Thursday, July 5, 2007

Sedona = Sedated Donna

Last weekend's trip to Arizona was exactly what I needed--something low-key and relaxing after being at work for 80 hours a week.

I was, however, quite shocked when Donna--normally quite the rager--was also low-key. I mean, really, she only had ONE DRINK the entire time we were there. And she was in bed by 10 each night. Where did my sister go??

To be fair, there's nothing really to do in Sedona. At all. It's quite like New Mexico: Quite pretty, but ultimately pointless in that there's nothing to do except look at things. It closes promptly at 9PM. Once the sun goes down, and there's nothing to look at--everyone just passes out from boredom.





Arizona: It's tough being pretty. But easy to be BORING!

On Saturday, Donna drove us up to the Grand Canyon. On our way up, we stopped by a little coffee shop for some midday snacks and a pick-me-up. After our snacks, we wandered back to the car where Donna said, "Holy crap, it's 4 O'clock." Which means we would have been in the coffee shop for over an hour, which we clearly weren't.

We got back in the car, and her phone then told us it was 3 again. But mine said 4. Obviously, I wasn't going to let my trip to the future go to waste. I mean...what power I had! I was an hour into the future!!!! A few quick checks around made me realize that the future pretty much sucks in Arizona. After a few minutes, I was returned to my home time and regaled Donna with Tales From the Future! She ignored me.

Once we got to the Grand Canyon, I was really blown away by how amazing it is. Pictures don't do it justice--but here are some anyway.




"Look! It's Nothing!"

Being completely terrified of heights, however, made the whole experience a little stressful. I was convinced a stiff wind would knock me to my death. Either way, I already knew that an hour from then, I would still be alive...so it helped me relax a bit.


On Sunday, it was time to return home. Donna and I hopped in the car, had some breakfast and we were on our way. After a brief stop at (another) Cracker Barrel for food (and a Best Buy trying to find a Wii...) we continued on our way.

As night fell, Donna's car began to run low on gas. Her little low-gas indicator popped on and she remarked that it was cute. A feeling of dread began to fill me.

After driving a few miles, we passed a border inspection post (which was closed) and found an exit with a blue sign indicating gas and lodging. These signs are important for the road-weary traveler. But only if they are accurate.

We pull off the road and are instantly immersed in darkness. We passed a truck parked on the side of the road, where four young toughs were hanging out, drinking. I thought I heard one of them shout, "It's Rapin' Time!" as we drove by, but for some reason, Donna didn't hear it. As we drove deeper into the town, I was convinced that we were about to be murdered Texas Chainsaw/Hills Have Eyes style. The further we went into the town, the emptier the town became, much like our gas tank. So we turned around, drove past the rapists again and headed back to the freeway.

We drove another ten miles before hitting an exit for an Indian Casino. Once we got off the freeway for the second time, we drove another two miles to the casino area....and kept driving until we passed the casino--where we found no gas station. Again.

Luckily, we pulled up next to a cop who was parked along the side of the road. I rolled down the window and had the following exchange with him:

Me: Hello! Can you tell me where there's a gas station?
Helpful Officer: (pointing to the direction we just came from) Back that way.
Me: Oh. . .
(A car is pulling up behind us now, and we are blocking the road. Donna begins a slow roll away. . .)
Donna: "Is it on this road??"
Helpful Officer: "Oh. Uhh... No."

I roll my eyes and at this point begin to swear under my breath. Donna pulls off to the shoulder and I get out to have a more in-depth conversation with the Least Helpful Officer on the planet.

I approach his car slowly, for he is armed and clearly slow.

Me: "Where, exactly, is this gas station?"
Him: "Well....how did you get here?'

It took every ounce of energy I had not to shout, "WE ARE ONE SECOND AWAY FROM RUNNING OUT OF GAS. IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW WE GOT HERE, AS IT DOES NOT CHANGE WHERE THE NEAREST GAS STATION IS."

I didn't want to get shot, so I said, "Uhh....the freeway." Because how the F else is anyone getting there?

He told me we had to GET BACK ON THE FREEWAY and head to the next exit.

I get back in the car and tell Donna the bad news. Donna said we weren't going to make it. But we forged on anyway.

Getting back on the freeway, we had another four or five miles to go before the next exit. She turned on the flashers and I turned off the radio. We had limited resources, and had to conserve. She began to just coast down the hill on the 8.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, we reached the gas station, where we were able to waz, fill up, and clean the gross windows.

I hate the 8.

As soon as we got back on the road, Donna muttered, "I wonder if we could have made it."

ofcourseshedid.

The rest of the car ride to SD was uneventful...and my lonely, late drive to LA was annoying, as part of the freeway was closed.

Ofcourseitwas.

I am now back at the poopenanny that is work.

OFcourseIam. . .