August 2003

Into the Bowels of America: An Odyssey with Schlomo and Lefty

In the summer of naught 3, my wife, Lefty, and I, both approaching the 3rd decade of our lives, found ourselves, very willingly, in a car with my parents, roaring across this great land of ours. Neither had experienced what it is to look for America. We are people of the Atlantic. Blue water only exists in postcards and National Geographic specials. Sea water is green- just look at a box of Crayola.

So on a dark and stormy night, we set off for the city of Angels. We had three days to get there. The Hollywood lights awaited us. There would be no sightseeing, only pictures from rest stops that had the state's name to prove that we, city folks, had done it.

All four of us pile in a rental car, with me at the helm with a fucked up alignment. Out of New York through the Lincoln tunnel. We were going to see that New Yorker picture and proudly proclaim that it was wrong. New York, the eastern seaboard, was the center of the universe…there was no center in America. It is a great melting pot of land and people. 69 hours later we found out, we were wrong…we were delusional. This country is boring. No wonder the bible belt is so damn big, there ain't nothing else to do but pray that there is something else better out there.

The following is something of a travelogue that Lefty (my wife of not yet a year) and I came up with. We hoped that our thoughts, observations, and opinions based on our narrow view of the country would be something worthy of sharing, if not for you, at least for us. There is nothing better than reinforcing one preconceived notions.

As I roared through Lefty's home state of New Jersey (which I like to forget), I got to appreciate the Garden State in the rain and dark. You don't see anything. That is good. Within two hours, we had reached Pennsylvania. I was the only one awake. It was me, the white lines, and tunnels through the mountains. They were cool! But, by the 5th one, I had had it. More thoughts filled my mind in the dark. No more tunnels! No more white lines! More crank-filled trucker coffee! Must make it to state line. Boss Hogg is after me. What the fuck is Kleinfeltersville? When the hell did I get to Germany? OHIO!! Yay!! I can stop driving! Morning has broken!.

Now that was displaced optimism. After a two hour nap, a lovely intake of calories at some anonymous Cracker Barrel restaurant, I got to see Ohio. If you have ever been to a suburb, you have seen Ohio. Ohio sucks!! Really sucks. It sucks so bad, that you want to get to Indiana. Indiana is a nice, neat state. As you drive I-70 and squint your eyes, you can see Ward and the Beaver getting their asses kicked by Axl Rose. But what you really see are some of the most anal retentive farms ever made by man. It is fucking amazing. Perfect corn rows. Don't these people have a life, or even a hobby?

Anyway, it was on to Illinois, Land of Lincoln. It was here that we got to take our first highway rest-stop picture. Lefty took one of me standing in front of a "Welcome to Illinois" sign, right above half a dozen recycling bins. Made me feel like I was back in Staten Island. Besides trying to be green, Illinois is just like Indiana. Except they do not take pride in their farms… they're just not as neat.

Missouri was a real change. Now we were getting into the west. Highway signs proclaiming "See Where Jesse James and His Gang Hid!" for a hundred miles. But first, one must cross the mighty Mississippi River and drive through St. Louis. The best part was that I was able to get a picture of a big metal arch from the car. The worst part…St. Louis is, well, St. Louis. National Lampoon's Vacation hit a bit close to home. The one time we got off the highway for a piss stop, it looked like we were in that movie…. right before the Griswold's hubcaps were stolen. But we had left the last major metropolitan area until Tulsa. The rolling hills and sweep of vegetation finally made us glad that we made this trip. It is land that one does not see on the Atlantic.

We finally ended the first day of driving in Springfield. Due to extreme exhaustion, we ate at a restaurant in the hotel parking lot, and it sucked, and went to bed. As we were checking out, I am happy to report that I have discovered were Yakov Smiroff was exiled to. It was not Gorky, but Branson, MO. Apparently (and this is just a rumor) they have a mini-Las Vegas there, and people from hundreds of miles around come to see and hear what the folks in the big city are entertaining themselves with. I think we can make millions with a NKTOB cover band there.

Next, of course, is Oklahoma (a song that I just despise, but Lefty likes). Oklahoma is flat. Flat! Flat! Fuckity Flat! But we finally got a better rental car. It was bigger and the right front wheel didn't shake. The fucked-up thing about Oklahoma is that, even though they are a conservative state, they love those tolls booths. Now back east, where most of America thinks we're commies, it is OK to have tolls. But not in the proud, the few, the gut-the-government-to-death West.

Now as everyone knows, Oklahoma is followed by the Texas panhandle. Now this is beyond fuckity flat. Words fail me on how flat this is. You can see for a hundred miles. Besides flatness, there is steak. We had lunch at some German steak haus, and man…it was almost mooing. Great steak! (But not the best. Sorry, that still goes to Peter Luger's, in the middle of the most Jewish part of Hymietown). The cool thing about Texas, is that as soon as it stops being flat, you know that you are almost in New Mexico. Which is really nice.

Now that is a beautiful state. New Mexico. Even a hard boiled cynic like myself can fall in love with the red New Mexico (must be because I am from the commie east). It is a beautiful place, even at 80 mph. I must go back. Even the overpasses are beautiful. Instead of the military grays and greens, they are terra cotta and blue. Instead of looking weird, like they would in octogenarian Florida… they actually blend in with the scenery. At dawn, they are beautiful earthen pink. We stayed our second night in Albuquerque. A rather nice city, with lots of adobe. We got up at dawn, got some papers, and headed further west!
(For those Simpson fans out there, who remember the episode where Homer becomes the Springfield Isotopes Mascot… it is a fact. The 'Topes left Springfield, to go, where else, Albuquerque. Nothing better than fact following fiction.)

After stopping at the Continental Divide, but not taking a leak to see if it would go to the Atlantic or Pacific, we got to Arizona (almost there). Almost as nice as New Mexico, but much more desert. Until we got to Flagstaff. Out of nowhere came a forest. A real, large, evergreen forest that rambles, with the highway, through the mountains. It made the drive much more pleasant.

Before we got to California, my folks took us down an old part of Old Route 66. Though the desert, up the mountains on a single lane road. Around us was barbed and razor wire, with Do Not Enter signs, and an abandoned Esso station made out of stone. There was something nearby that didn't take kindly to strangers. As we reached the peak of the mountain, when the temperature hit 110, we saw what looked like a lake or salt flat. It was the entrance to a gold and silver mine. And on the other side of the mountain, jumping in front of you out of nowhere, is a town. Oatman, AZ. A real western town, with jackasses roaming the street, several salons and cheap chatchkies. I got a donkey that said Oatman, AZ, Lefty got an Indian blanket. If it wasn't 110, we would have stayed longer, but after 20 minutes one is ready to die, so we left. Onto the Mojave Desert.

As we descended, the temperature kept on climbing. It reached +120 right outside Needles, California. Land fit for neither man nor beast. But in good American fashion, they were building housing communities anyway. Just in case you can't stand the humidity, but like that oven feeling.

The Mojave desert is just scary. A couple of hundred miles without any life. If your car breaks down, you are vulture food. But life soon appears, and you are on your way to Los Angles. And so 69 hours after leaving New York, we had arrived. A little bit older and a little bit wiser. We learned many valuable lessons on this voyage through the heart of this great land of ours. For example, we are never, ever, ever going to Ohio again!