Day 2: 10/01/2014
Waking up in separate beds next to each other, Bridget and I looked like a modest married couple from the 1950’s. I laughed out loud. After getting our shit together, we checked out of the hotel.
Oh, What A Beautiful Morning…
I know what you’re thinking, “How could they leave such a gorgeous place?” The answer is: reluctantly and with a heavy heart. It is Opposite Day, right? B needed coffee, so we decided to give the infamous Tim Horton’s a try.
There was a giant line, so we figured it was a good sign. Everyone from Canada seemed to shit themselves over Tim Horton’s, so we had high expectations. Well, we were in Canada…so our expectations were converted to mid level. B ordered a breakfast sandwich and vanilla latte, and I had an apple strudel with an Americano. Verdict? Food, fantastic. Coffee…
hot liquid garbage. Boo, Tim Horton’s. Boo! We found a Starbucks, and got the hell out of Whitehorse at 9:00 am. We reached 777 miles at 10:00 am. Have I mentioned what a champion my Mission Companion is? I would be totally fucked without GPS.
ME: (while looking at a map) Which way are we supposed to go?
BRIDGET: Are you serious right now?
ME: Shut up. My sense of direction is improving!
BRIDGET: … yeah your internal compass is on point (rolls eyes)
ME: Well at least I always know where North is. And by North, I of course mean North West, the child of Kim and Kanye.
We were officially in a time/seasonal vortex. It would be Autumn for miles, then all of a sudden it was Winter. Was it Halloween, or Christmas? I was really confused. This was B’s third time down this route. This was my first. I had so many questions, such as:
- Where are we now? I don’t know…
- What does that sign mean? I don’t know…
- Can you pass me the salami? We need to get another package from the cooler.
I was super lucky to have her answering all my burning questions. If singing doesn’t work out for her, she has a promising career as a travel guide. We hit 777 miles at 10:00 am, and came across this bridge.
I call this picture, Bridget Over Troubled Water.
The Yukon is terrifying. I’m not talking about the icy roads, the erratic weather, or the darkness. When we weren’t singing or stuffing our faces with Cheezits and salami, we talked about what it would take for either of us to live in such an isolated area, and neither of us could come up with a scenario in which we would…ever. I’m not knocking the lifestyle or the choices of people who inhabit the wasteland, that’s none of my business, it’s just not something I would ever voluntarily do. No one could ever pay me enough. I could never love anyone enough.
Allow me to share with you, an excerpt from my travel log.
- 900 miles reached at noon
- 1:35 Watson Lake
- 1000 miles reached at 1:47 pm
- 3:40 pm: Bridget and I have our first “fight.” It was about Lady Gaga. I will get into more detail about this, momentarily.
- 3:45 pm: See a buffalo laying on the side of the road. Try to convince myself it’s just napping. Bridget shatters my dreams with logic.
BRIDGET: Look at that dead buffalo.
ME: Well we don’t know that it’s dead. It could be napping.
BRIDGET: There are crows eating it.
- 1,200 miles reached at 4:50 pm
As we were driving, we kept seeing this sign, and we had no idea what it meant.
I decided that it meant there would be Tobelerone up ahead.
Back to the “fight.” B put on a playlist of super upbeat pop hits, and Edge of Glory by Lady Gaga came on.
ME: I think she wrote this song for her grandfather.
BRIDGET: I thought she wrote “You and I” for him.
ME: No, I’m pretty sure it was “Edge of Glory.”
BRIDGET: No. It was “You and I.”
ME: This is bullshit. There’s no internet.
BRIDGET: How are we going to find out who was right.
ME: I’m right.
BRIDGET: I don’t know.
ME: This is our very first fight.
Fast forward to this morning…
I win! My celebration arms went right back down after I Google’d the answer to settle our second “fight.”
(While driving through farmland)
BRIDGET: God this is depressing
ME: I know. It looks like we are straight up in a Steinbeck novel
ME: This is some East of Eden bullshit. I’m afraid I’m going to look out the window and see a woman breastfeeding a hungry man.
ME: You know how at the end, the dude sucks on boob for sustenance.
BRIDGET: No. That never happened. I just read that book like a week ago.
ME: How do you not remember a grown ass man breastfeeding?!
BRIDGET: That didn’t happen.
ME: Yes it fucking did!
I found out later this morning, that it absolutely did happen…in John Steinbeck’s THE GRAPES OF WRATH.
BRIDGET: Ok, that makes sense because I’ve never read The Grapes of Wrath…
ME: And I haven’t read East of Eden.
Although this argument was more intellectually redeeming, I still looked like a dumbass. So we were even. We were both on the same level… in terms of being humongous idiots.
By 6:45 pm, we had arrived in Fort Nelson. We were about 3 hours ahead of schedule, we made the executive decision to fuel up, start an IV drip of Red Bull, and continue on to Chetwynd.
Music is the driving force of this trip. We really hit the jackpot with each other as far as tastes in music goes. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to journey alongside someone with opposing tastes. As a passenger, my one and only duty was to keep B company/awake, and provide any kind of respite she may require. I had made several Spotify playlists available offline, customized to anticipate any musical need she may have. For example:
BRIDGET: I just really feel like singing super high right now for some reason.
ME: I got you.
*Cue Sia’s Chandelier
My homie from Australia, Leonard, has described me like this:
Sometimes an American stereotype (includes knowing how to play charades on a strategic level)
What can I say, I like to be prepared. By 8:30 pm, B had been behind the wheel for 11 hours. I implemented a strategy. I put on Jesus Christ Superstar, and we sang through the whole show. The challenge of remembering our parts and lyrics kept her alert and it was so much freaking fun! By the end of the show, it was 10:15 and we had reached 1,500 miles.
- 10:30 pm: Vocal rest
- 10:38 pm: Vocal rest over
- 11:06 pm: Oh hi, Canadian Cop. We pull over. He is hot. He is nice. He invites himself to live with us, despite the Cheezit particulate all over my tits. I eat it.
HOT COP: Sorry for pulling you over there. Where are you ladies headed?
BRIDGE AND ME IN UNISON: Los Angeles 🙂
HOT COP: Can I come with you, hehehe.
- 11:10 pm: No ticket! Onward!
Success! So we had made our way through several Broadway shows. From the time we left my parents’ house the previous morning, we had already sang through:
- Bonnie and Clyde
- The Book of Mormon
- Jesus Christ Superstar
I was trying to ration our music until we got back to America, and I’m proud to say that after almost 26 hours in the car, I didn’t have to recycle very many songs! The Turtles’ Happy Together came on. Bridget said that it was one of those songs that never gets old. I was starting to get restless, so I decided to conduct a little experiment. I wanted to see how many times in a row I could play the song before she lost her shit. I started at 12:41 am on October 1, 2014, and the last play was at 1:18 am on October 3, 2014. Here are my findings.
End of experiment. We got to Chetwynd at 1:05 am October 2, 2014. We pulled in to an A&W parking lot to siphon their free wifi, and ended up making camp right then and there. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that I was perfectly content sleeping in the car, next to a dumpster. Free wifi= Netflix. Netflix = happiness. Add road trip cookies.
2 days and 1,600 miles later, and we have yet to receive any Toblerone.