7/11: Crossing Iowa With King Dirk

The reeds and grass worked perfectly, and before I knew it, we were back at the Iowa 80 one last time waiting for Photoguy. Chris wisely called him one last time to be sure that he was indeed nearby and not somewhere like Scranton. Our little nickname for him had turned out to be quite accurate. His actual name was Guy, and he supplemented his income by operating one of those 1950’s instant- photo booths at places like weddings. PhotoGuy. He soon arrived in his big white, 80’s conversion van hauling the photo trailer, and I felt like I was hitching again; hopping into a van with a stranger. That ended quickly as we immediately paid Guy the money Chris had arranged. It was more than a fair price, but as I handed it over there was a minor twinge of regret realizing that we could have hitched the 300-ish miles to Omaha and not spent a dime for gas. The money, in my mind, was for a week's knowledge that he was coming, and the ability to "plan" (ha!) things. Paying for a safety net. I didn’t like that, but in the interest of fairness, I wasn’t liking much at this point. The lack of sleep from the night before was not helping my attitude, and I knew it. I hopped in the back seat hoping just to sleep all the way to Omaha.

I still believe my initial assessment of Guy was dead on. Disorganized & well- meaning. However, I would amend “tool” to “dingbat.” He was in his 50’s I believe, and appeared to fancy himself quite the gregarious, amusing holder of important, relevant information. Information such as “What movie character was from Iowa?” (A: James T. Kirk.) He also had this curious habit of looking at you, expectantly, whenever he said something as though he were eagerly ready to devour the praise that was surely due him. That was fine and quite an amusing quirk to watch; amusing until later in the day when the van would follow his head and drift to the right or worse: to the left!

As Guy fueled up the van, I was beyond ready for Omaha but the fates had other plans. When he turned the key, the van refused to start instead offering only the telltale clicking sound of a dead battery. The van was old, so it could have been any number of things from corroded battery cables to the alternator. After a jump, Guy was off to find a repair shop that was open on a Saturday morning. I just shook my head. This was perfect! I now dubbed Guy King Dirk of Douchebaggery and began Facebook updates detailing The Great Iowa Alternator Hunt 2009; one that it seemed would surely last all day and ultimately end with Guy missing his appointment in Omaha and leave us right back where we started. We had a rather large stroke of luck, however, as we soon pulled into Davenport. Dirk happened upon a Firestone Service Center just as the van died at a stop light. Chris and I jumped out to direct traffic as Dirk crossed the road to fetch help. By now, my frustration had turned to amusement. The bus from Omaha to Denver didn’t leave until 9pm, so the longer this took meant the shorter the shorter the wait at Greyhound. Plus, since I had paid for my ride I viewed myself as an observer to a comedy show.

Soon the van was having the alternator replaced while Chris and I lounged beneath a shade tree. With the repairs completed, we learned that he had only brought cash with him and had no credit cards. In short, he had just spent ALL of his gas money on the alternator. His saving grace would hopefully be his Sam’s Club card that he hoped to use at Wal Mart for gas to get to Omaha, then all the way back to Toledo. I wondered about the soundness of this assumption, but also didn’t quite care. Even Des Moines was progress at this point and, since he had just filled up, I thought that we would most likely make Omaha. He began to drop not- even clever hints that he would like more money from us, but that… was not happening.

Once on I-80, we passed the truck stop, this time as typical travelers. I was asleep within 2- minutes of seeing it and woke up 150- miles to the west as Dirk was driving into Des Moines. I was astounded to see that he was ALREADY almost out of gas! He said he had put nearly $40 in the tank when he picked us up, so he had only gotten maybe 190- miles on that. The Great Iowa Alternator Hunt now became the Great Des Moines Wal Mart Hunt. Chris had been on the phone locating stores & getting directions and, as we turned on to Broadway in the NE end of the sprawl, things began to look familiar.

I slowly realized that we were about to happen by my old radio station, KGGO. They had long since moved the studios from this rural, stand-alone building that is now abandoned, but I still have a special place for it. This was where I got my first “real” radio experience, doing exclusively live shows and working with & for some talented, great people. KGGO has been sold off and, of course, the staff gutted. Nevertheless, once upon a time this was one of those shining examples of how FUN creative radio could be! I mean, it had a pool to lure groupies, and imagine a “Toys for Ta- Ta’s” promotion at Christmas, where you have guys bring unopened toys to a strip club. They drive through a tent handing over toys, then let strippers, well… do what strippers do. It was huge success collecting toys for underprivileged kids, not to mention some “underprivileged” guys got to get up close and personal with silicone for a few seconds.

Wal Mart was found and, to Dirk’s dismay, he learned that there is a difference between a Murphy USA gas station and Wal Mart. No, you CANNOT use a Sam’s Club credit card at Murphy USA; therefore, we were now off to find the actual Sam’s Club. This leg took us toward West Des Moines and my old apartment on 11th St. It happened that Sam’s Club is off on the same exit, and when we arrived I could actually see the complex. This, for me, was turning into a nice little tour since I had silently hoped to re-visit these old haunts if I returned to Des Moines. Dirk did succeed in fueling up this time, and all was right in his world.

Omaha was now only a quick couple of hours away, and as we approached Nebraska, I could see Dirk beginning to doze off. I pointed this out to Chris, after Dirk almost wiped out a motorcyclist trying to pass him. Chris re-engaged him in conversation to keep him awake, and as we crossed the Missouri River into Omaha it occurred to me that it was nice that Chris and I were finally doing this after all the Lewis & Clark talk over the winter…

5/11- 13: Newark to Santa Fe

Not alot to write here, but there was a comical debate between Chris, Mary, and I over of all things, this hat of mine.

I had been pondering returning it to REI when I arrived back in New Mexico as a quick way to recoup money. A little hobby of mine, no? I had gone into financial lock- down after Manhattan, and was now scheming ways to re- acquire it prior to getting the pictures ready to sell. The hat was an obvious, easy target. Chris, however, was a bit smitten and offered to buy it instead. Terrific! Easy! Just one problem...

I had become attached to the thing.

It had seen the Veggie Bus, DC, Trent's, The Chesapeake, black widows, ticks, and the euphoria on the beach in NJ. I had spilled beer on it in both Corbin City and in New York City! It was in half of our pictures! How could I just abandon it? Chris pointed out that I was like Indiana Jones, "Don't... touch... my... HAT!" Ultimately, and even after Mary offered to pay for it, I elected to keep it. Plus, Kwami had said that I look like a badass in it. He's a man of obvious taste, and that's good enough for me.

The bus left Newark, and took me to exotic locales such as Allentown, Pittsburgh, Columbus, Indianapolis, Des Moines, Omaha, and finally Denver before my connection to Santa Fe two days later.

Des Moines was a bit odd. I had lived there from 1998- 99, and the bus happened to drive quite close to one of our old apartments then directly past the other. It's odd how things become nostalgic as time passes. Ten years ago, I would have never guessed that, at least as pertaining to Des Moines.

One note on Greyhound: They are making obvious improvements. The buses are still shitty, but the stations are resembling Bangladesh ghettos slightly less. I actually watched part of the Nuggets game at the swanky little station in Pittsburgh! Plus, I was quite shocked to learn that I would watch movies on TWO of the smaller lines: Trailways and Americanos. One featured Toby Keith, and another starred a pre- pubescent Lindsay Lohan, but they WERE movies! So, props to The Dirty Dog for being a bit less... filthy.

Shit, I AM a travel writer!

Americanos got me to Santa Fe 30- minutes early on Wednesday. That's unheard of in my experience, but true nonetheless. Shalain picked me up, and we spent the night simply hanging out.

It felt like I had just left, and been gone a year at the same time. I got a kick out of driving past the exit Devin had taken off I-25 in the Veggie Bus, exactly a month earlier. One hell of a loop I had just made!