Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Click here to see Set 4 of our Road Trip 2007 photo gallery.
Yeah, this is late too…so we're slow…
At 3:30 this morning we got up to race the sun to the Grand Canyon. Getting a chance to see the sunrise over the Grand Canyon was one that we couldn’t pass up and consider a trip worth doing. After packing everything up it was 4 am, and we were about 90 minutes away from the canyon with a little over an hour to get there, go time baby. Parents, you may want to skip to the end, since we had to rush, Joel drove. On the way we started to see more and more large brown animals on the sides of the road. Garrison wondered, “I wonder if Elk are just active at dusk and dawn?” our resident elk representative quickly answered “Yes, but it’s not really a time thing, elk don’t really tell time that well.” I know that many of you have been debating this fact for years, a good friend of mine even died for his opinion on this matter, so thankfully this long argued conundrum has been put to rest. Seriously though, if they can tell time they are also psychic because I’m pretty sure every single elk in the western US was there to watch us speed our way to the canyon. Surprisingly, only one decided to try and throw a spike in our trip by standing in our way, and it was only loitered for a little while but avoiding another splat scenario required hard enough braking to elicit a pretty sissy like gasp from Garrison.
Once at the actual canyon we were all gasping, it was quite a sight. The way the rising sun cast shadows on the different rock faces created a very poignant sense of depth that made me (J) feel pretty damn small, as evidenced by the photos of me and Garrison on the small plateau. This was at Yaki point – the second area we visited after getting some breakfast at an obscenely over-priced McDonald’s just outside the park. Why we didn’t just kung-fu chop the manager in the neck I’ll never know, instead we simply paid our eight dollars and begrudgingly ate our McBreakfast. I’m hoping my huevos will finally drop some time in the next year.
Anyways, back to Yaki; we saw this little out cropping roughly 100 feet bellow our walled off tourist area, and I thought it would be pretty damn sweet to get down there for a picture. The first few routes I scoped out were a little scary looking – sheer cliff faces and pathways right next to 300-foot drops. These were not conditions that were conducive to an out of shape tourist, wearing a loose pair of Birkenstock clogs, getting to where he needed to go. Luckily for me, Big D found a fairly easy looking pathway down that didn’t look to be anything but steep, I could handle steep, as long as I can sit on my ass I can get anywhere. Off I went with Amy and Daniel still at the top joking about how this would be the last time they ever saw me. Despite their lack of faith, I made the trip with relative ease. I didn’t even rip my shorts; Mom you’d be proud. After enjoying the view afforded by my borderline lunacy I was faced by a small problem. Looking back toward the top of the edge it was soon apparent that no one had bothered to track my progress downward. So after making the trek I had no one to get photo evidence, go figure. Well after waving at a handful of strangers I was finally able to get the attention of my “friends” who had caught the faint sounds of my hailing someone with a damn camera, thought I was hanging on for my life, and came running. I tell you folks – friends are beautiful things. After seeing my guinea pig butt safely on the landing, Garrison thought, “Hell, he’s wearing sandals, this should be easy!” It was nice to have some company I’ll admit. Garrison also noted that being so close to a demise that is visually very easy to imagine is a bit nerve-racking. After we convinced Amy to come wave (apparently she didn’t like seeing Garrison in danger) we headed back up and came closer to dying from being fat piggies than falling. Oh, and the rest of the canyon was effing sweet.
2,436 miles in to the trip and we’ve finally reached Las Vegas. Thanks to Hotwire, we managed to secure rooms at the MGM Grand hotel and casino. I’m nearly certain that the lady checking us in considered Joel and I (big D) to be a gay couple, judging by the shocked expression on her face when we told her we wanted two queen beds rather than one king. “Amazing” is the only word I can think of to describe this city within a city. We were there for most of the day before leaving the hotel just because there was so much to see and do. After much deliberation we decided to scratch a couple of national parks from the trip and spend an extra day in Sin city.
Due to age restrictions, I (Big D) was forced to only sit back and watch the gambling. Apparently picking a slot machine in Vegas is tricky business, not only because you want to pick the “winning machine,” but you also don’t want to take someone else’s spot. J, who was eager to try his hand at a Lucky 7 slot machine, began to sit down when a woman came barreling forward in a manner only the overly obese get away with. As J was just ready to sit down the woman belted, “That’s where I sit!” Astonished, J slowly rose and began withdrawing himself from her gravitational pull. I guess the moral of the story would have to be, “check the gambling perimeter for low flying aircraft before blocking the runway.” I’d have to say first prize gambling would have to go to Amy, for she was the first to strike gold; however, not knowing when to quit, she was unable to break even, as goes for Papa G and J. So maybe I’m the real winner here!
For dinner the first night we went to the Grand Buffet. It was really good if you ignore the lamb. Joel tried it and subsequently got sick and was unable to attend the Jeremy Hotz standup at Harrah’s with us.
…Porgy
