San Diego Nights

Since I know virtually nobody in this town, I'm forced into the night scene alone. It's a very strange experience at first. I had dealt with it a few times along my drive over here. But now that this is my permanent residence, I get to learn about the scene and adapt to it.

It's most ideal for me to check things out after work. I work until 11pm, walk ten minutes east and I'm in the Gaslamp Quarter, the heart of downtown San Diego's social scene. San Diego is very casual. I work in a suit, so when I hit the bars, I tend to stand out quite a bit. Being all alone, even more so.

My first night on the town, I discovered that the Gaslamp is a loud concentrated section of bars and clubs. The busiest places charge at the door. Partly because I'm cheap, and also partly because I just know better, if a place charges at the door, it usually sucks inside. The cover charges here range from $5 to $20. I sought out the places that had no cover and found myself at a quiet Irish pub. Quiet compared to whatever else was around. Irish compared to whatever else was around.

I had no plan, so I just took a stool at the bar and people-watched. I think the bartender appreciated having someone dressed in a suit in his place. After maybe 10 minutes of just relaxing and observing a young woman decided to chat me up for some time. More focused on why someone would come out alone, in a suit, the conversation eventually grew a bit annoying. When she offered her number under the circumstances that I must call her, I was honest and declined.

I believe it's really tough for a lady to offer her number rather than have someone ask for it, so I felt a little bad. But in the end I guess it's a tiny confidence boost for me.

Two days later, I ventured out again after work in search of the Whistle Stop Bar. Two people at work recommended it for a fun atmosphere. Turns out it was a hipster haven. I left New York hoping to never see another goofy hipster again, and it turns out there are plenty of them here too.

Again, it's after work, so I'm in a suit, standing amidst a room of dirty hipsters. Like a sore thumb, I stuck out. The bartender was either too busy, or didn't wish to pay me any attention. So after five minutes of waiting, I took off for another spot down the street.

Fortunately it was not hipster headquarters. This bar was big, new, and they not only played awesome late 80's early 90's music, but they also played the music videos for the songs. The bartender was happy to serve her new patron who wasn't dressed like a bum. I got a Tanqueray&Tonic and just relaxed, watching an old Bobby Brown video. This place was cool.

I noticed, from the corner of my eye, a girl left her table of friends to come and order a beer at the corner of the bar. She got her beer and sat right there. Didn't return to her table. I must've looked her way. She asked me why I wasn't drinking beer. I probably told her that it's bad for you. I invited her to the seat next to me and we chatted for about twenty minutes about anything.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I don't chat about anything with anyone for twenty minutes.

I took her phone number. Called her two days later. We had lunch. I wasn't really into her after that. I think it's mutual.

Halloween Eve. Plenty of people are out in costume. Me, suit, again. I like the suit. I believe in the suit. Stand out. Look classy. My concierge gave me a list of rooftop bars through the city, but since she's an older lady, she would never venture out late at night to try them out. I figured I would check some out, since I'm going out anyway, and give her some feedback.

Still, I won't go anywhere with a cover charge. So I try the first one. No cover, but there's an enormous line. Just as bad as a cover charge. Bars here close at 2am, so why waste thirty minutes on a line? Next.

Another no-cover spot, no line either. A quick elevator trip to the rooftop. It felt a little TOO modern for me and I was really turned off by the fact that the bar had no seating. Being out alone is tough enough, but STANDING alone just seems unbearable. Anyhow, I was standing for 8 hours at work. Gimme a seat. Next.

Hard Rock Hotel has a rooftop bar, so I go to check that out. Before I get in the elevator, the hostess says "twenty dollars". I told her "good night".

There were plenty more bars on the list, but I was getting the feeling that a rooftop bar just wasn't going to do it for me. So I stopped at a little place called Cafe Sevilla. Tapas restaurant and bar. No cover. Live music. Two guitarists playing classic Spanish songs and throwing in a few modern rock verses to keep the crowd thinking.

Typical me, I sit at the bar and relax. I get my drink and turn to face the guitarists. They're frickin' amazing. Some couples are dancing in what little space the bar had. I'm sitting next to "Flo" from the Progressive Insurance commercials. With her is a 6'2" "Jail Bird". Jail Bird's sister is a 5'10" "Poker Dealer from Hell". Poker Dealer from Hell is quite attractive. She's being hovered over by two anxious older guys from either Italy or Spain. Jail Bird and Flo see me laughing at those guys and we talk a little bit, especially after I brought up Flo's very cool costume.

The two older guys start dancing with Poker Dealer from Hell and her sister Jail Bird. I tell Flo she looks like she's Anglo and she tells me she's half Irish, half French. Yatta yatta yatta. I'm just relaxing enjoying myself and being friendly. I look at Poker Dealer from Hell and laugh at how ridiculous these older guys are. She pulls my arm and forces me (not that I was really fighting) to dance with her. I was never good at dancing to Spanish music, but somehow I pulled it off well enough to convince a South American. Poker Dealer from Hell and Jail Bird are two very tall black girls. Turns out they're actually from Columbia. Jail Bird's accent seemed much thicker than Poker Dealer from Hell's. Regardless, we exchange numbers and I had an awesome time.

To recap: I didn't pay a cover charge. I didn't wait on a line. I didn't have to go to some trendy over-priced rooftop. Found a low-key off-beat place and it turned out to have the best atmosphere.

The New Job

Coming from a world famous Manhattan hotel with 1,413 rooms and going to a San Diego hotel with 337 rooms, needless to say, is a big change. It's so quiet here and that's not something that I'm used to. Hours go by, in my work day, where I have literally nothing to do. I'm supervising the Front Desk and my agents also have nothing to do. Whether the hotel is sold out or half full, we complete our tasks in the beginning of our shifts and wait as guests slowly trickle into the lobby.

Back at the Waldorf, we're almost always sold out, there's always a guest coming to the desk and we cherish the rare dull moments when you can breathe and chat with your neighbor. Back at the Waldorf, you don't just get one guest. You get a line through the lobby just before your shift is about to end, and you're sold out, and you're trying to put non-smokers into smoking rooms, and you're trying to convince a 6'2" man to sleep in a full size bed even though he reserved a king size. Back at the Waldorf you're oversold by ten rooms and it's midnight and there are still rooms that are vacant and dirty. Back at the Waldorf, if you haven't argued with self-important people over the most insignificant bullshit and pondered your own purpose on this Earth, your day is not complete.

This quiet little hotel in downtown San Diego seems almost laughable. What did Manhattan do to me? It gave me a thick skin. It prepared me to come here and supervise with ease. Will San Diego let me go soft? Everything here goes smoothly. We don't have 20 different types of rooms. We have about 4 and then a choice of two views. Our managers don't work 14 hour shifts. Some of them duck out early. We are never oversold. We sold out once while I was here and every guest got what they wanted. We have all of our rooms assigned by 7pm.

The true challenge, though, is bringing to this hotel some of the standards that have been ingrained in me. Instructing the Front Desk agents on how to act, how to handle angry and demanding guests, proper verbiage. All the stuff I rolled my eyes at while I was at the Waldorf. Explaining to my new managers what I expect from them and what they can expect from me, and showing them how things worked at the Waldorf and why it may or may not work for us on this smaller scale.

Most of the Front Office staff started just two or three months ago and it was clearly stated when the position was offered that they predict I would provide positive insight to the team. At the end of my first week there, I can already see what it is that I need to do. I just hope I don't offend anyone.

My Roommates Have Interesting Shot Glasses

From Cross Country

San Diego

Ian warned me about California drivers. He said that they tend to drive in the left lane, even if they're driving slow. They don't care who is behind them. They don't know that the left lane is for passing. Shortly after I crossed into California, I discovered he was telling the truth. Be it three or four lanes of highway, there's someone in the left lane, who is not passing anyone. I had to pass them on the right. I even drove behind someone who got out of the left lane to let me pass, and then once I passed, they came right back into the left lane. Unbelievable.

So what can I say about San Diego?

I'll admit, when I arrived, it was a mixture of happiness and sadness. I was very excited to meet my new roommates, to see the city and I was excited that I had actually made it. On the other hand, I was deeply saddened that my trip was coming to an end. There would be no new city each day. It was going to be this city everyday for a long time now. The reality of my situation quickly became apparent.

I must've looked at my new apartment on google maps a dozen times. As I reached a street that I remembered from the map, I became very anxious. University Avenue is a major road through the Eastern part of San Diego. As I followed it, stopping at many traffic lights, I looked around and tried to imagine this place as home. The buildings are brightly colored, white, yellow, and pink, standing no taller than three stories. The Sun, in a clear sky, beat down on the city and gave it a hot glow. This is City Heights.

I made a right turn, left turn up a steep hill and my apartment building came into view, perched at the top. I had seen this all on Google Streetview, so it was like driving it for a second time. I parked my car on the side of the street and stepped out. I stretched and I took a long breath.

At the front entrance of the building is some overly complicated code system just to ring upstairs. I looked at it for a few seconds and before I could even try any buttons, someone came out the front entrance and I slipped inside. Technically, I could be trespassing on my first day in San Diego. I knew, just from the pictures of the apartment in the ad, that I was on the fourth floor. The actual apartment number has no fours in it though. The elevator is the slowest elevator I've ever been in. Later on that day, I reached the fourth floor and found #191. No doorbell, so I knocked

Lacey answered. She's tall, blonde, quiet. She showed me around the place, but again, I had already been here through the pictures. It was familiar but brand new at the same time. Nobody else was home so Lacey helped me unload the car.

Sarina came home a few hours later. She's shorter, reddish brown hair, and speaks her mind. They've been best friends since high school after they discovered a boy they both dated reused poems and love letters on them. His picture is on our refrigerator. A goofy young guy, shirtless, pretending to flex muscles, smiling with a mouthful of braces.

It doesn't take me quite as long to open up to new people anymore. On day one, we were strangers, on day two, new friends. My only friends, so far, here in San Diego.

Vegas.

The desert seemed as if it were never going to end. I had considered stopping to see Bryce Canyon in Utah, but it would've added an extra day to my trip. Driving was becoming a real chore. So many days and so many hours in the driver seat were taking a toll on my back. Even when I got tired and stopped at a rest area to nap, my car was so full with my belongings that I couldn't angle the seat back any more. I wanted to reach my destination already. The girl from the Holiday Inn suggested a decent hike through Bryce Canyon would take hours. Vegas was going to be my next stop. I could always come back to Utah some other time with friends anyway. Probably safer to do a canyon hike when I'm not alone.

Hotels.com had a lot of results for one night in Las Vegas. Rooms were going for as low as $20. I couldn't believe it at first, but I recall hearing how much the city was suffering because of all the panic surrounding the economy. Circus Circus had a room for $24, but Gerard mentioned, during Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, that it was old and run-down. Plus, the Congress Airport Inn of St. Louis was still a fresh memory for me. When I saw that the Luxor offered a room for only $60, I figured that would be a good choice for the night. A contemporary hotel and a very affordable rate.

I continued driving south through Utah. I was now on the Interstate 15. Paul and also some of the people I had met in Denver warned me about a stretch of highway in Utah where there is no gas station for about 200 miles. I was on alert the entire time. I kept an eye out for highway gas station signs to see if any of them noted the distance to the next station. None did, this kept me on edge even more. Throughout the entire trip I never let my tank go below one quarter full, so as it neared the one quarter mark, and I had to relieve myself, I pulled off to a Chevron across the highway from one of many tiny middle-of-nowhere towns. These towns are so isolated you wonder how they chose such a location. Maybe this is where you go when you join the witness protection program. Australia started out as a penal colony. Maybe in a few generations, these tiny outposts in Utah will be bustling communities comprised of the offspring of the witness protection program.

I stepped out of the car and began fueling. A Chevron employee came out of the garage and began cleaning all of my windows. This is totally alien to me. I asked him about that stretch of highway with no gas stops and he seemed to think that I was heading in the opposite direction, but when I told him I was headed for Vegas he replied that I had already passed that stretch of highway. "You done good", he said. That gas station might have had the cleanest restrooms ever.

Interstate 15 doesn't go directly from Utah to Nevada. It actually cuts through the northwest corner of Arizona. So for about 25 minutes I was in Arizona. Oddly enough, the desert looks just a little different there. I little brighter, a little more red.

Nevada seemed a little more pale, but the Sun was getting in front of me by this time. The highway is lined with billboards for casinos and shooting ranges. After the state line it's still quite a ways in until you reach Vegas and on that final turn, you roll over a hill and see way out in the faded distance, a glistening oasis of skyscrapers. The overpasses and streets stretch out from the city like roots.

The Luxor is a pyramid and two towers. There's a whole Egyptian theme going on in there. And just like a pyramid, it's a mystery to find your way around the place. Casinos always seem to be designed so that in order to get anywhere you must zig zag through the casino floor. I really don't know if that helps or hurts the casino's revenue, because I always find it frustrating. I checked in, got my key and was then instructed to cross the casino floor to find the elevator up to my room. It took me a while but I eventually found it.

The room continues the whole cheap Egyptian theme and that's no big deal, really. But what is really cool about the room is that it's on the pyramid wall. I wasn't sure the first time I rode, but the elevators travel diagonally with the shape of the pyramid. And so in my room, one window is the glass pyramid wall. As I went to check out the view, I bumped my head on the slanted glass.

I didn't walk around all of Vegas, I checked out the Luxor, and the Mandalay Bay and Excalibur which are connected. I took a quick glance at New York, New York, but I didn't think it was a very convincing set up. Don't go to Vegas to see New York. I also got to take a peek at Planet Hollywood but I cut it short as I was getting very hungry. Eating alone is no fun, but I did it in almost every city along the way. I usually eat fast without saying much anyway.

When I went to Atlantic City with Ryan, I had a really awesome time. That was the time I discovered that gambling sucks and that the nightlife there is really uninhibited. In order to have a full experience in Las Vegas, I knew I would have to check out a club. Much like eating, going out to a club all alone is not a proud experience, but considering my situation, I just had to suck it up and go. I'm glad I did because now I know that I'd love to go back to Vegas with some friends.

Green River, Utah

After Colorado's enormous mountains towering over you, you don't expect the scenery to get any cooler, but I think Utah had the best "backdrop" of all the states. As the Rockie's fade away behind you, they are replaced by strange crooked mesa and small mountains in pink and beige. They are so distant that they don't seem so real. Like when I was twelve and saw the Grand Canyon, the other side of the canyon was so far away that I would've sworn it was a painting placed just outside my reach. Utah's terrain was just like that. Everything was so spread out. Looking at my pictures, I know they don't come close to doing it justice because you can't just look at it on your screen. You have to open the window of the car and feel it. You have to park the car at one of the many View Points and stand on the pale dry Earth. I did just that, turned the car off and hopped out. With a bit of hesitation, I stepped off the paved walkway and stood flat on the dirt. I almost got a chill because it is so different than stepping off the sidewalk in Astoria. Utah, except for its sprinkling of vegetation, makes you think you are on Mars. It's empty, it's dry, and it's so far from home. It's a desert and you don't dare drive your car off the highway for fear that you will immediately die of thirst, have the crows pick your corpse clean, and your skeleton just become part of the landscape.

I already knew this country was enormous as a whole. Kansas taught me that. But Utah was like an older wiser man who puts his hand on your shoulder, shakes his head and says, "no, Dan you still don't quite understand just how large this place is."

From Cross Country

From Cross Country

I stopped in Green River. It's a small town on the highway. It's basically one strip of of road that intersects with the interstate. There's a couple gas stations, a bunch of hotels, some restaurants. I didn't really explore. Tamarisk, looked like a nice restaurant. I sat alone at my table with a view of an enormous mesa right outside the city limits. The food was weak.

I asked the Front Desk at my hotel about what people do here at night. I figured I could find a bar nearby. Every town has some type of watering hole. Green River has one. The girl at the front desk advised me not to go there. On the topic of me being an outsider she said nobody would bother me, as long as I'm just passing through. If I were to move in permanently, however, she said then people might have a problem. Hmm.

I stayed inside the rest of the night. Traveling alone can be a bummer, but usually you can get out and entertain yourself. Being cooped up at the Holiday Inn Express all night is no fun.

I got up early in the morning. Ate in the hotel, planned my trip to the next state. The drive through the rest of Utah was, unsurprisingly, also beautiful. And seeing it as the Sun was just above the horizon made it even lovelier. The rock formations changed shapes and angles. There are beautiful hills and canyons to drive through. I started thinking about all the cool Wild West stories that may have been inspired by places like these. I also wondered how many spots out there have never had a human being walk over them. There were more mesas that were probably 1,000 feet high and they had vegetation on top of them. I hope Utah stays as desolate as it is now, because that's a major part of it's beauty.

Colorful Colorado

Before I reached Colorado, I had to drive through a few more hours of Kansas. When I thought it couldn't get any flatter, it got flatter, and flatter still. Endless plains on either side of me. I got very tired despite a full night of rest, so it may have been the straight boring highway and lack of landmarks that wore me out. I made a few rest stops here and there just to ease the pain.

When I crossed into Colorado I was anxious to see mountains. I forgot whether or not Denver was close to the state line. When I saw a pale blue object along the horizon, I thought I was looking at mountains. For about an hour, I drove toward this thing trying to decide if it was a big blue cloud or a faded mountain range. It turns out that was no mountain range, but just a coincidental cloud formation. Denver and the Rocky Mountains are not very close to the border. It was some time later that I finally saw the true Rockies.

From Cross Country

Denver's another great looking city that's cleaner than New York. Paul arranged for me to crash with some of his old friends, Molly and Irene, who now live in the suburbs of Denver. I got there much too early and they were still busy. Conveniently, beside their building is a bar with wifi, so I managed to entertain myself while I waited for them.

When she got out of her class, Irene met me there, we had a drink and she invited another friend along. We all went out for Japanese at Sushi Tazu. Really tasty sushi. Then we went to downtown Denver and hit the bars. It was Tuesday and Denver was virtually dead. Either way, I was tired. I had woken up extremely early, and it was getting late. As the group was just starting to have fun and Molly got out of work and joined us, I was falling asleep at our table. Not long after, they took me home and I went to sleep on their couch.

I awoke, again, bright and early. I heard Molly getting up a little later, she had to teach her kindergarten class. We left the apartment together and that concluded my time in Denver.

Denver sits just east of the Rocky Mountains. Drive west on I-70 for just a little while and you'll find yourself climbing up higher and higher. You'll be in a neighborhood where peoples homes sit on the tops and sides of big brown mountains with even bigger snow-capped mountains way off in the distance. It's like nothing I've seen before. The Honda Fit barely maintained its speed going up the hills. Then, going downhill is a frightening experience. You shift to a low gear and you try not to rely on your brakes as your car just begins to accelerate on its own. The confident local drivers just breeze past you and take the hill at full speed. I was too focused on driving to truly appreciate the view at that moment, but once the highway leveled out, I got to see the Rockies from within.

From Cross Country

From Cross Country

From Cross Country

From Cross Country

I saw four rams just wandering by the side of the highway and I noticed a dead coyota being pecked at by a couple of crows. There were a few cool mountain tunnels to drive through, too. It's such a beautiful ride with nice curving roads. I wish my car wasn't so packed so I could've had a little more fun on those turns.

Some Photos

From Cross Country

My car, filled to capacity.

From Cross Country

I want that.

From Cross Country

Kingsley Street Band of Indianapolis. They were awesome.

From Cross Country

Saint Louis, after dinner.

The Most Beautiful Place, so far...

I was nervous about Kansas. It's a big state, which most people will tell you, is full of nothing. From the east, it starts off a little hilly, but the further you go, the flatter it gets. Each new city and state I reach, the reality of this trip washes over me more and more. Kansas has been no exception. It looks like no other place I've been. It's a beige plain on either side of the highway until it hits the horizon of smeared gray-blue clouds. This is the most beautiful state I've seen so far. It's not about architecture or clean streets. It's about endless plains, grazing cattle with no farms or houses in sight, and wondering whether living in such an isolated place is better than being in a big city.

My first stop was at a gas station. I had a quarter tank left and didn't wanna risk going any further without filling up. It was a road perpendicular to the interstate. The road ran off beyond the horizon. The only thing at the intersection was the gas station and a small general store. Me, with my Honda Fit, New York plates. Pickup trucks that all say Kansas. Fat bearded burly middle-Americans with worn-out cowboy hats. I didn't hang around there too long.

My second stop was Abilene, the birthplace of Dwight D Eisenhower. The billboard on the highway said it was a mansion, but Eisenhower's home is tiny. I followed the signs to the Eisenhower Presidential Library and Museum. I can't stop thinking about my plates. I imagine that they are giant neon signs that say "this guy is lost". I didn't check out the Library or the Museum, I went straight for the "mansion". There's a side door that reads "exit", I walked around on a small path and found the entrance. The door said "open" and listed the hours, but I didn't seem open. I opened the screen door and then the main door. A bell chimed as I pushed it from the frame. When I stepped inside I saw nobody and fought the urge to say "hello?". Too many horror movies involve a young man from out of town stepping into a creepy 19th century home and asking "hello?". So I stood in the hallway for a moment and then heard some movement at the other end. A short old lady crept around the corner and immediately began reciting the history of Eisenhower and his home. "This is the birthplace of Dwight D. Eisenhower. To your right is the bedroom where he and his brothers slept..." Creepy! I could only just stand there and listen and look through the doorways of the rooms she discussed. She showed where each person slept, the piano where Dwight's younger brother played, a quilt their grandfather wove. It really was pretty neat. As we got around to the dining room, the woman made her first gesture, this whole tour, toward two pictures hung on the wall above a plastic case filled with donations. And so I realized the tour was over.

My third stop, the city of Hays. It's a lot busier than I expected. There's a museum of natural history here, but I'm gonna skip it and just use this day to relax before my drive to Colorado.

Kansas City, Missouri

I want to announce that before I reached my next stop, I had the honor of driving through the hometown of David Cook, American Idol's 2008 winner. Jealous?

Since I left St. Louis so early on a Sunday, I reached Kansas City before noon. Every corner I turned, I could count the number of people on one hand. I was really worried that Sunday would be so dead here, I would miss out on anything interesting. The center of the city is pretty small, but there's some really neat contemporary buildings to look at.

I wanted to stroll around, but first I wanted to find a hotel. After my experience with the Congress Airport Inn, I wanted to make sure I chose a nice place. I was willing to pay for the comfort and safety of a reputable hotel. Now it's Sunday, so the city should be empty and rates should be low. But it just so happens that all hotels were nearly full because of some convention going on. Marriott wanted $199, Crown Plaza, Hilton, and Holiday Inn were sold out. I roamed around a bit but couldn't find any other hotels.

I came across the Power and Light district, a plaza of restaurants, bars and shops with a giant outdoor television screen playing the Chiefs - Giants game. Gordon Biersch, a restaurant/bar in the plaza, was pretty lively so I went in and asked the bartender if they had wifi. Fortunately, she said yes. So I had a snack and a drink while researching hotels online and I found a cheap room in a Sheraton just fifteen minutes away, but right along the interstate. An hour later, I checked in. Beautiful room for just a little more than what I paid at the Congress Shit-Show Motel.

I wrote for a bit, but I was getting hungry. I didn't want to go back into the city just yet, so I asked a girl at the front desk for a food recommendation. She told me about Gates & Sons BBQ which is a competitor for best BBQ spot in KC. She said it's a 3 minute drive, which led me to ask how long it would take to walk. She said 5 minutes. I suppose in Manhattan a 3 minute drive could be a 5 minute walk. Either way, I didn't really think about how it didn't quite add up and I decided to walk. She gave me written directions and I was on my way. Through an eerie suburban neighborhood, I walked, along a state highway and across all four lanes, one and a half miles later, I was at Gates & Sons. Good food, would've driven there if I had to do it again because the food isn't worth the walk. Plus, I still had to walk the whole way back.

Kansas City, despite what I saw early in the day, is not dead on Sundays. The Power and Light district is actually open until 3am every day. It hosts a very energetic crowd that I think is from the nearby university. I cabbed it out there, had a few and chatted with a few people. Met a couple from New Jersey that was there to watch the Giants destroy the Chiefs. Nice town.

Saint Louis, Missouri

If you’re playing the radio as you enter Missouri from Illinois, you’ll know you’ve arrived when you find a station telling you to “do the stanky leg”. My first stop was the Congress Airport Inn, as recommended by a road-trip guide that I was given. $50 cash, 1 room, 1 night. Just wanted to check in, take a leak, and then I headed right back out to check out the city.

Now here is an attractive city. The central business district is small, but clean. But go a few blocks too many in any direction and you’ll see the depressed areas. Many store fronts are empty, boarded up, forgotten. But a few quiet streets boast new trendy shops. I had a few hours to kill before dinner with some dear friends, so I spent the time strolling around.

The first thing I did was go to see the Gateway Arch. If you haven’t seen it in person, allow me to ruin it for you by saying it is HUGE. I didn’t think it would be so big. It’s gigantic. Now, when you finally come out here to see it for yourself, you won’t be as surprised because now you know what to expect. On the other hand, I think it’s so big that even after telling you that, you’ll still be blown away at how large it is.

I did not, however, go inside the arch. I wanted to and I had plenty of time, so the long line didn’t bother me. But the security checkpoint deterred me, because since I’m travelling all alone, I am armed with a pocket knife at all times. I thought about hiding my knife somewhere in the park and then coming back for it later, but it’s a great knife, I didn’t want to risk losing it.

So I strolled about. From anywhere in the central district I could hear the cheers of the crowd at the Cardinals game. Also from anywhere in the central district, you can always see a part of the Gateway Arch. It was as if the thing was following me, watching me, like the Eye of Sauron. I walked with my back to the arch and my ears caught the sound of some drums echoing off the faces of the surrounding buildings. I couldn’t quite tell what type of music was playing, but I just headed in the direction. I walked faster and faster until my steps matched the beat of the drum and the nearer I got, the more clearer the music became. There was a small fair/market in the courtyard outside one of the skyscrapers. A few tents were set up selling handcrafts and photos. A small band played up on a stage. I found the source of the drums. The song: Billie Jean.

After being treated to dinner by some real good friends, it was time to go back to the motel to relax. Walking around and looking around a city all day will wear you out. When I first checked into the Congress Airport Inn, I knew that it was a skeevy place. But upon returning, I had to truly face my decision to stay here. The bathroom just didn’t feel right. I wouldn’t even take my shoes off in this place. I turned the TV on and sure enough it was already on the porno-all-day channel. The guy penetrating the girl on the couch looked like they met each other at my motel. My front door seemed a little too small for the doorframe. Soon, I didn’t want to sit on the bed or in the chair. How was I going to climb into this bed and sleep? I grabbed the yellow pages from the nightstand and quickly flipped to H and found another place to stay. I went to the front office and left my Domino’s Pizza key card in the slot of the bullet-proof glass. I told the little Indian lady that I didn’t want to stay here.

Twenty minutes down the road, I booked into the Quality Inn. I wanted to stay somewhere that had corporate standards. I knew a place like that would be reasonably clean because they had franchise regulations and executives to answer to. Sure enough, it was way cleaner than the scumhole I left behind.

I woke up before Sunrise and hit the road.

Indianapolis

The first thing I did when I got to Indianapolis was check out the War Memorial. It's got a beautiful obelisk and some great large classic architecture. I went inside the museum and snapped some pictures which I'll upload some other time. They have a huge selection of authentic war memorabilia. It's unfortunate that they put these old uniforms and clothing on the cheesiest of mannequins. It looked like a bad clothing store window. I was more interested in the displays that didn't have any mannequins. Especially the displayed WWII Japanese swords.

As mentioned earlier, I got the job at the hotel in San Diego. The human resources department there wants me to fill out their paperwork as soon as possible, even though they know that I'm on the road. So they asked for my itinerary so that they could have me stop at one of their managed hotels to do a drug test and sign some documents. That's kind of a pain in the butt, though I know that they need to finalize things as soon as possible. I told them I would be in Indianapolis on Friday and St. Louis on Saturday. When I reached Indianapolis I got a message from HR instructing me to stop into a local hotel and ask for the HR manager there. Naturally, the HR manager was not expecting me. She and I had a confused conversation as we tried to figure out what exactly it was that I was supposed see her about, but we eventually straightened everything out and she directed me to a local Occupational Health Center so that I could do a pre-employment drug screen. I hate peeing in cups. I also hate handing my cup of pee to another human being. But the drug screen didn't take too long.

From there, it was time to find a place to stay. The hotel where I met the lady from HR, was too pricey. The one across the street, barely cheaper. I wandered for a bit, but I was getting impatient. Driving around the center of Indianapolis can be tough if you don't know exactly where you plan to end up. Many of the streets are one-way and they aren't as clearly signed as Manhattan. I eventually parked in a municipal lot and shelled out the dough for a really nice hotel in competition with my current employers, because they offered me an even better rate. My room was gorgeous, clean, and was on the corner of Illinois and Ohio streets. Most of the city's center streets are named after states, but I thought it was funny I was at the corner of the two states surrounding my current state.

When it was time to eat, I checked out an Italian restaurant called Buca Di Beppo. It's an enormous eatery with nine dining rooms and there was still a 15 minute wait for parties of 3 or more. I was alone so they sat me at the bar right away. I asked the bartender to recommend a meal and a wine. Everything was delicious.

I walked back to the hotel and hopped into a cab. I told the Somalian driver to take me to the Jazz Cooker, 925 E Westfield Blvd. Based on a suggestion in a road trip book, I wanted to see some live music. It was quite a trek out of the city to find the spot, but when we pulled onto the street, we could hear the music right away. A band played outside on the patio. Two horns, keyboard, drums, bass guitar and a male and female vocalist. The Kingsley Street Band. These guys were on fire. They don't have a CD out yet, but kingsleystreetband.com is their myspace page. After the show was over, and after three tanqueray/tonics, it was time to get home. Cabs were plentiful in that area of the city so it was no trouble to get back to the hotel to immediately crash into my bed and sleep.

My Time in Ohio

The Bruce Lee Martial Arts Museum must have been some sort of hoax. I awoke in Columbus, OH, got a quick bite to eat and checked out of the motel. The trip over to Brice street in Reynoldsburg took about 20 minutes. The GPS lead the way and I was just along for the ride. It was raining and the interstate traffic was thick. My drive took me off the interstate, into the small town and I navigated just a few turns until I reached a small shopping plaza consisting of about five storefronts. I had reached my destination. What was supposed to be the Bruce Lee Martial Arts museum I had read about in some trip advisor, was actually some dude's "martial arts college", some small town dojo with a few martial arts posters nailed to its walls. A few of the posters were of Bruce Lee. The place was closed anyway. I was disappointed. Screw this town. I have a lot more driving to do. It was time to head over to Indianapolis.

For four hours, I drove westbound. I had left the rainy weather behind by the time I passed Dayton. When the sky cleared up I was able to appreciate the scenery. More farms, more fields, more barns and more silos. It wasn't so boring though. In fact, it's rather beautiful. I wouldn't describe it as desolate, but it is so incredibly wide open. Having left Queens where my next door neighbor was across five feet of hallway, I can only imagine what it's like to have a neighbor three to five miles away.

Wal-Mart

I'm staying in a cheap motel just outside Columbus, OH. The front desk clerk was happy to let me know that my room has a view of the Cracker Barrel restaurant. She was right, but she failed to mention how lovely it is. Still, this joint has two things my old hotel doesn't have. A pool (sauna *wink* steam), and free wifi throughout the facility.

I needed to get some toothpaste so I left the hotel and the nearest thing was a Wal-Mart. I'm not on an exotic vacation near the equator, I'm venturing into the Midwest. So I don't know why I was surprised. Wal-Mart reminds me of Binghamton, NY. Everyone in the Wal-Mart was either dangerously obese, bound to a motorized scooter chair, had some bad limp, or was missing teeth. I really did a 360 degree turn while I waited at the register and glanced at every visible person. They each had one of these characteristics. It was funny for a moment, but then seemed rather sad.

Tomorrow I'm gonna check out the Bruce Lee Martial Arts Museum and the Motorcycle Museum, then I'll take a quick stroll around the central Columbus area before I head off to Indiana.

The Penn

I hit the road in the afternoon. Drove the queens/midtown tunnel into Manhattan and then took the Lincoln tunnel into jersey. I was out of New York State and my trip had officially begun. My first stop was Bethlehem, PA, to see an old friend. The trip was short, but it felt long once the setting sun began to shine in my eyes. It was a powerful reminder that since I’m driving west, I should make sure I get my trips completed before the Sun starts to go down.

As always, it was nice to spend time with my good friend Scott who’s lived in Bethlehem since attending college there. His neighborhood is a real college area. I had forgotten what that atmosphere is like, and I enjoyed being in it again.

I left Scott’s at about 10am to begin the trip to my next destination. I knew that it was 7 hours away, but I didn’t really understand that until I began to drive it. Pennsylvania is a long state and it’s extremely rural between its two southern corners. I saw plenty of cows and silos and rotting old barns. I saw wheat fields and rolling hills. The rural scenery is beautiful and it reminded me that not everyone prefers the fast-paced urban lifestyle. I got pretty bored of the rural scene, but my trip was a bit more exciting while I got to drive through mountain tunnels. I went through four of them and was happy to have something new to look at each time. They’re really neat. Each mountain had two tunnels shot through it. It looked as if someone had taken a chunk of the Lincoln tunnel and jammed it into each mountain.

Since I had a long trip ahead of me and wanted to reach my stop, I didn’t stop anywhere to look around or take pictures. Actually, I didn’t see anything worth photographing, but since I kept to the interstate, I didn’t get to see Harrisburg or Pittsburgh

Most people know that I was heading out to California with no job secured for me. Luckily I did receive a phone-call during my trip from the regional hiring manager in San Diego. She called to announce that the position is mine if I were willing to accept it, and I was. So, there you have it, I’m still about 2000 miles from there, but I managed (with help) to nab a job. I also received a call from another property and they want to set up an interview.