This story starts on a Friday afternoon. I left work early so we would have more time, something that in retrospect is super laughable, but I was at my friend Jessica's house by 4pm ready to fucking roll. Unfortunately our 3rd party member, Kristyn (who's car we were taking), had to wait for her room mate to bring it back, so we didn't leave until about 6pm. But eventually we got our assess on the road and began to head north.
The first part of the trip went extremely smooth. We were up and past the hellhole known as L.A. in an easy 2 hours, and quickly on our way to Northern California at a brisk 80 miles an hour. We had to stop for gas somewhere around Sacramento, and that's when bizarre incident #1 happened. We pull into a gas station, everything is eerily quiet. Then all of a sudden about 8 or 9 cars pull in, bass thumping, rims shinning, and we were surrounded by a rap video with no camera's. People were yelling for no reason, dancing on top of cars, and just kind of having a good time hanging out in the parking lot. It was like some clouds just rolled in, but instead of rain, it brought a fucking party. By the time our tank was full, some rent-a-cops came and broke it up, and the party cloud packed it up and peeled out, and we were back on the road.
I was driving at this point and everyone else was sleeping. It's a weird thing to be driving by yourself on an unfamiliar road, speeding into the unknown. Just me, my thoughts, and the blackness beyond. The sides of the road were completely black, but I could tell just beyond the blackness was some sort of forest. Was it pretty? I had no way of knowing. My thoughts started to wander to places that matched the surrounding darkness. The people I love. The things I regret. People I have lost. If I could just go back and change just one moment, would everything be different or was always destined to lead to where I am as it was? I put on Tim Barry's live album and gave myself a new goal, shut the fuck up and make it to Oregon.
And make it to Oregon we did! The sun started to rise and the nature became visible. I had to stop driving and take a nap at this point, but not before we stopped at an awesome truck stop gas station that had everything from creepy fairy statues to ponchos to giant stuffed dogs to Elvis Presley leather jackets. If I only wasn't on a budget, I'd be the proud owner of some pretty stupid shit right now.
PORTLAND
Finally we made it to Portland. First thing was first, we needed food. I remembered from my last time here a really good little place called Broder, they serve Scandinavian breakfast food. I personally loved it, but could tell I was the only one really stoked on the decision. Next stop was Powell's books, a bookstore so massively huge its a little overwhelming. Jessica found a book she had been looking for for apparently ever, Hunter S. Thompson's Generation of Swine. So that was cool. I found a few things, but again, on a tight budget so I had to leave them behind. We had some time to kill, so we drove across town to a little record shop which ended up not being worth our time. We did head for a "Barcade" at the suggestion of Jared, but the place didn't serve alcohol until 5pm and we were already on several days with no booze, so we headed for the Martini glass shaped sign we saw down the street. It ended up being a relatively new bar called The Plank, a kind of pirate/sea themed bar that would become the theme of the weekend. We had to pee and b-lined straight for the bathrooms to the cries of the owner telling us we had to buy something. Finally acquiring alcohol, we shot the shit with the owner and the bartender, a strange fellow who wouldn't look you in the eyes when he talked and stuck his fingers from orifices to glass drink rims with little care. The owner was rad though and gave us a corn dog he was experimenting with breaded with hot Cheetos.
Also, the Easter bunny was there (at the bookstore, obviously)
After a few drinks, it was time to head off to the main event. Get a steak dinner at a strip club called the Acropolis. This was also one of Jared's suggestions, apparently the guy who owns the gentlemen's club also owns a cattle ranch and produces steaks for the fine diners of Portland as well as his super sketchy club. It was here that bizarre incident #2 happened (shocking, right?). On one of our smoke breaks, we found a group of Canadians standing outside fucking shit housed. The drunkest one proclaimed he could do the worlds best cartwheel, so naturally we got him to do one. That somehow evolved into doing high kicks while the Canadians cartwheeled and chanted my name. I immediately added and crossed that off my bucket list. We went back in to devour our steaks and watch our favorite stripper one last time (She had America themed shorts, red hair, glasses, and chucks and must have been late to work because she came in and threw her purse and coffee on the ground and got to work. She won automatically) and then took off for the 3 hour drive to Seattle.
SEATTLE
Oooooh. Aaaaah.
We got to Seattle and decided to get seeing the Space Needle out of the way. I mean, honestly, how long could you stare at it anyway? After that we headed straight for a hotel because we were all tired as shit and desperately wanted showers. The next morning we headed out to a restaurant that was gluten free and vegan since Kristyn has dietary restrictions, and could finally eat like a normal happy person there. After that we went to another record store and a cupcake shop and this is when things got weird for me.
Warning, it's about to get a little personal all up in here.
So, for most of my life I have struggled with depression. It's something I hate talking about and It's something I'm super embarrassed about. I do not like talking about my problems, and I think it's part of the reason why I am so quick to put anyone else before myself. I've learned to adapt around it (which I know, not healthy, whatever), to hide it best I can when I feel like shit, but sometimes it's written all over me. Normally, I'm at home or close to home when it hits, so I can just shut myself off in my room and curl up and try to disappear. Not so easy to do a thousand miles from home. So here I am in the middle of this record store in Seattle and I get hit with this feeling of sadness and loneliness all because I look at this one fucking human being and know in the back of my head I will never be good enough, and all these fucking feelings I have raging inside of me will all amount to absolutely nothing, because there is nothing further I can do. So I retreat best I can to this really creepy stairwell I found behind the record store and try and calm myself down. But instead the complete opposite happens, and not being in control of myself and not being able to do any fucking thing about it triggers a fucking panic attack (Something else that has been happening with an alarming frequency). So now I'm shaking weird, I can't think right, I'm getting asked a million questions of what is wrong with me? am I having fun? am I bored? and I can't answer a single one because I don't even know what to say and I am on the verge of tears for no real reason. I do finally get a grasp on it on the car ride to our next destination though and go on like nothing happened and just hope no one mentions it again (which thankfully is what happens).
Anyways, next stop was the pier and the biggest Ferris wheel in the United States. The adjacent building had a bunch of creepy wood carved people everywhere, and a look into the shop where they make them. I swear looked like they were currently building a lady wiping her ass after a shit. It was weird. Kendra said we had to check out the gum wall, so we went there. It was gross. So much gum everywhere. On the way though I ran into a guy dressed as Krieger from the show Archer, apparently there was an anime con going on somewhere near by. Then it was a trip through Pikes market place, including an awesome comic shop with a million little nerd things I would love to own, and then off once again to find alcohol.
We ended up at a punk pirate/sea themed bar called The Kraken. This is the place all of our friends bands play at when they are in town, so we decided it would probably be our best bet. It didn't disappoint. The bar tender was rad, the drinks were poured heavy and good times began. Through a series of events, I eventually stuck my entire fist into Jessica's drink and yelled something about "well now I'm fisting your drink" when we were approached by an older man named Swan. He said he was compiling quotes for a book he is writing about weird shit he overhears in places, and wanted to include our recent exchange. He then read to us some of the ones he had already written, non of which I can remember at this point. They were fucking funny though and I honestly hope that book gets made someday because it is a hell of a good idea, I also recognized the guy who cooked our tater tots as the guy from the band Successes new album cover, Radio Recovery. Jessica and myself drank our weight in whiskey, finally able to let loose, but eventually we had a schedule to keep and a long long fucking drive, so it was off the San Francisco we went.
THE REDWOOD FORREST
We eventually took the 101 down the coast through the Redwood Forrest. It was absolutely stunningly beautiful and cool. We stopped at some point on the side of the road to take pictures and shit, and the only thing I could think of was this episode of Parks and Recreation where Lesley and Ben are walking through the Redwoods and Ben just stops mid conversation and says, "Wait. I'm in Endore..." We eventually found that tree you can drive through, and it turns out, the hole is super fucking small and really tight fit to get through. We also drove past the Ocean, which even though we live in OCEANside, was still impressive. Must have been the giant rocks and gray sky. Also, driving the 101 from Oregon to San Francisco takes fucking FOR-EV-ER. If you ever do it, prepare yourself.
Nature and shit
SAN FRANCISCO
I didn't know the 101 was the highway that crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, something I have never done, so when we got near and I saw signs, I got off the highway to a view point to surprise the sleeping ladies. Unfortunately, it was so fucking windy and cold no one cared, and we crossed into the city. The first stop was Haight and Ashbury, home to past hippies and present scum. And the Grateful dead house. After that we went to Fisherman's Wharf, but the girls got bad news from back home and we were kind of on a time crunch at this point, so we bounced to a pirate/sea themed bar called The Riptide to meet our buddy Jared (who was in town on tour with his band Sic Waiting) and to have a beer before we left. This place was having some sort of acoustic music night or something and Jared of course talked his way into playing a song, which was cool to see. We had a rule that we had to leave the city by 10pm because Jessica and I worked the next morning, but of course 10 came and went, so we settled for 11pm and said our goodbyes and started our journey home.
The good times. They were had.
THE ACCIDENT
We had it all worked out perfectly. Jessica would drive for the first 2-3 hours so Kristyn could rest. Then they would switch and Jessica could sleep. I got to sleep the entire time because I had to work at 6:30am. We executed that part of the plan flawlessly, and I slept in the back seat bed we made for a good 4 or 5 hours. At one gas station, I asked Jess if she wanted the back, because it was way more comfortable and she said yeah and we switched places. So now we are cruising down the 5 at 4 in the morning, I'm asleep in the front when I'm shaken awake by the car slamming into the guardrail by the fast lane. I'm fully awake when I realize we have lost control and are flying across all 4 lanes of the freeway. And I almost shit myself when I see that we are about to crash head on into the beginning part of the guardrail next to the slow lane. I have had nightmares of this exact thing happening. We hit the corner part of the guard rail and it kind of sends the car up an embankment and back down into the backside of the guardrail. The drivers side window shatters and we come to a halt on this hill side. After we all figure out we are ok, we get out of the car and some dude called the cops because he thought for sure we would all be waaaay more hurt then we were. We were about 10 minutes from Magic Mountain and all our planning just went to shit. They had to shut down the freeway for a few minutes to get 2 tow trucks in position to remove the car. Yes, it took 2 tow trucks. It was freezing and we all had to pee, so the tow ruck guy stuck us in the truck and put on 22 Jump Street on his phone and asked the cops if we could all pee on the side of the road (after he said he would have just went up and peed right next to the cop car if he had to go so bad. He was pretty cool.) Eventually we got a new rent a car and Jack in the Box for comfort food and headed home. I was only 7 hours late for work!
You were good to us friend
So here I am, 3 days later, still sore as shit, and minus the hiccup at the end, the episode, and the bad news for the girls on the road, it was some of the most fun I have had in a long while. Not showering, experiencing new things, and just hanging with good people really does wonders for your soul. I highly suggest grabbing some buds and hitting the road.
Also, Seattle totally won.
KRIEGER!
KRIEGER!
First of all, it's Dr. I'll Solve Your Ant Problem
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