1. Giants

It’s come to my attention that North Carolina seems to be home to a family of giants as absent-minded as they are bone-crunching. They’re so busy eating innocent bystanders that they left their chests of drawers just lying around:

Somewhere there's a giant with cold feet consoling himself by eating a busload full of school children

These drawers are about 40 feet high, and are apparently for rent. They claim to be the World’s Largest Chest of Drawers, but on the drive over near the interstate, we found further damning evidence:

I measured, and that's about ten James Foxes taller than the so-called world's largest chest of drawers

Yeah, I thought I’d bring James Fox along, both for his use as a handy giant furniture height gauge and for his ability to distract the giants while I run away. Possibly by being eaten. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that, but be ye warned.

2. Merging

Constant, constant merging

You probably think I’m exaggerating, but you have no idea how ridiculous it is. Every highway has two-lane on-ramps, both of which end, and lanes on all roads mysteriously disappear without warning despite the fact that their existence seemed superfluous to begin with. This mania for merging could be indicative of poor road planning, but I like to think it goes deeper into the very psyche of the state. By forcing me to merge constantly, they create a constant anxiety about whether or not the lane I’m currently in will disappear, destabilizing my very outlook on life! Clearly it’s all a plot from the ice cream industry, hoping people will self-medicate their merging-induced identity crisis with a healthy dose of double chocolate fudge. For shame, Jerry of Ben and Jerry’s! For shame. (I expected this of Ben, but not of you.) My alternate theory has to do with a highway planner besotted with the girl in charge of painting merge arrows on the highway. I won’t tell you the rest, but in the end he’s killed in a tragic merging accident. Of course.

3. Frequent Power Outages

Artist's Conception

I guess it has something to do with the number of trees around and the wind, but we’ve already had TWO power outages in which I was forced to A) eat peanut butter for more than one meal in a row, B) shower in the darkness and endanger my life with possible head trauma/drowning/being attacked by that creepy girl from The Ring, and, most seriously, C) ALMOST DID NOT GET TO UPDATE MY BLOG. Clearly this is the most serious threat of all! Once again someone is trying to silence the truth! Which is shocking because I thought I was out of Brian Reinhart’s insidious weather-controlling range. Looks like I was wrong. So we need to settle this the only way I know how: DANCE FIGHT. WIESS COMMONS. PARENT’S WEEKEND. Be there, Reinhart, or I will Hoedown Throwdown unopposed once again.

See, I have business there anyway. These crazy kids are putting on this play I wrote. Fools!

Towering above Albuquerque like a sleeping giant

It’s actually Sandia Peak (or something–I promptly lost the brochure, like everything else on this trip), but Roque used to work for the Forest Service there. My actual first memory of Roque is very distinct (and is relevant): we were standing in line by the soda machine in the Servery during O-Week and he told me that “Most people know Smoky the Bear, but very few know about his friend, Woodsy the Owl”. Actually, now that I think about it, that could be my first memory of Jeremy. Damn you, Albuquerquians and your mutual interests! In any case, I know for a FACT that Roque once told me a vaguely naughty story involving Woodsy the Owl. Anyway, he worked there and talks about forestry sometimes so they are linked in my mind. The two times I have visited I always conscientiously text him from the top to tell him I’m spreading rumors about him amongst his ex-co-workers. He’s never once replied.

Anyway, the big deal about this mountain, besides its Wiess-associations, is how you get to the top:

Like at Disney World, but without the annoying theme music!

It’s some world-record setting tramway. The largest single cable tramway in the world? The longest single span on a tramway in the world? The most overpriced tramway in the world? (Seriously, $17.50 a person, Roque? Really?). I would suggest hiking one way and taking the tram the other, except the hike is liable to take 4-8 hours (I asked after looking at the prices).  Also, it’s mad windy at the top. Most of the many pictures Steven took involve unfortunate hair for everyone. If you’ve ever been around Steven at some kind of event or interesting place, you know that he has a peculiar nervous twitch that involves CONSTANTLY TAKING PICTURES TO THE DETRIMENT OF HIMSELF AND OTHERS.

For instance, as we were walking down one of the hiking trails bordering a rather dramatic drop off the mountain his insistance at documenting every tree, bird, rock, and dramatic vista nearly lost him his footing a grand total of 34 times.

"OMGOD, Steven, Stop taking pictures of me and watch where you put your feet!"

Finally, my exasperation became too much and I was forced to finish the job that he started…

BY PUSHING HIM OFF THE MOUNTAIN!

What lense do you need to capture YOUR DRAMATIC PLUMMET THOUSANDS OF FEET, Steven? WAH HA HA.

Anyway, hiking trails: kind of cool. Tramway: Super cool. Things to take up with Roque: high prices, annoying tourists who want to talk to you about their vacation of Barack Obama sites ad nauseum. I just pushed my fiance off a mountain, overweight, balding Guy From Michigan. I am just not in the mood.

Just Like When Neil Armstrong Visited

To be fair, a Floridian and a Texan are not the crack team you need to really ace the Sledding World Finals. Especially not on sand. It also probably would’ve been better if we hadn’t visited during the absolute hottest part of the day. As we were walking back to Trixie–which I thought must be a mirage for awhile–I realized I’d lost my car keys. Luckily, Steven also has a copy but we went back and dug through all likely piles of sand to try to find them. No such luck. Then Steven tried to film my sweating, gnat-covered misery. I was not happy.

So I decided to lash out publicly at Josh Langsfeld, whom I hold personally responsible for everything.

Happily, there was a Volkswagen dealership in Las Cruces. Not so happily, they said they needed to order a new key from the factory instead of copying Steven’s and that it would cost $290. Instead, I decided to keep a very, very close eye on the one copy we still have.

Don’t worry, though. I decided to soothe my wounded spirit by checking into a hotel with an indoor pool and nice pillows. And while floating, breathing in the too-chloriney smell of my childhood and staring up at the inexplicable hot air balloon mural on the ceiling, I found it within myself to forgive Josh Langsfeld. FOR NOW. If something goes wrong in Albuquerque, you KNOW whom I will hold personally responsible.

Texas is so freakin huge.

We’ve been driving all day and only ended up in Comanche Springs, STILL 219 miles from El Paso. And most of it after San Antonio looked a lot like this:

DESOLATION. Also, OIL!

And, okay, maybe I’m lying when I said we’ve been driving ALL day. We did stop in Seguin, Texas, a town whose promotional posters claim that it is “Aged to Perfection”, which is true if here “perfection” means “peeling paint and abandoned buildings”. Why stop here? To see the World’s Second Largest Pecan.

Oh, Seguin. Even your novelty landmark glory is second-rate.

Here is a video Steven Wiggins took (badly) of me explaining the glory of the pecan. I assume the shakiness is due to pecan excitement.

Shocking surprise ending: there is NO Dairy Queen in Seguin. Sad times.