Escalante 2006 - A Dream and the Realities - Part Fourteen

Day 7
Friday, July 28 2:00pm

So we were back on the road, though not the right road, at least not at first. I was driving and somehow we missed the turn-off for I76 that would take us out of Denver and up towards the dreaded I80 and Nebraska. With some backtracking and some alternate routes we got back on track and headed out of town. We didn't go too far before stopping for gas, snacks and hookers. Well, not exactly. There were a couple of girls that seemed like hookers, out in horrible exurbia, but we certainly wanted nothing to do with them. They left before us, heading in the opposite direction, possibly driving a camaro, and we were back on the interstate, nothing but miles and miles of pavement between us and home.

TClog drove the shift once out of Denver, chewing up the miles like the man chews up shrimp, only without the satisfaction and look of deep joy. This was the last leg home, and only home held promise for us, with no interesting stops between here and there. As it was we were due in CF sometime around dawn on Saturday. Good lord.

I have little memory of those next hours before dinner. I remember shooting some video in Nebraska, though eastern Colorado may have offered us nothing. These are desolate lands without distinction, unlike Utah, which is a desolate land with distinction. The miles churned by until we found ourselves in some town in western Nebraska. Could have been North Platte, could have been Kearney, could have been Grand Island. I know we pushed farther than we had originally planned, but eventually we were hungry and the old Sombrero needed fuel too.

Pizza Hut was our destination, again, this time in The Village of the Damned. Really. Every kid at the Pizza Hut, and every kid at the Sonic next door was blond haired and blue eyed, no matter what the hair color of the parents happened to be. It was freaky. The pizza was as expected and no strange lights came from the children's eyes, nor did they speak in unison, at least not to us. Perhaps they could tell we were just passing through, and killing us would only arouse suspicion. Keep your eyes peeled for news accounts of strange happenings in Nebraska - stranger than normal anyway.

Back on the road and refueled, with TClog still driving. It was still light. I think we got in some more name game as the miles wore on, and eventually it was getting close to dark, and TClog's skin was starting to crawl, and strange hairs were growing out all over his body. For a few moments his legs looked like Mighty Tom's legs, but then the car grew dark and we were left wondering whether it had been real or not. At a rest area Dan took over the driving chores, probably around 8:00pm. TClog spoke to the mothership and we soldiered on.

For the many miles and hours that remained we passed the time as well as we could, listening to music, playing the name game and generally keeping awake. TClog was in back, and Dan was driving, and we stayed like this all the way back to Cedar Falls. 9 straight hours Dan drove, and only on the last few miles of RT20 in Iowa did he waver at all. It was not yet light, and there was some fog, and not having slept for nearly 24 hours, fatigue was reasonable. But he got us there.

Where? To the gas station near TClog's house, where we could rustle our crap without waking the family. We got everything sorted and finished the journey for TClog. Everything of ours out and into the waiting Toyota (for the next fucking leg) and our farewells to TClog. Time now 5:00am - Saturday. I drove the first bit, stopping for badly needed coffee before trundling up RT218 towards Minnesota where we hoped to be by around 9:00am.

Lord was it hard to stay awake, even with the coffee. I made it as far as I35 before my eyes would no longer stay open. Dan took over again and I tried to get some sleep. The next hour or so for me was surreal. At several times we stopped, Dan got out of the car, and I slept some more. Once I got out and peed. Something odd happened at a stop where Dan was kept from peeing, though his need was great. It's all a blur now. It was mostly a blur then, but 6 weeks on, my memory is fleeting.

The last hour and a half or so to Minneapolis we were both awake with Dan driving. Much radio was endured, some enjoyed, and eventually we were at Casa Dan, almost exactly 7 days since Dan had left. Me, well, I still had another leg.

A good portion of that day for me was spent in a haze. I lazed around the house after getting my stuff together for the plane trip home, occasionally sleeping on the couch as D,S & L went about a slightly more normal existence. A grandparent came over for a while to give some relief and the day went on in a fog. We eventually went to a good local place for Indian food (Udupi Cafe?) and came home satisfied - I did at least. The evening was spent much like the day, in a sort of low battery funk, and was ended early in a scene straight out of a John Denver song.

It was hot in MN and Dan's household had not yet embarked on their ambitious remodelling and upgrade campaign, so the living room was the coolest room in the house. DS&L slept on an inflatable mattress on the floor and I slept on the couch, all of us hot but me at least, content in the fact that TClog was 200 miles away ensconced in the loving arms of his family and his air conditioning. No disgruntlement was heard.

My travel alarm was superseded by an early rising Dan who whisked me to the airport for my last leg. Minneapolis to Chicago. Chicago to Boston and at last the final drive from the airport in the company of my lovely wife and my happy dog. Oh lord the ends of journeys are the worst. With no Scouring of the Shire to be done, it's all denoument.

And so here we are, for me it had been 9 1/2 days that now seem years in the past, and weeks in the living, and months in the telling. What can be said of the dreams and the realities? It was a fun trip where nerves were stretched to the breaking point, but friendships were never in jeopardy. Thate experiences were had that will be recounted with laughs for years to come. That three men alone in the heat of July cannot march as far as they thought. That young ranger punks should not be trusted. That air conditioning is a priviledge and not a right. And that 4 sets of memories would have been better than three, and next time we'll have to do better.

Until next time....happy travels.