Scotch on the Rocks, Paper Cup

 

Dedicated to TT who is considering more time on the road; it is not always easy and fun.

Greetings from Beagle’s southern base camp in Morro Bay.  I believe I left you at the Hitch N Post RV Park in Panguitch, Utah, where Beagle was being tossed around in 30 MPH winds and trying not to freeze during the fifteen-degree nights. 

Opus and I were huddled inside, the heater had been running constantly for forty-eight hours (and only set at forty-five degrees!) and the only thing I was happy about was being plugged in.  I was miserable; first and foremost, tired from very little sleep the night before (remember me Googling error codes at three o'clock in the morning?), grumpy because it was so cold outside I was spending many, many hours inside Beagle, and running on very little sleep.  Yes, it needs to be repeated; those of you who know me know that Tired Kit should just be left alone—especially by Any Other Kit.

And so, when a picture arrived into my Messages app, a picture that made me want to put on The Purple Dress of Devastation and strappy heels, slide on top of a tall bar stool and allow someone to buy me a dirty martini, my first inclination was to reply with, “Fuck you.”  (Sorry Mom.)  But I managed something more charming, I’m sure.

And then, when CH replied to my battery update with a teasing, “You need heated batteries”, intending to be funny because he knows I have been waiting for an appointment with him for just such an upgrade, my first inclination was to suggest he meet up with the person from paragraph three and fuck each other (sorry Mom.)  But I managed something more charming, I’m sure.

At that point I put my phone on Do Not Disturb (because, clearly, the only thing coming out of my mind was going to be that lovely four-letter word [better, Mom?]) and relied on my meditation training to comfort me:  Yes, my situation was less than ideal, but it was My situation, My life, and I welcome all experiences.  Embrace Misery, welcome it, it is the only way you will know Joy.  Deep breath.

And then my phone rang and it was Roomie, one of the few people whose call will break through my Do Not Disturb.  She and her real roomie listened while I complained, set me to laughing, and then we planned our Alaskan adventure.  Life turns on a dime.

The next day dawned sunny and frigid so I bundled up, sent a package on its way knowing it was going to bring joy (one of the greatest feelings on Earth), and headed out for a hike.  Opus and I didn’t see a single soul as we hiked through Red Canyon (a wonderful dog-friendly option given that they are not allowed on most trails in Bryce Canyon) and he enjoyed spazzing out, off leash, in the snow, trying to get me to chase him.

That afternoon I returned to Bryce to see more sites, barely surviving the cold long enough to take some pictures.

The following day I hit the slopes at Brian Head, something I had not done for five years.  Talk about joy!  Sparkling packed powder, bright blue sky, and no lines at the lifts.  After countless runs, I was flying down an intermediate run thinking I was hot shit and decided that should be my last run:  Thinking you are hot shit is always the prelude to a major wipe out.

Saturday was going to be a long drive day, having to leave from Panguitch, pick up River in Las Vegas and try to make it to Barstow, so I decided to treat myself to a night where it all started two weeks earlier, at the Hampton Inn.  I knew there was RV parking and, obviously, it was pet friendly. 

Tired and very road-weary upon arrival, I fed and walked the dogs and moved them into the hotel room, pausing to grab a cup (this being a Hampton Inn, it was paper), and returned to Beagle to make a sandwich for dinner.  I plunked two ice cubes into the cup and poured a hefty helping of scotch, carrying my reward back to the room where my two well-traveled and delightful dogs were sleeping patiently by the door.

I mention their good behavior because at ten o’clock the dog across the hall began to bark.  It was clearly a large dog and vicious so on top of it keeping me awake it also sent my heart racing with irrational fear.  I called the front desk, she said she would try and reach the owners, then she heard the bark and said, “Oh my god, that’s terrifying, I am so sorry.” 

After ninety minutes of blood-curdling barking, I called her again.  She sounded like she was going to cry; by then many other guests had complained and she was not getting an answer from the owners.  There was no use getting upset with her or the hotel.  I got dressed, leashed the dogs, walked out to the dark parking lot and slept in Beagle.

And so you see, TT, times can be trying on the road even when you think you have set yourself up for a treat.  But as long as you have your dogs and your rolling home, it is always worth it.  

And scotch.

-K