On the Road Again

Before the summer began, when I was back in Palo Alto enjoying the wonderful Northern California springtime, I began to plan my luxurious 9-month interlude between completing my degree and starting my consulting gig in NYC. The sabbatical started with a final quarter at Stanford without any classes and only tour guiding and CS106B section leading to fill my days. I was spending a lot of time with my friend Michael, enjoying brief road trips along the Pacific Coast Highway and weekend adventures in San Francisco. He was in the Bay Area for six months doing a co-op with a green building materials company as part of his five-year program at RIT--where he was ultimately returning in the fall.

We realized that he would need to bring his car back to Rochester, NY in the last week of August, and having loved driving my own car across the country in 2005, I volunteered to co-pilot the journey. Although I was to be at Camp Harlam all summer, it was cheaper to get a round trip plane ticket for SFO-PHL-SFO after graduation, and so I planned to make my encore appearance in San Francisco on August 21st. Then I spent the summer in the 24-7 alternative universe of camp, and Michael kept busy at work planning out our route which would take us across 13 states.

Michael met me at the Stanford Golf Course after sharing a ride from SF with my friend Tyler, and off we set on leg 1 of our trip. We drove southeast through the Central Valley of California, stopping for one last In-N-Out in Kettleman City, just off of I-5. There is no direct highway connection between the Bay Area and Vegas, so really the only way to drive is by scooping down into the heart of the Mojave (where the outside temperature peaked at a dry 111 degrees), and then turning back towards the northeast.

While in the Mojave, we stopped to look at the Mojave Airport, graveyard of many of the world's deceased airlines, as well as the Mojave National Preserve, a huge open space surrounded by mountains and completely deserted of human interference. Although we would see more breath-taking abysses later on our journey, this was our first foray off of the highway and we were completely taken. It was sunset by the time we turned north to leave the park, and 9pm by the time we arrived in Sin City. We checked into our room at the Flamingo Hotel, and after grabbing a quick shower went out onto the strip to gawk at the masses. My friend Sawyer from Stanford was coincidentally there the same weekend, so we had dinner in Paris, and walked around to see Venice, New York, and an incredible outdoor fountain display at the Bellagio.

I'd be lying if I said I liked Vegas, and two hours on the strip was enough. Neither Michael nor I spent a dime in a casino, and the only word that seemed to really fit the town was "trashy". Armies of people line the sidewalks slapping the cards they hand out trying to get your attention. The cards, of course, advertise "hot girls who want to meet you" and can guarantee arrival at your hotel room within 20 minutes of your call. The whole place felt like a scam to convince people to do things they will later regret, and then stealing their wallets while they do them. We weren't sad to call it an early night and hit the road only 12 hours after our arrival.