and "French" pastries.

Come Friday, we headed south for Laughlin, Nevada. Laughlin is... Laughlin. It's about 90 miles south of Las Vegas, in the far southern tip of the state. From our hotel window, you could easily see the Colorado River and, on the other side, Arizona. While some people I chatted with said they'd never heard of it, it's a very popular destination among road travelers. Old road travelers.

The majority of the local and visiting population was at least 15 years older than me and at most 60 years older. There wasn't much to see or do, so we spent a lot of time resting and catching up on Hulu. Not to mention, poor Nick had to have some emergency I&D; done on his leg, (and I had to help change the bandages, eek!) so he wasn't very mobile that week.

We left Las Vegas (the first time) on Monday, March 7, and landed in downtown Long Beach. Considering how many friends we have in the in Los Angeles area, and the number of years since my last visit, I knew we had to stop by. Nick, however, is not a fan of the L.A. traffic, so we compromised on staying just outside the city proper.



On our first full day in Long Beach, Nick and I met with Ronnie and Balde to try out Holé Molé, a local taco chain. Yes, you read that right. Nick came outside and socialized. Yay! My bubba hubba is not known for his social appearances, mostly due to his chronic back pain, so I'm always happy when he's able to join me. He fell in love with the restaurant and requested to go back a few times during the rest of our California stay. I was also exposed to Yogurtland, offering self-serve soft-serve frozen yogurt, which would probably prove dangerous if we lived in a place where they were readily available. But, then again, yogurt's good for you, right? No matter how many toppings you put on it...? *ahem*

That Wednesday, a recent friend, Tim, made the effort to come down from L.A. via train, for which I was very grateful. We walked a few blocks to Creama, where we enjoyed paninis and coffee drinks al fresco. The weather, the company, and the food all spoiled me to no end.

The evening brought with it the opportunity to meet and hang out with someone who I felt like I had known online for a billion years, give or take a day. Many of us have several online friends, and, as much as we may interact with them on a daily basis, it's easy to forget there is a real, live, tangible person behind those symbols and characters. And no matter how well we know someone online, it is no replacement for body language, speech patterns, and a real laugh (versus "lol"). Wil wiggled his way onto Nick's "favorites" list with a vicious backrub, and then Wil and I went out for sushi while Nick rested in the hotel. Nick's not very adventurous when it comes to sushi, so seeing as I was dining with a self-proclaimed connoisseur, I let Wil take the reins and ate whatever rice-covered odds and ends he put in front of me.

Thursday was an L.A. day, catching up with old friends. Nick and I stopped by my former-Chicagoan best friend's house to check out her California abode and, of course, her new engagement ring. Yay! Nikki and I gossiped about work, friends, men, and writing sessions over diner fries... just as we did 15 years ago...

From there, I walked to Rudy's place just seconds before Free walked in also. Yes, I walked. Apparently that's a strange phenomenon in L.A. We all chit-chatted a bit before grabbing dinner, sipping some coffee, and heading downtown to the Art Walk. (OMG Food trucks! We're not allowed to have them in Chicago. Sadness.) Some of the art was gorgeous; the overabundance of hipsters, however, was not. I ran into a couple more friends while walking around, and while I was very tempted by some of the handmade jewelry on display, I managed to make it back to the hotel without a dent in my wallet.

Now, we couldn't have a trip without some kind of weather alert, right? While I was walking around downtown, admiring art, a horrible earthquake hit Japan, and Nick had kept me updated on the scary images of entire buildings being washed away by the ocean. By Friday morning, most of the West Coast was under a tsunami warning. While a few boats were loosened from their moorings, the danger seemed minimal.

Nick and I, brave souls that we were, decided to go to Santa Monica Pier. I had visited the attraction on my very first visit to L.A. close to 10 years ago but hadn't been back since. I was elated to share the outing with the hubster. He doesn't usually dig the touristy stuff, so I was very happy that we had some time to ourselves outside of the car or a hotel.

Camilo and I did some much needed catching up, having our own little "date night," including dinner and a movie. We stopped by Hamburger Mary's, which was a bit surreal for me. The last time I had been there was at least 6 years ago, if not more. Seeing the restaurant, the bar, and the dance floor initiated a flood of memories, not only those related to that location, but also of my friends and my place in life at the time...

Saturday morning, I joined James for breakfast. It was a much quieter, much more fulfilling time than our last moment together deep in the bass thumps of Bear Bar. The afternoon was dedicated to another online friend whom I had known for a hundred years. Good food was accompanied by even better conversation and a beautiful drive along the coast. The evening: Italian with Jay, who later accompanied me to Bear Bar, where I shook my groove thing to my heart's content.

Sunday marked our last full day in Long Beach, and it was an emotional high. I'm not sure how much I want to share publicly, given that it involved very personal moments, both for me and for the people involved. But I do hope those people were able to feel what I sometimes have difficulty expressing.

Note to Self: Don't wait until the very end of a 6-week trip to go through all the photos. Whew. And I didn't even take as many as I thought I should have.

Many of my friends had remarked that living on the road must be "a writer's dream." And I suppose they're right. We've seen beautiful sections of desert and mountainous road that few of my friends have had the opportunity to traverse and tiny towns that most don't even know exist. I don't want to completely romanticize it though: there have been very long, very boring stretches of monotonous road and middle-of-nowhere, sad gas stations.

But back to the point, while it may be "a writer's dream," I'm not sure what or whom I'm writing for. Such lack of purpose or audience didn't bother me years ago. I'm not sure why it confuses me now.



We shoved off on Saturday, February 26, at about 10:30 a.m. (Eastern). Our first major destination for this trip was Las Vegas, Nevada. I'm sure no one is surprised by that. I cannot tell you how often we've been there, but my best estimate is between 14 to 18 times.

Along the way, we stopped in Metropolis, Illinois. Yes, just like Superman. And before you make any accusations, the town and its name existed 100 years before Superman met ink. The town is far from a big city though. In fact, the small Midwestern town doesn't even have a movie theater. The city does have a giant statue of the superhero as well as a museum dedicated to the comic book icon. Seeing as we had already been to the statue on one of our prior visits, this was a very low-key stop for us.

The only reason Sallisaw, Oklahoma, deserves a mention is because Nick, unable to resist the temptations of a casino across the street, decided to play a bit of poker with a few of the locals. They were drunk and played poorly. He came back to the room with most of their money, to the point where he said he was actually nervous to leave. Had it not been for the town's remoteness, I might have encouraged him to stay longer.

Tucumcari, New Mexico. I had never heard of the town before March 1, but I was quickly fascinated with it. Once a popular stop along Route 66, the city had a "tired but still kicking" feel to it. It reminded me of Radiator Springs in Pixar's "Cars." The old Route runs right through the middle of the city, and the boulevard is lined with vintage motels and gasoline service stations. A few of the buildings are abandoned, and weeds have taken the place of cross-country travelers. But decades-old neon signs still flicker at night, advertising comfortable beds and refrigerated air.

Though not a stopping point, we did visit Winslow, Arizona, and its park commemorating the Eagles' song "Take It Easy." The corner attraction has a two-story mural and a life-size bronze statue near a lamp post. Well, I'm standin' on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, and such a fine sight to see. It's a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowin' down to take a look at me...

Our first visit to Las Vegas on this trip was hosted by Planet Hollywood, where our room was Power Rangers-themed. (Did you know that movie is 16 years old? Dayum.) There was plenty of eye candy to take in, since it was NASCAR weekend. Mmhmmmm. Highlights included a night with the local boys at the Fun Hog and catching "I Am Number Four" at South Point.

To be continued...