Monday, August 02, 2004

Rocky Mountain Rad.

Tomorrow morning my boyfriend, two of his friends, and I are hitting the road to go see the 2004 Drum Corps International Division I championships live in Denver. (Drum corps, for those of you ignorant of the mobile music arts, is the football field-bound equivalent of marching band, with some color guard and a band pit thrown in. What's so cool about the pit? Well, good luck marching with a kettle drum.)

You're driving? you ask. Yes, I reply, in a car. How long will that take? you ask. Oh, I say with a tangible degree of masochism in my voice, about 20 hours each way, not including stops. And why are you doing this? you ask. Because I'm twenty years old, I reply, and I don't have any kids or pets who depend on me yet and I want to take a break from work and because I can so there.

We'll be taking the 80 to the 25, traveling through Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming before hitting the Centennial State on Wednesday. Tuesday night we're staying in a Motel 6 in Rock Springs, Wyoming, just in time to share the town with the Sweetwater County Fair (featuring the musical talents of none other than REO Speedwagon and oh so many motorcross events). God bless you, sort-of home state of Dick Cheney!

The repurcussion for you, my faithful reader, is that I won't be anywhere near the internet from tomorrow until next Monday. Until then, keep the west coast warm for me. I mean it. It's a serene 86 degrees in Denver right this minute. Stupid Bay Area microclimates! I'll get you if it's the last thing I do!


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