The Sun is trying to kill me
As I drive through California and now Oregon, I have a few observations from the road...
If it's called the Happy Inn, the Pleasant Inn, the Almost Heaven Resort, or perhaps the Shiny Happy Fantastic Orgasmic Hotel it's a shithole (the first three are actual motel names that I spotted). These establishments were all in the $25-30 a night range in areas where the Motel 6 was fifty bucks. The buildings I saw looked like they should be condemned. It turns out the "Happy Inn" was in fact condemned and torn down, but a lone billboard remained. I can't figure out how a stay at these places could qualify as happy, pleasant, or "almost heaven", but hey, I guess they're optimistic.
Speaking of names, I also passed the "Aristocrats Mobile Home Park". I know when I think of noblemen, I think of trailer parks! That was of course my first thought. My second thought was that if that park is where the disgustingly perverted family described in countless versions of the Aristocrats joke lives, I sure as hell don't want to stay there.
Finally, it's clear from the road signs heading out north from Crater Lake, Oregon that I am going to die. I was already on a section of road encompassed by the yellow windy road warning signs. Then I passed a yellow sign that simply said "ELK". Okay. That was immediately followed by one that said "ROCKS". Oh shit. Obviously a boulder will soon crash through my window, smashing into my head as my car plows through an elk on the road before plunging off a cliff at the next sharp curve. This sucks.
Of course none of those things happened, but the most dangerous natural occurence did NOT have a sign! Why not?! The setting sun came far closer to sending me plunging off a ledge than any of those nonexistent ELK and ROCKS hazards! It would be conveniently behind the pine trees for miles, lulling me into complacency. I'd put the car's sun visor up again because having it down makes me feel like I'm wearing blinders. And then it would happen... I'd round a curve and suddenly the miles of pine tree blockers would end and there it would be, that cursed yellow orb shining right in my eyes. I'd jerk away from that evil brilliance, only to see it reflected in a blinding glare from the dirt and bug splats on my windshield. I couldn't see! GAH!
Yes, the sun is trying to kill me. Realizing that skin cancer was a long shot, especially since I've mostly remembered sunscreen lately, the sun is now going for the more direct route of running me off the road. Bastard...
Anyway, Sequoia, Yosemite, Redwood, and Crater Lake national parks were all really fucking cool. Now I'm in Portland. Two words: Rogue Brewpub. That's it for now.
If it's called the Happy Inn, the Pleasant Inn, the Almost Heaven Resort, or perhaps the Shiny Happy Fantastic Orgasmic Hotel it's a shithole (the first three are actual motel names that I spotted). These establishments were all in the $25-30 a night range in areas where the Motel 6 was fifty bucks. The buildings I saw looked like they should be condemned. It turns out the "Happy Inn" was in fact condemned and torn down, but a lone billboard remained. I can't figure out how a stay at these places could qualify as happy, pleasant, or "almost heaven", but hey, I guess they're optimistic.
Speaking of names, I also passed the "Aristocrats Mobile Home Park". I know when I think of noblemen, I think of trailer parks! That was of course my first thought. My second thought was that if that park is where the disgustingly perverted family described in countless versions of the Aristocrats joke lives, I sure as hell don't want to stay there.
Finally, it's clear from the road signs heading out north from Crater Lake, Oregon that I am going to die. I was already on a section of road encompassed by the yellow windy road warning signs. Then I passed a yellow sign that simply said "ELK". Okay. That was immediately followed by one that said "ROCKS". Oh shit. Obviously a boulder will soon crash through my window, smashing into my head as my car plows through an elk on the road before plunging off a cliff at the next sharp curve. This sucks.
Of course none of those things happened, but the most dangerous natural occurence did NOT have a sign! Why not?! The setting sun came far closer to sending me plunging off a ledge than any of those nonexistent ELK and ROCKS hazards! It would be conveniently behind the pine trees for miles, lulling me into complacency. I'd put the car's sun visor up again because having it down makes me feel like I'm wearing blinders. And then it would happen... I'd round a curve and suddenly the miles of pine tree blockers would end and there it would be, that cursed yellow orb shining right in my eyes. I'd jerk away from that evil brilliance, only to see it reflected in a blinding glare from the dirt and bug splats on my windshield. I couldn't see! GAH!
Yes, the sun is trying to kill me. Realizing that skin cancer was a long shot, especially since I've mostly remembered sunscreen lately, the sun is now going for the more direct route of running me off the road. Bastard...
Anyway, Sequoia, Yosemite, Redwood, and Crater Lake national parks were all really fucking cool. Now I'm in Portland. Two words: Rogue Brewpub. That's it for now.
posted by Patrick at
3:38 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home