The idea to do twin road trips on the east coast (North Carolina, South Carolina, and Virginia) and the west coast (ummm, California) started with the very practical issue of where to put my car while I flew back east for three weeks. I had the brilliant idea of visiting a couple of friends in San Diego, leaving my car with one of them, and then flying east from there. I figured I could have an extra road trip which would basically pay for itself in saved parking fees. Brilliant, yes?

I completed finishing touches on a few projects this morning (notably this one) and finally left the house about 3:00. Rush hour traffic was not bad, until I got to the grade between Castro Valley and San Ramon. The next fifteen miles of my trip took about an hour. I was (even more of) a ball of stress by the time I stopped for food and gas in Tracy.

When I finally arrived in Fresno and checked into the Motel 6, my first order of business was another phone call to my friend Stan in San Diego. As had happened for the past three days, I was unable to leave him a message because his voice mailbox was full. Which seemed a little odd. Stan and I have been friends for almost 20 years, and he knew I was coming this weekend. I’d been promising a visit for about five years.

Anyhow, I called Eugene next, to warn him I might be taking him up on his offer of lodging for me and the car. Then I went to Vons to get a snack, came back to the room, watched a movie, and went to sleep.

I woke up feeling really calm, as if I were jut dumping all my stress in Fresno. It was great. I had breakfast and hit a few thrift stores (two cool shirts), and then headed south on the highway formerly known as US 99 for Bakersfield, where I had lunch and didn’t do much else.

I wasn’t much in the mood for LA, so I took I-210 almost to Riverside and went south on I-15 through the surprisingly traffic-filled wilderness of the “Inland Empire”. The great thing about LA freeways is that, even when they’re choked with traffic, they very often still move at about 80 MPH.

I really didn’t stop much, as I was in a hurry. But one thing caught my eye. First I saw a sign reading “Champagne Boulevard”. At first, I figured it was a vineyard, but then I realized I was close to the Lawrence Welk Resort. It was just too perverse not to be seen, so I pulled in. I was amazed that (a) it was not as tacky and pink as I expected, (b) there were far more golf carts than actual old people driving them, and (c) the convenience store had Funyuns on sale.

I tried Stan again (no luck) and proceeded to Eugene’s house in San Diego. We had dinner at the Chicken Pie Shop (four courses for about four bucks), toured the wonderfully dowdy El Cajon Boulevard, sneered at the plastic gaydom of Hillcrest, and hit a few bars.

First was Pec’s, a great dive I’d found rather by accident on an earlier San Diego trip while looking for a cab. Turns out Eugene likes the place too; it has a lot less of the terminal preppy and circuit-type idiots so common elsewhere in the city. Then we hit the Hole, near Ocean Beach, with its tropical tiki patio and three customers. I liked it.

After a few minutes of the “Get Smart” marathon on TV Land, I settled in for a semi-insomniac night, the first of many to come.

Groggy morning. Breakfast at a diner (whose name I forget) with a cute waitron (not working our table) who teetered between skatefag and ravefag. I probably would’ve done him.

Eugene dropped me at the airport very early so I could get a good seat in accoradance with Southwest Arilines “first come, first served” boarding policy. I was number 13. Ran into some friends from SF in the airport.

The flight was uneventful, and was much less crowded between Austin and Raleigh than it had been between San Diego and Austin. I arrived in scenic Raleigh about 10:00, tired, cranky, and wanting a cigarette. Mom and Dad were waiting, and very accommodatingly drove me to Waffle House on the way back to Greensboro. I slept like a rock and adjusted to the time change almost immediately.

Vegetative state. I think I ate a few times. And drank some Cheerwine. I also gave Mom an iMac training session.

Visited the relatives on my dad’s side in Reidsville, and also headed to Danville, for shopping and so Mom and Dad could play the lottery a little. There was pollen everywhere and I could feel a disaster coming. It was finally triggered by my uncle’s four cats, and I wouldn’t fully recover until my third day back in California.

Rediscovered the joys of Miss Twiggley’s Tree, one of my childhood favorites.

I drove around on my own some today, hitting downtown and UNCG. There were pictures to be taken and books to be bought downtown. And there was no cruising to be found on campus. Not that I was looking…

Later in the afternoon, my dad and I drove to Eden, looking for this tombstone from the 1930s which supposedly reads “murdered by the state of North Carolina”. We wandered several boneyards and never found it.

I found myself humming that stupid “I Like Calling North Carolina Home” song from the 1970s all day. It was a little disconcerting…

Tonight was “gay skate” night at Skateland USA. Most of you might think that this sounds like my own personal idea of hell, but it wasn’t bad, really. I went because a friend (Ed from the now-departed Babylon) was the organizer and DJ. Plus I was meeting my old friend Jeff there. I stayed about an hour; there’s only so much you can do when you don’t roller skate and also don’t take well to having strangers ask you WHY you’re not skating.

For those of you who care, Skateland USA still looks (and smells) exactly the same as it did when I was last there in 1978. I think the same lady works the snack bar too…

My mom’s side of the family came over for dinner tonight, a total of about 22 guests. There were cousins and aunts and uncles and very much food. It was nice, actually, although I would liked to have talked about computers a little less. Seems I’m the family expert now, even on Windoze (which I don’t use, never will use, and apparently still know more about than many of its hapless victims).

No one mentioned it, but it strikes me as I type that this would have been my grandmother’s 93rd birthday…

Standard Sunday with minimal activity. I think we may have gone to Wal-Mart. I’m almost sure we ate at one of the cafeterias. My parents eat at cafeterias a lot, as do many people in the south, young and old, black and white. It’s such a strange scene: hundreds of people lining up for cheap food, often with rugrats in tow. It’s much more integrated than you expect the south to be, you always see friends there, and the tea refills are always free (if DIY).

I picked up Jeff at the Metropolitan Rock and Roll Trailer tonight, looked at his new computer, and bonded with Pepper. Then we headed for karaoke night at the Palms. Jeff promised me there would be a dyke there who did AC/DC songs, but she never materialized.

What materialized was Ranger. I was standing at the bar and said to Jeff: “Look, there’s a guy with a purple Mohawk”. This is a pretty uncommon sight in Greensboring.

Jeff replied “Oh, that’s Ranger.”

Ranger, a San Francisco acquaintance of mine who I hadn’t seen in about three years. Probably because he’s been living and going to school in Greensboro for about three years.

Nightlife in Greensboro is undeniably tedious, but I’d forgotten how it can produce strange and wonderful surprises on occasion. This turned out to be one of the best nights out I’ve had in a long time. And with only two beers in my belly, yet.

Jeff, Ranger, and I, along with this other guy we acquired along the way (TJ, a cute but annoying hybrid of slacker and geek) hung out there until the karaoke became overpowering and then went to the Skybar (formerly known as Babylon).

A fun, mildly flirtatious evening. I’m not sure if it was going anywhere less subtle, but even if it was, it wouldn’t have gotten there until about 5AM. I was tired. I went home to sleep and have a nice wank thinking about boys with purple Mohawks and Unix geeks from Massachusetts.

Aunt Lucille’s 84th birthday luncheon, at which I was surrounded by many familiar people I’m related to (but I’m not sure how) and one really well-behaved and laid-back dog which I wanted for my very own.

Yes, there was sweet tea.

Mom’s new RAM arrived today too. I installed it in her iMac. This is not something I ever want to do again. I hate using that much profanity around my mom. She also got a scanner, which provided significantly fewer headaches.

Random thoughts from a vacation still in progress:

• It seems like less of one if you’re doing a significant chunk of work in the middle if it.
• I will never again attempt to add memory to an iMac. Not pleasant. Enough said.
• Mmmmm. Liver pudding.
• Nice diversion: boy with purple mohawk stuffing the majority of his tongue down my throat.
• Why does it cost less to rent a larger car rather than a smaller one?

More later: critical analysis, disturbing discoveries, unpleasant vagueries, and just plain fun. Thanks to everyone for holding off on all that email. Your cooperation is divine…

My rental car turned out to be an enormous 2001 Buick Regal. I chose it over the Intrepid just because my dad has a Regal, so I knew where all the buttons were.

Or so I thought.

Annoying things about Buick Regals:

• The headlights don’t turn off until a good while after the ignition is off and the doors are shut.
• The radio doesn’t turn off until you open the door, which was a very disturbing realization for me as I parked at the Burger King in Winston-Salem.
• The ashtray was obviously designed by either a sadist or an anti-smoking activist.
• The “low tire” light needs to go away.

Anyhow, once I had the car, I toured Winston-Salem for a while, looking for old supermarkets and urban grit, while completely forgetting to seek out the seashell-shaped gas station.

Later this afternoon, my dad and I, armed with new information, went looking for that tombstone again. This time we found it. It didn’t photograph as well as the rest of Eden. We also drove by the house my dad grew up in.

Actually, I drove. It was a little odd; I’m not used to driving my dad around. He rarely lets anyone drive him anywhere. But we wanted to take the spiffy new Regal, so…

Cool thing I learned today: my grandafther (who died long before I was born) was fired from a textile mill in the 1930s for being a union organizer…

The last time I spent a night in Raleigh was on my 29th birthday in 1993. It was my first visit back to NC after moving to California, and a friend (who shall remain nameless) and I went down for the evening. To make a long story short, he got a DUI and I found myself walking around downtown Raleigh at 4AM with all his credit cards trying to withdraw enough money to bail him out.

I haven’t even CONSIDERED driving drunk since that night.

This trip was a little less adventurous, but satisfying all the same. I left about noon, stopped in Gibsonville for gas (”You lucked out. It’s going up 11 cents a gallon in about an hour.”) and headed for Chapel Hill to meet Becky, which was a quite wonderful thing. It was rather like meeting someone I already knew. We talked for about three hours and made tentative plans for dinner, and then I braved I-40 at rush hour en route to Duncan’s new house.

We had dinner at a pizza parlor (which I could almost swear I got drunk in many years ago) and then drove around quite aimlessly, as Duncan and I are known to do. With info from the phone book, we headed for Zebulon, in search of a Piggly Wiggly. It was closed (permanently) but we were rewarded with a beautiful 1940s-era Red & White store (still in operation) which I vowed to photograph the next day for Bottles.

When we got back to the house, I realized that I’ve spent significant time in houses belonging to Duncan before there was any furniture in them. Come to think of it, I actually lived in one of his apartments for a week before he moved into it once.

No, you can’t get fox urine at the Piggly Wiggly. Or at least I don’t think you can…

I drove a really big circle today, covering Raleigh, Zebulon, Rocky Mount, and Wilson today. I saw abandoned storefronts, abandoned strip malls, abandoned motels, and many Piggly Wigglys (Wigglies?). Frankly, I was a little surprised; I’d thought this area was close enough into Raleigh’s orbit to be fairly prosperous, but it didn’t look that way. This appealed to my sense of aesthetics, of course, but it can’t be a laugh a minute for the residents.

Dinner with Duncan and Becky at Spanky’s on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, where the scenery is even better than the food. This was a thing that worked out wrong, but turned out right a day late. My pictures were crappy and you can see better ones here. Then Duncan and I took off to spend the night at Mom and Dad’s house in Greensboro, so I could leave for Atlanta and drop Duncan in Charlotte (to move the last of his stuff) on the way.

Upon having another insomniac evening, I found myself in a mildly foul mood. Starting with Stan’s disappearance, every element of this trip had been just a little off. I was hot and sweaty, I always had work hanging over me, I wasn’t sleeping well, and the pollen was making me crazy. I was stressed about who I would or wouldn’t see (apologies to Rick, Matthew, and Billy, among others), whether I was spending enough time with Mom and Dad, and anything else I could come up with.

Fortunately, I eventually sneezed and snorted myself to sleep.