Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll isn’t PACKING IT IN! She’s just recovering. She writes:

My dear late Mother, child of the Depression, was always cheerful, but something of a Stoic. One of her more annoying little aphorisms when we kids whined about something was “I felt sorry for myself because I had no shoes. Till I met a man who had no feet.” Oh, for Pete’s sake, Mama, not again with the guy with no feet! How many people have you known with no feet?

I would always stipulate that having no feet would be a pretty serious disability. But that didn’t MEAN that it was not also lousy to have no shoes! Or the vastly more traumatic event under discussion at that moment, which was that I had not been picked for the cheerleading squad!

These thoughts return to me now as I try to put in perspective our Partially Spoiled Vacation. And possibly even write about it for the amusement of my dear readers. Because, in light of current horrifying, spirit-numbing events, what would automatically spring to anyone’s mind – to my OWN to be sure – is “Awww…cry me a river. You had bad traffic leaving Phoenix? But when you returned, did you discover that your entire family had been murdered by heartless savages who have the full support of a bunch of actors I’ve never heard of, and several members of Congress?”

And the answer, of course, is no. The little tale of woe I am about to describe was just that – a little minor tale of woe. And so I will be doing what I have done since childhood when I was unhappy – turning pain into relief through the alchemy of humor.

The two-week getaway to Nevada and Utah had been planned for several months. All hotels had been booked, reservations confirmed, and mileage computed, with four couples to visit. Joe and I have some semi-annoying lower back issues and I had figured out how to break the trip up so that we were driving no more than 4-5 hours on any given day. Geezer Road Trip!

We had just watched a pretty funny new standup set by Jeff Foxworthy in which he did a 20-minute bit about a woman who gives seminars teaching other women how to pack for a ten-day trip with just a carryon. No worries there! I could have taught the course. In 1995, for example, we went to Israel for 8 days and Paris for four and I had one small roller board. Every piece of clothing had to work with several others, no sweating or spilling allowed. I had one pair of low heels, one pair of flats packed, with my tennis shoes on.

A trade secret is that there are laundromats in almost every civilized country in the world! I did our own laundry in Paris and in Israel. Finding the one in Israel was an adventure in itself. With extremely limited Hebrew – reciting the Shema prayer supposed to be said as you lie dying was of minimal help – no fewer than four different parties I encountered gave me four different directions, always wrong, but never in doubt. I also encountered an overly friendly stray dog who fixated on me. He had no idea what “Go home!” meant in English. He seemed to think that he WAS home and I was the one who was out of place!

Anyway, back to our current story, we took off for the Utah trip after morning rush hour had cleared out in Phoenix in as good spirits as we could muster just days after the 10/7 disaster. The joke was on us, because Phoenix traffic NEVER clears out – especially with summer highway construction. Remember, in Arizona, “summer” is from late March through October.

And then – what a way to begin just 25 miles or so down the road – the signage was very confusing and we missed our first exit to 60 West. That cost us about 20 minutes with a lot of “Re-CALCULATING” by our annoyed GPS lady, who shortly afterward just flat-out quit on us. It happened repeatedly on the trip. The screen would just go blank, as if to say, “Well, I give up. YOU think you’re so smart – YOU figure it out!!”

ALL roads from Phoenix to Kingman, AZ and Kingman to Mesquite, NV were under construction with “lanes” made by a madman who believed that a semi truck and a passenger car could easily split the difference in ¾ of a lane apiece. The surface was reminiscent of what it must have been like in a covered wagon, although the ox was cheaper than a fill-up of gasoline. I will never be the kind of person who gives 1-star reviews on Yelp, but I can’t help but mention that in our first hotel room there was a spot of blood on our bedspread and we were too tired to care. Luckily, it was two Queens, so we could manage.

When we woke up very early the next morning feeling more rested, but also more disturbed by the bedspread, we were overeager to be on our blood-free way. However, arriving early at your next hotel means you will camp out in the lobby hoping the Housekeeping staff takes pity upon you and cleans your reserved room next. I do not blame the hotel industry. They are stuck between the “rock” of early arrivers and the “hard place” of lollygagging departers.

About noon they announced we had a clean, one-bedroom suite that was larger than our first three apartments. (Probably put together…) We met our Mesquite hosts, the Ming O’Mingo family, for a wonderful lunch in a “Thai-nese” restaurant, good conversation, and plans to attend the Full Dress Rehearsal for a Mesquite Community Theatre production of “Murdered to Death” in which Mr. O’Mingo had a major and hilarious role. Mrs. O’Mingo and I vied for Loudest, Most Continuous Laugher honors in what turned out to be an excellent play.

We planned to attend Opening Night the next night as well. And that was when things really went off the rails. First, the “tire pressure” light came on in our vehicle. And Joe, who at that time thought he was just having a seasonal allergy attack he is prone to, started feeling more and more sick. With deep apologies, we begged off opening night and Joe, after dealing with the car, slept for about 18 hours straight. But our luck had affected the theater company as well and a major character took ill. Opening night had to be postponed anyway.

We drove on to St. George, Utah the next day through some daunting canyons which make you wonder how ANYBODY figured out how to put a road there! As in all these kinds of situations, the “foreigner” creeps along gripping the wheel in terror while “locals” zoom around him honking at the scaredy-cats who think the speed limit is too high.

We had been in this Marriott Courtyard before with its wonderful staff. Hosts Rich and Lauren, veterans of both Commenter-Cons, had a beautiful 3-day itinerary worked out for us that began with a gorgeous dinner at a Sikh Indian Restaurant called Red Fort, directly across the street from the hotel.

But, alas, things continued to deteriorate. I know people often read this over breakfast, so I will just say that the word “plunger” appearing in a travelogue means the bloom is definitely off the traveling rose. There will be a special place in Hell for the inventor of the low-flow toilet. Saving Gaia, one nightmare at a time! Since learning that Grifting Greta supports Hamas, I will never again recycle and plan to leave my lights on pretty much day and night. How DARE you – you psychotic little weirdo!

Our dear hosts had a hike planned for the next day in which – after a cursory appraisal of our fitness level — the word “easy” kept popping up. But by this time Joe could barely even stay awake to eat, a startling development, believe me, for someone who has known him since he was a 150-lb bottomless pit of a teenager! He not only skipped the hike but slept the whole NEXT day. I went with our hosts and two beautiful Mormon ladies to an Open House Tour of a remodeled LDS Temple in St. George. It was like nothing I had ever seen before, informative as well as stunningly beautiful. It was a balm for my soul at such a devastating time.

Having passed on the hike, I made up for it by climbing a gazillion jillion (approximately) steps to the very top of the temple structure. Joe continued sleeping any time he wasn’t obsessively checking his phone or computer for news on Israel. And, to be frank, I was beginning to doubt that it was just allergies. I’m quick like that. Especially after I started feeling sickish as well. I’m pretty sure you can’t “catch” allergies. And Denial can only take you so far.

We almost certainly should have turned back at that point. But our long-suffering hosts had organized a dinner party with four of their friends who were fans of both the column and Max Cossack’s novels. We began on the patio with great conversation, really smart, engaging, conservative people, and a lot of questions for the “honored guests.” Unfortunately — there’s no need to point fingers here — ONE of those honored guests had to keep poking the leg of the other one to get him to wake up and be his usual charming self. He rallied somewhat for the Apple Pie and Ice Cream, but on the way home, even he described himself as “a dud.” We are committed to returning to St. George SOME DAY to take those same 6 people out to the finest restaurant in St. George, our treat.

On the way back to our hotel, the Dud Guy achieved maximum Dud-ocity He was driving and he hit “previous destinations” on the GPS and was so out of it he did not realize he had hit the hotel in Nevada, not the one in St. George. But being not only a guy, but THAT guy, he refused to believe me when I said, “This can’t be right, because in no way are we 40 miles from our hotel.” After about 10 miles in the wrong direction, he agreed. Back at the hotel, I “broke on through to the other side” of Denial and realized that, whatever was afflicting us, we would have to go home. I undid all the reservations for Provo and Ogden, texted or emailed those hosts, and packed up and loaded the car.

At no time – till that very moment of clarity above – were either of our brains working well enough for us to slap our foreheads and say, “WHO in the world wants to see two sick people?!” Until I received a text from the Paranoid Texan posing that question all that we were worried about was whether or not WE were up to it! Holy cow!

No, we still don’t know what we have/had. At this writing, we are much improved. We’ve both had COVID before, but this virus has presented much differently. No fever, just this relentless cough and exhaustion. I believe the stress of the Israel attack knocked out our immune systems. We were temporarily broken. Through the love, prayers and support of our friends, we will be fine. And we will finish the trip another day. Just as – please, God – Israel will finish the job of dismantling Hamas. May the time not be distant.