Thursday was probably the worst day of my trip so far.
My plan was to travel south through the Eastern Sierras and camp at Death Valley. Yes, I realize that sounds insane, but there were a few campgrounds at higher elevations that wouldn't be crazy hot. And best of all, they were free.
I stopped for gas on my way out of Bishop, and the credit card didn't work. This card is actually my parents' Shell card, which was given to me in case of emergency. And sure enough, things didn't go as planned and 6 weeks after I'd applied for unemployment, I still hadn't received a payment. I spent a large chunk of my summer paycheck on the move to Phoenix, so at this point I was traveling with $5 in my checking account, $1 in cash, $150 available on a credit card, and my parents' Shell card. Since gas was my main expense, I thought I'd be okay. But now, the card wasn't working.
Half the day was taken up with me trying to get gas, calling to tell my dad the card wasn't working, my dad calling the Shell people, and me trying to get gas again. This happened about three times. The card continued to not work.
The worst part of all this was having to admit to my dad just how bad things were and enduring multiple lectures about how irresponsible I am, how I'm too old to be having issues like this, how there are things he'd like to do with his money but can't because he's afraid he'll have to help out me and my brother. Everything he said is stuff I've said to myself a million times. He is right about all of that, and I agree that my situation was completely ridiculous.
In between all the drama, I stopped at Manzanar National Historic Site, a Japanese internment camp which was quite depressing. I also drove through the Alabama Hills, where a lot of movies are filmed, and up to the trailhead for Mt. Whitney. (It was so crowded and chaotic up there... Glad I wasn't able to get the permit.)
All of the drama was made worse by the fact that I'd gotten very little sleep the night before. Everyone close to me knows how hysterical I get from lack of sleep. So basically I just felt like crying all day.
I finally got a full tank of gas and headed across Death Valley. It was pretty impressive- the colors, the sand dunes... I should've taken pictures. But I was surprised by how beautiful it was; I wasn't expecting that.
I drove 15 miles up the road to the campground and started to feel nervous. I didn't see another car that whole time. I still had a ways to go down this road, and no cell phone service for miles. The thought of camping in another really isolated spot creeped me out, and what if something went wrong with my car? So I turned around, and I felt good about that decision because I didn't see any cars going the other way, either.
I pulled out my atlas and found some national forest campgrounds in the mountains outside of Vegas. Perfect.
It seemed to take forever to get there. That area is so desolate. I stopped for gas at a place advertising aliens and strippers. As I approached the turnoff to the national forest, I saw a prison. I wasn't feeling great about this spot, either.
When I turned down the road to the campgrounds, I noticed police lights. The road was closed for construction. They suggested I try an alternate route. I did, and that road was closed, too. WTF, Nevada? Every time I go there, there's some issue.
At this point, it was dark. I was done. So I found the nearest Motel 6 and paid $40 for a room. I'd been camping for the past 12 nights, so normally I wouldn't feel too guilty about that. But given my financial situation, I should not be splurging on a hotel.
The cherry on top was realizing that my room had a view of the Las Vegas Strip. I don't consider myself particularly materialistic, but I do love to get dressed up and sip $25 martinis.
I kept the curtains closed and tried to forget where I was. I told myself that tomorrow would be better. And it was.
My plan was to travel south through the Eastern Sierras and camp at Death Valley. Yes, I realize that sounds insane, but there were a few campgrounds at higher elevations that wouldn't be crazy hot. And best of all, they were free.
I stopped for gas on my way out of Bishop, and the credit card didn't work. This card is actually my parents' Shell card, which was given to me in case of emergency. And sure enough, things didn't go as planned and 6 weeks after I'd applied for unemployment, I still hadn't received a payment. I spent a large chunk of my summer paycheck on the move to Phoenix, so at this point I was traveling with $5 in my checking account, $1 in cash, $150 available on a credit card, and my parents' Shell card. Since gas was my main expense, I thought I'd be okay. But now, the card wasn't working.
Half the day was taken up with me trying to get gas, calling to tell my dad the card wasn't working, my dad calling the Shell people, and me trying to get gas again. This happened about three times. The card continued to not work.
The worst part of all this was having to admit to my dad just how bad things were and enduring multiple lectures about how irresponsible I am, how I'm too old to be having issues like this, how there are things he'd like to do with his money but can't because he's afraid he'll have to help out me and my brother. Everything he said is stuff I've said to myself a million times. He is right about all of that, and I agree that my situation was completely ridiculous.
In between all the drama, I stopped at Manzanar National Historic Site, a Japanese internment camp which was quite depressing. I also drove through the Alabama Hills, where a lot of movies are filmed, and up to the trailhead for Mt. Whitney. (It was so crowded and chaotic up there... Glad I wasn't able to get the permit.)
All of the drama was made worse by the fact that I'd gotten very little sleep the night before. Everyone close to me knows how hysterical I get from lack of sleep. So basically I just felt like crying all day.
I finally got a full tank of gas and headed across Death Valley. It was pretty impressive- the colors, the sand dunes... I should've taken pictures. But I was surprised by how beautiful it was; I wasn't expecting that.
I drove 15 miles up the road to the campground and started to feel nervous. I didn't see another car that whole time. I still had a ways to go down this road, and no cell phone service for miles. The thought of camping in another really isolated spot creeped me out, and what if something went wrong with my car? So I turned around, and I felt good about that decision because I didn't see any cars going the other way, either.
I pulled out my atlas and found some national forest campgrounds in the mountains outside of Vegas. Perfect.
It seemed to take forever to get there. That area is so desolate. I stopped for gas at a place advertising aliens and strippers. As I approached the turnoff to the national forest, I saw a prison. I wasn't feeling great about this spot, either.
When I turned down the road to the campgrounds, I noticed police lights. The road was closed for construction. They suggested I try an alternate route. I did, and that road was closed, too. WTF, Nevada? Every time I go there, there's some issue.
At this point, it was dark. I was done. So I found the nearest Motel 6 and paid $40 for a room. I'd been camping for the past 12 nights, so normally I wouldn't feel too guilty about that. But given my financial situation, I should not be splurging on a hotel.
The cherry on top was realizing that my room had a view of the Las Vegas Strip. I don't consider myself particularly materialistic, but I do love to get dressed up and sip $25 martinis.
I kept the curtains closed and tried to forget where I was. I told myself that tomorrow would be better. And it was.
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