My Life as an Auschwitz Survivor, or "Driving Across the USA in 72 Hours"

It was bad. No joke. What began as a glorious idea of conquest swiftly turned into what would become two men in a small enclosed space, with no end in sight. Perhaps Auschwitz is a bit strong, that was the sight of a major tragedy that forever changed the world and two cultures within it. This trip forever changed my world, and both people who were in it [the car].

I picked Abe up from LAX around 2:00 Saturday afternoon. After finishing my last shift with Starbucks, it turned out that packing things into my car was going to

be a logistical nightmare. I had kept most of my clothes out of boxes so that I would have access to them whenever I needed. There was no telling when the boxes I had shipped would arrive, nor what kind of condition they would be in (the latter proved to be the point of greater concern). After loading a majority of my dress clothes, my guitar, and a few extra pieces that wouldn't pack well into FedEx boxes, I had barely enough space left in the car for

Abe's and his backpack. It was in this tigh

tly packed '97 2-door Honda Accord that Abe and I would live out the

next 72 hours of our lives together.

Abe is, for all intents and purposes, pretty frickin' amazing. He and I attended the same church and high school back when he lived in California. Graduating two years before me, he was someone who I, admittedly, looked up to. He was involved in praise teams, a preeminent figure in the youth group, and liked all the cool bands that were out there. Not only that, but the man had a swagger about him. It probably came from being the oldest of four siblings and having what seems to be an innately high level of self-confidence. That confidence is not without reason. He recently finished his MBA, and had previously received his bachelor's degree in astrophysics. Mother-flippin astrophysics. Smart guy. He and I were in the same small group at

church for a year or two before he graduated. Even with this, our experiences together had been somewhat limited. He came out to Vegas for my bachelor party some three years ago, and we had hung out some during the high school days. Beyond that, we had that loose kind of friendship that is hard to define. We could definitely hang out together, but just didn't have any of those friendship-defining moments where you look back and you k

now you've got a history with a person. We know the history is there, its just somewhat indeterminate. We found that moment.

Four days worth of moment. In my car with the back seat filled, Abe and I spent close to 48 hours of this 72-hour journey within two feet of one another. This is where Auschwitz comes in. In the death camp (okay, now I KNOW my comparison is off-base) people were surrounded by their loved ones, but found themselves in a completely desolate and hopeless environment. As much as I like my car, its never ending value, the trials it has survived (its a phoenix, to be sure), and the history I have with it, I loathe it now. Its just going to take time for me to come to terms with it. We shared this small, enclosed space together for what seemed an eternity. Just know this - I wouldn't have survived the journey without him. I'm indebted to him for his sacrifice, and I'm very glad to have him as a friend. Only half

way through the journey, I told him how this drive was one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences and that I couldn't imagine anyone doing this twice. After a moment's pause of realization, I remembered that Abe had actually done this a few years prior with his wife, Stacee. A bold move and noble sacrifice on Abe's behalf. I can't express how grateful I am.

When I picked Abe up from LAX, he had a splitting headache. Whether it was from waking up at 3:00 in the morning to get to the airport, the nine hours of flight, or the three double-tall Sam Adams he had downed in Dallas, he was not in the best of shape to say the least. Fortunately, I had only been up since 4am, and had only worked seven hours. Regardless of waking up before dawn and having to work most of a full shift, I was in high spirits. I will never again have to don a green [or black] apron and make someone's caramel macchiatto. No more frappuccinos. For those who know me well, I've been with Starbucks for the better part of a decade - about as long as it took Van Wilder to graduate college. I was riding the I-just-quit-Starbucks high when I picked Abe up, so I was glad to get us out of town as quickly as possible. As he climbed into the car, I welcomed him with a, "Hey, Abe. Welcome to California. Let's get the heck o

utta here." Met with laughter, we started off as best as one can, all things considered.

We drove straight through to Flagstaff, AZ on the first day. Its shocking how dry and desolate California is when you compare it to the rest of America. I don't recall where California got its reputation for being beautiful, its dead compared to everything else I saw from Arizona to North Carolina. The first day was uneventful; a little gas here, some Rockstar there, and we drove until well after Abe had told me, eyes fully bloodshot, "I think I'm gonna die." He looked it. Saturday had been more than rough for the man, and we both needed some rest. Checking in to a Motel 6 (a nice one at that), we called it a day.

Day two of the journey was probably the greatest. Even though we stopped off at two separate Wal-Marts in AZ, we had other sights to see along the I-40. We saw a sign off o

n the side of the road advertising "Meteor Crater" and a radio station that we could tune in to find out more. Doing so, we decided we were gonna check out this meteor crater. A 3/4 mile diameter crater in the earth, it was a geological museum of sorts. It wouldn't be until later that I would appreciate all the walking that we did right there. We discovered many factoids about asteroids, learned some geology, and were entertained by the history of the crater and the family that worked to turn it from a "giant hole in the earth" to a center of education and

research. The center is full of information on asteroids, meteorites, space exploration and NASA's research studies. A full-on runner up for stop-of-the-day, it was worth every minute of our time there.

A few hours after meteor crater, we soon realized we had already talked about everything. No, really. Everything. Guns, cars, bikes, politics, life, school, family, California, North Carolina, France, religion, everything. Silence ensued. We stopped off in Gallop, New Mexico to fill up on gasoline and made the plunge - we weren't stopping until Amarillo, TX. A quick geography lesson: Gallop, NM is about 40 miles from the western border of New Mexico, and Amarillo, TX is about 80 miles from the western border of Texas. Amarillo was the home of what was going to be our dinner, so for the next five hours we sat. in my car. and drove. . .

Thank you, Tucker Max. When we realized we had talked about all that we knew and all that we were willing to share*, we turned to Tucker Max's book, "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell." Lauded as wildly entertaining yet utterly repulsive, his stories lived up to their billing. Tucker Max carried Abe and I through most of New Mexico, and during that final stretch before dinner he made it all bearable.

The Big Texan was home of our dinner, what I can only describe as steak-heaven. A saloon filled with people from all across the world, being waited upon by people dressed up as old west

sheriffs and cow girls. The best part of the day came in the form of a 22oz New York strip steak, served with some fried okra and a fully loaded baked potato - to say nothing of the 32oz Sam Adams sitting beside it all. To sit back and relax for an hour or so after being on the road, literally all day, was amazing. The steak was savory, the potato delicious, and the okra perfectly crisp. I can still taste the tenderness of that steak, enjoying every delectable bite. It was so amazing that it truly was one of those, "You would have had to have been there." kinds of moments. Mmmmm....

The rest of Texas is, well, Texas. We drove 'til we hit Oklahoma, and rode until Abe was nearly dead again. Poor guy, I really put him through the ringer the past couple of days.

Day three in Oklahoma started with a visit to my grandmother's house. I got to see my aunt and uncle for the first time in eight years, and my grandmother for the first time in nearly the same. I was grateful for the hour I got with them, they're even better than I remember. I suppose that time and maturity have that kind of impact on your relationships with

your family. They're one of the many reasons why I hope I end up getting this job with Prudential; I want the job so that I can have the finances available to travel around the country visiting my family during my vacations. So many family members that I haven't seen in forever.

Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Tennessee were all pretty much the same. Green, flowing hills. Trees covering everything.

I made an attempt to connect with one of my cousins who lives in Memphis, but I missed her call - and we had already passed through.

We did, however, get some great Memphis BBQ. Not quite the Big Texan, but it was passable.

Our last night on the road, we stayed at a Holiday Inn Express. The best hotel of the trip, but it claimed my 4-pack of Red Bull nonetheless. Which reminds me, I'm in dire need of some caffeine right now.

But that's when the crazy sets in. Bat $#!T crazy. Abe and I had been on the road for days. Slept in beds adjacent to each other, sat next to each other in the car, ate across the table from one another... the two of us, the same two of us every day. When you think about prison, it doesn't matter how much you like your roommate, so long as he doesn't shank you. Abe and I got along just fine, but nonetheless, your patience only goes so far. Jamie had told me how it was a much better idea that Abe go than she, there would've been no way that we could hang out at all if she had spent the past four days in the car with me (plus, sleeping arrangements would've been awkward). At the end of the four days, there was little talking between us. It was a harrowing experience. We had survived the journey, physically. Mentally, though, we were scarred. You can't spend that much time in a confined space with another person without things getting a little too close for comfort. In fact, I think this is the exact situation from which the phrase comes from. We were too close for comfort.

Traveling the I-40 was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I'm glad Abe was there. But I don't know if I could ever do that again. Thank God for air conditioning, iPods, decent hotels, and friends to help you through life's journeys. Never again, my friend. Never again will I take that trip. I have a hard enough time getting into my car at all anymore. ::sigh::

I'm glad to be here in North Carolina. Its green, lush, beautiful. The humidity is a bit much, but the people are all worth it. I still haven't met a single person out here that wasn't friendly. I'm sure its not this way through and through, but for what I've seen, I do love it out here.