Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Day 5.139 I should be ashamed
Maybe. You can be the judge (all rise).
Here is a re-cap of my day yesterday. While certainly not the longest day of my life, it covered some terrain, inflicted a degree of torture and met most criteria for challenge.
After Sunday's two shoots (Santa Fe Century and Hyde Park State Park Hillclimb) I went in search of honest Mexican food in Santa Fe. While I failed miserably on the food mission I was very successful on the cerveza one.
So I woke Monday with a headache. A real negra in the modelo if you know what I mean.
Undeterred, I decided at 0630 that my time could be well spent, or better spent, shooting local B-roll. Better, I thought, clarity increasing with the throb decreasing, bite the bullet, drive to Taos, find a hill climb, shoot it, have lunch and start the return trip.
I drive the 70 miles to Taos, a town I have always wanted to visit, Google the best climbs, ask a native where it can be found, stop at Wal-Mart for an on-sale 64GB sd card, find the route, shoot its 17 miles up and back, have a shitty cheese and green pepper omelet and turn the Altima around to execute the 70 mile return leg.
I stop half way at a DQ for a dipped vanilla cone and turn on the radio for the first time. I am falling asleep despite the sugar, carbs and stunning vistas. I hear the same song for the eighty-seventh time in four days.
Back in SF, I really gotta pee. I also need to refill the tank. The head in the Allsup station is occupied. I drive next door to the Albertsons lot, open both doors and sit watering the asphalt with urine. I don't care.
I negotiate a reduction in rate and get a free day from Hertz. The driver takes me back to the train station asking along the way if there is a 'needle' in Seattle and about the weather. Poor kid.
I have an hour before the return to Albuquerque. I shop for a gift for Junior where I almost buy a $95 cowboy shirt. At 1615 the train rolls South. We get stopped about half-way because the Northbound train is barreling down on us from the other direction. There is only one track so we get the hell out of the way, losing twenty valuable minutes as a result of the near miss.
Ninety minutes later we hit Albuquerque and I scramble for some food. I find the pizza joint where I had a coffee four days prior and order a personal cheese pizza for five bucks. As I sit and sip another coffee I Google the schedule for the free airport shuttle. Leaves in four minutes. I tell the gal to pull the pizza from the over, put it in a box and give it to me. She does as instructed and I run across the street and catch the shuttle as it is pulling out. The driver looks at the pizza box and says nothing, torn, I guess, between enforcing the rules and wanting a slice.
I am at the SunPort with one hour before flight. They tell me that despite my card proving an electronic device in my chest that is highly sensitive to magnetic fields, I have to get scanned like everybody else. AH, NO I DON'T. He calls super, super looks at card and pats me down. I have escaped potential disaster (once again).
I hurry to gate wiping mozzarella from chin.
Winds are gusting out of the West. One bumpy flight. We land in Phoenix. Time to start the last leg strategy. I will have to sprint to catch the last light rail run to the ferry terminal. Or should I cab it, spend the $20 and be sure?
The flight is delayed.
I moan thinking of another night at the Jet and the $60 of double-dip pain.
We make it up in the air and arrive at Sea-Tac five minutes early. I still sprint to the train, deciding at the last minute to buy a ticket as insurance. They do not check tickets on the last run, normally.
The train stops half-way after informing us that this is the final stop and we can take a bus into Seattle should we desire. SHOULD WE DESIRE?
It is 1315 and the last ferry of the night leaves at 1335. I call Yellow. GET SOMEBODY HERE QUICK.
He is and we make it to the waterfront with a minute to spare. The cabbie is the beneficiary of the largest tip my cheap ass has squandered in the last, maybe five years. He gets ten bucks for running a red light to get me to the pier on-time.
I catch the boat.
Walk off with full backpack and trudge the two miles to RGs where my truck is waiting.
I drive home.
It is a little after two and I am bushwhacked. It has been a long day.
I watch two episodes of 24, Season Four, right where I left off, five days prior.
I am not ashamed at all.