The second time I went to hang with Tom on Lake Superior, we drove.
We'd been on a couple of road trips together already, so we figured we'd make a few days of it.
We liked our plan. I'd fly from the East Coast to the Bay Area. We'd
hang there for a day or two. Then we'd explore some Nevada, some
Wyoming, a little South Dakota, and maybe some Minnesota or Wisconsin. And we'd roll into the Upper Peninsula with stories to tell.
I arrived at the Oakland airport at 9pm PST. Tom was waiting on the curb outside
the baggage claim. I stepped into the car, closed the door, put on my
seatbelt, and Tom told me his bags were packed. Should we leave right
away, right then, from the airport? I'd been thinking the
same thing.
So we left. We'd do the exploring another time.
41 hours straight.
Our longest stop was one hour, in Custer, SD, for an
all you can eat buffet. The lettuce at the salad bar was soggy.
There were other stops. In a reservoir in Utah for a rinse. At a Little
America motel pool in Wyoming for another. Gas stations. 24 hour stores to buy and
microwave frozen burritos. Caffeine outlets. But we pretty much drove
it straight through.
Ten hours of sleep. Total. Between the two of us. During a 41 hour stretch. Neither
of us wanted the other to fall asleep at the wheel, so we kept each
other company. Books on tape were not helpful.
Ween, Sublime, Talking Heads, and Pain were.
We rolled up to the lakeshore at dinnertime. We'd left word with some
friends to bring enough food to their cookout for us. Baked potatoes,
baked beans, hamburger patties, and salad in a bag awaited.
We stayed up until 4am that night, sitting around a campfire and catching
up with friends we hadn't seen in a year. We woke up at 8am the next
day, jumped in Superior, met everyone for breakfast, planned a day of
adventuring, hiked all day, partied until 4am again, and repeated. For
a full week. No days off. No nights off. No more rest than was absolutely necessary. Not a moment to
spare.
When I arrived at the airport to fly back east at the end of that trip, I gave Tom a hug, checked my bag, walked through security, sat down at the gate, and fell asleep in my chair. They had to wake me up to get me on the plane. The flight attendant closed the door behind me, and the plane started moving before I sat down. Good thing Marquette is tiny. Pretty sure they would have let me sleep in JFK or LAX.
I spent some time in that airport today.
This year's trip was significantly more
tranquilo than that other one. We're a little older. A little smarter maybe. Less reckless. Less courageous. But I was still tired this morning. And I still craved a nap.
But I battled through. Tom flew two hours before I did, and he had half a cup of decaf left when they called him to board. That gave me a little boost. A subconscious taste placebo. I didn't fall asleep until I was safely on the plane.
Gotta love the vacations from which you need to recover.
Hopefully listening to a little Pain tonight will help.
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