I don't understand how people get up at this kind of hour. It's not natural. We're basically talking monkeys, and I'll bet there aren't any monkeys that get up at 5 a.m.
The only upside is, it's so early, and we went to bed so recently, that Ed is too groggy to be overtly hostile when I wake him up.
We get our stuff together, and slip out of the house. Dan and my sister aren't up yet, and we're not going to wake them up just to say goodbye. But we're moving kind of slowly, and so by the time we get into the car, we're running late as always for our flight. Fortunately, it's early enough that I can drive 90 mph on the freeway, and I've been to Hobby Airport a million times, and it has decent signage, so we set a new record for gate arrival: 18 full minutes before takeoff. This prompts a round of high-fiving and self-congratulatory rhetoric.
Back in St. Louis, we take the train from the airport back to Forest Park, where my mom picks us up. We stop off at my mom's house, where I deposit Ed and our stuff in the cat-shit-smelling basement, so he can take a nap while my mom and I drive back into Illinois to my grandpa's house to pick up the trailer. This from Ed:
"The plan is that Gus and his mom will go pick up the car and U-Haul at Gus's grandfather's house while I stay at Gus's parents' house and try to nap (I'm exhausted). The round trip should take about 1.5 hours. So Gus and his mom leave, and I try -unsuccessfully- to nap. Since I can't sleep, I make phone calls. While I'm on the phone, I hear the car pull up, so I figure it's time to go. But then Gus comes in and tells me a story that begins with 'OK, you're gonna love this one...'"
Yeah, so, here's the story: it's a 45 minute drive to my grandpa's house. Since it's just the two of us, it's a great opportunity for some mother-son bonding. At some point along the way, my mom breaks into a really sweet speech about how she's so proud of me for taking on this new business venture, and the speech is exquisitely timed to end just as we're getting out of the car at my grandpa's place...
Mom (getting out of the car): "... and so I think you're a really bright, really good kid, and I'm proud of you for doing this. I think you're going to be very successful."
Me (getting out of the car and looking at the trailer): "Uh, mom?"
Mom: "Yeah?"
Me: "That was a really nice speech."
Mom: "Thanks."
Me: "Yeah, so, um, you see that trailer right there?"
Mom (suspiciously): "Yea-a-a-a-h-h-h?"
Me: "The key to that trailer is in my bag. Which is in the house. With Ed."
Mom: "Of course, I could be totally wrong about you."
So, partly to spare my mom additional driving, and partly because I can drive a lot faster if she's not in the car ("OK, do NOT drive 300 mph on the roads!" "Sure mom...") I take the ghetto van and practically fly back to the house.
I call it the ghetto van because it is really the sorriest piece-of-shit van you have ever seen. My parents got it while I was away in the Soviet Union in 1989. They didn't tell me they were going to do that...
[flashback: StL, early March, 1989...
If you have seen the movie SuperBad, you have a good idea of what high school was like for me. Plaid, my best friend, was forever coming up with "good ideas" which we just "had to do", typically over my objection that they were in fact "bad ideas" that would get us into a lot of "trouble". (In fact, I mentioned this in my best man speech at his wedding a few months ago. But that's another story for another day...)
Plaid is, in many real ways, a genius. He is also, in many real ways, a natural disaster. The combination of these two qualities always made for interesting times. One of the ways in which he was a disaster was with girls. In Plaid's neverending search for drama, he would start telling lies to whatever girl (or typically, girls) he was seeing. And I don't mean little lies, like "I was home all night" when in fact he was out, or, "I'm a virgin" when in fact he was sleeping with half the girls on the south side of St. Louis. No, Plaid opted for lies like "I'm a covert operative with the CIA" or my personal favorite "My twin brother is a member of The Cure." That one would always be followed with putting down the phone, and then picking it up again and talking in a British accent, or, if the conversation was in person, telling the girl he'd go get him, and then going into his basement and coming out again 3 minutes later in different clothes, using the British accent.
Now, right now you're probably thinking, "C'mon, nobody believes that shit. Either these girls were retarded, or they didn't believe it- they just pretended to." Oh naive reader. You never saw Plaid in action. Because here's the thing- long before there were neocons, conservative talk radio, or Fox News, there was Plaid.
Basically, his technique was wholehearted, unflinching commitment to The Lie. Of course the girls would always start out saying it was bullshit. But Plaid would just stick to it, and react as though you were being insulting and/or crazy to question what he was saying. And sooner or later, your confidence starts to crack. You start saying to yourself, "That can't possibly be right, but no one could possibly be crazy enough to lie about it and stick to the lie that passionately." And soon enough, you question your own sanity just enough to waver, and that's when Plaid pounces.
And just in case you're thinking this could never happen to you, just remember that this country was convinced to waste a trillion dollars and the lives of several thousand of its young people fighting a retarded war using EXACTLY the same strategy as Plaid used to use to get girls to sleep with him. For the record, that's why I was opposed to this war from the start, even when I lived in Richmond, where the climate is pretty conservative, and my anti-war stance was very much in the minority. But every time I heard the rationales for it, all I really heard was Plaid. And that's how I knew the war was a "bad idea" that would get us all into "trouble".
Often, late at night, Plaid would call me on the secret phone. My phone curfew was technically 8pm, but my room had once upon a time been my dad's study, before he and my grandpa built him one in the basement, and so there was a phone jack in the room behind my bed. Every night I'd sneak downstairs and shut the ringer off on the main phone in the kitchen, and then hook up the secret phone on the jack upstairs, and then Plaid and I could talk late.
On this particular schoolnight in early March, just a couple days before I was scheduled to fly to the Soviet Union as part of an exchange program, Plaid called me around midnight...
Plaid: "Dude, get ready, I'm coming by to pick you up in 20 minutes."
Gonzo (Gonzo was my handle, BTW): "Dude, it's midnight, and I have school tomorrow. What the hell do you want?"
Plaid: "You've gotta go with me out to Chesterfield to see Jenny."
Jenny was Plaid's latest project. She was putting up a good fight- 3 weeks, and he still hadn't managed to get her to sleep with him. I knew this was driving him bananas.
Gonzo: "Are you kidding? That's like a million miles away. Why the hell do you have to go see Jenny now? Is she going to sleep with you? Do I really need to be present for that??"
Plaid: "Come ON. I need you to keep me company on the drive out there. I have to talk to her tonight."
Gonzo: "Can't it wait a couple nights, so I don't have school the next day?"
Plaid: "No. I told her I'm in the CIA, and that tomorrow I'm going on a mission to London and will be gone for a couple of months. She wants to go with me, so I told her OK. Now I have to go there tonight and fix it."
Gonzo: "HOW THE HELL DO YOU FIX THAT? When tomorrow comes and you go NOWHERE, what are you going to do??"
Plaid: "Shut UP! I'll figure it out! Are you coming or what?"
Gonzo (heaving big sigh): "Fine, whatever, I'll be ready in 15 minutes."
So Plaid came by, and I snuck out, and we drove all the way out to Chesterfield, which is a really nice part of the suburbs. Jenny lived with her parents in a house that was the biggest, fanciest house I'd ever been in, easily larger than my house and Plaid's house put together, and our houses collectively housed 14 people. We both grew up in poor/working class neighborhoods on the south side of St. Louis. So we were very much out of place in a neighborhood like Jenny's.
And so, when we parked the Plaidmobile, which was a beat up gray Ford Pinto, in front of Jenny's house at about 1 a.m. and waited for her to come out, we were waiting maybe 5 minutes before a car pulled up right behind us, and shined a very bright light into the Plaidmobile.
Plaid: "Oh shit! It's the cops!!"
So we slunk down in the seats, perhaps thinking they hadn't noticed us, and would just go away. Of course, they didn't. They approached the windows on both sides of the car, and asked us what we were doing in the neighborhood. Plaid explained that we were there to see Jenny, and the police explained that there was a curfew, which we were in violation of. So they wrote us curfew tickets, which they said would be mailed to our homes.
At this news, I flipped out, because I was about to leave for the Soviet Union, which meant I would have no way to intercept the mail and prevent my parents from seeing the ticket. But at least they didn't arrest us or anything- they just told us to go home.
And then, they walked up to Jenny's door and woke up her parents, to tell them boys were waiting outside for their daughter. Apparently, they went to Jenny's room and found her packing her suitcase, still convinced she was going to run away from home to London with Plaid. At least, that's what Jenny said the next day on the phone when she told Plaid that she was never going to see him again.
So, I went to the Soviet Union. It was an amazing trip, stories from which will have to wait for another day. But eventually the day came that I returned to St. Louis, and the dread inside had been slowly building up for days. Presumably by now the ticket had been mailed to my parents, and they were waiting to kill me. They met me at the airport, and my mom said, very seriously, "Boy, do we have a surprise for you." At that point, I nearly pissed myself, but managed a weak assent and walked with them out to the parking lot. Clever, I thought to myself, my dad doesn't want to kill me in front of all those witnesses- he'll just wait until we're deep in the parking lot where no one can see and then beat me to death there.
So we walked out to an apparently random place and then stopped. I was breaking out in a cold sweat...
Mom (in her best Bob Barker voice): "WE GOT A NEW CAR!!"
Me (weakly): "What?"
(Apparently, the ticket hadn't been mailed yet to my parents. And although I religiously checked the mail myself for months afterward, it never did. Plaid never got his either...)
And that's when my mom pointed out the Ghetto Van. Of course, it wasn't yet the ghetto van- it was brand new, but that was late April 1989...]
Back in 2007, the ghetto van was a real piece of shit. The AC didn't work, the heater didn't work, the radio didn't work, the ignition was fussy and you had to wiggle the key just the right way to get it to work, the passenger side door could only be unlocked from the inside, it was covered in dings and scratches, the felty stuff on the interior ceiling was tearing down slowly, and would hit you in the head in any seat but the driver's seat, and my mom used the inside of the van as a garden storage shed and as a mobile craft store. To get into the back seat, you had to climb over any number of things, including my dad's wheelchair, garden tools, and bags of garden-related stuff, some of which over time had burst and therefore covered the floor with a permanent layer of dirt and small rocks. Add to that random pieces of actual trash that had never been thrown away, and you have the Ghetto Van.
It's Blue Book value, before factoring in its apparent condition, was $600. We know that because it got stolen a couple of months ago from the church parking lot by some kids looking for a joyride. Why on earth they would pick that vehicle is beyond me, but fixing the two windows they broke and the ignition was going to cost more than the thing was worth, so the insurance totaled it. And the stupid kids, whoever they are, stole my dad's wheelchair, so I hope that they get hit by a bus, get paralyzed from the waist down, and spend the rest of their miserable lives in wheelchairs just like it.
Medicare replaced the wheelchair, but the replacement seems to be made out of solid lead, and is too heavy for my mom to lift, making it useless for its intended purpose of helping get my dad in and out of the house for his doctor's appointments. Medicare refused to pay for the slightly more expensive chair made out of rational materials like aluminum and titanium. They are willing, though, to pay for one of those motorized T-72 old people tanks that you can zoom around in, and which cost, I dunno, about a kajillion dollars. That thing is even less useful for getting someone in and out of a house. All I want to know is, can we get some healthcare reform? Now? Please?
Anyway, I drive the ghetto van as fast as it will go back to the house, where I explain the situation to Ed and he helpfully informs me that I'm a dumb mutherfucker. Obviously, I'm somewhat lacking in a particularly compelling counterargument right now, so I just tell him to shut the fuck up and be ready to go in another hour and a half, when I get back from my grandpa's, at which point we will go have lunch with Plaid.
So I drive back to my grandpa's, and note as I cross the bridge that this is the third time on this trip that I am driving into Illinois, and the second time from the west, and that there is probably a school of thought that says that on a road trip from NYC to CA, that's pretty fucked up.
Oh well, you can't believe everything you learn in school.
Thankfully, this trip is uneventful- I pick up the trailer, say goodbye to my grandpa, and head back into St. Louis. This is also now the third time I'm driving into Missouri on this trip, but at least all three times are pointed in the right direction. I pick up Ed, say goodbye to my mom, and we head out to lunch with Plaid. We have Mongolian Barbecue, which Ed has never had before, and have a grand old time catching up with Plaid, hearing about wedding planning, and telling stories. After stuffing our faces, we say goodbye to Plaid, and head west across Missouri.
8/29/07: Heading West
1) This Land is Your Land (Prelude) - Unknown
2) Whirlwinds Dancing - R. Carlos Nakai
3) American Music - The Violent Femmes
4) American Girl - Tom Petty
5) American Tune - Indigo Girls
6) Happy Trails - Original TV Theme
7) Cold Missouri Waters - James Keelaghan
8) Can You Picture That - The Muppets
9) Green Acres - Original TV Theme
10) Starkville - Indigo Girls
11) Against the Wind - Bob Seeger
12) Motorcycle Mama - The Sugarcubes
13) Day-O - Harry Belafonte
14) Bonanza - Original TV Theme
15) The Wild Wild West - Original TV Theme
16) The Wild West is Where I Want to Be - Tom Lehrer
17) Little House on the Prairie - Original TV Theme
18) Dreamer's Chant - R. Carlos Nakai
19) God Thinks - Voltaire
20) Shame on You - Indigo Girls
21) Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee - Luka Bloom
22) Amazing Grace - R. Carlos Nakai
23) This Land is Your Land (Reprise) - Unknown
Fortunately, the 300 mile trip across my home state is uneventful, and we arrive at Royals stadium in plenty of time for the game. Since the stadium is right next to the Chiefs' stadium, there's plenty of parking for over-sized vehicles, and we have the easiest time so far parking the car. We change inside the car (I must have my Cardinals jersey on for all baseball games, except maybe at Yankee stadium, where the risk of death approaches 100%), and then play a long game of catch in the parking lot while we wait.
Royals stadium
Although it's a little overcast, it turns out to be a nice night for a game, and our seats are once again awesome, and we watch the underdog Royals beat the Tigers. So far my teams have a 100% win record on this trip.
The Royals are spanking the Tigers on a beautiful night.
Me and Ed, getting increasingly fat from ballpark food.
After the game, we head out north on I-29, so that we can cut over onto I-80 across Nebraska. Doing so will take us through the SW corner of Iowa, thus knocking off another two states for Ed. We're trying to get as far as possible, because tomorrow we are seeing the Broncos play in Mile High stadium, and Denver is a long way away. However, we only make it as far as the Iowa-Nebraska border, just across from Nebraska City, before we throw in the towel. This means getting up early tomorrow though, because Nebraska is pretty wide and we've a long way to go...
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