Last weekend Shae and I hit the road and headed to Sedona to spend the weekend with my mom. We figured the best time to head over to Arizona would be July. Nice and cool in the desert in July. Actually, it wasn’t even that hot over there last weekend. The thermometer in my car only read ‘—‘ (meaning over the ~110 degree max that my car will register) once or twice on the trip, and it was in the mid 90’s or so in Sedona. Downright frigid! I wish I had packed a coat.
The trip out of San Diego was pretty uneventful, but it got exciting in Yuma. You know what they had in Yuma? Gas prices that started with a 3 — $3.99 (for regular, it cost me $4.22 for premium). I really hate that I was surprised to see gas under $4. That was pretty much the highlight of driving in Arizona. Phoenix/Glendale were not quite as friendly. Some big car fire forced the closure of the freeway we were on. I understand this stuff happens from time to time, and normally it would be a big deal. What made it a pain in the ass was that they forced everyone off the freeway, closed all the on-ramps, and didn’t provide any signs to let drivers know where we were supposed to go. In California, we have these brand new technological marvels called detour signs. Hopefully someone in Arizona will cross the border and steal our idea. Seriously, how the hell can you close a freeway for over an hour (the accident was over an hour old by the time we got there) and not put up any signs notifying drivers how they’re supposed to get back on the freeway.
Luckily my car’s navigation system was made in a state that knows about these new “detours” so we were able to find our way back to the road. Good thing too, because if we hadn’t we never would have gone by “Surprise Stadium”. Until about four months ago I don’t think I would have appreciated the name of the stadium as much as I do now. You know what the surprise is (at least as far as I can tell)? There are two stadiums. I had a surprise like that once. I’m naming them Ella and Jackson.
Apparently they have way too much money to spend on construction over in our neighbor to the East because every freeway we touched was under construction of some sort. However, nothing comes close to the work being done in and around Sedona. Someone has decided that traffic lights are too easy to understand so they’re getting rid of the lights and putting in roundabouts. I think it has something to do with the environmental impact of idling at lights or something like that. I’m sure the roundabouts are a huge step forward, but my only experience with roundabouts in a semi-high traffic area was at a big shopping center in Fresno (ahh…beautiful Fresno). Every time Shae and I went to see a movie I witnessed at least one near-accident on the roundabouts and to this day I have no idea how I avoided ever being hit in those damn things. I’m sure there won’t be any problems with the 10,000 of the things they’re putting in Sedona though.
Once we actually got off the freeways of Arizona our trip was great. As I mentioned earlier, the weather was much cooler than we expected and we had a great time. Some time at the pool, several good meals (thanks Mom!), an interesting trolley ride (driven by a cowboy pun-master), and a massage for me and the pregnant wifey. A very relaxing time, and a nice break before the impending chaos that’ll be arriving all too soon (I’m looking at you twins).
Speaking of massages, let’s get to the age-old question of massages: guy or girl? I personally don’t care as long as I get a good massage. I mean, is it really any more awkward to get rubbed down by a guy than a woman? Someone’s rubbing oil all over and pretending the sheet over your dangle actually covers your stuff up. I don’t think breasts make that any less uncomfortable than a set of franks and beans. I ended up getting the messy rub-down from a masseuse named Mark (one guess if that’s a guy or a girl) and Shae got a special maternity massage from Alicia (again, I leave it up to you to guess the sex). We both were extremely happy with our massages and were nice and relaxed for the rest of the night.
The ride home wasn’t nearly as eventful as our previous trip. There was no roadwork, no traffic, and we didn’t get stripped searched at any of the Border Patrol checkpoints. The guy asking us if we had any fruit took a longer look in our car than any of the Border Patrol guys. So, to recap, almost 1000 miles of driving with a pregnant wife, 1 oily rubdown by a man, and an overall nice weekend.