08-11-2016, 03:34 PM
After all my moaning about not pulling off the highway and stopping, I did it again on the drive from Rifle to Vegas. But I did have good reason, I wanted to go down nostalgia lane. Again. I love that place.
Plus, I decided it would be a good place for breakfast rather than waiting for the breakfast buffet at the La Quinta. I can rationalize with best of them. My mother has trained me well in the arts of hypocrisy.
Well, the stop in Thompson Springs, Utah sparked a lot of memories, mainly because the place hasn't changed an iota in the intervening 28 years. Thompson is basically a pit stop by the side of the railroad tracks. It has a closed cafe and a closed motel. These were the same ones we used for the movie. The population of Thompson when I filmed there was 7 people. The major activity was the waste trucks that would constantly fill up at the edge of town and drive off to points unknown.
While I remembered many things about Thompson, nothing came back to me as I drove through Moab except maybe the turn to the River Road. I couldn't find the house where I lived on a fold out couch for six weeks. I couldn't remember any of the restaurants. I didn't want to waste any more time trying to find the old airstrip where we built two mansions. So, it was a big win, driving thirty miles off the freeway chasing the ghosts of my youth.
One of the problems with driving cross country is not knowing where the rest stops are for bathroom breaks. When I drive the five hours from LA to Saratoga, I know every pit stop along the way. I can tell you to the minute how far it is to the next bathroom. Drive through the trackless wastes of Utah and Nevada is a different proposition. There aren't a lot of handy signs telling you how far it is to the next rest area. The gas stations are few and far between. Couple that with my pea size bladder and my diabetes fueled constant thirst and you have recipe for wet car seats. Let's just say I wasn't completely successful in my hunt for a bathroom by about a minute. If the off ramp wasn't so long and the gas station was a little closer to the freeway, things would have gone better.
I stopped for the night at the South Point Hotel which is this monster of a hotel complex 5 miles south of the strip. It's a western themed place complete with an indoor arena for rodeos. If I had come in a little earlier, I could have seen a roping and shooting demonstration. As it was, I went to see Ghostbusters instead. There was absolutely no allure to the gambling.
I had a crappy dinner in the El Dorado room which was just off the casino floor. The restaurant has a no smoking policy. But since the only thing separating it from the smoke filled casino floor was a planter box, I wondered how they explained to the smoke not to cross that green barrier? Let's just say planter boxes aren't a great deterrent to airborne carcinogens.
As I was driving in to Vegas, I was tempted to push on home to LA. But I didn't. I also wanted to sleep in the next morning so my arrival into Los Angeles wouldn't correspond with rush hour traffic. I woke up at 3am and figured if I pushed it I could get through LA before rush hour really got going.
So, I loaded the car and headed off. I stopped in Primm to buy the most expensive gas of the trip. I also got to stand in line behind some customers who I think were still up from the night before and were spending their winnings in the gas station. As a matter of fact, the casino floor at the South Point Hotel was still lively as I dragged my bags through.
I came home to the rapturous welcome of the canines. Maeve was so excited she smashed her head into my face, chipped my tooth and bloodied my lip. Good to be home.
As I relaxed and reveled in surroundings I hadn't seen in 21 days, I realized I was pulling out again in just five days. That didn't seem like enough time to get ready.
It wasn't.
Plus, I decided it would be a good place for breakfast rather than waiting for the breakfast buffet at the La Quinta. I can rationalize with best of them. My mother has trained me well in the arts of hypocrisy.
Well, the stop in Thompson Springs, Utah sparked a lot of memories, mainly because the place hasn't changed an iota in the intervening 28 years. Thompson is basically a pit stop by the side of the railroad tracks. It has a closed cafe and a closed motel. These were the same ones we used for the movie. The population of Thompson when I filmed there was 7 people. The major activity was the waste trucks that would constantly fill up at the edge of town and drive off to points unknown.
While I remembered many things about Thompson, nothing came back to me as I drove through Moab except maybe the turn to the River Road. I couldn't find the house where I lived on a fold out couch for six weeks. I couldn't remember any of the restaurants. I didn't want to waste any more time trying to find the old airstrip where we built two mansions. So, it was a big win, driving thirty miles off the freeway chasing the ghosts of my youth.
One of the problems with driving cross country is not knowing where the rest stops are for bathroom breaks. When I drive the five hours from LA to Saratoga, I know every pit stop along the way. I can tell you to the minute how far it is to the next bathroom. Drive through the trackless wastes of Utah and Nevada is a different proposition. There aren't a lot of handy signs telling you how far it is to the next rest area. The gas stations are few and far between. Couple that with my pea size bladder and my diabetes fueled constant thirst and you have recipe for wet car seats. Let's just say I wasn't completely successful in my hunt for a bathroom by about a minute. If the off ramp wasn't so long and the gas station was a little closer to the freeway, things would have gone better.
I stopped for the night at the South Point Hotel which is this monster of a hotel complex 5 miles south of the strip. It's a western themed place complete with an indoor arena for rodeos. If I had come in a little earlier, I could have seen a roping and shooting demonstration. As it was, I went to see Ghostbusters instead. There was absolutely no allure to the gambling.
I had a crappy dinner in the El Dorado room which was just off the casino floor. The restaurant has a no smoking policy. But since the only thing separating it from the smoke filled casino floor was a planter box, I wondered how they explained to the smoke not to cross that green barrier? Let's just say planter boxes aren't a great deterrent to airborne carcinogens.
As I was driving in to Vegas, I was tempted to push on home to LA. But I didn't. I also wanted to sleep in the next morning so my arrival into Los Angeles wouldn't correspond with rush hour traffic. I woke up at 3am and figured if I pushed it I could get through LA before rush hour really got going.
So, I loaded the car and headed off. I stopped in Primm to buy the most expensive gas of the trip. I also got to stand in line behind some customers who I think were still up from the night before and were spending their winnings in the gas station. As a matter of fact, the casino floor at the South Point Hotel was still lively as I dragged my bags through.
I came home to the rapturous welcome of the canines. Maeve was so excited she smashed her head into my face, chipped my tooth and bloodied my lip. Good to be home.
As I relaxed and reveled in surroundings I hadn't seen in 21 days, I realized I was pulling out again in just five days. That didn't seem like enough time to get ready.
It wasn't.
As a matter of fact, my anger does keep me warm