This was what I saw at a rest stop about 25 miles into New Mexico. I don't think it really does it justice. There is nothing out there.
Cars here and there, I guess. These picnic tables? And every once in a while there's a shell of a town with maybe a gas station in it. But there really isn't much. OK, it's kinda spooky. But the spookiness mainly comes from the thought of something happening and getting stuck out there. Obviously, my car breaking down was a large concern. But I had no idea what was out there before I went. And judging by some of the roadkill, it included some serious shit. Namely, the wolf/chupacabra I saw splattered on the side of the highway out in Western Texas.
The other thing Western Texas has are some big ass birds. I thought they were vultures at first, but I think they were just hawks whose wingspans seemed to reach at least my height. And they didn't give a shit. They just hung out in the middle of the highway chowing on whatever poor sucker got flattened, usually a porcupine (I think). And if their bounty was in the way of my car they would begrudgingly flap away, but I swear I could feel their annoyance as they looked back out of the corner of their beady, round bird eyes. I hope they weren't taking notes.
On the way to Sweetwater, Texas there was a gigantic windmill farm along the road, and stretching much further back. At first, I saw a couple of them along the road and thought it looked cool. But since there's no one else on the roads out there it's pretty easy for your eyes to stray, and these things looked like they went on forever. I was listening to King Crimson's Starless and Bible Black at the time and it just went together so well, for me at least. I'm guessing most of you wouldn't like that album, so I won't tell you to listen to it. I also heard this song on some random station in Texas and I don't think I'd ever heard it before but thought it was really awesome. Again, though, it's probably weird or whatever.
I stopped in Lubbock, where Texas Tech is, for lunch. I didn't take any pictures there because I was too busy trying to figure out why the whole place (and the 75 mile radius surrounding it) smelled like a hangover fart.
It's really weird how the highways work out there. They're also the main roads through town. But they're only the main roads through town when there happens to be a town. But I finally got through Texas (unscathed and without incident; take that, Aimee's dreams) and entered Mountain Time, and also I guess New Mexico. There wasn't even a welcome to New Mexico sign or a now leaving Texas sign or anything. I suppose both states felt they didn't need to impress the 417 or so people who have ever driven through there. At one point on 125, the first road in New Mexico, I saw what I thought were the makings of a dust storm and freaked out a little. But it wasn't one, so that's good.
Roswell was on my way, and I had to stop there. But goddamnit, it was Sunday! and these damn religious (or lazy) Southwestern folk don't open (or keep open) their crazy alien shit on goddamn Sunday! It was pretty disappointing, until I thought about it and realized I was better off not getting gouged to see a bunch of (what I assume was) complete crap. Lolly summed it up best, and she wasn't even there: "I picture it's kind of like Salem, alien-style, but with twice as many paranoid freaks." She left out the gangbanger drug dealers rolling around in Monte Carlos, but essentially nailed it down pat. Hmmm, unless Salem has that, too ...?
The Roswell city hall has a green dome, I'm assuming because of the extraterrestrial influence, which was rather dope. It was kinda funny since the rest of the building looked like a well thought out, detailed, expertly built, Southwestern-style building that looked extremely nice. But I guess someone was like "Dude, green dome. Come on." And he or she was totally right.
It was too bad that there wasn't some crazy guy in a tinfoil beanie trying to shoot down UFOs with this war memorial. The cannon was pointing at a Bank of America building. Trying to send a message, Roswell?
Sorry for the links to youtube, but I think it's necessary for this. Please feel free to not click on them.
This R2D2 mailbox was far and away the coolest space-related thing in Roswell.
They should localize mailboxes for other cities. Like in Boston, they could make it look like some drunk dude telling you how he's "totally not a racist, but there's sawmthin I don't like about that punk Rajon Rahhndo." I just realized I should have opened the lid to the fucking R2 mailbox and saw if it Beep-boo-dweeped. Damnit!
I saw some things in Roswell that were non-sci-fi related, and they seemed genuinely cool and not "haha aliens" cool.
This is a statue of John Simpson Chisum, the "Cattle King of the Pecos."
Here it is from the front, but the lighting didn't really cooperate. Looks kind of sweet and silhouette-y now that I think about it, though.
There appears to be legitimate artists in Roswell who get no cred because they are from Roswell.
My advice to them: GET THE FUCK OUT OF ROSWELL NOBODY TAKES IT SERIOUSLY BECAUSE OF THE ALIEN LUNATICS!
So I got the hell out of there and drove a few more hours to my hotel in Albuquerque, which is way too nice for what I paid for it. It's not even a room. It's a suite I think. Here, look:
That's not the bed on the right of the picture.
Either Albuquerque is really cheap, or Bill Shatner knows how to hook it up.
... Goddamn Patriots. Oh, and the scab refs need to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment