High Plains Drifter

Well, as you may recall from my last post, I found myself summoned rather arbitrarily back to Texas for a meeting with some folks from the TX Workforce Commission, upon which essentially random decision my receipt of unemployment benefits are contingent. After 12 hours of screaming rage and three stress-based heart attacks, though, I've decided to just accept it and focus on the good things about this trip. (It's probably a moot point anyway: I also got called back for a second interview at a job I applied for before I left, and while I think they're not likely to offer me enough money to take the job, I won't know unless I show up.)

Sure, it's a fucking drag that I made a lot of plans that are going to get scuttled, and that I won't get to see all my people on the East Coast. But you know what? By the time I get back to SATX, I will have been on vacation for a month. Bitching that I won't get to be on vacation for three would probably severely annoy all the folks reading this who don't have the luxury to do something like that. The last month has been fantastic; I saw a lot of good friends, I spent huge chunks of time in some of the most beautiful natural surroundings this country has to offer, I camped out four times and spent time in five national parks, I got to see the entire western half of the United States, I went to another country, I ate some amazing food, and I managed to make money while I was doing it. Also, I don't have to be back until next Tuesday, which means I've got over a week to get back -- and that means I can camp out a few more times, and go to a few more national parks (tomorrow I'm planning on sleeping under the stars at San Isabel National Forest). I'm a grown-up, and bitching about the end of the trip instead of the amazing month that's preceded it is what a baby would do. And how is babby formed? Through bitterness.

So, yeah, I'll be home next week instead of in July. And I'm okay with that. It was probably even a tad naive to think that I could be away from home during a time of unemployment and busy freelance work for three entire months with no interruption. But I thought, maybe I am just that inessential.

But the trip is still on, until I pull into my garage in Terrell Hills! So, some notes from the road for the past few days:

- I camped out in Beaverhead-Deerlodge National Forest last night, a ways outside of Butte, Montana, and it fucking snowed. In late May. Snow. Seriously. I yelled and yelled at the snow to stop but it wouldn't listen. My small supply of blankets was not prepared for this and it got seriously goddamn cold, but at least a wolf didn't bite off my penis, which is my #1 fear when camping.

- LEONARD'S TOP FIVE STATES THAT IT TAKES FUCKING FOREVER TO DRIVE THROUGH:

#1. Texas
#2. Montana
#3. California (N-S only)
#4. Alaska (presumably)
#5. Iowa (small but incredibly boring)

- I'm still taking a lot of state roads and scenic routes, and I was cruising along a ranch road in Wyoming earlier today when I saw that some dude had parked a vintage Pontiac Firebird just inside the front gates of a ranch. A full-grown bull and a small calf were checking it out -- like, literally rubbing up against it and sniffing at it -- and I'm pretty sure they were thinking "If we could somehow figure out how to drive this thing, it would be the greatest buddy movie ever.'

- This actually happened: in Alberta, I saw a kid out in a field chasing a horse, and just as he started, "Yackety Sax" came up on my iPod. How can I be pissed off when shit like that is happening? I also thought I saw a cow nodding its head in time to "They Want EFX" by Das EFX, but I wouldn't swear to it in a court of law. (Sorry for all the cow-related stories. I'm just in cattle country.)

- So, my deepest apologies to all of you I won't get to see this time around. I'm really sorry, and you can put all the blame on me -- it really was probably wishful thinking that I could make the whole circle without getting pulled back. I'm planning on traveling more this year, though, and I still want to see as many of you as I can. In the meantime, I leave you for the moment with these lyrics from road trip favorite "Box Elder", by Pavement:

"I got a lot of things to do;
A lot of places to go;
I’ve got a lot of good things coming my way,
But I’m afraid to say that you’re not one of them."