Archive for the Adventures Category

Sunday afternoon, Mason and Morgan went outside to play around 5:30 p.m. The sun was still out, it wasn’t too windy, birds were chirping… good times, all around. When the two of them decided to play basketball, Morgan set her phone down on the bumper of Susan’s car. A few minutes later, now dusk, Susan left to go pick up stuff for dinner. Five to ten minutes later, Morgan remembered her phone was still sitting on Susan’s bumper, and panic ensued.

By the time I was drawn into this, it was dark. The kids and I retraced Susan’s path through the neighborhood. I drove, while the kids hung out the truck’s windows with flashlights in hand, scouring the road’s shoulder for any sign of the phone. We found nothing. Susan’s path led from the neighborhood out to Northwest Expressway. My thinking was if the phone was still in the neighborhood there was a good chance of finding it. If it had fallen off between the neighborhood and the expressway, we still had a fair chance. And if it had made it all the way to the expressway, it was probably gone for good.

On Monday, with aid from sunlight, I drove the path a few more times after dropping the kids off for school. During my lunch break, I walked the length of the neighborhood. I saw lots of beer bottles and black pieces of plastic, but nothing resembling Morgan’s phone. We also tried calling the phone multiple times, but it was going directly to voicemail despite the fact that Morgan swore it had 50% battery and was on when she set it down.

After school, Mason and I drove the entire route. Each time we saw something on the side of the road Mason hopped out to investigate.

When we got home, Mason fired up “Find My iPhone,” an app that will help you locate your lost phone, and sure enough, a blip appeared on its radar. The phone was showing up just south of 23rd and NE Bryant, almost 30 miles away.

By this time Mason had remotely locked his sister’s phone and placed a message on the home screen with our contact information. We had also texted and called the phone multiple times. Someone had the phone turned on but was ignoring us.

After contacting the local police department we were instructed to go to a public location near the phone (a gas station, etc.) and call the police department back. An officer would be dispatched and we would all go retrieve the phone together. Things were looking up! Mason and I hopped in the truck and drove over to a funeral home at NE 36th and Bryant. In retrospect, perhaps the funeral home was an omen.

By the time the officer arrived the phone had moved positions. It was floating up and down NE Bryant, and the officer told us that unless the phone was in one place he really couldn’t help us. He also explained that the Find My iPhone feature is only accurate to 900 meters. I have to disagree with him on this one — after looking up my own iPad and iPhone, I can tell not only that they are inside my house, but which one is in the living room and which one is in the bedroom. Regardless, he told us there wasn’t anything he could do, which would have been good information to have before we drove half an hour to meet him.

Mason and I pinged the phone last time and it returned an address of NE 34th and Bryant. Suddenly the phone went offline. We called it back and it went directly to voice mail. Someone had just turned it off.

With one final attempt at sleuthing Mason and I drove to where the phone was pinging. At exactly NE 34th and Bryant was a crew of 10-15 road construction workers, repairing the road. To the west of that location was an unoccupied neighborhood still under construction, and the houses to the east were too far away for it to be there. Based on where the ping had moved to, it seemed to me like one of the workers probably had the phone on them.

As to how Morgan’s phone made its way from the north side of Yukon to the NE side of Oklahoma City in less than twelve hours, your guess is as good as mine. Monday is garbage pick up day, and my personal opinion is that one of the trash collectors spotted the phone near the side of the road in our neighborhood, picked it up, and kept it. That’s just my made up theory. Maybe the phone made it all the way to the store and someone found it there. Who knows. The one thing we do know is whoever found the phone has no intention of returning it.

The happy ending, if there is one, is that we had the foresight to purchase insurance on Morgan’s phone, which covers (we’ve already called and checked) both loss and theft. Her old phone has been remotely locked and is (as far as I know) in an unusable. Morgan will be getting a free replacement soon and, I can only imagine, will be a little more careful next time where she sets it down.

Last week we pulled in to Fargo, North Dakota without an agenda. From the interstate we spied the Space Aliens Grill and Bar, which made a fine dinner destination.

The Space Aliens Grill and Bar is located next door to the Fargo, North Dakota visitor center, home of the infamous wood chipper from the movie Fargo.

There are only so many pictures one can take with a wood chipper, a fake leg and a couple of silly hats. Once we had exhausted the possible combinations, we set out to see the Ronald Reagan Minuteman Missile Site.

The Ronald Reagan Minuteman Missile Site is located approximately 90 minutes northwest of Fargo. The drive is long and boring. North Dakota is the 3rd least populous and 4th least densely populated state. During the drive you’ll wonder how they ranked that high.

The first of two sites you’ll come to is the November-33 launch facility.

November-33 was an underground missile silo home to a Minuteman II missile, a nuclear ICBM (intercontinental ballistic missile). These were the missiles we had pointed at Russia throughout the cold war. Had the order to launch these missiles been given, the large concrete slab you see above would have been blasted away and the missile, suspended by wires, would have launched directly from the silo. If that had happened chances are there were nuclear missiles headed our way as well, so taking pictures would have been a moot point. There wouldn’t have been anyone to share them with shortly.

While November-33 is historically interesting, there’s not a lot to see here. Years ago the missiles were removed, explosives were detonated inside the silos, and they were filled with concrete.

Another fifteen minutes down the road from November-33 is the much more interesting Oscar-Zero Missile Alert Facility.

Oscar-Zero is “the last launch control center intact for the public to visit,” according to Wikipedia.

Above ground, the building is approximately 2,000 square foot. It looks like what you would expect. There’s a rec room, a cafeteria, and sleeping quarters.

Things didn’t really start get interesting until we reached the above ground security room.

At one point not long ago, this room was staffed by guards with the authority to shoot on sight. Not only did these guys protect the local facilities, but they also responded to disturbances at the remote missile launch sites. Sometimes something as small and innocent as a leaf would set off the motion detectors at the launch sites, forcing one of the guards here to go check it out.

These guys also guarded the elevator to the underground bunker, which is where we went next.

The first of two rooms we visited was filled with equipment to keep the base running — generators, air filters, and other pieces of equipment.

Both rooms were guarded by incredibly thick blast doors. Everything in the room was mounted to a floating floor designed to keep things level no matter what was going on above ground, and the entire bunker was sealed in feet of concrete. This thing was designed to take a direct nuclear strike and survive.

The second room we visited gave me chills.

If you’ve seen Wargames or any number of other movies, you know what this is. This is the desk where the officers sat for days at a time, waiting for the command to start World War III. On the upper left part of the picture you can see the red lock box that contained the secure launch codes. On the bottom right is the key. Just around the corner from this station was a second station. Turning both keys at the same time would have started a non-reversible launch sequence.

In 1991, the START agreement (Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty) limited the number of nuclear weapons both the United States and the Soviet Union could retain. Because of this agreement, the 321st Wing at Grand Forks Air Force Base was closed. The missiles were removed and the silos were destroyed and filled with concrete. The Oscar-Zero Missile Alert Facility was spared demolition and preserved as a historic site. It was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2007 and opened for tours in 2009.

After almost 2,900 miles behind us over the past week, I was able to add Iowa, North Dakota, and Wisconsin to the states I’ve seen. For those keeping track, that makes 49 of the 50 states (we’re doing Hawaii later this year). I’ll be posting some pictures and stories of some of the more interesting things we saw over the next few days, but if you want a sneak peek at a few pictures check out my List of States I’ve visited. Along with the ones I already mentioned, I also added updates to Kansas and Minnesota.

Great to see new places, great to be home.

While in Denver last week, the O’Haras and the Martins went on a gold panning adventure in the Phoenix Gold Mine located in Idaho Springs, Colorado.

The day began by feeding chipmunks at the entrance of the mine. Pans of seeds were provided. If you don’t like chipmunks crawling on you, don’t pick up a pan of seed. They are not shy.

After a brief set of instructions, we were turned loose to go gold panning in the creek that runs down from the mountain. Jeff’s family had their own panning bowls while Susan and the kids used the metal pie plates provided by the mine. Susan wasted no time in scooping up some of the creek’s dirt and sifting through it.

The creek definitely contains gold, just not enough for the owners to mine (they’ve moved on to the next mountain). If you’re patient and lucky enough, you’ll start to find little gold flakes down in the bottom of your pan. Talon (Jeff’s son) found a few flakes in his first pan’s worth of pay dirt.

For a couple of hours, everybody panned away. Mason ended up finding a nugget roughly the size of a BB. Morgan found a few flakes but lost interest fairly quickly. Susan brought home a jug full of dirt and has been sorting through it at the dinner table, looking for more gold.

Tucked away in the heart of Austin, Texas is the Museum of the Weird. Susan found this museum while searching for things to do in Austin and I’m so glad she did. While it’s a little rough around the edges, it is definitely worth stopping by if you like weird things.

The Museum of the Weird is divided into three parts. The first part is a self-guided tour through a collection of oddities. The second portion of the tour is a sideshow performance. The final portion, if you pay extra for it (more on that later), is a viewing of the original Minnesota Iceman.

The first section of the museum, the self-guided tour, has lots of real and not-so-real items on display. By real, I mean things like a stuffed two-faced calf…

…and by not real I mean things like this fur-bearing trout.

(The fur-bearing trout was of particular interest to me as that is one of the cryptids featured prominently in Robb Shewwin’s game Cryptozookeeper!)

This portion of the museum is very small. If you were to read every placard on every item it might take you ten minutes. If you are into weird things then you will love this stuff. There’s a “real” (?) skeleton, some wax dummies, and a few movie props to look at while you’re here.

At this point we experienced a bit of a traffic jam. Apparently we showed up right as the sideshow performers were changing shifts, which left us stuck in the first part of the museum for roughly 20 minutes. In that amount of time you can see everything in the museum roughly five times. Unfortunately because the space is so small, as other people began entering the museum we were literally trapped and had to stand shoulder-to-shoulder until we were eventually met by our tour guide and escorted to the next portion of the tour.

After leaving the museum we were led past a big monitor lizard (so lethargic that we were never quite sure if it was alive or not), past a small apartment where Johnny Depp stayed while filming What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, and into the sideshow performance room. While waiting for the performance to begin, we were encouraged to take pictures with the props placed around the room.

Next, our tour guide took the stage and began talking about sideshow performances. He mentioned the “blockhead” trick which instantly perked my ears as I know exactly what that is. Based on the first part of the tour I was not sure whether to expect a real performance or a trick, but sure enough, within a few minutes the performer (Eric) had pulled out a hammer and a six inch penny nail and proceeded to hammer it up his nostril directly into his sinus cavity!

Once he was done with that he asked for a volunteer from the audience to help him remove it. I’ll give you three guesses as to who ended up on stage…

After giving her some specific instructions (mainly, “don’t wiggle the nail”), Morgan pulled the nail straight out of Eric’s face.

“You might think that’s brains on that nail, but it’s not (snot),” he said. The kids loved that joke.

Over a span of ten minutes Eric hammered a nail up his nose, stuck his hand into a fox trap, attempted to lift a concrete block with his beard (the rubber bands snapped), and finished the show by allowing an audience member to staple a tip to his chest using a staple gun. Did we get our money’s worth or what?

After Eric’s performance ended we were led back down the stairs and into a another room which held THE MINNESOTA ICEMAN. (Cue music.)

I remember reading about the Minnesota Iceman when I was a kid. According to the legend, a hunter accidentally shot and killed what appeared to be… well, an iceman. And it ended up in Minnesota. (Keep up with me here.) The Minnesota Iceman was encased in ice and displayed at carnivals and sideshows across the country for many decades. At one point the FBI examined it due to concerns that a real human being might be encased in the ice but they determined it to not be real. If you’re into cryptids and Bigfoot and tales about such things, the Minnesota Iceman was semi-legendary.

In 2013, the Iceman was sold on eBay. It was purchased by the Museum of the Weird. It was featured on an episode of Shipping Wars, where the Iceman was shipped from Minnesota to Austin, Texas.

The Museum of the Weird does not allow photos to be taken of the Iceman, although a quick Google search turns up thousands to choose from. Compared to older pictures of the Iceman, the ice he is encased in now is much cloudier, making the iceman’s features much more difficult to see. There are pictures online of the Iceman when he was thawed out a few years ago, if you really want to see the details.

To this day people argue whether or not the Minnesota Iceman is “real” or not. To me, that’s not the point. This is the actual box that was toted around the country for decades that people paid money to see. I read about it in books when I was a kid. Seeing the actual signs that were displayed along with the Iceman was super exciting for me.

This is a picture of the Minnesota Iceman that I found on the internet. The ice was nowhere near this clear when we saw it.

Our trip to the museum got off to a rocky start in regards to the admission price. While the website says admission is $8 for adults and $5 for kids, we didn’t read the fine print. It was actually $12 for adults and $9 for kids if you wanted to see the Iceman. We also learned that our kids, ages 9 and 12, are actually adults (the kid prices only apply to children under 8). So, we showed up expecting to spend $26 on and ended up spending $48. To be honest, we were going to let the kids buy souvenirs and we ended up not letting them to balance out the price.

I’ve already had one person ask me if I thought the Museum of the Weird was kid appropriate. My answer would be, “it depends on your kids.” My kids love scary stuff and were fine with all the horror movie props, the sideshow performance, and and the Minnesota Iceman. Know that our sideshow performer let someone from the audience staple a $20 bill to his chest with a staple gun, and it bled. It’s not a place for everybody; I suspect you’ll know if it’s a place for you and yours to visit.

If you’re the type of kid who used to watch (or read) Ripley’s Believe it or Not, stay up late reading horror comic books under the covers with a flashlight, or paid a dollar at the fair to see the “Man Eating Chicken,” then run (don’t walk) to the Museum of the Weird in Austin, Texas. If the thought of seeing a cyclops pig in a jar of formaldehyde or watching a guy stick his hand into a fox trap, this might not be the vacation destination for you.

Instead of sitting around the house this Labor Day weekend (my plan), Susan said, “let’s go to Austin, Texas.” Austin is roughly 400 miles/6 hours S/SE of Oklahoma City. We’ve been through Austin twice (both times while driving to Galveston) but had never stopped.

In a span of 36 hours we:

  • Ate at Happy Days Diner, Fricano’s Deli, Freebirds World Burrito, Hat Creek Burger Company, and In-and-Out Burger.
  • Saw one of five existing complete copies of the Gutenberg Bible and the first photograph ever taken at the Harry Ransom Center.
  • Played dozens of arcade and pinball machines at Pinballz Arcade. (We also stopped by Arcade UFO but they were closed).
  • Visited the Museum of the Weird.
  • Went to see the Congress Avenue Bridge Bats, where between 750,000 and 1.5 million bats fly every night.
  • Went swimming in Barton Springs, a creek naturally fed from underground springs that is 68 degrees year round (yes it was cold).
  • Over the next few days I’ll be writing more about Barton Springs, Congress Bridge Bats, Pinballz, and the Museum of the Weird. We had a great time on our first (and quick) trip to Austin and we are already excited about going back again. There aren’t a lot of towns on our list of “other places we could live,” but based on this trip I think Austin might have made the list!

    (PS: “Keep Austin Weird” became Austin’s small business slogan back in 2000.)

    If there’s one thing to know about Susan it’s that when she decides to do something, she does it. Whether it’s going back to college or learning photography or tackling a project at work, whatever she chooses to do, she does.

    Last month Susan set a goal of raising $1,500 in donations for the Girl Scouts. The money went toward purchasing a tornado shelter for one of the local Girl Scout Camps. Earlier this month Susan organized a garage sale and between that and some donations from friends and family, she met her goal.

    Everyone who met this goal was offered the opportunity to rappel down One Leadership Square in Oklahoma City this past weekend. Standing 22 stories and 308 feet tall, One Leadership Square is the 10th tallest building in Oklahoma.

    Last Saturday, my wife went over the side of it while hanging from a rope. Twice.

    Susan also volunteered to help out with the ropes, so she got a test run of the system Friday night. She said the system they used was unlike the ones she used back in college and had a ton of added safety features, including an automatic braking system.

    Saturday was the “public” rappelling, and both my family and some of Susan’s family came out to watch. Her time slot was 12:30pm so the sun was directly overhead and it was nice and hot by the time she got to drop down, but drop down she did.

    After talking with her for a few minutes on the ground it was back to the roof for Susan where she finished volunteering for the rest of the day. The kids, Dad and I hit one of our favorite hot dog spots, Coney Island, before heading back home.

    Congrats to Susan on meeting her fundraising goal and for dropping off a perfectly good building!

    I spent the week before last in Washington DC for work. I “kind of” flew home on Thursday, attended a wedding on Friday, packed over the weekend and drove to Chicago, where I spent last week. It’s been a long two weeks.

    The trip to DC began with a flight (yes, flight) to DC through Dallas. While trying to make my connecting flight in Dallas I got turned around and ended up in baggage claim, which forced me to go back through the TSA line a second time. The second time I had already filled my water bottle (and forgot about it), which led to a 15-20 minute diversion as I had my bag removed and searched and received the coveted “invasive pat down” from a genial fellow named Raul who, for all intents and purposes, is now my boyfriend.

    I spent three days in DC. The first day was spent at an awards ceremony where my team was presented with an award by the FAA Administrator for our work on the e-mail migration project I’ve been working on for the past two years. The next two days were spent in a “lessons learned” meeting, where everyone shared what went wrong and what went right with the project in hopes of helping future projects.

    My flight home on Thursday was scheduled (I thought) to leave Baltimore at 6am. To make sure I didn’t miss the flight, Super Shuttle picked me up in front of my hotel at 2:45am, and dropped me off in front of BWI at 3:45am. When I checked in at the gate around 4am I learned that my flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until 8:40am. I found a place to sit and killed 4 hours waiting to board. After the plane was boarded, the pilot announced that due to storms in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area, “we might be leaving in two hours, or not at all.” At that point we all exited the plane and awaited further updates. Around 10:30am we reboarded the plane and made it to DFW, only to find that all flights heading north from there (including Oklahoma) were either full or had been cancelled. Based on that knowledge I rented a car (it’s only a 3 1/2 hours drive from DFW to OKC), only to learn that I-35 (the interstate that connects those two cities) had received up to 14″ of rain in some areas and was closed. I upgraded my rental car to something big enough to sleep in and began working my way home. A couple of detours and roughly 6 hours later, I arrived in OKC only to discover that no one was home, my keys were in the house, and the garage door keypad no longer worked. Exhausted, I slept in the back of the rental from 6:30pm until 7:30pm, when Susan was able to get home and let me in.

    On Friday Susan, the kids and I attended our good friend Jennifer Martin’s wedding. Susan and I served as unofficial photographers and documented the entire evening from beginning to end. Susan took almost 1,000 photos while I only took 400. Susan and I had a good time taking pictures and the kids had a good time eating cupcakes and dancing the night away!

    Saturday morning, Susan, her sister, and the kids hopped into Susan’s car and headed out west to San Diego. That gave me the weekend to hang out and rest up for my own to trip to Chicago.

    Monday morning Dad and I hopped into the Avalanche and drove north to Chicago. We had the traditional White Castles for lunch and some delicious Aurelio’s Pizza for dinner with my Aunt Linda and Grandma O’Hara. At 85, Grandma O is suffering from moderate dementia. From what I understand some days are better than others. I arrived on a bad day. I only see her a couple times a year and the change between the last time I saw her and this time was dramatic.

    I spent Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday in Des Plaines, Illinois (near O’Hare Airport) loading servers. My small team loaded roughly 40 servers in two days. Each server weighed approximately 75 pounds and had to be moved several times. By the end of the week my hamstrings, arms, knees and back knew exactly how many servers we had moved. We ate lunch at Giordano’s Pizza one day and had dinner at Harry Carey’s Steakhouse another night, but for the most part we just worked and slept. And drank. A lot.

    Friday morning at 5am I hopped in the truck and drove down to Springfield, IL to pick up Dad (who was visiting his cousin) before hitting the trail and finishing the drive. It wasn’t the fastest trip ever, but after slamming a few energy drinks and cups of coffee we rolled into my driveway just after 8pm. Susan and the kids got home from their trip around 10pm.

    I slept in this morning and took two additional naps throughout the day. I’m almost caught up on rest now. Hopefully my back stops hurting before I head back to work on Monday.

    Over the weekend I updated the States! section of the website. If you have not checked it out, it’s a list of every states I have ever visited with lots of pictures and mini-stories. In 2013 I added or updated Missouri, Illinois, Indianapolis, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Toronto (Ontario), Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. In this weekend’s update I updated Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi, Florida, Arizona, New Mexico, and Nevada.Check your state — maybe I’ve been there!


    Also last week I posted three new podcast episodes. Of the two for You Don’t Know Flack, one was technical in nature (“Networks”) while the other was non-technical (“The Creek”).

    YDKF Episode 149: Networks
    YDKF Episode 150: The Creed

    I also released a new episode of Sprite Castle, on which I discussed the C64 game H.E.R.O. by Activision.

    Sprite Castle 004: H.E.R.O.

    I also had to rebuild a 4TB RAID5 container and recover my website from a backup. Maybe I’ll talk about that tomorrow.

    Here’s a picture of a cupcake dessert bar I visited in Vegas that has nothing to do with any of this.

    It’s not too often that a person can recall exactly where they were, who they were with or what they were doing twenty years ago to the day — but as for April 9th, 1994, I remember.

    Half a year earlier on August 22nd, 1993 (the night of my 20th birthday) I moved to Weatherford, Oklahoma and moved in with Susan and another one of her friends. I had spent the two years following high school commuting to Redlands Community College, while Susan had spent her time 60 miles east in Weatherford attending Southwestern Oklahoma State University (SWOSU). Susan had recently moved into a three bedroom mobile home and offered me the master bedroom to rent. We spent the next eight months partying, working, and occasionally attending college classes.

    Susan worked at the Wesley Foundation on campus and a local print shop; I briefly worked at a local pizza joint before landing a job at Long John Silver’s. I worked 40-50 hours a week there as a shift manager, a job I was by and large terrible at. Back then I simply didn’t have the maturity, experience or conflict resolution skills needed to manage anybody, much less a bunch of teens that didn’t want to be managed.

    By the time spring flowers began to bloom, more than my allergies were suffering. I wasn’t doing well in school because I was working too many hours, and I hadn’t racked up too many “Employee of the Month” awards while slinging fish if you know what I mean. For her part, Susan was dog paddling just as hard as I was to keep her head above water. Late at night over styrofoam containers of leftover fish the two of us would plot our escape. All we had to do was make it one or two more months. If we could just make it through one more semester, everything would be fine.

    The two years I attended Redlands I spent busting my ass in the journalism department. I had served as both the newspaper and yearbook editor and despite occasionally showing up late on the weekends, or hung over, or still drunk, or some combination of those things, my staff and I never missed a single deadline. Ever. I had a solid reputation for delivering there because I had earned it. As an overweight smart ass with a weird wardrobe and a worse haircut, I assumed that my reputation for always meeting deadlines (even if they showed up at the 11th hour) would follow me to Weatherford. It didn’t. My journalism professor at Weatherford got so sick of my antics that she fired me as the yearbook editor roughly a month before the end of the semester. From a previous blog post:

    In the spring of 1994 after pushing the word “procrastination” to an all-time high, I was let go from my position as SWOSU’s yearbook editor, replaced by my understudy. A month before the book’s final deadline, I showed up to class to find everything from my editor’s desk neatly packed into a box for me to take home. My journalism professor pulled me aside and briefly explained her reasoning, none of which I could argue with. I wasn’t mad; I was embarrassed. I told her I would take my box of junk out to my car and then would come back that afternoon so we could talk about what needed to be done and how to proceed. But I didn’t. Instead, I dropped out of school via telephone and never showed my face on that campus again.

    That last part isn’t entirely true. Nineteen years later in 2013, I took Mason to a basketball tournament there.

    In a bit of “Rob and Susan Lore,” it was on that day in April of 1994 that I flipped a coin, declaring heads meant we would “try and salvage what was left of the semester” while tails meant “let’s go visit the Grand Canyon.” I really did flip that coin and it really did come up tails. We packed some clothes into a bag, loaded up Susan’s car, and drove west the following morning.

    I don’t know that I’ve had another week quite like that in my life. We had no jobs, no school, no one to answer to and no real destination. After a few days of driving we did make it to the Grand Canyon…

    …and Carlsbad Caverns…

    …and Flintstone City, USA…

    …and a dozen other places. Eventually we ended up in Tucson, where we ran out of steam and money at roughly the same time. We spent a night or two sleeping on my Aunt Eva’s fold out couch before we decided to go home. But not before playing one last round of mini golf!

    On April 8th while visiting the Grand Canyon, it was announced that Kurt Cobain, the lead singer of Nirvana, had been found dead. Nirvana, along with Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, and Alice in Chains had ushered in the new wave of grunge music. In just a few short years, flannel and blue jeans had replaced leather and jean jackets. Hair metal was out and grunge was in. Nirvana’s breakthrough album Nevermind had been released three years prior in September, 1991. Three years later, he was dead.

    That night as we began meandering back home we stopped in Albuquerque, New Mexico. When we pulled in to town that night we saw a long line of lowriders driving slowly around the block. We pulled over to watch the show and were soon informed by local police officers that this was not a parade; we were watching gang members. The police officers suggested we relocate to a safer part of town and so we did. We found a hotel that was painted pink and looked like a castle. My most vivid memory of the place was that there was a hole in the upstairs concrete sidewalk that you could see all the way through down to the ground. Susan remembers the roaches.

    On the morning of April 9th, 1994, we rolled out of the hotel and had breakfast. We piddled around town a bit and around lunch time stumbled across Little Anita’s. If nothing else, Little Anita’s had the hottest hot sauce I’ve ever tasted. I was disappointed that the waitress had only brought each of us a small cup of sauce for our lunch. I dipped my fork into my cup and touched it to my tongue. It burned hotter than fire. I was just about to mention how hot it was to Susan when I saw her dump the entire cup of hot sauce on to her taco. Instead of warning her I decided to sit back and watch the show. After one bite, she immediately drank her water, followed by my water, followed by waiving down a waiter and drinking an entire pitcher of water. Hot stuff. Anyway, Little Anita’s has become a mandatory stop for us every time we drive through Albuquerque. We’ve driven through two or three times since then and we’ve eaten there every time. These days we go easy on the hot sauce.

    On the way out of the restaurant I spotted a local newspaper with the headline NIRVANA SINGER FOUND DEAD. I bought it, and still have it out in my box of keepsakes. Crime scene investigators estimate that Cobain died on April 5th. His body was discovered on the 8th. We heard about it on the radio that day, and read about it in a newspaper on the 9th. April 9th, 1994.

    On the last leg of our trip home the mood had changed. Susan and I both knew once we arrived back in Weatherford we were going to have to face the music, and the loss of Kurt Cobain made the trip that much more depressing. Not to make it sound like I was a huge Nirvana fan — I liked them as much as the next guy — but grunge belonged to my generation. Kurt Cobain was “one of ours.”

    During the trip Susan and I convinced ourselves that if we called the school and told them we were withdrawing from school because our roommate had died they would be lenient on us — a hair-brained scheme I’m pretty sure one of us had picked up from a sitcom. Later, after arriving home and calling the school, the first question the administration asked me was, what was the name of our roommate? Not having thought that far in advance, I hung up the phone. For our part, each of us received a smattering of W’s (“withdrew”) combined with WF’s (“withdrew while failing”) on our transcripts.

    April 9th, 1994 was more than just the day Susan and I read that Kurt Cobain had died. The week before we walked away from our school and our jobs, and when we got back, we had to deal with the consequences. April 9th, 1994 was the day we grew up.