“You’re a writer?” He inspects me through his rearview mirror.
“Sometimes,” I say.
-Airport shuttle driver
Read the related articled I wrote for Matador Network.
“It’s a globe,” I tell the little girl, holding her up to the window. And I tell her that the sun faded its picture away because it stayed in front of the window too long.
“We should move it,” she says.
But I tell her I don’t think that we’re allowed to because that’s what people like about Bodie– they like that it hasn’t moved.
See also: Bodie, CA (posted 8/22/11)
The dusty brown flats meeting with the tall green grass make the Nevada-California border at the Eastern Sierras visible from miles away. It’s like jumping into a painting. I wish I had taken more pictures.
See also: Bishop, CA (posted 8/15/11)
I’m actually not one for driving, but I could follow a set of powerlines all the way to the ocean.
See also: Route 6, NV (posted 8/15/11)
“At Zion National Park your safety is your responsibility.”
That’s a shame. I really hate being responsible.
See also: Zion National Park, UT (posted 8/10/11)
Not a Route 66 sign in sight.
Forrest Gump was here.
See also: Making Plans (posted 7/30/11)
There’s a line of people waiting to have their picture taken with the Delicate Arch. Couples in REI gear, families in matching sandals, teenagers in heavy metal t-shirts, and Europeans in black socks all queue in the middle of the desert. They stand behind an invisible “Please wait here” sign that was no doubt installed by the mom and pop photographers who are waiting to snap a calculated shot of their loved-ones that provides proof that they were here and the illusion that everyone else was not. Restless and impatient from the one-and-a-half-mile uphill hike—that was longer and more strenuous than perhaps anticipated—the line of people bob their heads and twist the balls of their feet into the rust-colored earth, each of them dancing before trotting over to the Arch to finally have their souvenir picture taken.
I take seat away from the other photographers attempting to snap pictures of the Arch in the seconds between the people who come and go from it’s opening. Hot and fatigued, after a couple of failed shots I put my camera down. It’s overcast but the shady sky does little to cool the windless triple-digit climate and, perhaps against the wishes of the photographers and models, I pray that the sky will give into the rain.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and it’s a woman who I had seen earlier on the hike. She is also alone asks if I can take a picture of her with the Arch in the background and she volunteers to do the same for me. It’s the first and only picture on the entire trip that I have taken of me. After exchanging cameras, we both sit down near but not quite next to one another. Together we watch the groups of families and friends shuffle in and out of the Delicate Arch, and as we look on the rain begins to fall.
Take a ride. It’s breathtaking.
“You’re a long way from home, aren’t ya?”
“I’ve been further,” I think.
See also: Abilene, KS (posted 7/12/11)
“Watch out for the Hoosiers.”
“Where should we go for breakfast?” asks Jenn.
“Go to Cartel.”
“John, Diana needs a good breakfast before she gets on the road.”
“They have bagels,” says John.
-John and Jenn, my hosts
See also: St. Louis, MO (posted 7/12/11)
There are very few places that strike me in such a way that I find myself thinking, “I could settle down right now.” Lexington is one of those places. I find myself instantly comfortable and at home.
See also: Lexington, KY (posted 7/7/11)
There’s an alligator cruising the waters at Magnolia Plantation and I’m not afraid of him. He glides by and for a minute I wonder if I’m supposed to follow some kind of evacuation procedure. But I’m unfazed, so I continue my stroll around the lake, proud of my calmness until I notice a spider web to my left, another to my right, and one above my head each with a spider the size of quarter in the middle. Then, I run away.
See also: Charleston, SC (posted 7/4/11)
“Walk around Rainbow Row and the Battery and look at all the houses and gardens.”
“And have shrimp and grits at Hominy Grill.”
-Suggestions from friends on what to do in Charleston.
See also: Charleston, SC (posted 7/4/11)
In Savannah it’s a 101° and my feet are swelling. I take a seat near a fountain and find myself thinking of ways I can jump in. I take my water bottle out of my bag, look to my left and to my right and pour the tepid water over my feet and Reef flip-flops.
“Now that’s a way to cool off.”
I look up and see a man coming around the fountain with a backpack slung on his shoulder and flannel shirt around is waist. He smiles and dips his hand in the fountain as he passes by. He caught me.
See also: Savannah, GA (posted 6/30/11)
Not a care in the world.
See also: Bahia Honda Key, FL (posted 6/26/11)
He asks if I know anything about cameras and if I can help him with the flash on his. For a second I think that he is feeding me a line and then I realize that I’m not his type. I help him with the flash and he asks if I want some company while touring the house. We walk behind the rest of the group, lingering in front of the oscillating fans and taking photos of the six-toed cats. In the gift shop he buys a book about writing and, per his suggestion, I buy the same one. I don’t have any interest in the book but rather the simple desire to buy a souvenir with someone. We leave the gift shop and shake hands. I learn his name is Brad, and then we say good-bye and turn in opposite directions.
See also: Key West, FL (posted 6/26/11)