My First Real Road Trip
My old college roommate was moving from Seattle (technically Woodinville), WA to Fort Myers, Florida for a job. It was the fall of 1995. I had been out of college for a couple of years, hadn’t taken a vacation yet, and had never been east of Idaho in my life. I volunteered to drive with him across the country. I think he was surprised, but secretly elated he wouldn’t be driving alone. He already had a stopping place with a friend in Kansas and a stopping place somewhere in Louisiana where his brother was a professor and a new dad. Being in a car with Brad for several days wouldn’t be a challenge; we had the same interest in music, Mariners baseball, were both single, and dipped tobacco (at the time).
I booked a return flight for Sunday, October 1st (this will be important later). Brad said to bring my golf clubs; his dad was a big enthusiast and would expect to play with him. I didn’t play much, but I did have a set to bring. Since I’m a lefty, always bringing your clubs is important. I recall we left on a weekday morning, probably Wednesday around 10 a.m.
Keep in mind this was “pre” the following: cell phones, internet (to speak of), interactive maps, satellite radio, etc. We had a Thomas Guide with no specific stopping place in mind for the first night. We would head east to Montana, then South to Wyoming. Brad has his CDs loaded up (Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, The Cult, Metallica, and some others), and he was the driver and DJ to start the trip. I don’t recall the first day of the trip being eventful, both sitting in silence listening to music and enjoying the open road. Of course, we would stop for a fuel up, bathroom break, and soda refills. Our conversation probably revolved around the Seattle Mariners the past few days; earlier in the season they were double-digit games out of first place and had suddenly made a run, winning 9 of the last 11 or something like that. There are some great articles about the team, how it saved baseball in Seattle, and how Safeco Field was built. A good starting point would be an audio on SiriusXM. Our goal would be to listen to the game while driving, or at least find an AM station broadcasting updated scores. We needed the Mariners to win and the Angels to lose. I don’t recall having any luck listening to the game, but we found intermittent radio stations and the Mariners won again. We parked on an overpass somewhere in Wyoming late at night and fell asleep.
Day two started with driving Brad’s late ’80s Chevy S-10 (I think) to find the nearest gas and restroom. As huge Mariners fans, we could only talk about what little we knew of last night’s game and continued to try to find information. The latest edition of the USA Today box score showed “late,” so we were out of luck unless we could find something, which we did not. Our goal for the day was to drive through Denver and stop at Brad’s friend’s house somewhere in Kansas for a good night’s sleep on a mattress. At some point during the day, I recall driving towards downtown Denver and Brad pointing in the direction of Coors Field, where the Colorado Rockies played, one of the newer MLB stations. There was no stopping in Denver, we were on a mission to get to Garden City, Kansas at a decent hour.
Something transformational happened to me somewhere as we crossed the Continental Divide: It wasn’t long before I discovered the different geographic and cultural nuances of our great country. The roads went from mountainous to flat lands fairly quickly, and our journey to get information on the Mariners continued. We continued to spin both the AM and FM dials for reception. At one point we found a guy with a great voice who seemed to know everything, but more specifically St. Louis Cardinals Baseball. Okay, we found something; surely this station will give MLB scoring updates, but nothing, but we weren’t changing the station; this guy could wield a great story; it wasn’t until later I found out this guy was pretty famous, his name was Larry King. I tried to find some reference to a national radio show in 1995, but the information didn’t align. Oh well, at least my discovery didn’t come from an interview on CNN.
Moving on… it’s still night two of the road trip, and there was a surreal moment right out of the movie/show Friday Night Lights; we somehow got lodged between and beside a caravan of school buses, mini-vans, and cars headed from one town to another to cheer on the away team. It seemed to be a big rivalry, but it put smiles on our faces. I’m sure we looked out of place with our Mariners hats and Washington State license plates. We finally arrived at the house where we were to stay and went through quick introductions before we asked if he knew the score of the Mariners game. I don’t think he even had cable, but he did have a computer with a 56k modem. After several minutes of trying to connect to a website, we gave up and suggested a bar. Well, this is where more of the cultural nuance and awakening was for me. There were NO Bars! This was a dry county? I had never heard of a dry county outside of the days of prohibition. It turns out we paid $3 to become a member of this club, and you could come in and drink. I don’t recall if we did buy a beer, but I feel we did. Regardless, the proprietor did have ESPN and we were able to watch the Mariners highlights for another win! Brad stayed up for a while and caught up with his friend, and I got some much-needed sleep, but adrenaline was rushing knowing the Mariners could be in the Playoffs for the first time. I know some might think I was missing out on the actual games, but I had probably attended more than 30 at this point in the season, and having this experience was unforgettable.
Day 3 started with saying goodbye and thanks and loading up the truck. Brad wanted to continue driving, and I wouldn’t object. He liked my map reading and called me “Goose“. Today’s goal was to cut through Oklahoma & Texas and get to Brad’s brother in Lafayette, Louisiana. I think part of my excitement was Brad promised we could stop in New Orleans, and I was really looking forward to it. More cultural nuance: We stopped at a McDonald’s in Shamrock, TX in the panhandle. Brad parked the car near a phone booth so he could call his brother and I went inside to order our food. It was my first time hearing a real Texas southern drawl in person. I probably smiled too much at the teenager at the register. I recall a strange look, but all I was thinking is I couldn’t wait to tell Brad. In hindsight, it sounds so naive, but it was my first experience, and I loved it. You will hear more references to McDonald’s, and I apologize, but Brad was changing jobs (for lower pay – long story), and my salary netted me $700 twice a month. We were on a budget. As I recall, the rest of the day was spent driving through Oklahoma and Texas listening to Brad’s CDs. He liked one band I couldn’t get into, Primus, and the CD drove me nuts. I think he put it on heavier rotation to annoy me, after three days you start to lose things you can do to entertain yourself in a car. I feel like we arrived in Lafayette just after sunset and we already knew the Mariners had one again (the beauty of being in two time zones ahead). I had met Brad’s other brother, an executive at Microsoft or something, and his dad was pretty conservative as well. Brad had told me his other brother was a professor, so I had built up a vision in my head…Brad’s brother came out of the house with full-on dreadlocks down to the bottom of his back. I don’t specifically recall his girlfriend and the mother of his newborn, but I do remember thinking “hippy“, but not in a bad way. I don’t remember anything from that night, or doing anything. We probably just sat around and ate dinner at their house and Brad caught up with his brother. There was a 10-year age difference, so they weren’t super close.
Day 4 started with more of an awakening. New architecture and building types. I recall we walked down a wide path, maybe it was an old, non-paved road between these enormous oak trees lined on both sides of us. Somehow, we got to an old graveyard, and again, I was stunned. Due to the elevation and swamps, coffins were above ground. I didn’t know whether to be spooked or impressed by the decor of the tombs. I think we walked back and said our goodbyes. Brad’s brother booked a hotel he recommended for us that was fairly cheap. I wish I could recall the hotel’s name, but it wasn’t far from the St. Charles Trolley which gave us easy access to Bourbon Street – My desired destination.
Do you know those times in life where one day or night is so eventful, it seems like it goes by in slow motion and when you recall the time your mind plays tricks with you “There’s no way I could have done all that in such a short time?” That was one of those nights!
Keep in mind we were in our mid-twenties and had no plan, and we definitely weren’t cultured enough to understand the good food opportunities of New Orleans. We drove into town in the late afternoon, stopped at McDonald’s, and that was the last time we ate the rest of the evening. We checked in to the hotel, showered, changed, and got an update on the TV that the Mariners won again, then headed out on the trolley. We probably had $40 between the two of us. We had no historical reference or specific bar to go to, so we walked down Bourbon Street. It was a weekend night in September, and it was packed with people of all ages and sizes, I can only imagine what Mardi Gras was like. I recall getting a Hurricane right on the street thinking that was pretty cool, but I really wanted to find a bar, maybe even with some live music. The bad news is the fast food diet finally got to me, and I really needed to go. We found a bar, and I quickly found the bathroom. If you’ve ever been to a bathroom in a dive bar on Bourbon Street in the mid-90s and you have to go #2, you’ll understand my predicament, but I worked it out. There might have been some apparel left behind. I came out to find Brad near the pool table, and he had already got his quarters in the queue (we had a pool table in college, so we thought we were pretty good). I don’t recall any live music, but there was music blaring, and it was a small bar with a tight space for playing pool. But amazingly, we were about to play a minor celebrity; his name was “The Enigma,” and I was familiar with his face from a large poster at a bar in Seattle called Moe’s Mo’Roc’N Cafe, now called Neumos. This is a guy whose face was fully covered in tattoos, had horns on his forehead, and bite-size pieces removed from his ear. A little intimidating, but turned out to be the nicest guy. If memory serves me correctly, even his girlfriend’s face was tattooed. You never saw this in 1995 (pre-Mike Tyson tattoo). I’m not sure why The Enigma was there, but he was a part of the Jim Rose Traveling Circus, which I never saw in person. Okay, so the night is starting to get surreal; we played pool in a dive bar on Bourbon Street. Check the box, and maybe we get another drink and call it a night for the stretch run to Florida…
I did mention we were both single. We spotted two girls about our age walking further down Bourbon Street where the pedestrian traffic was turning lighter so we decided to follow (not stalk) them and see if they knew a good bar to go to. We were actually bold enough to say hi and make introductions. To my surprise, they were friendly (later to discover this is a Southern thing) when I grew up with the Seattle Freeze. What I didn’t realize is our origins in Seattle carried some clout. It was 1995 and as one of the girls said “Chris Cornell is god“. When we told them we’ve seen Soundgarden and Pearl Jam and many of the others live, we were in, and they had so many questions about the grunge scene and Seattle itself. Mariners’ conversations were quickly dismissed. Brad hit a wall at some point, but rather than say goodbye, he just wandered off. At some point in the night, one of the girls went home as well. My new partner in crime just walked with me up and down Bourbon street; at one point the sun was coming up as the streets were being cleaned and I was being hustled by a local chess player sitting on five-gallon buckets. The girl had walked off only to return with some amazing treat called a beignet, I was starting to understand the culture in the United States is also a food one.
This is where it gets messy, and I don’t remember all the details: At some time in the night I got in a cab and told the driver the direction my friend went and we needed to find him. I provided a description and said he was pretty drunk. We started to drive through the neighborhood, but it was clearly not safe, and the driver even said ” I go any further, and your friend is in trouble; they eat people back there”. He was a big creole of a man, and he seemed serious. As the story goes, after the driver dropped me off, he went looking some more and found him passed out on a sidewalk in that area of town he shouldn’t be, but he got back safe. Another part I don’t remember is how the girl who was enamored with Seattle and bought me a beignet ended up in my hotel room. It was all very innocent; no kisses and clothes stayed on, she just spent the early morning sleeping on the bed with me.
Day 5 was off to a rough start with no movement until the phone rang for checkout. This was the first time in my life you could ask for a late checkout, and it didn’t cost extra. The staff was probably used to this request, considering their location. We probably didn’t hit the road until after 12 p.m., but I do remember Brad being very quiet that day, but he insisted on driving. With no internet, it was anyone’s best guess when we would arrive at Brad’s parents, but off we went. What I remember the most about this point in the drive, is the natural landscape surrounding the Atchafalaya Basin Bridge going over the swamps of Louisiana, probably one of the coolest stretches of road I’ve ever been on. I could now check off “Been to Alabama” and “M-i-ss-i-ss-pp-i” as states I’ve been to before we finally arrived in Florida. Turns out Fort Myers is still five and a half hours from Tallahassee, where we finally had our car problems. I don’t recall what the specific issue was, but we were done for the day until a garage could look at it in the morning. So what do two young single guys do in Tallahassee on a Sunday Night? They discover this is home of the Seminoles, a college town, where there is sure to be a sports bar with a pool table and some cute girls. Another potential new cultural experience. We didn’t find the cute girls, it was a Sunday night after all, but we did find a really cool sports bar. It had two floors with an open-air top deck that had pool tables and big screens. Look at that, they serve their pitchers of beer with a bag of ice in them; that’s novel! I had never seen that, and I’m surprised that it isn’t a thing wherever and whenever it gets hot. Anyway, the Mariners win again, and this probably makes 6-7 in a row, all wins while we’ve been on the road (and they were at home in the Kingdome). Brad and I couldn’t stop talking about it at this point. It was good to see he had recovered from the previous night, but now he had to go find a phone to call his dad that we weren’t coming in tonight. I don’t even remember where we stayed in Tallahassee that night with no car, and probably little money. I’m guessing some cheap motel, but I do remember liking the town, even the heat and humidity. It was nice to be outside in the evening without a chill. I could get used to the South.
Day 6 started with Brad asking his dad for some money to fix his car. Not a conversation he wanted to have knowing he was coming to move in with them. Thankfully, the parts were in stock, and we were on our way by mid-morning and made it to Fort Myers at a decent hour sitting in a living room and watching highlights of another Mariners win. END OF ROAD TRIP!
Some observations over the next few days before my flight home: Back patios and the pool are covered by nets in Florida. It feels outdoors, but it’s sort of not. They were called Florida sunrooms, but I think his dad called it a Pool Cage. Another observation was alligators on the golf course; you just sort of avoid them.
By Sunday, it was time to fly home to Seattle. The Mariners had won 16 of the last 21 games, and all they had to do was win against the Rangers while I was in flight and the win the A.L. West. Steve and Jim picked me up at the airport to let me know they lost and there was a one-game playoff in the Kingdome tomorrow (Monday, when I’m supposed to be back at work) against the Angels. Mark Langston vs. Randy Johnson, the “everybody scores” game. I got to work on Monday after being gone expecting to miss the game when my manager and his manager asked me if I wanted to go with them in the company seats. Side note: Mariners win the AL West.
Serendipity! And from there, I was hooked on Road Trips and hearing highlights from the voice of Dave Niehaus