05 27 05 1218 W - + 18 - 15 Standin' on the corner
Thursday morning, groggily stumbling through the living room. No Pepsi, no Dew, no go-juice of any sort. Nikki's on a cleaning stint, the word "danger" is flaring through caffeine-deprived synapses, but with it comes bitter determination. There is a couch in front of me, and a remote, and my laptop. And the cartoon network.
"No!" sang a voice of apathy and slackerdom through the core of my very being. "I will not clean today!"
Harvey was rummaging around collecting things, and I was leaning on the counter, that holiest of gateways between living room and kitchen, between couch and fridge, plotting my next move. Nikki asked him how long he would be in Winslow.
And just like that, I was awake. A chain of single word thoughts courses through my head, inevitably leading to one glorious, infinitely beautiful, all-important, two word conclusion.
Winslow -> far -> car -> "Road Trip".
I asked when he was leaving, trying to keep the sense of urgency from my voice, the sound of hope. 10 minutes, he said, soon as he found his shoes.
"For the love of god, man, I start work TUESDAY! TUESDAY! My summer is almost gone! Please, in the name of every game available on X-Box Live, please let me come with you!"
This is what the words were like in my head, they were what I felt, what I believed, what I ultimately wanted to express. However, for the sake of maintaining an air of casual disinterest, it came out more like,
"Uh... can I come?"
The girlfriend I love and adore, and I mean adore more than all tech I've ever owned, gave me a dirty look, which I absorbed and compiled, before discarding it in a whirlwind search that always accompanies the 30 second packing job.
"Sure," she grimaced. "Just leave all the cleaning to me."
"Clean until you think it's habitable," I called back, bolting into my room to find my travel pack, "leave the rest until we get back."
Find the flipflops, find the journal, grab a pen. Change of clothes, stuff it in. Head out the door. Run back back, grab the camera, stuff it in the pack. Run back out. Your MP3 player is already in the back seat of the car, as though having take seat to await it's purpose, to await it's calling. To await this very day.
That's the shotgun way.
It wasn't until we were halfway to Pheonix that I knew what the actual plan was:
Thursday-Afternoonish: Arrive in Pheonix, pick up Hanford, Harvey's older brother.
Thursday-Eveningish: Arrive in Flagstaff, meet up with our friend Rusty, and some girl named Rocky.
Thursday-8:00 PM: Be in Winslow to see Harvey's Younger Brother Graduate.
Rest of Thursday night: Drive back to Flagstaff, crash at Rusty and Tonii's.
Friday-Afternoon: Drive to Pheonix again.
Friday- 8:00 PM Harvey's Niece Graduates High School.
Rest of Friday Night: Either crash at Harvey's friend Julie's house, or just head home.
r v
Flagstaff doesn't even look like arizona. You smell pine everywhere you are, and there's green. Every instinct you have tells you this town should not be in the same geo-political grouping as the harsh, barren deserts that make up the rest of the state. We met up with Rusty outside the Circle K, went inside to say hi to Tonii. Got a massive hug. I like Tonii, she's... She's one of those people who are justwarm. She has a big grin and a huge hug for any friend that crosses her path.
Hours later, in Winslow... Harvey's giving me a tour of the town. I can taste the reservation in his voice. He knows I love seeing new places, he knows I've wanted to see Winslow for a while, and he's doing his best, pointing out the house where he learned how to benchpress girls, the building that burned down a few years ago, the 9/11 memorial made out of beams from the Twin Towers. We swung by the Oplinger compound. Everything had a story, had a significance, and I dug it all. But I could tell he didn't want to be here. And I couldn't fault him, I could never live in this place. It was the kind of old-school that tourists stopped through because it was in a song, they take pictures and call it Quaint, and then they get bored, get back in the car, and drive on, without a second thought to the god-forsaken souls who have to live there. Andrew likes to say the most beautiful view of WInslow, Arizona is the one you get in your rearview mirror.
Still, I was one of those tourists. Hell, I even... Yes, and I'm proud of this... I stood on the corner of Winslow, Arizona. There was a statue there, it kind of kicked ass.
"Hey Harv," I contemplated as we were getting back in the car, headed off to the truckstop. "How do they know which corner it was?"
Harvey looked over at me, a smirk plastered across his face. " 'Cause they arrested him. For loitering."
I laughed so hard my head nearly hit the dashboard.
I ended up hanging out at the Truckstop for most of graduation, talking with rusty, getting some steak, munching on some cheesecake, hearing more war-stories of the small town trapped in a barren wasteland.
Here's the thing about Winslow- There's two places to hang out. The Flying J truckstop (it's a gas station, it's a restaurant, it's a Circle K that sells radar jammers and laptop computers. It's everything you want it to be.) and the Creek, which is a swimming hole, make-out spot, lounging area, and "hey, let's go there and get high out of our minds" area, all in one. Rusty drove me by the creek. It was pitch black, I saw bare skin blur behind a dark bush, off where the car lights didn't quite reach. I grinned, we moved on.
Eventually we drove back to Flagstaff, and crashed at Tonii and Rusty's place, playing Smash Brothers Melee until 3 in the morning. More was played the next day, until we had to go back to Pheonix.
Pheonix again. Harvey's niece is graduating. Her name's' Nikita. Huge small party at her house afterwards, the kind with ice cream in the punch bowl, and little croissant sandwiches and two flavors of barbecue wings. We stayed for a bit, I was kind of done with being around too many people. I met a good chunk of Harvey's extended family.
This girl is that girl's half sister. That one is Harvey's sister, whose daughter just graduated high school. That woman over there in the blue dress with yellow flowers, she's Harvey's father's first wife.
A rueful grin from Harvey. "I don't think she's said a direct word to me in my entire life. Just so's you understand the dynamic." I frowned. Family's not supposed to be like that. Her loss, though.
Eventually, we left the party, and the road trip ended the same way they all end. A profound sense of comfort and loss as the car pulls up in front of a familier house. A plate of left-overs from the fridge and a brief stint channel surfing on TV. A feverish inhalation of interweb... email, webcomics, journals, reconnecting with civilization.
And then, eventually, sleep.
-Alex
Winslow sounds like here, except less crappy. Fork () - 05 29 05 - 17:19
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