The Oregon Trail

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After devouring one of the greatest steak dinners of my life, we headed North for Oregon. This was to be our anniversary trip – four years married and still coping – and our “We beat cancer trip”. And we beat it good. We tied it to a chair in our basement. Poked it. Prodded it. Ball gagged it. Have you ever seen Pulp Fiction?

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We were taking the historic 101 hwy the whole way to Eugene, it would be Sasquatch country, but we were ready. Jade had her anti-rapist spray and I’d brought along my good sense to run when things got harry.

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We’d decided early on that we were going to attempt to “rough it” and sleep in the car for a few nights. For two whole days these rubber tramps had nowhere to rest their heads. We brushed our teeth in gas stations. We peed in the dark. We feared monsters and homeless people with homemade knives or “shanks” as they’re commonly referred to in prison.

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Speaking of prison, here’s The Golden Gate bridge. It’s frigging huge and made me feel a little willy nilly driving over it. Alcatraz off to your right, everyone! Quick! Get a picture of the prison!!! You know kids, they used to keep humans locked up in there and if they tried to escape…..CHOMP!!! They’d get eaten alive by sharks!!!

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We visited the legendary Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, CA. I’m not going to get into the legend or the details of her specific story, just know that the house is supposedly haunted. The scariest thing we found when we showed up was that tours were thirty bucks a pop and they lasted over an hour – boooooo-riiiiing. Instead of going on what was sure to be the biggest waste of money in my life (next to the 200 bucks I spent on a get-rich-quick pyramid scheme a few years back) I decided to wager seventy-five cents on a gypsy fortuneteller.

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She said something about water and a fountain. Something about finding success when I met hands with a Libra. I found it all very trite, cursed the machine and ventured back to our car. I was done with this tomfoolery. Two days later we found ourselves in a bookstore with a man named Todd. He was just a customer and had offered to help me find Catcher in the Rye. We ended up talking to him for about an hour. Politics, zombies, books, movies, Oregon – lots of things came up. Towards the end we somehow ended up briefly on astrology because of a book he was randomly referencing. I told him we should be going. He stuck out his hand and said, “Alright – it was good meeting you. My name’s Todd and I’m a Libra.” WEIRD!!!

We hit the redwood forests and debated sleeping in our car again but thought better of it. Better not to press your luck when you’re in Bigfoot’s backyard. I chased a goose, we drove through a tree, hugged a tree, looked at trees and had our pictures taken with trees. I haven’t been surrounded with so much wood since Jade and I went to this gay bar in West Hollywood.

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We stopped at a raging beach and climbed up the side of a steep cliff.

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I was horrified.

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I told Jade I didn’t want to do it. I told her I was scared. I told her I was weak, but she didn’t listen. She just kept taunting me, making unnecessary jabs at me, hurting me. Eventually I caved and climbed up the side of the rock to appease her insatiable tastes. When I got to the top the panic mounted. She snapped some photos of me “for the blog” and I told her she could use them as long as she got rid of all the crying ones.

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Right before our final stop we slept in Garberville, OR, a small town with one theater that does one screening of one show once a week. The International at 7:30. Be there or be square. If you’ve got to work, you’d better hope it’s held over for an additional week.

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Once we got to Eugene – actually it was Vida, but no one, including the locals, apparently knows where that is – we spent some time with some new friends and their baby, Frank. We ate and laughed and were merry. I think the best way to describe Oregon is like this:

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This truck has antlers purposely glued to the window. I was proud to share my oxygen with this man.

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On the way back it was sort of like the way up only not as fun. We stayed in a strange Bates Hotel place and Jade ate a plate of food that resembled vomit. We traveled down the 5 and just looked pretty much at rolling hills.

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We were out of Yetti country and that made me feel a little more comfortable, but I know the threat is still there, everyday, everywhere. The only thing that helps me sleep at night is knowing that I’ve seen Harry and the Henderson’s over fifteen times and I know, for a fact, that Bigfeet loves McDonald’s cheeseburgers and prom corsages.

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The trip was a total success and we’re glad to be back in black…..actually, that’s not completely true. After being in the lush gardens of Oregon it’s pretty depressing to come back to the concrete jungles of LA. Oh well, you can’t win em all.

Stay medicated.

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