Excerpt from Or-LA-ando roadtrip - only the cows know.
The desert is a sad lonely place. No wonder people come here to hide bodies. I thought I had seen poor towns in my lifetime but nothing compared to the shanties of population 4 , unnamed desert towns I saw drifting by my window on my way to the corner of New Mexico.
We were driving all the way from San Antonio Texas to the far corner of New Mexico. Very close to the border of Colorado. I had a friend, Carrie, who had moved to Farmingham New Mexico, not because it was lavish or pretty, not because they had a lot of anything really. Well, unless you count that really reddish clay dirt. They had a lot of that. So much that it seemed to blanket the city like snow. Stuck on to cafe windows, It reddened the fur of white stray dogs, and it was as depressing as the rain. Actually more depressing because atleast wet is refreshing.
The best thing about this town was this cafe that served a mean southwest breakfest but even that couldn't make up for the awful feeling that you got. It was like dispair. A town everyone always dreamt of leaving. A goal everyone in that town wanted to aspire too and the shameful feeling they wore on their faces as day in and day out they ate from the same breakfast menu at that little rundown cafe.
I didn't know any of this yet. I was still antcipating seeing my friend and was very curious to see how she was living. The desert sometimes creeped me out, and I was sick of driving and riding and I had to pee. We both had to pee, but we were in the middle of the desert nothing around for miles. In the middle of the night we stopped on the side of the road, somewhere nearing roswell. We grabbed the napkins we had gotten from the taco stand in San Antonio, thinking ahead and stashing some napkins was a good idea. Cows gathered near the fence where we were peeing as if they hadn't seen a human in decades. Or perhaps two girls peeing on the side of the road in the middle of the night was just some good entertainment for them.
It wasn't the cows but something about the desert was very eerie.
Earlier that day we had lots of energy as we left San Antonio. The wonderful food we ate, the people we met. The inn we stayed at which was amazing. If there was ever a fun city travel chapter in my life it would be the San Antonio Chapter. I would tell you about the weed I found on the bathroom floor of this crabshack place, and how even though it was only regs we had deemed it roadtrip weed. Or how the innkeeper hid in our closet, how we giggled that night high, drunk, and even snorted a line or two of cocaine. Not because we are druggies, but because we accepted and respected the rules of the road.
The innkeeper and his friend had given us more pot, and a line a piece to snort if we needed to stay awake on the road. We had a cooler filled with Heineken keg cans, the drugs our new found friends had given us, plus more weed in a cloth bag decorated with a monkey print fabric when we rolled up to the DWI Stop. Later on we found out that because of all of the reservations around the area there are lots of DWI's because the Indians get their government checks and go to town, which is a few hours away to get wasted and then drive back.
2 cute young women roll up to these cops. We tell them our story and what we are doing. How I'm helping my friend move across country. They shine their lights in the back and see all the moving boxes and items and tell us to be safe, don't go out into the desert alone!
Indeed. If there is one thing I can't say enough it's that the desert is freaky. For every one story about the desert their are a thousand that have gone untold. Things you can't explain, things that make you feel queasy or lonely, or both. A place were good and evil are placed together in a sweet and sour candy tart.
We were smoking some weed, and deciding what cd's we should put in next when I thought I saw something in the corner of my eye. As I turned my head it seemed to back off. It was like a brownish blob gurgling it's way right along side the car, but every time you turned to look at it., it would back up. Must be this crazy ass bathroom floor weed we are smoking. Who knows what's in it anyway. It could be laced with opium. or rat posion, or ashes from someone's dear aunt sally.
To cope with this idea I cracked open a lukewarm beer. I'm fairly sure there are only a few instances in which cracking open a lukewarm beer while riding in a car is appropriate but brown blob beside car sounds like it might be one of those instances.
The ride was about 16 hours long. A few highlights included our drive by look at Roswell NM in the middle of the night. They have alien head street lights. I took a picture of them on a disposable camera that will later be lost, found and still never developed.
We made it that night to Carrie's and had some conversation with her. Something about Carrie always lit you up even when you were dragging ass. She told us all about the area, the stuff she had seen, local legend. She asked us exactly the route we had to traveled. "I can't believe you traveled through that part, you know the Indians won't go through that section of the desert." She said. After inquiring why and what the local lore was she had said that quite a few Indians had gone missing over that area. "If you believe, it comes after you"." It appears like a brown blob floating over to you but it will crash your car" Just then my road trip friend spoke up. "Oh My God I saw it!, and I said I did too, I just thought I was high and hallucinating."
Was it true, Was brown blob spirit thing licking it's chops for us? Did it want to ride along side us? Did it want to cause us harm? Did it want to make it's presence known? Did it think we were foolish? Maybe those cows know.
