Wednesday April 7th, 1999

550 miles driven shortly after 12:00am.

Wednesday found us at a gas station. Dave was still driving after almost 12 hours behind the wheel. He seemed unstopable. Mike on the other hand found a good use for the trunk while we waited. C.J. discovered an even better use for the hood where he staged an encore performanc of "The Hood Files", taking a break from the overcrowded backseat.

The hours that unfolded after our pit-stop was a true testimant to how the significant lack of sleep has affected us. It began as we reached that pivitol "half way" mark of 700 miles. Dave and C.J. were extreemly excited about this milestone, giving the offical "seven hundred mile" hand gesture. Mike celebrated in his Mike own way, with the "coma" hand gesture".

In the hours that followed our pit-stop, it became evident that our bodys were trying to tell us something. We knew that we had passed the point of no return when all hell broke loose at around 3:30am when Dave, out of complete silence began to wail at the top of his lungs, "Danniel" by Elton John. His performance woke Mike from his coma and sent Mike and I into a fit of hysterics that went of for over 5 long minutes. Dave's unmedicated Bally Hoo escilated past the point of no return when he ripped of his shirt, rolled down the windows and beat his chest like King Kong.

It became apparent after Dave's episode, that we needed to sleep. Mike made the decision to park out at a Sayer City Park off the highway. C.J. was in the middle of a hallucination, Dave was dry heaving, and Mike was driving in slow weaves when we arrived and it took very little time before we all three of us were unconcious. At around 10:15, we woke and packed up. Just down the street was a fireworks store that Mike and I couldn't pass up. Fireworks are illegal in Illinois, but in Texas..shee...they legaler than a bull in a saloon! After Flo the shop keeper discussed her warez, we struck a deal and left Texas with enough black powder to blow up a small trailer park!

I wish we could say that there was some huge exciting event that occured as we drove through Texas, but alas there isn't. We did the usual, stopped for gas, got naked in public, scraped bugs off the car top carrier, and took pictures of our eyeballs.

We even stopped at the Texas SuperWalmart to buy a tent and look at the vast selection of guns and ammo.

Dave slept off his crankiness eventually and we spent the rest of Texas looking at endless stretches of highway. Some nice scenery was avalable to photograph. Here is a sample. Please do not take more than four.

And then, without warning, the New Mexico border arrived to us in a mystic haze, like a mirage in the distant seas, or it could have been the cactus we ate earlier in the evening...we had arrived at our destination state! We wasted no time finding the visitor center just acroos the border.

As we furiously race the setting sun across the desert, Dave, in a momentary lapse of judgement that, he swears, will never, ever happen again, drives just a tad to fast in a speed zone. Okay, so it was 30 miles over the posted limit, but we were lost, and scared and in a in a big big desert.

Anyway, Officer Jim Friendly didn't see it so innocently had to do his duty by informing us of our error in the form of a speeding citation. Officer Jim treated us with respect and courtisy and we realized that he was only doing his job and was not out ot give us a hard time. This we deeply appricate. In recognition of this newly formed friendship we posed with Jim for a Kodak moment.

We arrived at Roswell finally! To find out where to go or stay, we stoped in at a local bar. We decided 'Bud's' was our bar. With the parking lot full it seemed an obvious choice. When we got to the door, we thought a bit different. Wrangler, snakes skin, and cowboy hats were in every direction. From the celing spun a weird hybred of disco ball and horse saddle. The room was a yee-haw and two stepin everywhere! Like the Fonz walking into a room, when we entered it seemed everything stoped. Immediatly everyone knew we wern't from these parts. The doorman who stood an intimidating 6'4" asked us for our ID's and ordered us to tuck in our shirts. We wern't about to argue. Soon enough after minor harasment from the staff we were on our way inside the local social mecca. A shove here, a 'skuse me' there, and sometimes just a cold stare. This was our night on the town and no hard-ass was going to help us ruin our night. So with the social grace of...