"Well, we gotta send you off right." He puts some scones Jennifer made into a bag.
"Thanks."
"And here..." He grabs an apple from off the counter and hands it to me. "...we don't want you forgetting your nutrients."
"It's good to know you care. And don't forget to do your homework."
"I won't."
My next destination is Pima Air and Space Museum: it has so many things. I could see coming here every day for a week and still having more to learn. They have plane engines,...
...mini aircraft,...
...weapons, including nuclear bombs and material packages,...
...an astronaut docking simulator, which I photoed hastily preparing for a tour,...
...anti-aircraft vehicles,...
...and above all else, lots and lots of aircraft. I'm not sure if it was in the movie, but this helicopter was given the same paint job as the ones in Apocalypse Now.
Any X-Men fan will recognize this as a Blackbird.
This is a drone intended to be launched from a Blackbird.
Every Blackbird made came with, I believe it was 3, nose cones. They each did different things and could be swapped out to best suit the mission.
A Blackbird engine.
3 tires on the rear landing gear; don't think I've seen that before.
I think this was a sea plane, and it had an odd way of storing its landing gear, probably due in part to how big the tires were.
This is the Airforce One that was used by Presidents Kennedy and Johnson.
This is a Convair B-58A Hustler: it looks pregnant.
Surprisingly, the only aircraft I knew the name of was this Russian gunship. It's called a Hind-D, which I knew from playing the Metal Gear Solid demo disc so much as a child; it ingrained in my mind the image of the helicopter taking off and Snake saying, “A Hind-D? What's a Russian gunship doing here?”
I can only assume the text translates to something like, “Do not stand here when in use.”
This is the closest thing I saw to what my brother flies.
Some of the aircraft are part of an art project.
I thought the paint job on this one was sloppy at first but think I figured out why it looks this way: this aircraft must've been used for night flights over a desert. The top is desert camouflaged to be hard to see from overhead, whether it be night or day, but the bottom is black so it's harder to see underneath at night specifically.
This one looks like a beluga.
And this one looks like a puffer fish.
There were so many aircraft I didn't have time to see them all, but here's a good sampling:
The reason I couldn't see it all is because I bought a ticket for a bus tour of the Boneyard, which is an enormous storage and repair facility for military aircraft. Basically, it's Suisun Bay for aircraft, but hopefully not as disappointing.
After getting on the bus, we ride down the street, through a security gate, and I'm immediately amazed at how many awesome aircraft our government has just lying around at this base.
Those are jets...rows and rows of jets. There's plastic covering their windows so they don't get scratched up waiting around. If the government would just let me have one I would promise to never ask for a tax return again.
And here's rows and rows of canisters, each one with a jet engine inside.
Here's more, different style jet engines, completely sealed in plastic.
I think this is what my brother flies, and they have a spare one here, covered in plastic, using it as a display piece.
More awesome jets on display.
According to the tour guide, this is the latest in stealth technology: I thought it was funny.
More fields of spare aircraft...
Being a repair facility, there are some aircraft set up just to take spare parts off of.
What might've been the most interesting thing out here was the B-52s. There are rows and rows of B-52 bombers cut apart in accordance with a Cold War agreement between America and Russia. The guide said every once in a while Russia sends inspectors over to count the number of B-52s to make sure they're all still there and torn apart.
We head back to Pima, which is nearly closing now, and I try finding a good city to rest a while: I've gotta catch up on my blogging. For tonight, I sleep at a Rest Area in Benson, Willcox, or Dragoon: I couldn't tell you which one for sure. The next day, I head to the town of Las Cruces, New Mexico, a perfect place to stop a while.
On the back of my citation from California, there's an address for the court appearance I'm not going to. The citation says you can write in a plea for innocence if you can't attend court to do so. I'm not innocent, but I'd like a reduction in punishment for allowing my car to be ravaged, so I go to the Las Cruces library and print out a letter requesting such. I head to the post office to mail the letter. Not having a lot of office supplies in my car, I have to buy stamps. Spiderman stamps cost the same as normal stamps, so I figure why not: you're welcome Kern County Supreme Court for me trying to brighten your day.
Las Cruces has a nice Rest Area just a few miles out of town. I'm pretty sure I saw a drug deal, but even the participants of said deal looked nice from afar.
The next day, I start writing but get bored. I forget who said it, but I think a writer talked about only spending 85% of their creative effort at a time, because once you've passed 85, your work not only gets sloppy, but it's so hard to regain your effort it's just not worth it. I'm a believer in this, so I decide to take a break and go to my nearby next destination: White Sands National Monument.
I thought White Sands National Monument was an actual monument, like a statue or plaque, but it's really an entire place: a desert made of white sand. It's basically a National Park but smaller. There's a dust storm the whole time I'm there, making it a great once in a lifetime experience.
Here's from later that night when I got the first spot in a Walmart parking lot. It wasn't handicapped or anything! This was something I'd never achieved before so I thought it was amazing.
By the third night I'm feeling horrible. I'm sleeping at Walmart tonight because I've already used the Rest Area twice in a row. I've got so much writing to do, and I don't want to continue my trip until I've done it. I realize it's day 60: I've been on the road for 2 months. 2 months of sleeping in Rest Areas, eating Walmart subs, worrying about the police...and now I'm breaking down over writing. I found a blog, in Flagstaff I think, about a guy who'd been homeless and living out of his car as well, and he had an entry about how when you're in an emotionally desperate moment, to go ahead and cheer yourself up with something. It doesn't matter what resources it cost, because it's gonna make you feel better, and you're not in a position to deny that. So the next night, I get a room at a motel. The motel also has a weekly rate, and based on how much writing I need to do, I might use it, but the woman at the desk says I can decide tomorrow if I want and they can adjust the cost for tonight.
The room definitely helps, so I ask to have it extended to a week. There's a different person at the desk though, so I try to stress I'm wanting it extended, not adding a week on, but I'm not sure if he caught on. I just go with it, figuring I'll save money if he understood or get an extra night if he didn't: I'll be happy either way.
That night I eat Mexican food. I didn't realize how much I loved Mexican food until traveling, but I actually get excited about the thought of trying Mexican food in different states now.
The next night I get frozen Chinese, and yet again, I find myself excited, but this time over the opportunity to use the microwave in my room: this is the closest thing to cooking I've done since the trip began.
The next night I try Whataburger. I think I've seen a few of these on the east coast, but due to the bland logo and font, I've never wanted to try it. There's a 24 hour one beside to the motel, so I continue my journey of trying fast food across the nation, and oh my gosh, why has this not replaced McDonald's? It's the best fast food burger and fries I've ever had. Whataburger, do yourself a favor: redesign your logo so it doesn't look like it's from the original Tron, change your font from whatever alteration of Comic Sans it is, and start advertising so people don't think you're a has been restaurant.
The next night, I'm craving steak right as I pass a steakhouse, so I go in and sit at the bar. They had a delicious, inexpensive steak, and they'd just bought blue curaco, and I heard one of the bartenders say she wanted to learn something to make with it, so I taught her an electric smurf. Then the bar staff and regulars asked where I was from and a middle aged lady came around because she couldn't hear me over the music. Later, her husband saw her by me. He didn't realize she'd moved and starting talking very jealously to her. I didn't come across the nation to deal with a self-conscious husband so I stay out of it, but I still think it's funny it happened. I buy a bottle of rum on the way back to the motel: this week is a very limited time to relax, so I figure I should make the most of it.
The next day I try another Mexican place: my butthole burns the food is so spicy.
The next day, I'm in the shower thinking about my writing. I finally got an entry done yesterday, but it took a long time, and I didn't care for it. There's just something missing in my writing lately - I feel like it totally sucks. I finally decide what must be the key factor: I'm just not enjoying it. I feel so rushed about making 20+ days worth of entries I can't have fun with it, and if I'm not having fun writing it, how is the reader supposed to have fun reading it? So I decide to rush it all into two blog entries: it'll be out of the way, I'll be up to date, and it can't be any worse than the smut I put out in my last entry.
I go to the front desk to ask when I'm supposed to leave and they say I have one more night, meaning the desk guy did add another week: no biggy, I can enjoy it.
I missed a call and listen to the message: it's the court. They're saying for me to ask for a reduction, I would have to go to the court in person and sit outside the courtroom while someone else goes to the judge and then they'd come back out with his decision. I'll say it again in case you missed how dumb it is: I'd have to go to the court in person, so that I can not see the judge in person, while somebody else tells the judge exactly what I've already sent in through my letter, but I explicitly can not ask for a reduction in any way that doesn't include me going to the court. I look on Google Maps: I'm 12 hours away from the court. To Kern County Superior Court: suck it. Not having a lot of choice, I go online to pay the 350$ fine: they charge a 12$ convenience fee for paying with a card.
Kern County Superior Court: suck it until you die; I'll mail a check.
Rush writing is a lot more fun than the patient writing I've been doing all week, I'm glad I decided to try it. I almost get a 10 day entry done within one day of writing.
My last night, I finish my entry and buy frozen mac and cheese with broccoli and a 5 pack of frozen chicken egg rolls. I think the entire meal cost around 6$: a feast like no homeless man has ever seen. I also buy a couple mango Jarritos, those Mexican fruit sodas in glass bottles; they were surprisingly good.
This night is my night to celebrate: it's the last night I'll get to enjoy a motel, the night I nearly caught up on my writing, I made a feast for dinner, and I have to finish the rum because it's not kindly looked upon to drink it at Rest Areas or Walmart parking lots.
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