—Big Trees to Big Apple—
USA Roadtrip w/ Nixie Neutron
At the Madonna Inn, we were finally able to squeeze in a proper HIIT workout, complete with weights, cardio, and calisthenics, in their little fitness room. Having been on the road for days without much time to invest in fitness [other than the incidental exertion of sessions—not that most of y’all provide too much of a challenge 😏, and of functional expeditions on foot], we were hankering for a more focused inducement of sweat.
After that, we tenderized ourselves briefly in the Inn’s outdoor hot tub—along with a dear friend who’d come to visit us in our sparkling pink tower—before setting off into the soggy blue yonder [Nixie must’ve brought the rain with her] and a few errands I won’t bore you with.
We spent a lovely day and night in Ventura County with an old friend of mine, being entertained by the roughhousing of a red husky and a tortoiseshell cat, the briefest walk from a mirror-smooth ocean. The next day we explored a large boat and met a few more sea lions before continuing to Long Beach, our home for the next few nights [to be finally spending more than one night in a place feels quite stabilizing].
I had an excellent first session at Dungeon West in Los Angeles. My opponent was a muscular man whom I very much enjoyed taunting, pulling into various chokes, practicing a few new leg-locks I’d recently learned, and improvising some new moves on [my favorite being one where I discovered I could simultaneously choke him with my thighs and wrench his arm uncomfortably upward, sitting comfortably and hands-free, all with a smooth and energy-efficient tensing of my legs: quite comfortable for me, not so comfortable for him]. He offered a bit of initial defiance, but I smoothed out his attitude soon enough.
The next morning was a bit dreary: I had to get the van towed [all is well now—everything is dealt with—but there was a long slog of tedious phone calls to get back to “all is well”], the day’s new victim flaked on me [his loss], and the friend I was meant to visit was horribly ill [i.e., immunocompromised, i.e., not someone I felt I could visit, and potentially put at risk, in good conscience].
And here’s where things get darker and weirder. Where we started thinking about contingency plans—not easy to do without having a physical place to isolate in [not to mention the loss of a year’s projected income, after putting in so much time and money in overhead expenses and planning].
Los Angeles: We started exercising more rigid hygiene and avoiding larger crowds, but continued going out with a select couple friends, thinking we could conscientiously enjoy ourselves.
But then: A. All our gigs for the year began writing us to cancel; and B. There was no traffic during rush hour.
I repeat. There was no traffic during rush hour. On a weekday. Between Long Beach and downtown LA. Something was clearly amiss.
Joshua Tree: We ditched the city and headed into the desert, hoping it’d be easier to isolate there while continuing to figure out what to do.
We slept in the van on BLM land, far from other campers. Astonishingly, there were hundreds of people camped out—in the past I rarely ran into anyone out there—having large campfires together. Maybe there was an event going on? Or maybe those people had, like us, thought it’d be safer outside of the city…but had then become complacent and lonely and joined up like a pioneer wagon train? Don’t know, because we didn’t talk to anyone.
The next day, to our dismay, when we had to go into town for provisions [we aren’t really set up for extended off-grid van-camping, since it wasn’t something we’d expected to have to do when we planned this trip more than half a year ago—we’d been all set to stay with friends along the way] and WiFi [so Nixie could make some crucial international calls]…and every business in the small town was completely packed with tourists, many of them clearly over 70, some probably over 80.
We felt like we could not, in good conscience, go inside these crowded businesses, so it took hours before we were able to sneak in somewhere for WiFi [spoiler: no officials we spoke to over the phone had any advice—and they still don’t] and supplies to take back out into the desert, where we spent the rest of our day and night.
We found a few ways to make the most of our time during our nights in the desert: checking out [empty] Salvation Mountain in the morning and driving by Slab City [but staying in the car, despite it being almost entirely empty], then through the Mojave Desert [where we got out of the car, stretched, marveled at the boundless space-ward spread of sage and purple hills, and breathed with relief that we were nowhere near the virus, nor anyone with whom we could pose a mutual risk].
We got in to Vegas, where we’d booked a room far in advance, back when our biggest worries were around the logistics of frugality and recreation and keeping in shape and juggling social inclinations.
Which brings us to now.
We’re currently holed up in a room at the Luxor. We’ve got the place for tonight: tomorrow they’re shutting down all the MGM hotels on the Strip [and possibly all the others, too, but I don’t have that intel].
The Vegas Strip is refreshingly sparse. I overheard a couple strangers talking and dismissing the whole thing as a conspiracy [“I’ve been a nurse for twenty years, and this is all hokum”], but most of the people who are still here are keeping a notable distance from one another. Overall, it feels safer existing here than it did in Joshua Tree.
My nervous system is shot and I feel tired and foggy-headed despite last night’s uninterrupted sleep [unlike previous nights in the van, which have been a bit cold and cramped].
Long story short: as sad as I am to admit this, we have to postpone [I hesitate to say “cancel”, but I honestly don’t know what the timeline of this postponement is] our tour that we’ve been planning, preparing for, anticipating, and paying into for the better part of a year.
I hate it, I really do, and we were so reluctant to accept this reality…but there’s no other way. Most of our bookings have already cancelled. The few that remain aren’t enough to cover our overhead costs in getting to them, PLUS there’s the possibility of more rigid lockdowns [at the state borders, and within cities]. We can’t afford to potentially get trapped in a random spot.
If you’re someone who’s booked us along our tour and paid a deposit: don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten you, I promise. We’re not going to unceremoniously cut and run. We’re just dealing with a lot. We’ll be in touch with you soon in order to make sure everything’s all right.
On the other hand, if you’re someone who can afford the loss and/or who’s interested in customs: Nixie and I are currently hoping to find work doing remote custom videos or providing other remote services that don’t force us to travel. If you’re keen, PLEASE be in touch!
We’re strongly, emphatically hoping that we can reconvene and carry on with this epic cross-country tour sometime in the future, when this virus has been contained and the world [and, hopefully, the economy] are restored to some sort of balance. I have a lot of other thoughts on the whole thing that I, for now, will not share.
[In the meantime: stay safe, y’all!]