Living the dream

Living the dream. What does it mean? Having money? Power? A sizeable collection of highly articulated action figures? Multiple bosom-y wives? The truth of the matter is that it means something different to each of us. For the longest time I couldn't figure out what it meant to me. I wandered through life with no money, power, and only a moderate-sized collection of highly articulated action figures and nary a bosom-y wife in sight. It was depressing, not having a dream to live. Then, last week, I visited Evanston.....

A little back story. At some point last week, let's say wednesday, one of my roommates and I were watching an episode of Scrubs, in which Carla finally accepts Turks wedding proposal. See below for details....

After Carla accepts Turks proposal, J.D. runs out with sparklers and proceeds to jog in little circles around the minority-rich couple. That got me thinking. I need sparklers to run around with. Also I wanted some bottle rockets. The problem is that no one around these Utah parts is willing to sell me fireworks at this time of year. Apparently Utahns are too good for running around with sparklers in the dead of winter. So I thought to myself, where can I turn for piece ('s of illegal fireworks)? Then the answer came to me as if I always knew it. Of course! Evanston! I had never been there, but the legend has it that you can buy mighty fireworks there at any time of the year! ANY TIME OF THE YEAR!!!! What a thing! And so a group of us load up into a car, and head for the final frontier of illegal fireworks.

(That's me heading towards the car)

We took the freeway, as was the style at the time.

As we passed the ol' Super 8 Hotel I realized that it was right across from a Motel 6. I had never noticed this before. What did these numbers refer to? Was it some sort of unknown Hotel rating system? I simply didn't know. All we can be sure of is that the Super 8 is two better than the Motel 6. Also, I didn't like the Super 8 Hotel's sign. It just said "ROOMS". Yes, we know there are rooms. We may not understand your secret rating system, but we figured out that your hotel probably has rooms. If it didn't then you probably would be far lower on the rating scale. Like maybe a Super 2 Hotel, where all you would have is an umbrella sitting next to a broken ice machine. Anyway. I figured that their meeting went something like this....

Boss of Super 8 - "Gentlemen, we need a catchy new slogan for our new yellow and orange sign"

*awkward pause*

Guy #4 - "We could have it say, like, rooms, but in all capital letters. Like, really bold."

Boss of Super 8 - "Fine, go with it".

But it also reflects badly on me that I was spending so much time mocking a second-rate hotel sign. Let's move on. We pick up a few more adventurers and head for the land where food is still call "grub". A place where time seems to move a little slower, a place where the women could shuck an ear of corn with one hand. You get the idea. Here, I will give you a picture so you can see what it was like to be there.

Now, it's well known that the first thing a person needs to find in order to sucessfully complete a road trip is a variety of snacks that fit in with the overall theme of the road trip. Having only one stop at a local gas-atoriumin which to find these all-important snacks, my choices were very limited. But if you endure to the end you will find that which you seek, and here is the fruit of my endurance-seeking.....

I don't know what those are. Something.

Then there were other snacks...

But I didn't take pictures of those. Most importantly, there was this....

My other roommate was actually the one who found this, but I bought it. Not only does it fit in with the western-y theme of the trip, but I do a great prospector impression. At least I think it's great. I call him Supermarket Claimjumper. Anyway, I was waaaayyy stoked when I found this. At last Mtn. Dew has found a way to be X-treme enough for me. The guy at the counter was a total bring-down, and told me that it was just regular Mtn. Dew inside. It wasn't a special new dew. I know that! Other than Root Beer, there is no other cola that should have a prospector on the can! "Dr. Pepper! A tasty prospect!" just sounds stupid. "Coca Cola! Pan for one in a river", is stupid too. "Pepsi! You've got fool's gold there fella!" is the stupid-est one yet.

Let's move on. Now that we had the proper snacks, it was time to get on the road.

Still driving....

45 more minutes....

Hooray!!! (That's the Wyoming state line in the upper portion of that picture).

Wanna see it again, but a little more X-treme (blurry?)

Yes, at long last we had arrived at Evanston. Ah, if only I could find the right words to describe my joy. Traztor? Grapple? Zango? No, none of those really embody what I'm looking for. Ah well. Let's move on.

he first thing I wanted to find was a huge bag of fireworks. Bottle-rockets, snap-poppers, air-fizzers, ground-squirmers, I wanted it all. Would Evanston live up to it's reputation? Could these wonderful fireworks be found here, or had I wasted a good 1.5 hours? Well, had I had the presence of mind to take some pictures, you would all know that there were plenty of places to find fireworks. Nearly half the stores in Evanston appeared to be firework related. Most of the others were places where mature, adult couples could purchase videos of a blue nature. BUT that's not what I was looking for. I just wanted the fireworks that go into the sky. Lucky to us we passed Jolly Jacks Fireworks World (JJFW). Now, like I said, I failed to take any pictures of this amazing place. I think I just got too excited and lost my focus, such was the magnificance of this Fireworks display. They had everything! These gunpowder dreams were a sight to behold. Then there was Jolly Jack....

Jolly Jack wasn't very jolly, but I guess Jolly Jack sounds better than Generally Indifferent Jack. Or even Slighly-Suspicious Jack. I got the feeling that Jolly Jack didn't care for shop-lifters. He trailed us everywhere we went, sometimes offering advice about fireworks, other times he just glared at us. After having wandered around this shrine to the explosive, I filled my bag and went to make my purchase. Jolly Jack rang me up, and I handed him my credit card. Then he asked for my I.D. I was terrified! I was from Utah! Some of these fireworks are not fully legal!!!

But it turns out Jolly Jack didn't care at all. I think he just wanted to make the sale. Anyway, look at all the booty I got! Yarrr!!!

Alright, next, we headed for downtown Evanston. Where dreams are made. I'll post that later.