Backing up to Sunday the 16th, we left Wes's house around 8 a.m. to go to Tucson. Wes And I have been trying to make annual trips to Arizona to watch the Padres play Spring Training baseball. It started in '03, I think, when I went to visit my friend, Laura, in Phoenix. She used to live in San Diego, and we'd go to Padres games together. Work opportunities took her to the Phoenix area so I flew out to visit, and we took in our first Spring Training game, did some dining, hiking, and goofing around.
I missed a year, after that first trip. Then, in '05, Wes and I decided to go meet his brother, Brad, and Brad's girlfriend, Jenny, in Scottsdale to watch the Padres in enemy territory at the Giant's park in Scottsdale. That was a rather infamous trip, that I will not expand upon.
We skipped a year, I think because my new home was bleeding me dry. Then last year Wes and I returned to Phoenix & Peoria (the Padres' home field) for a pretty fun trip. That one's blogged in April 2007. That was a doozer.
This year we asked a few friends, and all of Wes's brothers to join us. Not surprisingly, none of Wes's friends took us up on it, but surprisingly only Wes's oldest brother, Bart, accepted the invite. I've known all the Ryan brothers since around 1976. I think Wes was about 5, and Bart was around 16. I was 10. I've shared a home with 3 of the 5 brothers. Bart was my realtor when I bought my condominium. So I was pretty happy when Bart accepted, then he admitted he'd been waiting for an invite since we started going. Bart was also talked into driving, since he has a Ford Explorer, and Wes and I have what amount to two-seaters.
Sunday morning, I woke up at 7 a.m. still tired from a nearly sleepless night, and a little, um, dehydrated from the St. Patty's Day party in Balboa Park. I was not feeling good, but knowing all I had to do was keep moving until I climbed into the back seat of Bart's Explorer kept me going. The night before we had a pretty intense storm, which is kind of a St. Patty's Day tradition, that included thunder, lightning, hail, and we came to find out, snow in the mountains. San Diego County's mountains had a beautiful, if thin, layer of snow for many miles while we made our way east on I-8. I tried to snap some pictures as we sped by. This about the best.
I pretty much dozed on and off the whole way to Tucson, which is about 6 hours away - depending on who's driving, and how many exits they miss. Bart is a slower driver, but Wes misses more exits obsessing over perceived wrongs dealt him by other drivers. I think it's called road rage. Six hours is a guess between Bart's 7 hours there and Wes's 5 and a half home.
Somewhere east of Yuma, Arizona the Border Patrol had a checkpoint set up. I think we got off to a bad start when Bart charged down the empty lane for semis, then realizing he fucked up, nosed his way into line about 30 cars ahead of where we should have been. When we got to the front of the line, the drug/alien-sniffing dog yelped and we were sent to secondary. I should mention that Bart had to wrestle his Explorer from is 18-year old daughter to use for this trip. I think all three of us, simultaneously, thought "I hope Lacy isn't a stoner." We were asked to get out of the car, and to empty our pockets. Then questioned pretty pointedly about drug use, arrests, how long we'd known each other, all while the drug dog was lead through the car, and our bags were rifled through. Still, we stood there under the gaze of three BP agents about half our ages, thinking, "Damn, I hope Lacy isn't a stoner." When they didn't find anything - and not only did they try hard, they seemed both baffled and disappointed when they hadn't caught three middle-aged drug smugglers - they turned very cordial, and we chatted about Spring Training ball, and the relative merits of Peoria vs. Tucson. Buh-bye, Border Patrol. When we got back under way, Bart called Lacy on his cell phone and thanked her for not doing drugs.
More to come...
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment