Anywho.
Yes, Diedre and I have once again embarked on our 3rd annual 6-month tour of the country where we see the sites, taste the foods, and annoy all our friends and relatives living in our great 48 states (Probably not going to RV to Alaska and most assuredly not to Hawaii). As loyal followers may recall, our first trip (2013) was mainly the Midwest while last year we extended our trip to 7-months in order to see the South, the East Coast, and then that hypotenuse that crosses back through the country via Branson, MO. This year’s venture will see us going straight west till we run into the ocean (“Pacific” for you geographically challenged Oles), then going north along the coast till we get to the edge of the Canadian border where we’ll stick our thumbs in our ears, wiggle our fingers, and yell, “NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH-NAH!” Anything to further the relations between these two great countries.From there, we’ll go east across the plains to our home state of Minnesota before bouncing back across the country to see 7 or 8 national parks in North Dakota, Wyoming, Utah, and Delaware (That should be a good trick). We should be home by October 11 in time to get back on the road for nephew Jake’s wedding in Los Angeles a week later. Three weeks after that, we’ll celebrate my Medicare birthday by leisurely cruising the Panama Canal on an old navy gunboat. DK will be running chow for 40 sailors while I’ll be pulling “iceberg patrol duty” to help meet expenses.
On the Saturday before we left Arizona, we invited our desert friends to say good-bye to us at any of our stops on the infamous, 12-hour "Traveling Farewell Pub-Crawl Party." At 8 a.m., we left the friendly confines of our palatial Terravita home for our all-day, 9.1-miles walk. We breakfasted in downtown Carefree at the Sundial Café with longtime Minnesota friends Marty and Georgia Jessen. We were joined by legendary 50’s and 60’s cowboy TV star Peter Brown and his wife, KK. I may have mentioned once or twice (or 17 times) last year that I wrote a book about Peter’s life titled, “The Fastest Gun in Hollywood: The Life Story of Peter Brown” which is still available at Amazon.com and fine used-bookstores everywhere. So there’s your Xmas shopping all done for you now.You’re welcome.
More stops ensued: a snack at the local Dairy Queen (sugar-free Dilly Bar for Alexx), 
Margaritas at El Encanto with good friends Gail and actor Tom Koelbel who played “The Big Eunuch aka Rusty Schwantz (RUSTY SCHWANTZ!?)” in my 2nd play, “Murder at Savings & Loan Ballpark (S.Lo.B.)”;lunch at Brian's Barbecue with Tom and fellow actors Barb and Ed Como (also in “S.Lo.B.” as LuLu Belle Angelo and Pete Petunia respectively); Gin and Tonics at The Smoke House with Yoga Jill and her hubby and neighbor English Lesley King and current squeeze American Paul; from there, it was just Diedre and me for beers at Hogs and Horses; then a quick, relaxing stop at The Buffalo Chip before dinner and night-caps at Harold's Cave Creek Corral with wonderful new neighbors Clare and Bill Leach and my brother and sister-in-law, Mark and Linda Alexander.
Finally, at 7:30 PM, we were going to finish the arduous day with a 3.3 mile "crawl" home. Fortunately, we were saved by Mark and Linda who graciously gave us a ride home to save our soles (souls?).
Okay, on to this year’s trip. First, here’s a reminder about the blog-abbreviations we often use: “AB1” for our RV, “DK” for Diedre, and “IANMTU” for “I am not making this up.” Names to know are “Charlie,” our 18-pound Ragamuffin cat; “Casey,” our lovable but troublesome middle-child Birman cat; “Samantha,” our 14-pound, “little” girl Snowshoe cat; “Zippy,” our candy-apple red, 4-door Honda Fit; Air-Barty-One, our motor home dedicated to our benefactor and Diedre’s mom, Barbara Diederich; “Penny,” our often criticized yet totally indispensable GPS; and “Genie,” DK’s unusually smart phone who fights an ongoing battle with her step-sister, “Penny.”
As another reminder, remember our rules: 1) we generally only travel on Sundays; 2) we try to limit our RV drives to 300 miles/five hours; 3) we try to not schedule anything on Mondays as it is our “R&B” day (Rest and Blog); 4) we try our utmost to get to each weeks’ campground well before sundown so that we don’t have to set up in the dark; and 5) and finally, we know that there will always be problems on the road, so our vow is to laugh whenever RV-life throws us a curve.
Let the pitching begin.
The first part of the trip is called “YUMA/SAN DIEGO.”
On Friday, April 24, we were going to leave early, like 10 a.m., for Yuma, Arizona, only … it rained. We laughed. Then the refrigerator didn’t work because we were out of propane … we chortled. After we remembered how to use our generator to get the fridge to work, we were again ready to leave … but then the steps that automatically go in and out whenever we open the door broke … well, now we were rolling on the floor. DK quickly showed it was no problem by doing a yoga move to climb up into the cabin. At 1 PM, we called the repair guy, then retreated to the house where, while waiting for our savior, downed some peppermint schnapps and Kool –Aid, not because we like it so much, but it was just that was all we had left in the house.It was now 2:30. We should have been in Yuma by now, but instead, we were still sitting on our front steps waiting … waiting … oh, the interminable waiting!
Finally, the mobile RV repair guy shows up. He’s about 10 years old. In one minute, he says the steps special bolt is broken and it’ll take him time (at $100/hour) to drive around town and find this “special” bolt.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen.
We paid him his $100 for five minutes work and then said, “Screw it! We’re leaving.” We finally got on the road about 3 PM, getting in to Yuma well after dark.
We’re number 1!
On Saturday, the fun continued as we couldn’t get any hot water. The chimps at the RV repair place we used back in March had forgotten to turn the necessary hot-water switch back on, and we, being “chimps-in-training,” couldn’t do any better. That brought much guffawing on our part.
Incidental note: While people from Pittsburg are called “Pittsburgers” and people from New York are called “New Yorkers,” people from Yuma are called … wait for it …. YUMANS! As in “You’re a fine Yuman being.” And now you know the rest of the story.
Back to the trip. There was not a lot to do in Yuma. To illustrate that opinion, the local newspaper had a big article on the Yuma Middle School’s state championship team.
“The Sport?” you might ask.
Well, they were the state championship “Rubik’s Cube” team. IANMTU (see above abbreviations directory).
For entertainment that night, we forked over $5 each to see the play, “The Cagebirds, ” a 42-minute, 1-act performance at the AWC (Arizona Western College) Theatre. Now remember, we’re two people who on last year’s trip spent over $1000 for eight Broadway shows in New York. We’re kind of at the other end of the spectrum here in Yuma. The theatre looked like group therapy as we were seated in two of 44 metal folding chairs situated in a circle. It was like attending an AA meeting … not that I’ve ever been to an AA Meeting. My only addictions are chocolate (sugar free … NOW!) and 1950’s comic books. This “theatre-of-the-absurd” concerned six lost souls re-running their daily routines until a new thought was introduced. I quickly had a new thought:“GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
Back in RV form, we followed AB1 Rule #3 and relaxed on Monday with some R&B, beach yoga, and walks in the pretty camp park populated with many ducks.
Yes, this more mature repair guy came also couldn’t fix the steps. Once again, we paid $100 to find out it would take 2 weeks to get step parts, and his directions on how to flip the hot water switch were for naught.Are you sensing a trend here?
We escaped the campground by noon and boarded San Diego’s trolley to the city’s Gas Lamp Quarter, the historic heart of San Diego. After touring the Quarter, we grabbed a quick dinner at Dick’s Last Resort. There was a lot of tomfoolery and camaraderie going on there pre-Padres game. I argued baseball with this one guy for over a half-hour before I figured out he was a statue. He had made some good points, however.
The Padres game that night was being played at Petco Park, stadium number 27 out of the 30 major league ballparks we had pledged to visit. Before the game, we walked the perimeter of the stadium. I purchased a T-shirt of the all-time greatest Padre, Tony Gwynn. We then found his statue and a street named after him outside the ballpark.
It was an incredibly nice stadium with a very open feel. The team: not so nice. The Padres got killed 14-3 by Houston as five home runs were belted. We really enjoyed watching the Astros’ star player, Jose Altuve, who at 5’5” had last year become the shortest player to lead the majors in batting average (.341) and hits (225) since 1900. He was not bad this night either as the little guy went four-for-six with two doubles.Way to go, Mighty Mouse!
Of the top ten best ballpark foods as rated by “TenBest.com,” San Diego’s “Phil’s Barbecue” was ranked the #1 food out of all the major league ballparks, so we had to try some. And you know what? Good … not great.
Moving along.
Interesting Alexx Fact: the state insect of California is … (drum roll, please) the Dogface Butterfly.
“No effin’ way,” Ted said. “I’m playing. If I’m going to hit .400, I’m going to do it legitimately.”
So he gets five hits that day and ends the season hitting .406. And it’s never been done since.
Ted started as a professional in 1936 with the San Diego Padres minor league team … BEFORE he was out of high school! He was a lifetime .344 hitter with 521 home runs. And that’s with five years off to fly as a fighter pilot in both World War II and the Korean War where he flew 39 combat missions. He had six American League batting titles, 18 all-star game appearances, was a two time MVP, and was elected to baseball’s Hall of Fame in 1966. I had to pay tribute to him with a visit to the house where it all started.
Speaking of birthdays, I’m noticing more signs that I’m getting old. I recently broke my watch band. I went to three places searching for a replacement, but not one of them carried watchbands. I guess everybody uses their cell phones now to tell time while I still prefer the old reliable sun-dial.
Then of course, I still like to read the newspaper every day, but I think I may be the only one. Again, it’s the phones. DK and I went into a Starbucks. Of the 11 people there, 10 were reading their cell-phones and only one (me) had his nose in a paper. They looked at me like I was from the Stone Age.Dagnabit!
That day we were going to hike Torrey Pines with Sara and Jay, but the parking proved to be problematic, so we ended up at the ocean doing a sand-hike on Solana Beach. Jay is a pretty interesting guy. He spent the entire walk with a bag picking up litter. I found out Jay had gone to college at Duke University (where loyal blogists may remember me visiting last year). But what was really impressive was that he had been the Duke Blue Devil mascot from 1971-72. That makes two big-school mascots I have known, the other being Mike Looby who was “Goldy Gopher” at the University of Minnesota also in the 70’s.
Saying good-bye to Sara and Jay, we stopped at the legendary Hotel Del Coronado on our way home. The Coronado has been a San Diego landmark forever. It’s where the wonderful movie, “Some Like It Hot,” was filmed in 1958 with Diedre’s all-time favorite movie star, Marilyn Monroe.
When we arrived, we tried to park in the hotel parking lot, but had to back up and turn around when we realized parking there cost $28 … FOR TWO HOURS!!
WHUTT?!
Deciding discretion was the better part of valor (or something like that), we drove all the way across the street, maybe 50 yards, and found an open parking meter for two hours … FOR 50-CENTS!!
Again, WHUTT?!
We sat there for a few moments and thought out loud:
$28 dollars? … 50-cents? …
28? … 50? …
Twen? … Fif?!
Finally, I made an executive decision: we went with the 50-cent parking meter. Of course, we did have to walk all the way across the street. Oh, did I mention that the $28 was for self parking, not valet? For valet parking, I think you had to give them your first borne.
The hotel was built in 1888. Their early promotions included boasts that there was no malaria, tuberculosis, hay fever, or yellow fever like in Florida, or cholera like in Spain and Italy. So there’s that. Frank Baum wrote some of his “Oz” stories from the veranda of the Coronado. The place was massive, but so enticing. DK and I decided we’ll probably spend my 70th birthday week there. Get your reservations now to join the party.
Friday was also the day that the Arizona State University spring semester ended. For those of you who weren’t aware, I’m still a student. Working with the head of the A.S.U. Theatre Department, I wrote my 12th play as an independent study. It’s called “The Hobo Diet” and is an adaptation of a book written by Logan Mosier, one of our actors. The subject of the play is about being homeless in Las Vegas. Keep an eye on the Tony Awards.
Okay, our last day in San Diego was a full one. In the morning, I made my way out to the Chula Vista Olympic Training Center. Being a huge fan of the Olympic games, I wanted to see the facility where future Olympians train. And I was not disappointed. I watched some wheelchair tennis, field hockey, and BMX bicycle racing on facilities of the highest quality. However, it was sad to see that the softball field had gone to seed since the International Olympic Committee (IOC) had eliminated softball and baseball after the 2008 Beijing Olympics. The Americans are trying to get those two sports back in the Games in time for the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo, Japan. If that happens, I guess they’ll re-seed the ball fields.
This facility brought back a lot of personal Olympic memories for me. In 1972, I actually came close to participating in the Olympic Games. I tried out and was selected for the national “43-Man Squamish” Olympic team. It’s quite popular in countries that are spelled with a “Z.” I was a top “outside underblat” and was especially adept at “walling the pritz.” Unfortunately, our federation failed in its attempt to be included as one of the Games’ official Olympic sports. And now, ironically, 43 years later, we’re still waiting. Ever the optimist, I stay in prime squamish shape by organizing yearly practice games. Unfortunately, it’s tricky getting 85 other squamish players together, so I play the abbreviated “2-Man Squamish” game with my buddy, Alps, where surprisingly, the major rule change is that the object of the game is to lose.
From Chula Vista, we zipped into uptown San Diego to lunch with Phoenix theatre friend Terry Helland. Terry had been the artistic director for quite a few years at Scottsdale’s Desert Stages Theatre. As busy as he was during shows there, he always had time for us and never let us actually pay for a ticket during his realm. To completely pay him back for hundreds of free tickets, we bought him lunch. Drinks were on him.
Amazingly, we were both right.
Our last dinner in the land of the recreationally savvy was a sushi feast for Jody and her pal PahDiedre. Then, as a way to ready ourselves for driving in L.A., we watched the most significant movie segment we could think of:
The chariot races from “Ben-Hur.”
"Extremus extra deprehendo!"
Talk to you next week.
