Back to the Future

After arriving back here in advance of school, I caught up with a few classmates and we decided to go see a movie.  Being that I'm not exactly in a metropolis, there aren't that many selections to choose from.  Typically, I tend to shy away from blockbusters and head toward more independent fare but, like I said, I'm not exactly in a metropolis.  So, we decided to go see Avatar.  I was curious to see the spectacle and didn't really expect too much from Cameron's story line.  Typically, I think he tends toward underdeveloped characters and incorporates a little too much cheesiness into his pictures.  No matter, I was willing to plunk down my cash and see the "game changer" that he'd unleashed.

One dilemma of seeing movies here in the Palm Springs of Washington is that the theaters take cash only.  Their online ticketing is, shall we say, a little behind the times.  In true 1988 fashion, we headed over to the theater yesterday evening to catch the 6pm showing.  When we got in line for tickets, we noticed after a few minutes that all remaining showings for the night were sold out.  By the way, this was scrawled on a whiteboard hanging on the ticket window.  No worries, we'd catch it today.  This morning, the gang got together for brunch and decided to head over immediately after to buy our tix a full hour before the start time.  Once again, on walking up to the ticket line, the whiteboard noted that the next two showings were sold out!  Seriously, the last time I wasn't able to buy tickets online and actually walked up to the theater to find the movie I wanted to see was sold out was twenty years ago when I was in high school.  Seriously, what the hell is wrong with this town?  Anywho, we bought our tix for a show nearly four hour later.  It sold out shortly after we got our tickets.  Forty-five minutes prior to showtime, our friends called to say that they were in line to get into the theater and would save us seats.

Finally, we made our way into the theater and watched the damned thing.  I'll just say that the animation was amazing.  It makes the animation in Robert Zemeckis' CGI flicks look like stick figures.  So, for that alone, it was worth the money.  The 3D was pretty stinking amazing also.  When I was a kid, all the 3D movies were pretty gimmicky with only a few scenes with objects flying at you.  That this entire film was in 3D still amazes me.  Keep in mind, however, that I've not pulled the trigger on seeing any of the spate of recent films offered in 3D; this was my maiden voyage.  So, that being said it was an entertaining movie.  The technology behind it was amazing.  The visual world Cameron's team created is unlike anything you've ever seen in cinema.  I think it really has moved the bars for digital animation.  Was it the best movie I've ever seen?  Hardly.  The story, in itself, is compelling and can easily be viewed as a parable for any number of issues (both current and historical).  A few of the plot points, though, were heavy-handed and some were far-fetched even for an imagined world which I had no problem buying into.  That being said, I'd recommend seeing it on the big screen just to be a part of the spectacle of a world-wide blockbuster.

If you can, buy your tix online, show up fifteen minutes before show time, and let me know how that feels.  I miss the new millennium.

Scrambled Eggs; They're Calling Again

Last Tuesday, I met Winning Run in Seattle. She'd come out for a few days of R&R and to speak with a few firms in the area. I made the drive from Yakima to the Sea-Tac airport in a little over two hours; it was a very pretty drive. I'm still amazed at the change in topography: the closer you get to Seattle, the greener everything becomes. I really am in the high desert, I suppose.

View from the drive toward Seattle.

We drove from the airport to our meager hotel in downtown Seattle. In any other time of the year, it would've been just fine but, considering that Seattle was in the grips of a triple-digit heatwave, a Euro-style hotel without air-conditioning wasn't going to work out for us. So, we dipped into Pike Place Market for a bite to eat, to get a glimpse of the sunset, and to prepare ourselves for a restless night in a 9th floor sweat box.

Pike Place Market

The next day, we toured some interesting buildings: the Seattle Public Library and the Experience Music Project. The library rocked. I was sort of cool on Gehry's Experience Music Project / Science Fiction Hall of Fame. Like some of his other works, I think they're interesting at a distance but, up close, the detailing sort of detracts from everything.

Inside the library.

A view of the Experience Music Project.

Seattle's Space Needle.

Space Needle, The Scholar.
The Scholar, Space Needle.

Later, we stumbled across a gem: Maximus Minimus, a mobile BBQ joint. They served up some ridiculously good sandwiches and lemonades. Lucky, indeed!

Maximus Minimus, a rolling BBQ stand with kick-ass wares.

Portland, OR
Thursday evening, we headed down to Portland for more explanation and interviews. This city was amazing. Although we don't have the photos to show for it, the scale of Portland was great: smaller building, cool neighborhoods, and friendly people. Of course, we bumped into our share of homeless folks with severe mental health issues. Apparently, Meth is a helluva drug.

On our way back to Yakima, we drove along the Columbia River Gorge and we're awed by everything we saw along the way. Holy smokes, that river is amazing. The gorge is amazing. Oregon knows how to put in a freeway: make it run along stunning scenery. Two thumbs up.

We took a detour and headed down to Mt. Hood for a little sightseeing. It rocked. I'm looking forward to getting in some quality snow time in the future.


Back to the Yak
We made it back here late Saturday afternoon. Winning Run inspected the apartment and decided that it wasn't as bad as she expected. So, we've been trying to unpack and make it "homier." It's a big, big help to have her out here; it doesn't seem so bad when you're sharing it with someone.

Orientation starts tomorrow!

File This Under Strange

So, I've sort of talked myself off of the ledge of despair. Today, I had a technology orientation where we received our laptop and learned all of the various software programs that will make hard subject matter a little bit cooler. During the session, I met a few other classmates and had some nice conversations. After the session, me and this guy, Mike, decided that we'd grab a bite and a beer in the evening as his wife is also back home.

So, we stroll into the Second Street Grill, take seats at the bar, grab beers, and start chatting. Thirty minutes or so pass and there is lull in the conversation. In the break between topics, I take a minute to look around the bar and take in the surroundings. I recognize the guy sitting next to me: Jeremy from Atlanta, a friend, an accomplice of Dr. J3K, and a mountain-biking buddy. He is the very last person that I expect to randomly bump into on a Monday night ... at a sports pub ... in Yakima freaking Washington.

"Jeremy???"

He looks up from his meal. Stares at me and just freezes before muttering something like "What the hell is going on? Who are you?"

We were both good and freaked out for about ten minutes.

Evidently, he's here on a consulting assignment and, at this point, has lived in the city longer than I have. As we see each other mostly when Dr. James Three Thousand is in town, I'm not sure that he was aware that I was moving here. Needless to say, it was a freaky-ass thing to experience. I'm still a little weirded out by it. It is, by far, the strangest thing to happen to me in a long, long time -- excluding, of course, the incident at the hobo convention with the duct tape, squash blossoms, and commemorative Obama plates.

What Not to Do When You're Homesick

Just for the record, a good homesickness cure is not to ask your wife to put you on speaker phone and let you talk to your dog.

The words "He just picked up his toy and started wagging his tail" will break you down into a heap of choked sobs and streaming tears.

How the hell am I going to do this without them?

#1 Dad

This afternoon, I put my dad on the shuttle back to Seattle for his flight. On my drive back to the craphole, I fought back tears. After arriving, I managed to wallow in my own homesickness for a little while. Holy shit, I was one step away from watching "Of Mice and Men." That would've been happy-go-lucky. Anywho, it made me reflect on the past week.

On our cross-country drive, we were listening to The Moth podcast. A woman was telling a story about her mother and made the comment that "parents are so much more forgiving of their children than children are of their parents." It stuck with me and made (makes) me want to be a better son, to be more patient with them, and the like because no matter how old you get, you're always their child and, if you're lucky, the beneficiary of their unconditional love.

At this point in my life, I've lived away from home for as long as I ever lived at home. Since I left for college, this road trip has been the longest time me and dad have spent together by ourselves. It was a pretty fun drive, I must say. It was pretty damned cool seeing dad excited, like a little kid on a family vacation drive. If I had a dollar for every time he called my name and pointed to something he saw on the freeway, I'd be a rich man. It's nice to see your folks full of wonder.

Checking out St. Louis from the arch.

Snapping shots of the "fireball dropping out of the sky."

Studying the roadside, getting ready to point out something.

I suspect that, in part, this trip was something that Dad really wanted to do as an adventure. I also suspect that the equally important reason was that he was the family ambassador sent by Mom to come with me on this journey, to lay eyes on me and this strange new town so many miles away, and to once again turn me loose to the world.

I am lucky.

You Have Died of Dysentery

Friday, we woke and started final leg of the trip with promises that we'd be in-bed and well-fed early in the night. It seems like all week long, we ended up driving really late and going to bed hungry. In retrospect, it seems like more punishment than was necessary but, at the very least, dad was a great sport about it.

The stars of the show.

On reaching Oregon, we were constantly amazed by the scenery, the mountains, and the farmland. At one point, the highway rounded a mountain and opened into an utterly staggering vista before dropping for six miles at a six percent grade. Once more, the descent was harrowing in a moving truck towing a car. Dad and I both got a chuckle out of the fact that my mom would've been absolutely unglued had she been in the car with us.

Click on the image to enlarge it.
No matter the size, it won't do it justice.

Best Rest Stop in the Country: Weatherby, OR
In dire need of "rest," we stopped at a rest stop in Weatherby, Oregon. After narrowly avoiding ruptured bladders, we wandered about the place and read about the Oregon Trail (the real one, not this one) which passed through those very mountains...with horse-drawn wagons...a hundred and sixty years ago. Ridiculous.

The next time you get pissed that you have no bars on your mobile phone in the middle of nowhere, think of a family spending six days trying to navigate one single stinking mountain while watching loved ones die. We're sissies every one of us.

View from the rest stop at Weatherby, Oregon.
Dad was checking out the educational signs.

He Was Right
A few rest stops we bumped into some folks that, evidently, were traveling the same route. They were the grungy, black-clad, dread-locked, pierced hippies. Dad walked by them on the way to the can. On returning he says, " Sax was right, they are dirty hippies. That girl had dirt and grime all on her elbows. She stank." Classic.

Arrival and the Great Underwhelming
At about 3:30pm on Friday and 2682 miles after starting, we pulled into the apartment. Did I mention that I rented it sight-unseen? Did I mention that it was half of a duplex, the other half of which is occupied by four female second-year med students? Did I mention that I was hopeful that it would be great?

To say that I was underwhelmed would be a fantastic understatement. To say that I simultaneously wanted to choke the shit out of the landlady and weep with frustration would be getting warmer. The place was dirty, strewn with dead insects (beetles or something, not roaches). The kitchen has a terrible drop ceiling with plastic lighting tiles. It has about 17 bazillion light switches that control something non-intuitive. It has a pair of metal exterior doors in the middle of the living room wall that lead into the other apartment. It has teal effing carpet with matching cheap-ass honeycomb paper blinds. It has the DSL modem and wireless router for the girls on the other side. It has the mailbox where all the mail for the duplex is delivered. It has a 1/5 share of all the bills for the duplex but no untilities of its own. It has a toilet that constantly runs. It has a garage that can easily accommodate a 16-foot moving truck and, I assume, an RV.

It does not, however, have a happy tenant. I'm not unpacking just so that I can entertain the notion of moving the hell out of here after Winning Run arrives on Tuesday. Wish me luck and patience.

Salty Lake and Potatoes

Yesterday, we finally made it out of Wyoming following a stay at a motel in Green River and a breakfast with the weirdest waitress ever. She looked like she'd just come from a fight club boxing match and answered "You Betcha" to everything with a saccharine sweet laugh.

Another wind farm in Wyoming.
Notice the truck near the base of the turbine in the foreground.

We headed into Salt Lake City to visit with Big Chief Mike, a friend from college. Driving into the city, we headed down a few steep grades. When we finally got to Mike's place, smoke was still coming off the brakes of the truck which was a little disconcerting. During lunch, I phoned the roadside assistance to bring a new tire because we'd noticed an increasing bounce in the front. When the guy showed us the tire, it had worn clean through to the tread. He told us it was a good thing that we called when we did because he didn't think we would've made it too much farther on that one. So, we got to visit Mike with the ability to stop and without having my things scattered all over the highway courtesy of a high-speed blowout. I feel like a winner.

After a fantastic lunch that Mike had whipped up, we headed out and, after an eternity, made it to the north side of Boise, Idaho. Today, we've got around 500 miles to get into Yakima. Hopefully, it'll be uneventful.

States Covered
Wyoming, Utah, Idaho

Through the Arch and Into the Plains

On Tuesday, we crossed into Missouri and decided to stop at the Arch. I have to admit, it was larger and much more interesting than I thought. We searched for a parking space and decided to take a break, walk over to it, and ride to the top.

Approaching the St. Louis Arch.

For the record, if you are the least bit claustrophobic do not even think about riding the trams to the top of the arch. Imagine being stuffed into a coffin with four other people and making a slow ascent 600 feet up a metal arch. It was pretty cool but maybe a little unsettling.

Dad about to get into the tiny coffin-sized tram to the top.

After leaving St. Louis, we headed up to Lincoln, Nebraska to visit with my dad's first cousin. It was pretty nice to meet him and the rest of the Nebraska family and to see my pop so excited to just hang out with someone.

Corn is King
Driving west through Nebraska, one thing becomes readily apparent: corn is king. Unless you live in the heartland, you really have no idea about the scale of the farms in this country. By the way, I don't pretend to have a great idea from only driving through a few states but I will say that it's staggering. In western Nebraska, corn seemed to give way to wheat. Amber waves, indeed.

Wyoming is Big
We were pretty amazed at how the topography changes pretty quickly after entering Wyoming. Plains change to rocky, rolling hills. You climb some hills and descend into an enormous plateau. Hell, at one point, we drove absolutely straight for about 10 miles before a tiny curve in the road. Our country is enormous. The terrain is pretty cool and you eventually tire of seeing so damned many antelope just grazing, grazing by the highway.

A monument to Lincoln on the Wyoming Roadside.

The plains of Wyoming.

Storm cloud and the setting sun.

Dad shooting the sunset.

The Green Initiative
In addition to being awed by the vast emptiness of the state, we marveled at the wind farms that we crossed. On television, the turbines look big but that pales to being near them. The photos don't do justice because there isn't really anything to determine the scale or the distance and I didn't have a lens wide enough to get the hundred or so into a single shot. They're pretty damned cool.

Wyoming wind farm.

Another view.

The Gas Miracle
Our fuel was running low as we neared Laramie. Somehow, we didn't exit the freeway because we thought there was one more exit for the town. With fuel dwindling, we hit the Garmin for info on the nearest fuel station and headed west toward it. The fuel light came on as we approached the abandoned gas station. Luckily, there were a couple of guys there working.

"How far to the nearest fuel?," Dad asked.

"Which direction?," the weathered guy replied.

"West."

"80 miles," he said with almost no expression.

"How about east?"

"20 miles."

"Okay, thanks."

Dad and I looked at each other uneasily and headed back toward Laramie.

"Hope there are three gallons in the tank," dad said.

"Me, too."

On the ride back, we drafted an semi to conserve fuel and lamented that it was uphill most of the way. Personally, I used my Jedi mind trick to keep that damned truck moving. The twenty minutes back was silent and tense. Inside 10K, I knew that I could run back to the station for fuel and began to rest. After an eternity, we coasted down the hill into the gas station, sighed with relief, and laughed a bunch.

We put 32.1 gallons of fuel into a 32-gallon tank. Close one.

States Covered
Kansas, Missouri, Nebraska, Wyoming

The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts

Boy, leaving is ridiculously tough. I'd done pretty well in getting ready and telling most of my friends goodbye. As expected, I got really emotional when I was leaving Winning Run and absolutely blubbered when I said goodbye to Dylan.

At the truck rental place, I was pulling the car onto the car carrier when dad and the rental guy started dancing around and yelling at me to stop. Turns out the trailer wasn't connected to the truck and had come unhitched with me on top of it. Awesome.

We stopped for the night just outside of St. Louis and will aim for at least Lincoln, NE to stay with dad's cousin. Fun stuff.

My finger is still bleeding from the nailbed and is unusable; unloading should be interesting. I'll post pictures later with forewarning for the gore.

Highlight: the giant Superman statue in Metropolis, IL.

Truth, justice, and the American way.

Handy camera work from a perfect stranger.
(Not Balki.)

States covered: Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois.

The Palm Springs of Washington

After the interview, I returned to the hotel and mostly stared blankly at a television for a few hours. Honestly, it was bliss. I always underestimate exactly how taxing an interview day can be. Winning Run and I went for a short walk on the Greenway, a bike and running path that follows the Yakima River. When I felt thoroughly frozen which took only about ten minutes, we returned to the hotel. On the walk back, we saw a couple of bald eagles flying over the river. After a couple of beers and a light dinner, we managed to fight the urge to sleep long enough to nerd-out and watch the season premier of Battlestar Galactica. As soon as the credits rolled, however, the lights were off and we were snoring.

Saturday
Saturday, we got up and began our day of adventure. To combat the cold, we stopped at one of the ubiquitous drive-through espresso shacks for hot coffee. Seriously, what the hell is it with the Pacific Northwest and coffee? I thought it was an exaggeration but these damned things were everywhere. Best part was, their coffee was excellent.

Brewlesque Espresso
(Note the dancers painted on the shack.)

Mocha House Espresso
(Looks like they couldn't fully commit to the gray paint.)

Coffee Cravings, a Winning Run favorite

Armed with delicious, hot coffee, we set out on a driving tour of the Yakima area to get a feel of what it's like because, frankly, being holed up at a cheap hotel near the interstate doesn't really offer an honest picture of a place. So, for a while, we drove around, looked at things, and tried to get lost. The fog started to lift during the morning, giving us the ability to see some of the surrounding mountains and orchards -- and a bald eagle. We made a point to drive through some of the agricultural areas on the outskirts of town: open range for livestock, apple orchards, vineyards, and hops farms. (My beloved hops! I imagine that in the summer, the wind carries the scent of a double IPA; the notion made me thirsty.)

Trees coated in frozen fog.

After concluding our driving tour of Yakima, we decided to broaden our area. We headed south to visit a winery for a little tasting. Along the way, we managed to get in a stop at a tiny little tourist attraction: The Teapot Gas Station.

The Teapot Gas Station.

After the abbreviated wine tour, we decided to fit in a little more adventure before retiring for the day. We aimed to get to Natches and see a little wildlife before the sun set on us. Since the 1950s, the government has been feeding a herd of elk in an effort to minimize conflicts between landowners and the animals. On the way in, we spotted about 30 elk on a plateau above the highway. We stopped the car to shoot a few photos.

Elk grazing near the highway.

Satisfied with our elk sighting, we headed toward the visitor center. Man, I felt a little foolish when we pulled into the parking lot and looked into the valley in front of us to see hundreds and hundreds of elk. It was Marty Stouffer's wet dream. Not only were elk everywhere but several bald eagles were lurking nearby.

One of many, many elk at the government feeding site.

With the sun and temperature quickly dropping, we jumped in the car and headed back to town.

Sunday
This morning was, perhaps, the largest snafu of the trip. Our flight from Yakima to Seattle was canceled which, in turn, caused us to miss all of our other connecting flights. So, shortly after the cancellation, we managed to get rebooked on a later flight from Yakima and on the redeye from Seattle. As the Yakima airport is "Wings" tiny, we asked the desk agent, Beth, if there was anyplace to get a bite to eat and kill the 3 hours before our flight. She mentioned that there were a few restaurants nearby and that she'd be happy to give us a ride to one of them when her shift was over in about fifteen minutes. Floored by how friendly she was, we accepted.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Beth from L.A. picked us up and drove us to Miner's, an old hamburger joint, and dropped us off with well wishes for safe travels. Holy crap, the food was great: just a good old hamburger and milkshake (chocolate and fresh banana). Kudos to Rose, who'd worked there since 1970, for helping us navigate the menu and make the best choices.

Winning Run enjoying a shake.

After the gluttony, we killed some time in a bookstore and grabbed a taxi back to the airport to hop our puddle-jumper to Seattle for a seven hour layover. We'd considered heading into Seattle for a quick visit to Pike Place Market but, as we didn't have boarding passes for our flight, we decided to have a few beer and watch the Steelers/Ravens game. After an eternity, we finally got on the flight at 11:00pm PST and began our journey home. Today has been a little rough.

What's Next?
I'm supposed to get a call from the school on the 20th to notify me of their decision. Personally, I think that the interview went really well. Unfortunately, however, I've stopped trusting my feeling on these things. About 70% of the class is to come from the Pacific Northwest, the rest would need to show some great interest in the area that is convincing enough that they'll gamble on you to stay and practice there. More as it unfolds.

Yakima

Holy crap. The people out here are awesome.

The interview experience was the complete antithesis of the trip down to Florida. Not only was it well-organized but everyone was friendly and genuinely enthusiastic about the program. Students stopped by all day long to meet us and chat. They weren't after a free lunch but just wanted to spread the gospel about their program. Really, the positive energy from the place was great.

The interview itself was smooth. I spoke with two people for about 45 minutes, answering their questions and chatting with them. After, we had a quick lunch and toured the brand-spanking-new facility. Pretty damned cool. Then, I hung around and spoke with many of the other applicants as they waited to have their interviews. The spirit of camaraderie and politeness that I experienced was unbelievable. Hell, I thought I was getting Punk'd or something. Really, where where all the kids jockeying for position in the pissing contest? They weren't here, that's for sure.

Anywho, I'm pretty emotionally spent. I'll know their decision on me in the next couple of days. Yippee. Tomorrow, we go out to explore the area. Photos to follow.

I Thought He Was Kidding

Our voyage to Yakima took place in three legs yesterday: Atlanta to Minneapolis, Minneapolis to Seattle, Seattle to Yakima. Our travel time took over twelve hours including layovers but, thanks to Skymiles, the flights only cost us $35 each. Yippee!

When landing in Minneapolis, the pilot announced that it was "20 below" outside. Naturally, this announcement was met by laughter by most everyone on the plane. When I stepped onto the jetway, I suddenly knew that the bastard was telling the truth. Seriously, 20 below? C'mon.

Anywho. We finally made it to the hotel. More on the trip later; at the moment, I'm doing some final prep for the interview.