Stacy Sez

Humor, Travel, Movie Reviews, Politics, Dogs, Silly Pictures...wow! What could be better?

Sunday, July 20, 2003

Here's an excerpt from my 1998 book "On The Road"...no not THAT on the road...mine

On The Road

By Stacy Kerouac

(That’s me}

So, on the spur of the moment a couple of months back ‘Venna and I both decided to move to the Big Apple from sunny California. And, to make life a little more interesting even still, we decided to take an apartment that we had never seen and move east without jobs. Now that’s adventure!

Well, I’m happy to say that it has all worked out. We’re here and if we can make it here we can make it anywhere. It’s up to us. New York! New York!

Did I mention that we drove to NYC from California? No? Well, we did! "Stacy," you ask, "will you tell us about your exciting adventure?"

But of course I will! Here goes….

My story begins the Thursday before the movers were coming to take our stuff. Our shared apartment was still many, many boxes away from being packed up. The movers were coming first thing Monday. So I looked at Ravenna and said "Hey, let’s go to the movies!" We dropped what we were packing and headed off to the show.

We went to see that new Steven Speilberg war movie with Tom Hanks. You know the one I’m talking about, right? It’s the one where Tom Hanks survives scary old D-Day and goes off through Normandy looking for Goldie Hawn. I guess she had joined the army and was kind of regretting it. Let me tell you; ‘Saving Private Benjamin’ is one great movie. Go see it! I shouldn’t spoil the ending, but Tom Hanks hits Goldie Hawn right in the face with a coconut cream pie!

Okay, after that we went back to packing. I hate moving. It’s worse than eating turnips, I swear. It’s such a hassle. I want to get all disposable stuff, so I’ll never have to pack anything ever ever again. Disposable guitars, CDs, clothes, you name, I want it. Anywho (yes I said anywho), we finally packed up my car and hit the road.

I have to tell you, this trip was just about the funnest (I can say funnest) thing I’ve ever done. Driving across the country is amazing. Beautiful skies, beautiful rivers, beautiful roads and lots and lots of back-wood, hillbilly, inbred rednecks (BHIRs). Not that I have anything against back-wood, hillbilly, inbred rednecks (BHIRs). In fact, some of my best friends are back wood, hillbilly, inbred rednecks (BHIRs). Well not really, but it sounded kind of politically correct to say. To be fair, I guess if I had a really cute cousin, I might marry him, too. I swear every person from the California border to about Chicago was missing a chromosome or two. I guess that’s what comes from 200 years of kissin’ cousins. Smooch!

Okay, we hit the road. It took us about 4 hours to get our butts out of sunny California and into dusty, hot Nevada. Most of you know Nevada I’m sure. Nevada is an Indian wording meaning "lots of slots and sluts". No, really. Nevada is a gamblin’ kind of state. They also have legal prostitution. Personally, I think it should be legal everywhere. Who cares if a girl and a guy decide to transact a little business.

We drove and drove through the hot desert until we hit Elko. Elko is a little gamblin’ town in Eastern Nevada. It is also famous for being home to The World’s Largest Waffle Iron. Okay, I made the last part up. We stayed the night in a little motel and in the mornin’ hit the road bright and early.

The first really exciting landmark we came upon was when we entered Utah. Utah is also an Indian word meaning ‘really, really fuckin’ salty and flat!". And sure enough, as soon as we entered that glorious Mormonal state, we saw the Great Salt Flats. They were salty. They were flat! They went on for pert near forever! Land ‘O Goshen! How come the Mormons settled here anyway? You think that with all the salt it would have been the Shakers settling, not Mormons. Go fig.

After all of this fun stuff on the salt flats, we rolled into Salt Lake City. I have to admit, Salt Lake was kind of a cool lookin’ city. We even saw a Jesus lookalike in front of the big-ass Mormon Temple. That’s what the locals call it by the way. I wasn’t just cursing to be funny. They call it the Big Ass Mormon Temple. What can you expect from a bunch of BHIRs?

We took a little side trip through town to see the statue where ‘Venna’s ancestor used to proudly stand. Here’s the deal: Venna’s ancestor was one of the founders of the whole Mormon movement. His name was Martin Harris. He’s Venna’s great-great-great-grandfather or something like that. There’s this huge statue commemorating the founding of Salt Lake City that Martin Harris used to be on(This Is The Place Park for those who are interested in going). But the trouble is, before he died, he confessed that Joseph Smith and the boys had made the whole Jesus-coming-to-see-the-Indians-thing up. It was all a scam. Needless to say, his image was not long for that statue. Does that make him Venna’s great-great-great grandfather once removed? Get it? Get it?

Well I tell you, after the statue thing we were ready for Wyoming. Wyoming, Wyoming! I really liked Wyoming! Wyoming comes from the Dutch Wyomgin. The settlers just spelled it wrong. Maybe they were dyslexic or something. Wyoming conjures up images of cattle rustling and Latin Bandleaders. Oh wait, that’s Ricky Ricardo, oops. By this time the sun was settin’ in the west and it was time for us to look for a place to shack up for the night. We settled on a cute little town called Rawlins. For a brief time back in the 70s, they had changed the name to LouRawls Inn for tax reasons. Teddy Roosevelt even stayed here once, WOW!

From LouRawls Inn, we headed upwards (geographically that is, if we really headed upwards we probably would’ve been on a plane….unless it was Swiss Air, then I guess it would be downwards with much gusto). Our next stop was to be Devil’s Tower, Wyoming. Everyone who has seen ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ knows what Devil’s Tower is. It’s a big rock tower that was built by Satan, duh. That’s why it’s Devil’s Tower.

On the way there, we sort of got sidetracked, though. Ravenna just happened to notice on the map a certain little place called Hole-in-the-Wall, too cool! Hole-in-the-Wall was the hideout for notorious outlaws such as Kid Curry, Butch Cassidy, and the Sundance Kid. We just had to go, although it was 30 miles down a teensy, weensy back road. Well let me tell you! It was worth the miles. What a beautiful road! It reminded me of those bygone days of cattle rustling and Pongtm.

After hanging out at Hole-In-The-Wall for 60 seconds or so, we headed back to the main road. Now it was time for Devil’s Tower. Devil’s Tower is awesome. It’s a big tower. It looks kind of like a rock version of a bunch of celery with the tops chopped off. If you’re ever in Northeastern Wyoming, go see it.

60 seconds later we were back on the road. Next stop: Deadwood, South Dakota; the famous resting place of our hero Calamity Jane and that scalawag (I just love that word) Wild Bill Hiccup, Hiscock, Hickock…whatever. Deadwood is cooooool! I loved it! I would live there if it weren’t for a complete overflow of BHIRs (see above). Interestingly enough, there were lots of live trees. But I guess the wood of all the old buildings is dead. Hey, they have a radio station in Deadwood. No really! I put it on and they were playing "Blame It On The Rain" by none other than Milli Vanilli! The only station in the whole fuckin’ world that still plays Milli Vanilli! Pardon my use of the slang ‘fuckin’, you must remember that I now live in New York and it’s a law here. That fuckin’ Giuliani!

We gambled a little that night in the local casinos and the next morning awoke bright and early to visit the graves of our heroes Jane and Bill. Sadly, there was a bunch of BHIRs (see above) dancing on their graves so we split town and headed for Mount Rushmore. Mount Rushmore is famous for a natural rock formation that looks uncannily like four presidents. No really, it was carved by water. I swear. The presidents are Cleveland, Taft, Buchannan and Garfield. I just love that crazy cat! Lasagna, jeez, what a crack-up! 60 seconds later we were back on the road headed for Minnesota. I was thirsty and wanted a big soda, but all they had were mini-sodas. Get it? Get it? Mini-sodas, Minnesota! Hah hah… (That one goes over well with the BHIRs).

Let me tell you one last thing about South Dakota. The western part like the Black Hills is beautiful, but the road east was as boring as clam chowder on a Sunday morning. We drove and drove and drove and drove. We drove in droves. Eventually we made it to Minnesota and stopped for the night. I must confess that by this time on the trip I was developing an OCD condition. OCD stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The motels, although clean were starting to gross me out. I imagined that the sheets and towels weren’t washed. I started thinking about all of the gross people who had probably walked barefoot on the carpets. I wanted to puke. I couldn’t sleep anymore. I hate motels now.

Our next goal was to make it to somewhere around Chicago. It’s my kind of town (Chicago is). Did you know that it’s the town Billy Sunday couldn’t shut down? To get there we still needed to cross the mighty Mississippi River and Wisconsin. Mississippi is an Indian word (surprised?) meaning, "really big fuckin’ river, Jesus!"

We cruised through Wisconsin and made it to Chicago. But ya know what? By this time we were so burnt from the road that we didn’t stop. We cruised on to Indiana. Indiana is an Italian word meaning Indian…duh. We stopped in the town where Notre Dame University is. I can’t even remember the name of the town, but it’s famous for that college. Joe Montana played football there. I wonder if a reporter ever had this conversation with him:

"Hey Joe, did you ever think you’d be the greatest quarterback of all time?", reporter.

"Well, I had a hunch back at Notre Dame", Joe.

By that particular motel I really really had OCD. The thought of spending another night on dirty sheets really had me stressed. Luckily I had my Little Mermaid blanket (yes I sleep on Little Mermaid sheets, too) in the car. I put it on the motel sheets and wrapped myself up in it and used my own pillow. I think it’s time to see a shrink.

The next morning I had had enough of motels. We decided we would push on through to Manhattan. So off we went. We finished with Indiana, cruised through Ohio, Pennsylvania and finally hit the last stretch through New Jersey. Here was our dilemma: The real estate agent with the key to our place was only going to be around until 9:00 PM. Shit! At 8:45 we were lost in Jersey City trying to find our way to the Big A. I was flying down surface streets, running red lights and generally causing mayhem. We made it!

In my next installment maybe I’ll tell you about the cockroach party that was going on when we walked into our apartment for the first time. Or maybe I’ll talk about our three furry passengers that tagged along on our trip. Only time will tell…..Okay, I confess….we have three weasles for kids! Ferrets, and I’m proud of them! They were illegal in California so I could never discuss their crazy antics. But in New York they are legal…hah hah! Bye!

Hi, I'm Stacy and this is my new blog, Stacy Sez....here's an excerpt from my yet to be published travel book. This was written about a trip to New York in 1997 when I was living in California...enjoy!....or not...

We just got back from glorious New York City a couple of days ago. That city is so cool! It is a truly awesome place to visit. You'd think there were 9 million people there or something, hey wait. So I guess we should start from the beginning.

In the beginning, there was an island called Manhattan. In fact, there still is an island called Manhattan, but it has a couple more buildings than it used to. In ancient times, Manhattan was inhabited by Native Americans. The name "Manhattan" comes from the Native American "MannHotten" which means "give me a bunch of beads and trinkets, and we'll give our island to a bunch of guys with little yellow cars". The natives who lived there referred to their land as the land of the sizable dried plum. But then the Europeans came along and paid a hefty price of beads and trinkets and redubbed it "land of the sizable red fruit".

So if not for a few beads and trinkets, Manhattan was destined to become the Big Prune rather than the Big Apple. From that moment on, the residents have been racing to cover every square inch of the place in concrete and steel. Except for Central Park, they have pretty much succeeded.

Being admirers of concrete and steel and guys named Vinnie, we couldn't wait to visit The Big Apple once again (see old Stacy Sez for our past romp in the Big Prune).

We flew in to JFK late Wednesday night. JFK is out past Brooklyn and Queens. It was formally known as Idylwild Airport. For those who have seen "Goodfellas", this was the scene of the famous Lufthansa Heist in the late 70s. In fact I saw the Lufthansa building that night and wondered if that was where it all took place. Here's a bit of irony….according to that rat Henry Hill, Idylwild was the scene of many an alleged mafia heist. Then, they changed the name to JFK. Conspiracy theorists would be quick to point out that the alleged Mafia was responsible for John Kennedy's headache. They blame these guys for everything. Coincidence? Or another government conspiracy? Next thing you know they'll change the name to the Marilyn Monroe Airport.

Back to the story….So we arrived late and took a limo to Manhattan. I hate limos. I especially hate stretch limos. They remind me of stupid, big-haired, glam rock bands of the 1980s. I prefer the understated sedan or town car. But such is life. Anyway, we pulled up to our hotel and were swamped by a bunch of groupies yelling "Poison, Poison!" We convinced them that we were, in fact, not associated with any 80s bands and they went on their way.

We were staying at the famed Holiday Inn in Chinatown. This hotel is famous for it's many infamous guests….well, not really. Actually it was a boring little hotel with not much to offer in the way of excitement, but hey, it was clean. By the time we settled in to our room, it was 2 A.M., and it was sleepy time. Coming up, Part II. Stay tuned boppers…..

More Stacy Sez