* * * * *
The Rest Area I choose is only 2 exits away from my next destination, Meteor Crater. As stated in my previous blog, dinosaurs and space are the two things that make me giddy like a child, so I've been waiting a while to see this.
But that's not it: that's not the thing that finally happened.
Meteor crater cost 16$ for adults and 8$ for children, which probably isn't worth it if it's not something you've been looking forward to most your life like me. I only realize this after exiting the building because I forgot my phone. On my way out, a woman with 2 small kids is telling them, “Are you ready to go inside and see the crater?” I get my phone, and on my way back in, she's coming out, telling her kids, "Never mind, somebody's getting very rich off of this place."
In case you can't read the caption, this is a replica of, "The Holsinger Meteorite...the largest discovered fragment of the 150-foot...meteor that created Meteor Crater." Meteor Crater isn't just some dug out hole for kids to jump in (you aren't even allowed in, unfortunately), it really is an area in Arizona where a meteor hit the Earth. There's a museum attached to the Visitors Center that talks all about meteors. I always knew there were different names for different space traveling bodies, like asteroid, meteor, meteorite, etc., and I always thought there were simple differences to tell them apart. After leaving the museum though, I was somehow more confused on what made them different and still feel astronomists are making up more words than they need, but I'm a computer scientist: it's part of my job to cut out as many uniquities as possible in hopes I can fit everything into a pattern that's easier on me.
There are topics I didn't get dumber on, like learning there are, compositionally, 3 types of meteors: rock, metal, and rock and metal, which I guess you'd call grunge. Those aren't the terms they used, but that's basically what they are. They had 2 pieces of actual meteor of different compositions and a magnet you could attach to them to see how much more pull the one with more metal had in it which I thought was pretty neat.
I also learned the 4 things that determine the impact of a meteor are density, size, speed, and angle of entry...I think. It was something like that; I didn't do the best job of learning on this one. Also, smaller meteors, like the one that created Meteor Crater, create smoother craters, while larger ones end up with less of a hemisphere shape and gain a lot of unique features because the ground bounces up after impact.
Skipping past my shoddy memory of the facts...
...this is the crater. It's about 4000 feet across, or around 3/4 of a mile, and 550 feet deep: almost as high as the Washington Monument. Being made of an iron-nickel alloy, if the meteor really was 150 feet long, it would have been traveling around 26,000 miles an hour to produce the crater: that's slightly over 7 miles a second. The estimated amount of time it took the crater to be made after impact is 10 seconds. It was hard to prove the crater was made by a meteor rather than a volcano at first, because there weren't a lot of remnants of the meteor left. Only 1% of the meteor burned off in the atmosphere, but the rest of it was either vaporized, melted, or thrown into the air.
In the center of the crater is a hole where scientist once dug to look for pieces of the meteorite. When you look closer, to get a scale of the size, a 6 foot astronaut with a flag has been placed near the hole:
Considering myself a self-proclaimed, amateur geologist at this point in the trip, I start looking at the edges of the crater to try determining what direction the meteor came from:
I can't figure it out. I need to earn my amateur physics self-proclamation first.
When you buy a ticket to Meteor Crater they give you a card for a free cookie with purchase of a sandwich at Subway. I could really go for a sub, so I check the card on the way out: "Only good at Meteor Crater location"; it's right in the Visitors Center. So I go in and ask for a footlong meatball; they're out. I ask which footlongs are for 5$; the meatball was, but other than that, they don't participate in 5$ footlongs. No wonder they were willing to give a cookie away.
So I head into Flagstaff instead. I've heard good things about Flagstaff, so I've been looking forward to driving through. I've got Chick-fil-a gifts cards I've yet to use, so I decide to go there. It's closed, with a sign saying interviews Tuesday; man, the people this far west must've really hated those gay comments for all these employees to quit...oh, it's Sunday. Without a job, I've become oblivious to what day of the week it is.
Right across the street is a Dunkin Donuts though, which I also have a gift card for. I'm looking for real food, so I order their chicken sandwich: not good. Never order a chicken sandwich from a doughnut place, especially one that has a chicken sandwich place right across the street: it's like they don't even try. Afterward, I order their vanilla chai though, and that's really good. Counting good wifi and employees, it evens out to an overall positive experience. Across the street is a Walgreens, which is good, because for the first time on my trip, I'm about to run out of epilepsy medication.
But that's not it. That's not the thing that finally happened.
They tell me I can't get it filled because the prescription is over a year old. So the pharmacist says he'll fax my doctor to get their permission, but since it's Sunday I won't know anything until tomorrow: looks like I'm stuck in Flagstaff.
Now when I say that, I'm not saying anything bad about Flagstaff, it's been an enjoyable town, but when traveling is the only thing you have to do other than loiter places, I'd rather stay on the road, and since my next destination is the Grand Canyon, I'd especially like to get moving.
After Dunkin, I go to a McDonald's. The McDonald's in Flagstaff, across from Carl's Jr., is amazing. I've never seen such efficient and nice service out of a McDonald's before. The man I assume is manager is all in black and seems very serious about his position, almost like it's life or death whether you get your Big Mac on time. I'm not sure I could take a position like that so seriously, but it makes for a great restaurant.
As the night gets later, I decide to go back to the Rest Area to sleep even though it's a bit of a drive. I originally wanted to stay at a Walmart, but their parking lot seems a bit small for it to not be suspicious.
As it gets later, I recall from earlier in the day I'm beginning to stink. This is the first weekend I haven't found somebody to stay with on my trip, so I haven't had a real shower in a week. I'd do a wipedown at the Rest Area, but the stalls are too short: the door comes up to my shoulder and the wall comes up to my neck; I'm not sure what the thought process behind that was. Last night when I went to Chester's though, I noticed the Pilot gas station had shower rooms. If I hadn't been ordering my food already, I might've asked how to get one. But tonight, I decide I might as well go see, for the first time in my life, what it's like to take a truck stop shower.
But this isn't it: this still isn't the thing that finally happened.
On my way towards the Pilot I find a Flying J, another truck stop gas station. Going in, they are swamped. I don't wanna take a shower away from an actual trucker, so I think I might not even get in. I hear a prerecorded call over the intercom, “Ticket number ###, your shower is ready in room ##.” It sounds like the same voice they use for the Atlanta airport subway; “This train is about to move.” SHOOOOM!!
Considering whether I'd rather just leave than wait, another message comes on, “There is currently no wait for a shower. Truckers wanting a shower should come now for immediate service.” Well, I can't feel bad if there's one just lying around, so I buy a shower. It cost 12.50$, which is more than I'd hoped, but part of it was for the experience, so I figure it's worth it for tonight at least. Knowing I'll be taking a shower now, I walk out to my car to grab soap and shampoo. I'd heard those are in there already, but I'm pretty sure they won't have Head and Shoulders, so I'll bring mine in anyway. As I leave the building though, my number is called. I can hear my ticket number but not shower number.
When I go back inside, I've got no idea what I'm about to see. The cashier pointed out where to go, but I couldn't see anything from where I was. Walking down a hall, I'm surprised to see on my left a room full of, if I recall correctly, recliner chairs facing 2 big screen televisions. There are a few truckers sitting in there watching TV. “Keep walking past,” I think, “they don't know you're not a trucker.” There's also at least 1 washing machine and dryer: it's a whole trucker lounge, hidden down a hallway.
Past the lounge are 3 connected halls, all with closed doors: these are the showers. Each door also has a number on it and keypad beside it. I expected there'd only be a few showers and I'd go into whichever one was open, but there are around 25-30 it seems. I find an employee and ask him if he heard which one my ticket number was assigned to. He says he thinks shower 2.
I go to shower 2, closed like the others. What the hell do I do? Then I look at my receipt, which I luckily kept between the cash register, my car, and the shower. There's a pin number on it. I enter the pin number and the room unlocks. I enter into...oh my gosh...this is better than my apartment's bathroom.
The entire place is cleaned before each use, so already you're dealing with a clean bathroom, something that's hard to come by. Inside is a toilet, a sink, a shower, fresh linens, and a desk fan retrofitted to the wall, initially I thought, just to keep the air rotating.
The shower is the part I really liked, even though there wasn't much to it; it's just a sizable, step in, tile shower with no curtain or window or anything. You feel like you really own the place with a shower like that, just stepping in, letting water go everywhere, and stepping out. There are also hooks to hang things on in and outside the shower.
And yes, there was indeed soap: there's a full liquid soap dispenser planted against the shower wall. I still used my shampoo, but I did decide to take advantage of the free soap. Getting out, I realize I can use the wall fan to dry off faster. Is that what it's there for? I've still got no idea, but I'm adding one in my first home.
While drying off, I read a sign on the back of the door. “We know you're ready to relax and get comfortable. You've had a long day and you deserve it. If anything about our showers is not up to your expectations, please let us know.” That "long day and you deserve it" part almost makes me feel bad, but until they start checking for a CDL license before showering, almost is as close as I'm gonna get.
After getting dressed, I leave...shocked. It was such an unexpected comfort. It was like suddenly I was a normal human again. Above normal human in fact. I had a bathroom scrubbed for me, linens prepared for me, and after I was done I could throw it all down and not worry a second about clean up. Also, I don't stink. The Flying J truck stop shower near Winslow, Arizona is amazing.
I didn't bring my clothes into the bathroom, so returning to the Rest Area I change in one of the shoulder height stalls. I bend down to pull up my pants just in time to come back up face to face with an old man going into the next stall over. Why hello there, sir. Yes, I am getting naked. You wouldn't happen to be here to poop would you?
I return to my car, refreshed from the shower still, and start writing a blog entry: this is generally how I end my nights. And that's when it finally happened.
As much as people have acted like Rest Areas are dangerous places, take it from someone who's visited them first hand: they aren't that bad. I've done things deserving of way more looks than anything I've seen someone else do (e.g. washing my hair in a sink). Tonight though, while typing, a truck pulled up a couple spaces away from me, and two men got out. I didn't think anything of it, it's a Rest Area. At the Winslow Rest Area though, they have several picnic tables scattered around, all of them with 2 brick walls and a ceiling to provide some shade. The men walked behind one of the walls, and it looked like they were discussing something with each other. I wasn't paying particular attention to them before then, but it caught my eye they went behind the wall rather than sitting down. It was past 10:00p, so it wasn't like there was sunshine to be enjoying, so what were they doing back there? Their discussion seemed to take about 10 seconds and then they returned from the wall, got into the truck, and left. And that's when I realized, “I just saw a Rest Area drug deal.”
It couldn't have been much more obvious, but just in case it wasn't enough, less than 2 minutes after they left, a highway patrolman comes into the Rest Area, driving the opposite way down a one way road, and slows down to look at all the cars. I don't know how he knew, but somehow he knew there was suspicious activity going on in the area. I consider getting out and telling him, “I think a drug deal just happened, and if that's what you're looking for, you just missed them by a couple of minutes.” But then I realize...the guy in the next car over just pulled in recently, and he's not the most honest looking fellow either. He very well may be working with the drug dealer, and if that's the case, and I talk to this cop, I likely will wake up in a very bad position. I know the rule: snitches get stitches. I'm pretty sure with drug dealers it's a bullet though.
So I decide not to talk to the officer: the drug dealer didn't do anything to me, I'm not gonna do anything to him, everybody wins. Even the cop gets to go home safe tonight.
After the officer leaves, I keep typing, and I notice a lot of cars are coming in. I'm not usually up this late at night though, so I don't know if this normal. And everybody who pulls up is shady looking. That's definitely not normal. And then, a truck pulls up beside me, same position as the drug dealer's was, and nobody gets out. I don't remember what his truck looked like though, and I can't see the window at my position without being obvious. That's when I start thinking, what if it is the drug dealer's truck? He possibly saw me in here typing because of my screen. That could mean 3 potential bad things for me: 1) He wants to steal my laptop, 2) he thinks I'm a witness, or 3) he thinks I'm an undercover cop. I keep typing though, thinking fearfully about what to do. If I just leave, that's an obvious sign I'm nervous. He'll think I'm going to call the cops and follow me. I've gotta stay here, but then if he really thinks any of those 3 things, I'll probably be getting an interrupted night's rest.
And it's at this point I think, “I sure do miss Vesper.” Vesper, my 9mm that I started the trip with. I really don't try to get political, but whether or not that drug dealer is allowed to own a gun, he probably has one anyway. But now I don't, because I had to worry about states who think it's best to unarm innocent citizens. If I had Vesper, I know exactly what I'd do right now. I'd go to my trunk, put my holster on, and cock my gun in front of every single person in the parking lot to make sure they knew I was not to be tampered with and have a good nights sleep. It's too crazy for an undercover cop to do, it shows I'm standing my ground rather than going to the police, and even a tweaker knows a laptop isn't worth their life. But instead, I'll sit here and hope I can think my way out of this before something bad happens.
A red corvette speeds up the lot and parks further down. Next, a truck, driven by a teenager. It's full of other kids, and the dad seems to be in the back. Not the tamest crew, but I don't think they're buying drugs. It takes about 5 minutes for them to do their business and get back in the truck before leaving. All the cars with suspicious people are still in the Rest Area though, with their occupants in the cars. As soon as the truck with the kids is out of sight, the red corvette flashes his headlights. It's been 5 minutes: if he thought his lights were on, he would've tried to cut them off a while ago. Maybe it's just my paranoia, but you couldn't ask for a more cliche signal for buying drugs. Not only that, but people who drive polished red corvettes probably don't have to go to Rest Areas late on Sunday nights to buy weed. This is either cocaine, heroine, or most likely, meth. And that's when I told myself,
“**** this ****.”
Insert what you will there, but I'm not waiting around for a shootout between the DEA and 4 cars of drug users. Calmer than I believe any other human in my situation could've done it, I very casually turned off my laptop, packed it in the bag, popped my trunk from the inside, walked out of my car, lifted my trunk to reveal no police like materials inside, put my computer in, closed it, got just enough of a glimpse of the truck to see the windows were almost completely blacked out, unlocked my driver's side door, stepped in, started it up, and slowly drove off, looking behind me the whole time to see if anybody else started up their car.
Then I hit the interstate and floor it to Flagstaff. I don't care how small the Walmart parking lot is, if they wanna say something about it, they can call the cops, and when the cops get there, I'll tell them they've got bigger problems than loitering happening at the west bound Winslow Rest Area.
Making it to Walmart, it doesn't seem anyone followed me, but in case they did, I decide to sleep with my survival knife on. And while they made me worry for my well being, I won't describe either of the men in the truck in case they're followers on my blog; I really need those numbers.
* * * * *
The next morning, I drive to McDonald's for breakfast. Outside is the manager with a ratchet, tightening the "Enter" sign to the ground: never have I seen that sort've commitment from a McDonald's employee.
I decide to order actual food and not just a drink since they're busier than when I normally come. I ask for a sausage McGriddle and end up with a egg, bacon, and cheese McGriddle. The cashier was clearly dreamy over me, but still, how do you manage to get every single ingredient except the one I wanted on there? It's a pretty crappy mistake, but I'm a pretty crappy customer for usually spending 1$ and loitering for hours, so all's fair; at least I learned to always check the receipt.
After McDonald's, I go to the library. Did I mention I hate not going anywhere? It's not even lunch yet, and I'm miserable. I've been in this town for what, 20 hours now? That's enough to say I've seen everything. Maybe even twice. I decide to head back to Walgreens. Before leaving town, my doctor told them to set up a 6 month prescription, and the pharmacist said they had it in the system, but couldn't fill it until I needed an actual refill. So I figure I'll ask Walgreens if they have any record of that prescription before calling the doctor myself. The pharmacist searches through the computer and says, "Looks like it just came through. I can have it for you in about 30 minutes."
So I look around the store, find some lemon flavored salted prunes that are apparently considered "candy" in Mexico,...
...and read about how astronomists are going to watch a black hole eat a star system or something in a few months, which I thought was pretty neat. Then, I go back for my prescription.
Unlike all the other Walgreens I've been to, this one makes you go to a separate window to get your medicine. It's odd, because the window is about 12 feet away. I'm not sure what kind of shananigans they're trying to stop, but it can't be the most full proof method. They had a sign near the main windows saying, "For patient privacy, please wait here until a window is available," so maybe it's so people waiting can't see what medication you're getting.
Having my medication, it's still too late to get an enjoyable day in at the Canyon...so I continue to wait. I stop by Chick-fil-a for lunch; they have a big screen TV mounted on the wall that scrolls through Chick-fil-a trivia questions: seems like a pretty neat idea.
After lunch I head back to the library...and then to the Walmart parking lot...and my gosh, having nothing to do is killing me.
This Walmart is a little odd. It's not a neighborhood Walmart, but it's not a full-sized supercenter either; I can't find a fresh made foods section (where they keep the sandwiches and such) which is what I'd like to get for dinner. There's also a guy inside with an earpiece who walks around like he's Vegas security. Absolutely everywhere I look I see the guy rushing around, so I'm really not sure if it's just 1 guy or several guys whose ethnicity at such speed my whiteness does not allow me to distinguish from one another. I also notice, now that it's light and I'm not fearing for my life, there are many signs posted saying no overnight parking. I decide to check out another Walmart 10 minutes away to see if they can solve the dinner/parking problem: it's got sandwiches but also signs saying no overnight parking; I think this probably only happens at Walmarts located near tourist destinations, such as the Grand Canyon. Also, this Walmart has homeless people with signs on the parking lot edges, which automatically makes it sketchier than the last Walmart, so I return after buying dinner. The signs may be up, but I'm not going back to the Rest Area, and I feel like they really don't care anyway as long as you park way in the back and don't cause trouble.
And so, I end an excruciatingly uneventful day, but at least I don't have to run from drug dealers.
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