Marc
Now, now, now. Did I see Zach Kuhn post something? I think I did, and I think it made me happy for a split second. And why shouldn't I be?
I started off my day at 5:30am, in the same hotel as last night (thank God), and coincidenatlly the same one I'm in right now. I originally had only planned on staying here until last night, but plans got switched up, up, and get down. So, when I got done working yesterday I went down to the front desk and asked to extend my stay. Easy, eh? Not for Poco the Pisspoor Front Desk Attendant. First, he looked really confused, then he looked scared. He kept staring me up and down, probably trying to figure out how such a shady looking fella got through the front door. The key was walking. Then, he told me that if I wanted to stay another night, I couldn't stay in my room. There was someone else already booked in it. Now, I find it hard to believe that in a hotel with 40-odd rooms on each of their 16 floors, the one room that I was sleeping in was specifically booked by someone else.
"Yes, Poco, I'll be coming in two weeks, and if I don't get Rm. 1278, I'll be one unhappy man. Hear me, Poco? Do you hear me?Poco!?"
What a bunch of doo-hickey, come-slide-me-do. Or whatever that means. But I digress.
Where was my first site to cable this morning? Dugway, Utah, home of "THE NATIONAL CHEMICAL AND BIOLOGICAL TESTING AND PROVING GROUND". Sounded to me like we were headed towards some kind of place where the government throws a whole bunch of new Army recruits into a tank, douses them with Antrax, and sits back to see what happens. Honestly, that's what was going through my mind as we pulled up. I mean, they could've gotten away with it if they'd wanted to, because there was absolutely nothing but mountains for the next fifty miles, whichever way you sliced it. Turns out, though, that it's just some kind of run down old base that apparently loses power and water every four or five days, and no one that lives there that's not actually in the military can buy anything at any of the stores (except for the gas station just beyond the main gate). That's what this nice, older woman at the post office was telling me as I was on my back, underneath her counter, trying to run a cable.
Quite possibly the best part of today was the exhilirating journey we (Kevin and I) had on the way to the next site: Wendover, Utah/Nevada (one of those border towns). We almost ran out of gas. We were driving on Interstate 80, along the Salt Flats, when I noticed that there was absolutely nothing to be seen for miles and miles. Sure, I could see beautiful mountains in the distance, and the flats themselves, but as far as towns go, this was a wasteland. Kind of like Kevin Costner's Postman. So, I look over to the driver's side of the car, where Kevin was, and I noticed that the gas tank wasn't exactly full. We both agreed that the next station we saw would probably be the last before we made it in to Wendover. And how many gas stations did we see? NONE. For seventy miles, or so, there was absolutely nothing, except for two rest areas. The fuel light came on about 40 miles out of Wendover, and I started to inwardly panic. I'd never found myself in this situation before. I was instantly reminded of Kramer during the Car Dealership episode of Seinfeld. I took on the role of the jittery, jangly salesman in the passenger seat, cowering because I can't comprehend what it would be like to get stuck out in the middle of this (breathtaking) wasteland.
"Come on, Kevin! It needs it!"
"No, man!"
Fortunately, the beige Ford Taurus plucked and purred away, until we saw an oasis named Amoco two miles out of Wendover. Kevin feigned not turning, but I quickly put my hand on the steering wheel to try and turn it. We glided in for a smooth landing at pump number 6, and filled her up proper-like. Lessons were learned today, they truly were.
Now, now, now. Did I see Zach Kuhn post something? I think I did, and I think it made me happy for a split second. And why shouldn't I be?
I started off my day at 5:30am, in the same hotel as last night (thank God), and coincidenatlly the same one I'm in right now. I originally had only planned on staying here until last night, but plans got switched up, up, and get down. So, when I got done working yesterday I went down to the front desk and asked to extend my stay. Easy, eh? Not for Poco the Pisspoor Front Desk Attendant. First, he looked really confused, then he looked scared. He kept staring me up and down, probably trying to figure out how such a shady looking fella got through the front door. The key was walking. Then, he told me that if I wanted to stay another night, I couldn't stay in my room. There was someone else already booked in it. Now, I find it hard to believe that in a hotel with 40-odd rooms on each of their 16 floors, the one room that I was sleeping in was specifically booked by someone else.
"Yes, Poco, I'll be coming in two weeks, and if I don't get Rm. 1278, I'll be one unhappy man. Hear me, Poco? Do you hear me?Poco!?"
What a bunch of doo-hickey, come-slide-me-do. Or whatever that means. But I digress.
Where was my first site to cable this morning? Dugway, Utah, home of "THE NATIONAL CHEMICAL AND BIOLOGICAL TESTING AND PROVING GROUND". Sounded to me like we were headed towards some kind of place where the government throws a whole bunch of new Army recruits into a tank, douses them with Antrax, and sits back to see what happens. Honestly, that's what was going through my mind as we pulled up. I mean, they could've gotten away with it if they'd wanted to, because there was absolutely nothing but mountains for the next fifty miles, whichever way you sliced it. Turns out, though, that it's just some kind of run down old base that apparently loses power and water every four or five days, and no one that lives there that's not actually in the military can buy anything at any of the stores (except for the gas station just beyond the main gate). That's what this nice, older woman at the post office was telling me as I was on my back, underneath her counter, trying to run a cable.
Quite possibly the best part of today was the exhilirating journey we (Kevin and I) had on the way to the next site: Wendover, Utah/Nevada (one of those border towns). We almost ran out of gas. We were driving on Interstate 80, along the Salt Flats, when I noticed that there was absolutely nothing to be seen for miles and miles. Sure, I could see beautiful mountains in the distance, and the flats themselves, but as far as towns go, this was a wasteland. Kind of like Kevin Costner's Postman. So, I look over to the driver's side of the car, where Kevin was, and I noticed that the gas tank wasn't exactly full. We both agreed that the next station we saw would probably be the last before we made it in to Wendover. And how many gas stations did we see? NONE. For seventy miles, or so, there was absolutely nothing, except for two rest areas. The fuel light came on about 40 miles out of Wendover, and I started to inwardly panic. I'd never found myself in this situation before. I was instantly reminded of Kramer during the Car Dealership episode of Seinfeld. I took on the role of the jittery, jangly salesman in the passenger seat, cowering because I can't comprehend what it would be like to get stuck out in the middle of this (breathtaking) wasteland.
"Come on, Kevin! It needs it!"
"No, man!"
Fortunately, the beige Ford Taurus plucked and purred away, until we saw an oasis named Amoco two miles out of Wendover. Kevin feigned not turning, but I quickly put my hand on the steering wheel to try and turn it. We glided in for a smooth landing at pump number 6, and filled her up proper-like. Lessons were learned today, they truly were.
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