When I change my path, it's usually because life has taken away all my money and I'm forced into it. So it is the case again. When I travel, this is my usual routine: look at calendar, buy plane ticket, buy Lonely Planet, read Lonely Planet on plane, read USWeekly on plane, throw USWeekly away before anyone I know catches me reading it, and carry out my Lonely Planet plan. I like collecting these Lonely Planets. I like when they're all tattered and wrinkly at the end of a trip. Routine, you guys. I'm an old woman, let me have my ways.
During the first week of August I was pretty much holed up in Border's trying to figure out which roadtrip book to buy. My first instinct was to grab the Lonely Planet version and run for the cashier, because I knew that if I stayed more than 2 seconds, I'd get sidetracked by all of the 17 other options. Which is exactly what happened. Even as I was turning around to leave, my eyes got stuck on some other book on American roadtrips. Which, wouldn't you know, is right next to some other book about American roadtrips. Considering, you know, that I was in the American roadtrip section. These books were all indispensable and completely useless at the same time. Each book had something you think you simply can't do without, but none of the others have it, but all of THOSE had something I couldn't do without either. And they all cost $40 each. Add another $10 and that's my food budget for a month. There and then entered my Unshakeable Bad Habit # 578: When I can't have everything, I always choose nothing. I turned around and left empty-handed. Well, I bought a cookie. Border's, your white chocolate macadamia cookies are my Foe In Life #2. Two white chocolate macadamia cookies with a pint of Haagen Daz vanilla bean wedged in the middle is Foe In Life #1. (That's right Elena, I don't need those Potbelly ice cream sandwiches, I've conjured up my own, much more potent version.)
Without a Lonely Planet, we were driving around the Great American West with nothing but a bunch of free AAA maps in our passenger glove compartment. AAA is totally useless. They're on a mission to put only the most deserted ghost towns on the map, and leave out any useful stopping points. The only thing they're good at is succeeding at this crappy mission. (Hence Needles.) I promise you, 90% of the towns on a AAA map won't even have a gas station. At least a gas station not named "Loaf 'n' Jug." Do you want to fill up at Loaf 'n' Jug? I don't think so.
So for travel inspiration we went to Geronimo.
That's right, a touristy shack by Interstate 40 selling 2,000 turquoise pocket knives and boasting the largest petrified tree in the world. It did not, in fact, have the largest petrified tree in the world, which I soon discovered. But the sign boasting "Largest Petrified Tree In The World!!!" was great for luring tourists like me into the store selling 2,000 turquoise pocket knives. While Elena dragged me kicking and screaming from one particular white turquoise number, this is when we discovered the Ultimate Travel Tour Guide: local postcards. Think about it people. Postcard photos are all taken at the most beautiful locales. All we had to do was buy a bunch of postcards and follow them around. And that's how we ended up here:
Where I realized that Geronimo did not, in fact, have the largest petrified tree in the world. If anything, the largest petrified tree in the world is probably somewhere in this National Petrified Forest. We also ended up here:
The Painted Desert. And to think, without Geronimo, none of this would've been possible.
So my point is, fuck Lonely Planet. No, no, all in jest, I heart you Lonely Planet. Someday, when I have eventually repaid my enormous debt to the federal government and can both feed myself AND have disposable income, I'd totally consider buying your products again. In the meantime, postcards from Geronimo are good enough for taking me around.
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