A month in the States: me, a car and just six months' driving experience. Yep, only passed my driving test in March (a late developer.)
Okay, the summarised version:
- I over-packed. But strangely, not enough clothes.
- I'm driving a very big and shiny silver Volvo which makes me feel all-growed-up.
- I walked out of an electronics store at Philadelphia Airport with a second iPod car connection thingy in my hand worth $90 and didn't realise until I was on the plane, looking in my bag.
- I gave it to the nice car hire guy who had a bad cold.
- I love Boulder Colorado, where my friend Kecia lives. We went for excellent sushi with her husband Koert and the lovely Amy. Kecia, Amy and I used to work together at an Amsterdam ad agency; now she works at Crispin Porter + Bogusky with Koert. We went home with CP+B swag bags, including logo'd Crocs.
- I went in to speak with the ad agency and met Alex Bogusky (cue appropriate messiah music).
- Kecia's dog ate my pale blue wedgy heels. Think 'shark attack' rather than 'gnawed a little bit'. I was a bit cross and swore somewhat. He was obsessed with my toes but only liked them dirty. There must be an associated fetish website out there somewhere.
- Kecia's kids are marvellous and idiosyncratic and fun. Kecia is a brilliant mom and I heart her.
- Malls are magical places of great shopability.
- Coffee any which way you like it, no worries, no trouble. Mmmm.
- Me and Kecia went for girly facials. Ahhhh.
- I bought a pair of North Face hiking/walking boots in dusky grey-cream-khaki and they are bringing me happiness.
- I have 12 litres of water in the back of the car. Just in case.
- Yesterday I drove for 7 hours, from Boulder Colorado to Moab Utah. Last night I slept like a baby.
- Arches National Park is wild-west glory. But I'm a month too late - one of the most famous arches collapsed the first week of August.
- My first scary thing has happened - and it's all my fault. On my way back from Arches to Moab. In Moab city centre, looking for the motel - and a Utah police car does the all-lights-flashing on me. I was doing 44 in a 30 zone. Policeman tells me, as a foreigner, I should be handcuffed (handcuffed!) and taken to the police station, awaiting bail. Plus $200 fine. After getting totally bitch-slapped by the cop, he lets me off. I manage to avoid puking in fear and relief. He even tells me nicely where my motel is. So that's all good.
Except a car I apparently cut up (but no way touched) pulls over, complaining of a damaged mirror. Three people get out of car, fussing and looking and talking to the cop and on and on. I should have got straight out of there, the cop said I was good to go, but wanted to wait for the cop car to go first. As I pull off, some guy from the other car starts taking photos of my car. I can see him in the rear-view mirror, big lens in hand. And you know what... THAT was the scariest thing. I fear Mormon retribution and kidnap into a Big Love family as wife number seven.
- I can't go out. I have to leave town, the state, the country. Will I get stopped at customs? Seriously. I must mask my identity immediately.
- Canyonlands National Park tomorrow. If I can avoid lock-up and make it in one piece.
