Leaving San Diego last Saturday was bitter-sweet. It sounds so cliche' but it applies.
After a day of last minute details that added up, we hit the road. Stopped at NY NY in Vegas because it was just the obvious thing to do and ventured on through the desert, the beautiful Arizona and spent the night in Beaver, Utah. I feared my life for a slight moment when the 'gentlemen' who checked me into the local Quality Inn had the letters LD scarred on his left hand. We unpacked the necessary items from 'Winona' the land yacht, clothing, career girl hats, toiletries and of course the snake. The next day was something to look forward to: Denver, Colorado.
We woke up tired and bitchy, were ridiculed by some ugly girl who's name was probably Martha with chunk highlights, blue mascara and jewelry from Claire's, but got it together and hit the road. A short photo shoot in Utah shed light on the rest of our afternoon. Then... the inevitable happened. Sheriff Dullard pulled our asses over. Who knew 98mph was too fast?! Well, thankfully the Sheriff was happy to see career girls on the go. All it took to drop the ticket from $400 to $150 was a cheap hand-up-the-dress situation. ::phew:: Close call.
Arriving in Denver was a relief! After some R&R at the Hyatt Regency, Frankie and I tore up the town. J.R.'s was recommended via hotel concierge and a recommendation it is! It smells a little like wet carpet however, the people were friendly, the pours were heavy and the fine art of karaoke was on display. Denver didn't know what was about to happen. Two shots of Patron and numerous cocktails, we worked 'Come Together' out. Received a standing ovation and first place for their Tuesday night contest. We celebrated with another drink and yes, you guessed it.... a photo shoot. The proceedings of the evening are up for interpretation.
After some shopping in Denver, we hit the road through what remained of Colorado and into Nebraska. Corn fields and Cows. This is where I officially decided to write a letter to the United States complaints department. Yes, I have a complaint to lodge. America has made the Bald Eagle it's mascot but this country is full of Cows. Cows. Everywhere you turn in middle America, COWS! When you don't see Cows..... Corn. Whoops, there goes another fucking Cow. I saw a total of one Bald Eagle our entire drive in Pennsylvania, but I'll get back to that. During a seemingly calm drive, we were brutally attacked. Tumbleweeds came shooting out of the cornfields and onto the highway. It was like Frogger! Thankfully, Winona the land yacht sustained no damage after my incredible ability to swerve, break and speed only lost 10 points from one huge tumbleweed that grazed the rear bumper. So, Nebraska.... yep. Not much else to say about it.
How could I forget?!? After arriving in Omaha for a little sanctuary and an upgrade to the pool view room with a balcony, we ordered a pizza. Who delivered that pizza you ask? Omaha's very own resident Tranny! Could you just die?! Yes, Dominoes is in fact an equal opportunity employer and yes, Omaha does house a chick with a
Fallback, Nebraska! We shot right through Iowa. I am racking my brains and don't remember a single thing other than more fucking corn fields and Cows. Oh wait, there was a song Frankie every so elegantly recited about all the different cities in Iowa.... Anywho, into Illinois we went. Immediately after getting off the exit for downtown Chicago, the road descended into an underground layer of burning garbage pails and crack-toting homeless people. Nervous, yes. Oddly comfortable, yes. After checking into the Hyatt Regency and a much needed meal, we applied face and headed for boystown. Granted it was a Tuesday evening and I wasn't expecting a Friday night crowd, I had my sights set for a fabulous evening.
The first stop, Roscoe's. They were in full gear drag show mode as we entered. The first queen was reminiscent of Celine Dion's first nose. She was stanky and couldn't dance, there was an awkward costume change on stage mid-performance which I for one, was uncomfortable with. Thankfully, heavy pour. We attempted to utilize their patio section to enjoy a cigarette with our cocktails but were quickly re-directed to the sidewalk out front. They clearly weren't made aware of our status. We enjoyed one more drink at Roscoe's and were delighted by a big black drag queen's rendition of a gospel medley. She was on point, hysterical and owned that shit. Frankie and I were the only two cheering her big ass on. Realizing this was clearly not the crowd for us, we ventured on the boystown stroll. I couldn't tell you the names of some of the places we hit up but all, full of drag queens. I cant seem to get the mental picture of this one boy in a dress out of my head. She was not coordinated enough to be wearing scuffed white go-go boots, her outfit was promising but poorly made and performance was awkward.
Anyway, Sidetracks was a good time. It smelled a little like the lesbian section at Home Depot but the smelly places are usually the most promising. They served up burly queens and good conversation. Frankie was molested by a drunk old man while out having a cigarette and I had to threaten him with a craigslist posting until he staggered down the street but all in all, decent atmosphere. We returned to the hotel for the most incredible chicken taco/quesadilla/hangover cure thingamajigs ever to exist. The proceedings of the evening are up for interpretation.
It's Wednesday morning... more than halfway through, moderately disappointed with Chi-town and driving into Indiana. A gem is what Indiana is. Yes ladies and lady-boys, GEM! It was like God herself opened up the skies and assisted in our hangover when the wind took us through this place so incredible they named it the 'Travel Plaza.' You heard it here, Indiana is too good for rest stops. Cheap gas, cheap cigarettes and a little place they like to call Red Burrito. That place fucked my life sideways with nachos and cheese. I am craving them right now. Also, the first and only 'Travel Plaza' to have Coke Zero in the fountain machine. I stopped at the ATM, requested $100 and got $120 on top of not being charged a processing fee. Indiana should seriously consider re-naming their state, Incredible. They get three snaps in a Z formation.
I was sad to say Au revoir to Indiana and never think another state will live up to my mid-westpectations but Ohio didn't do too bad. After realizing we had listened to every last CD we owned, a Best Buy was needed. Not only did the 'All Ohio' toll booth lady lead us in the direction of super-store shopping where we purchased some CD's and an Iphone radio connection but the gentleman with a cock-eyed beard gave us on point directions to the local Cracker Barrel. I experienced my very first Cracker Barrel and have nothing but wonderful memories. Toledo, Ohio quite possibly has the nicest customer service people I've ever come in contact with.
We continued on to Grove City, Pennsylvania on Wednesday evening. I know, random. Just a little town off Rte. 80 to rest after another 8 hour haul. Getting off the highway and attempting to find the hotel was quite tricky. We went an additional 8 miles too far into the darkness of PA twice when we finally parked Winona the land yacht, hiked up our skirts and got a trucker to lead us to the hotel. Silly career girls we are, the hotel was right behind Sheetz! Ya know, Sheetz... the 24 hour gas station/diner/nail salon/tax attorney/clothing store? Ugh.
We high-tailed it this morning and arrived in the Poconos. Were able to enjoy a nice meal with fun people at a great restaurant. It was refreshing to be around familiar faces after such a long drive of weirdos and corn and cows. After a lovely meal, Frankie and I finished the end of our 3,000 mile adventure with Winona the Land Yacht. Over the George Washington Bridge, lit in purple for our arrival, across the Throgs Neck, through Queens and onto Long Island. Where it all began. Luckily, Long Island is the temporary situation. I can't wait to get the fuck out of here. Manhattan has their career girls back in action. There will be fur, there will be muffs, hell... there may just even be fur muffs.
Hasta Luego San Diego!
