Archive – Day 23
Sunday, May 02, 1993
Looking Back...
At long last! Our return to Reno signifies the end of our vacation, and the end of this project. When I started, I made the mistake of not reading the journal all the way through. In fact, I was constantly only two or three days ahead of deadline. So I had no idea how truly awful this journal was until I was well into it, and by then it was too late to stop. Day 23 marks the long-awaited end of it. Three weeks of fun that I somehow managed to completely discredit by writing about it. And if I ever try something like this again, I’ll make sure to read it all the way through first.
Now, where are those diaries of my daily life in high school....?
We are now two and a half hours behind schedule, adrift in the sands of Nevada. How this dire circumstance arose I am not sure. I was asleep. But to lose two hours between last night and today must have required a large bit of incompetence on the part of a large group of people. What happened in Salt Lake City to so hamper our progress? Whatever it was, I am glad I slept through it.
Also, last night the dining car ran out of water. So, they couldn’t do the dishes when they should have. They had to do them this morning, which delayed breakfast for an hour. Everybody had to go back and wait in the lounge car, and they were going in as I was coming out.
There are several British people on board this train. I think they’re all together, but I can’t quite be sure because they’re scattered all over the place. But, the Desert Wind has left us so everyone on board is from two coaches and a sleeper.
The five people in front of us can’t keep their mouths shut, so we now know more about them that anyone should. Tim, the Wild Bill Cody look-alike from California, who fortunately has been able to distance himself from the rest. Richard, the ten-year-old kid with a pregnant thirteen-year-old sister. His grandmother (actually his step-grandmother, the other two having been murdered) Debbie, who is forty years old and has raised four kids without giving birth to any of them. And then the other grandmother/grandson team, they boy named Matt but Grandma’s name unknown. Grandma listens to the Ventures on her Walkman while walking, so now Debbie wants to get one for her and Richard. But Richard wants to listen to rap. Grandma likes the Ventures because she knows one of the members. He is now joined with a Japanese group and they (Grandma and Matt) went to see them in concert and wanted the video footage to be shown in the lounge car. Matt is going back to Japan, and when he does he will be known as a famous record collector. I know more about them all, but I will spare you.
We haven’t been able to make up any time. At Lovelock we were still two and a half hours late. At this rate we will get to Reno at half past noon, which is the same time the dining car opens for lunch.
Actually, we were supposed to be in Reno at the time we reached Lovelock. And so now we have only about two more hours left to our vacation.
Now I am actually anxious to get home. As far as I am concerned, the vacation is already over. But we have two more hours of this desert remaining. I don’t see the highway anywhere around here, but I am sure we are following its same general route, along the Humboldt River and by the sinks. Off to the right of the train we are passing salt flats, which are extending over to the left side as well. But, I have found the highway off to the far right. Actually, there are two roads off to the right. One was the highway, and the other, which the train tracks just crossed, was a forlorn and out of the way two-lane road. And the only traffic on that road had to stop for the train. What luck!
This land is so desolate. We are in an enormous valley, filled with sand and sagebrush. How I long for the Sierra. How I want to be among the pines of Woods Lake, at the base of Mushroom Falls in Pleasant Valley. I want to be out of this accursed desert, away from the expanses, into close spaces. I believe that is why I liked New York City; it was compact. So are forests. So are caves. So were my favorite parts of Disney World. Close, crowded, comfortable. Every one. That is why I don’t like the desert or the Yacht and Beach Club or the Rocky Mountains. They are too open. Too expansive. I have the opposite of claustrophobia: hatred of open spaces. I like small, crowded areas. I like mountains, not valleys. Forests, not deserts. I like details, not emptiness, and that is why my tastes are so varied, because they need only fit that one criteria.
I am now on the last page of my chronicle. I had doubts that I would reach the end, or that I wouldn’t run out of space. But in all it has come to the end perfectly with a minimum of planning.
In all, this has been my favorite vacation so far. And, it couldn’t have come at a better time for letting me take a break from all my worries. It allowed me to step back and rest, allowing my embryonic self time and room for more concentrated development. And it helped to prevent, or postpone, the burnout my frenzied activity was certainly leading up to. In addition to all that, it was just great fun every step of the way.
I do hope that my self-development has been fueled and assisted by this brief sabbatical. And this next week will be the testing ground.
And so now the return to real life has come. It is a time I have been dreading for the past three weeks, but now as it arrives I am looking forward to it. All my problems I can face with a new vigor, backed by the immortal words of Dreamfinder. “A dream can be a dream come true.”
So I go into the wilderness, facing new and greater challenges. My only dreams are for an enchanted life, and my only hopes for true happiness.
