We arrived home from California yesterday evening after mostly good roads, with a mostly sunny toddler. Really, we were unbelievably lucky, having enjoyed amazing weather in the Bay Area (sunshine! every day! in Northern California!) and dry roads all the way to Belgrade, about an hour from our house. Still, it was hard not to be a little depressed from Belgrade on, since none of the mountains were visible (and none of the other cars on the road, either, but who's quibbling?) and it was 8 degrees outside.
We made it to Livingston in time for dinner--mmmmm...what's left in the fridge after 11 days?--but seem to have been involved in some sort of whole-town tornado situation in which our lovely mountain burg has been transplanted en masse to the flat and snowy reaches of North Dakota. I know that when we left here, there were mountains. Five ranges, in fact. Now, I see no mountains. No discernable difference between nine and noon. And it's f*ing cold.
But I digress. The trip was great, and the drive overall was not as grueling as I had expected. We did it in two days both ways, with overnight stops in Nevada. I tried hard to like Nevada, and indeed I did very much like the flat, wide expanse of Highway 80. It was well maintained and evenly graded, just as the AAA guidebook had promised. In certain portions, there were some very nice mountain vistas, and we managed to survive one whole stretch of the day thanks to a double-rotored helicopter transporting telephone lines and creating v. much excitement among the toddlers in the car. (OK, we thought it was damn cool, too.)
But you know? It's hard to come away from Nevada feeling entirely good about the experience. In Elko, we had booked our night at a hotel with a pool. We paid extra for it and knew it would be worth it because it would give us something to bribe the boy with when the going got tough. We talked it up. We cajoled. We wheeled and dealed. And when we arrived, the pool was closed, owing to the shenanigans of guests the previous evening. Through gritted teeth, we agreed to take the room anyhow, and we downgraded Connery's expectations so that a hot tub would suffice. When we had changed into our swimwear and padded down there, we were met with a chemical soup so toxic that the water foamed up a good three inches and my skin immediately turned an alarming shade of red. Even more lovely were the dozens of cigarette butts surrounding the hot tub and the half-empty beer bottle in the corner. So classy! We soaked long enough to say we'd done it and then ran back to the room for a Silkwood shower to try to get the chemicals off.
For dinner, we tried a local establishment that billed itself as a Family Fun Center (with Toddler Corner!). We figured the food would be passable at best, but it was important--again--to try to offer some rewards for Connery's good behavior. Instead, we walked into a strip mall/warehouse and were assaulted by the smell of bad pet store. (Any of you Great Falls readers remember Jack's Pet Store downtown? It smelled just like that.) The toddler corner seemed to consist of chairs pulled over to the video games to allow a 3-footer to reach Mortal Combat.
By contrast, the Pizza Hut seemed like some kind of paradise. As we left Elko the next morning, we stopped for gas. We didn't think to check the prices, because everything had been about the same all over (around $2.49/gallon), but Chip had already pumped in half a tank before we noticed that this store, by virtue of its proximity to the highway, had decided to inflate its prices over $3/gallon. The Chevron right across the underpass from this Chevron was charging $2.40/gallon. I wonder how many tourists they get with that? I wonder how many of them make fervent vows never to return to Elko only to stay in Wells on the way home and immediately contemplate reneging on said vow.
But I should stop now, lest you think that I am totally negative and the choir whiner and all that. Because overall--and I will document this later in song and story--the trip rocked. We saw tons of friends, went to the beach, sang at a dear friend's wedding. shopped until we dropped, rode the cable car, drank Frappuccinos at an alarming rate, and got to spend Thanksgiving with a great Ritter contingent. Plus our friend Matt totally kitted out our iBook G4, replacing our 40-gig hard drive with an 80-gig one AND throwing in an 80-gig external hard drive just for fun. The thing runs like we just bought it yesterday.
But really, wouldn't you rather hear me bitch about Nevada?