I got up early in the morning. And by early, I mean about 9:30. I showered, bid adieu to the family, thanked them, and got my ass out of there. It was about this time that I realized I hadn't eaten a single thing except for raisins in nearly two days.
I've come to notice that when I'm traveling alone, I just forget to eat. Until two or three days have passed and suddenly I realize that I'm kind of starving. It sounds like a problem, and I'm sure it's unhealthy in some way, but I don't mind it too much. I feel like by not eating, I can lose weight and things like that. I know that's not necessarily the suggested method of losing weight, but whatever way works for me is the best way in my opinion. If I want to stay in shape, I feel I should travel alone as much as possible. I only mean that sort of in jest.
Well, I decided that eating something might be a good idea, and what better way to get ready for a big day than with a gas station salad?
Pictured: gas station salad. I promise that under all that crap, there are actual green things.
So I called my mom and talked to her for a little bit in the parking lot of the gas station, and then I was on my way. The road to Kansas City is a very, very long one. And if you're not into scenic views of picturesque farmland, then you might fall asleep. Fortunately, I kind of dig that sort of thing. Everywhere you turn, there are these little communes of buildings WAY far away from anything else. And they all face inward, like they're huddled together for warmth. And there a few trees in the middle, and that's it. Surrounding the communes are hundreds of acres of flat farmland. It's so cool. I kind of wanted to just veer off the interstate and off-road at them at 60 mph and just kind of... take them out, Red Faction-style, you know? Ah, America is wonderful.
Well, after two hours or so, the rain suddenly started pouring down torrentially. The clouds looked much more dramatic in person, I promise:
After a little bit of driving through the floods, traffic grinded to a halt. There were two lanes going west, and both of them were blocked by an accident ahead. People were getting out of their cars and standing around. It reminded me of the video to REM's Everybody Hurts.
If you just watched that whole thing, I'll give you a few seconds to recompose yourself.
Seriously, get it together.
Come on, people are staring.
There you go.
Okay. So I called the music store in Kansas City, thinking that the traffic jam would last, you know, eight or so hours. I told them the situation, but they said it wouldn't be a problem - traffic jams in the middle of Missouri are cleared quickly. And wouldn't you know it, right when he said that, a tow truck and police cars zoomed past on the shoulder, and we were all moving again in ten minutes. It was impressive. I commend the MODOT. In fact, the MODOT shines in other ways too. All along the road, every few dozen miles, are electronic signs reminding us to buckle up, slow down, things like that. Maybe that's why they can actually drive in Missouri? I mean, the closest thing we have in Atlanta are morons running across the interstate, kind of inducing us to take pity on them instead of jamming the accelerator as far as it will go 100% of the time. In fact, the only thing I didn't like about the way they drive in Missouri was the way truckers passed each other. This was actually a huge problem.
Here's how it would play out: Truck A pulls up behind Truck B. Both are going 66 miles an hour. The driver of Truck A decides he would like to pass Truck B. So he executes a seven-minute lane change, complete with turn signal, painstakingly-slow drift over into the left lane, and dramatic reorientation of the entire vehicle so its heading is exactly 0.000 degrees relative to the direction of the interstate. After this delicate procedure is carried out, the trucker apparently radios his dispatcher and requests permission to pass the other truck. Only the dispatcher is apparently located on Mars or something, because this decision takes roughly eleven more minutes of dicking around before the trucker actually accelerates past 66 miles an hour. After deliberation, the trucker finally exerts 0.04 more newtons on the accelerator pedal, allowing him to accelerate to a much-more-breakneck speed of 66.006113 miles an hour. Meanwhile, the entirety of the driving population of the state is backed up behind the ordeal, watching with bated breath as the complex and delicate operation is carried out. Twelve hours later, Truck A is a sufficient distance ahead of Truck B that they can finally occupy the same lane again. Collectively, the whole state breathes a sigh of relief, and traffic can finally pass the two behemoths again, at human speeds this time instead of trucker speeds.
But in all seriousness, I actually spent thirty minutes behind one of these ordeals. Two trucks kept on passing each other, not realizing that they were basically forcing the whole road to travel exactly as fast as they were until they realized they were just doing the trucker's version of bickering like angry pre-teen girls.
Here's a picture of Lawrence, KS, which is 40 miles west of Kansas City - this is where the guitar store, and subsequently, the guitar, is located.
It's a great town! This is where the U. of Kansas is located, which I didn't know until I noticed all the license plates and buildings.
I'd been on the same road for four and a half hours, and finally I got the opportunity to turn right onto Massachusetts Street, where, oddly enough, Mass Street Music is located. It had taken a total of fourteen hours driving west to reach this place, but finally, I had arrived.
And inside?
That's right, the beautiful Artcore AGR70, sitting on the counter, looking all shiny and new. It's pretty easy to guess who I felt like.
That's right - the man who went all the way to California to be employed as a dolly grip in the filming of Raiders of the Lost Ark: Colin Manning.
I spent a total of three hours in the music store, trying out different amps, figuring out what all I would need, and I ended up buying the following items:
Ibanez Artcore AGR70
Fender Blues Junior III Limited Edition amplifier with Jensen speaker
Hard-shell Gator case for dreadnaught-style acoustic guitar (my acoustic, in fact)
Ibanez AG100C hard-shell for the AG series of archtop guitars
Suede strap
Glass slide (for playing like an old black delta blues man)
Strings
Snark guitar tuner (tunes by the vibration of the guitar's body!)
All in all, it cost me just over half of what I had earned all summer. That's less than I expected. I was pretty happy with the outcome. After all that purchasin', it was time to get my fat ass back to Kansas City to see the J.J. Grey & Mofro concert (with some no-name I-don't-care-who-you-are headliner named Johnny Lang).
I've come to notice that when I'm traveling alone, I just forget to eat. Until two or three days have passed and suddenly I realize that I'm kind of starving. It sounds like a problem, and I'm sure it's unhealthy in some way, but I don't mind it too much. I feel like by not eating, I can lose weight and things like that. I know that's not necessarily the suggested method of losing weight, but whatever way works for me is the best way in my opinion. If I want to stay in shape, I feel I should travel alone as much as possible. I only mean that sort of in jest.
Well, I decided that eating something might be a good idea, and what better way to get ready for a big day than with a gas station salad?
Pictured: gas station salad. I promise that under all that crap, there are actual green things.
So I called my mom and talked to her for a little bit in the parking lot of the gas station, and then I was on my way. The road to Kansas City is a very, very long one. And if you're not into scenic views of picturesque farmland, then you might fall asleep. Fortunately, I kind of dig that sort of thing. Everywhere you turn, there are these little communes of buildings WAY far away from anything else. And they all face inward, like they're huddled together for warmth. And there a few trees in the middle, and that's it. Surrounding the communes are hundreds of acres of flat farmland. It's so cool. I kind of wanted to just veer off the interstate and off-road at them at 60 mph and just kind of... take them out, Red Faction-style, you know? Ah, America is wonderful.
Well, after two hours or so, the rain suddenly started pouring down torrentially. The clouds looked much more dramatic in person, I promise:
If you just watched that whole thing, I'll give you a few seconds to recompose yourself.
Seriously, get it together.
Come on, people are staring.
There you go.
Okay. So I called the music store in Kansas City, thinking that the traffic jam would last, you know, eight or so hours. I told them the situation, but they said it wouldn't be a problem - traffic jams in the middle of Missouri are cleared quickly. And wouldn't you know it, right when he said that, a tow truck and police cars zoomed past on the shoulder, and we were all moving again in ten minutes. It was impressive. I commend the MODOT. In fact, the MODOT shines in other ways too. All along the road, every few dozen miles, are electronic signs reminding us to buckle up, slow down, things like that. Maybe that's why they can actually drive in Missouri? I mean, the closest thing we have in Atlanta are morons running across the interstate, kind of inducing us to take pity on them instead of jamming the accelerator as far as it will go 100% of the time. In fact, the only thing I didn't like about the way they drive in Missouri was the way truckers passed each other. This was actually a huge problem.
Here's how it would play out: Truck A pulls up behind Truck B. Both are going 66 miles an hour. The driver of Truck A decides he would like to pass Truck B. So he executes a seven-minute lane change, complete with turn signal, painstakingly-slow drift over into the left lane, and dramatic reorientation of the entire vehicle so its heading is exactly 0.000 degrees relative to the direction of the interstate. After this delicate procedure is carried out, the trucker apparently radios his dispatcher and requests permission to pass the other truck. Only the dispatcher is apparently located on Mars or something, because this decision takes roughly eleven more minutes of dicking around before the trucker actually accelerates past 66 miles an hour. After deliberation, the trucker finally exerts 0.04 more newtons on the accelerator pedal, allowing him to accelerate to a much-more-breakneck speed of 66.006113 miles an hour. Meanwhile, the entirety of the driving population of the state is backed up behind the ordeal, watching with bated breath as the complex and delicate operation is carried out. Twelve hours later, Truck A is a sufficient distance ahead of Truck B that they can finally occupy the same lane again. Collectively, the whole state breathes a sigh of relief, and traffic can finally pass the two behemoths again, at human speeds this time instead of trucker speeds.
But in all seriousness, I actually spent thirty minutes behind one of these ordeals. Two trucks kept on passing each other, not realizing that they were basically forcing the whole road to travel exactly as fast as they were until they realized they were just doing the trucker's version of bickering like angry pre-teen girls.
Here's a picture of Lawrence, KS, which is 40 miles west of Kansas City - this is where the guitar store, and subsequently, the guitar, is located.
I'd been on the same road for four and a half hours, and finally I got the opportunity to turn right onto Massachusetts Street, where, oddly enough, Mass Street Music is located. It had taken a total of fourteen hours driving west to reach this place, but finally, I had arrived.
I spent a total of three hours in the music store, trying out different amps, figuring out what all I would need, and I ended up buying the following items:
Ibanez Artcore AGR70
Fender Blues Junior III Limited Edition amplifier with Jensen speaker
Hard-shell Gator case for dreadnaught-style acoustic guitar (my acoustic, in fact)
Ibanez AG100C hard-shell for the AG series of archtop guitars
Suede strap
Glass slide (for playing like an old black delta blues man)
Strings
Snark guitar tuner (tunes by the vibration of the guitar's body!)
All in all, it cost me just over half of what I had earned all summer. That's less than I expected. I was pretty happy with the outcome. After all that purchasin', it was time to get my fat ass back to Kansas City to see the J.J. Grey & Mofro concert (with some no-name I-don't-care-who-you-are headliner named Johnny Lang).
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