Zipcode worthy food

We skirted across the border into El Paso, Texas just around the midnight hour. With Seattle (me) at the helm, we passed near the impressive nightscape. El Paso and it's cross-border companion Cuidad Jaurez was a sea of fluorescent lights that glimmered across the landscape toward the horizon. Although a bane as far as astronomers go, the other-worldly sight was worth seeing.

As my drive continued beyond the sea of lights and through a rather narrow, one-lane area under construction, we passed through a border patrol check point. I slowed down as signs suggested and prepared what vital information I thought I would need to present. As the decellerating car neared an awaiting officer, he rotated his flashlight in his hand and signaled us by. Without a word. I'm not a border patrol official nor have I ever even previously been through a border patrol checkpoint though I did/do wonder why we were waved by without so much as a single simple question like, "Any illegial aliens in here?" or "Any highly explosive material in here?" Not that we were carrying anything of the sort but we sure could've been. Unless there was some kind of border-crosser-ometer or explosives detector buried under the asphalt that scanned us as we passed by, I'd say that there's some kind of biased treatment being handed down here. I just wonder what in an officer's mind dictates whether or not he stops a vehicle. Is it the race of the driver? The model of the car? Tread on his tires? Has he had a long night and just wants to go home? Whatever it is I felt like we were catered to rather than suspected by that officer. I just wish there were some basic protocol through which every one must go when passing through a similar checkpoint. What makes us so special?

When my eyes finally couldn't focus on the road coming at me, I pulled over and handed the wheel over to Dr. Leake. She apparently drove us through until about 7am when I woke up. We had come to a stop in Ozona, TX to get a bite to eat at a truly authentic, home-cookin' kinda' place. "Those pancakes have their own zipcode," was the description Jason Gaines gave to the food. Extremely cheap and huge, tasty quantities were served up. We drove away full of true southern A.M. goodness.

Although Texas is a beautiful, unique state to drive through, we chose the longest portion of the Lone Star State through which to pass. I-10 stretches nearly 900 miles between New Mexico and Louisiana. Sleeping is the name of the Texas driving game. Somewhere before Houston I woke up and gawked at two dark storms that swirled to the north and south of the highway. With small funnel clouds trying to reach the ground, a flash and immediate crack of lightning hit! We were unscathed except for a tingling of the skin and hair on our forearms. I don't think we were hit but that is about as close as it gets.

Houston was ugly. Just thought I'd mention that. We finally made it out of Texas after passing the last exit on I-10 though the state: exit 873. The road then took a turn to the Dark Side. I could only believe that Louisiana spent all their extra revenue on gambling and getting people to casinos because BOY do their roads suck! With a metronome-like precision the highway would skip our poor portable CD player into what I called the "Louisiana Road Remix". Glad we weren't playing LPs because the needle would've slashed it from track to track. One plus about the road through LA was the Achafalaya Swamp bridge. Barreling straight through the swamp, the bridge spans more than 10 miles. An amazing piece of engineering it is. The swamp is beautiful too!

One more brief stop for dinner at a western Louisiana Pizza Hut then I took the wheel again for a stretch that took us out of LA and into Mississippi, Alabama, then Florida.

Latest Entries

Tue. July 13, 1999

Zipcode worthy food

Post Comments