Friday the 20th

I woke up warm and comfortable with the knowledge that I was in my own bed in my own house in my own city. It was cold outside and my own down comforter protected me from its ravages. My own pillows cradled my head in the perfect position. My own cat lay at the foot of my bed, curled in a content little ball. Cartoon Network showing on my own tv. The morning sun shone through my own sky lights to gently wake me. To say I was loath to leave would be an understatement. I lay in bed thinking that this would be the last time I would be in my room with my comforter and my pillows and my cat watching my tv in my own home in Colorado Springs. I love my home, I love Colorado too. I have to leave my beloved Colorado. My friends, my mother, my home
As much as I wanted and even needed to stay in bed, my body and mind would not allow it. My mind produced thoughts of me driving in the dark in the middle of nowhere with not enough time in Burbank to find a place crept into every calm corner of my mind and forced me out of my last Colorado slumber.

I hit the road around 9am. I took the ‘back way’ to highway 70 which was 24 all the way to Breckenridge where it meets up with 70. I have traveled HWY 24 countless times. Once again, I viewed every turn, every vista, every scenic outlook as the last time I would ever see it. I stopped on Wilkerson (I think that is what it is called) and took one last panoramic photo. I breathed in the 40 degree air as the wind shoved it up my nostrils. Ahhh the mountains. Next time I come for a visit, I will surely be plagued with bloody noses and altitude sickness. Sigh. I also took a distant notice of grey clouds in the general vicinity of Breckenridge. I paid it no real mind as there was fuck all I could do about weather. I had made my interstate bed. Now I had to lie in it. I hopped back into betty, oh so chilled for my nostalgic effort, not too long after that quaint reflection, the snow began to fly. It was also at this point, as I drove in single file up a twisty turny mountain road behind 5 mountain man SUV’s that I remembered my windshield washer fluid needed filling. We all know how painful it can be driving in the snow with out windshield washer fluid and this time was no exception, but as we all also know, if you stay behind a car for long enough, its back spray can help clean your windshield. And so, I made it through to Breckenridge where I spied happy hippie mountain people traipse joyfully in the falling snow. Some wearing thick jackets, some wearing cool hats that kept off the snow, most wearing boots all of which I witnessed with a heavy heart.
“I have a hat like that” I heard myself saying. “I’ll never need that hat again” sigh.
I finally found my way to I-70 West (after stopping at the gas station for a diet coke, some windshield fluid and a pee…no gas as of yet)
I was off to Cal-e-for-ni-ay….like it or not.

The snow got worse as I went. I had slight anxiety as I drove up to Vail pass. Why did I choose this route instead of turning left at Albuquerque? There was no turning back now, all I could do was suck it up and continue. For all the weather that was happening, I must say, it was beautiful!! I continued forward on my path, slipping and sliding in places but going ever forward until I reached the furthest west I had ever traveled in the state of Colorado. I took a note from Samwise Gamgee’s book. If I take one more step, it will be the furthest from home I have ever been. Well that wasn’t exactly true…Singapore was the furthest from home I have ever been…but you get my point I’m sure. Pretty much from that point, the snow slowed and the sun began to peak out more frequently. I had spotty phone reception and I called my mother and boyfriend when I could. I told my mother that I wanted to get as close to Las Vegas as I could. “Now Meghan,” said the voice of reason “don’t over do it. Just take your time and get there when you get there, Burbank isn’t going anywhere.” While my mother was right, I had no desire to stay on the road any longer than necessary. I promised her I wouldn’t over do it, hung up and put the pedal to the metal. I remember crossing into Utah and not being too impressed. There was a sign that said 108 miles until the next gas stop. Quarter tank. I was good! I can’t remember where I filled up at, but it was somewhere before the point where 70 meets up with I-15 in Utah. Fill up betty with gas and Meghan with Burger King, a call to mom and my boyfriend and I was on my way. I turn on ‘The Hobbit’ book on CD that Joanne got for me and there was no stopping me. That CD was fantastic. I still haven’t listened to all of it. Around St. George the bugs were getting thick on the windshield. Yes I had washer fluid, but as we all know, bug carcass is washer fluid proof. Out of sheer necessity, I stop outside of Las Vegas for a windshield cleaning. I remember getting out of the car, standing up and feeling like I have been at sea for 7 years. I couldn’t stand still. I had to keep moving, (anyone remember that X-Files episode where that man had to keep moving otherwise his head (or his wife’s head) would explode? That is what I felt like) Back in Betty. Las Vegas was on the horizon. I arrived in Las Vegas at 8pm Vegas time, 9pm Colorado time. 12 hours. Not to damn shabby if I do say so myself. Let me google that distance
813 mi (about 13 hours 48 mins)
I think I did pretty good especially since Vail pass was closed due to weather not 4 hours after I drove through it.
I pull into Vegas just as the Giant Eagles plucked Bilbo, Gandalf and the troop of Dwarves from the snapping, drooling jaws of the wolves. I had no idea where I was going, nor did I really care. I chose an exit and drove to the nearest decent looking hotel (a Hilton). The valet was dubious that I would get a room. I got a room, I’m not going to tell you how much I paid for the room. Let’s just say you can’t put a price on the feeling of security and really awesome room service.