Travelogue

SUNDAY
The Plan: Depart LAX at 4:50 pm, land in Missoula, MT at 8:20 pm, meet the missus at the airport, meet, greet and crash at the residence of her Aunt Nina.
What Actually Happened: Delayed in LAX four extra hours, tossed an insufficient meal voucher for $8, eat the world's most disproportionately expensive cheese pizza, dawdle on the tarmac for forty-five minutes, land in Missoula at 12:50 am, meet the missus at the airport, crash at the cat-piss smelling residence of her Aunt Nina.

MONDAY 
The Plan: Depart Missoula by car at 8:00 am, drive through the majority of Montana, a portion of Idaho and a small portion of Utah, stop for Subway lunch someplace, check into La Quinta in Orem, Utah by 5:00 pm, chill the fuck out.
What Actually Happened: Depart Missoula by car at 10:30 am, eat an extra nutritious breakfast of nachos at the local Sinclair station, drive through the majority of Montana and a portion of Idaho, devour a meatball sandwich from Subway in Idaho Falls, drive through a small portion of Utah, read some juicy new Scott Lynch short story, miss the appropriate exit in Orem, get re-directed from trio of drunk women in a Shell Station, check into the hotel, devour some mushroom pizza, sleep the contended sleep of the well-traveled.

TUESDAY 
The Plan: Depart Orem by 8:00 am, drive through the majority of Utah, a tiny portion of Arizona, a portion of Nevada and the majority of California, stop for Subway someplace, navigate the treacherous streets of Los Angeles, arrive at Archstone, celebrate.
What Actually Happened: Depart Orem by 10:30 am, drive through the majority of Utah, rock out a singalong of The Hazards of Love through the appropriately pseudo-taiga of southern Utah, stop for Subway in Cedar City, Utah, drive through a tiny portion of Arizona, rock out a singalong of Hadestown through the gorgeously badass Virgin River Canyon, pit stop in Vegas' Chinatown for a stretcher, get stranded in Baker, California, home of Alien Brand Jerky and the worst fucking on-ramp in the history of transpor-fucking-tation, watch the sun set over Zzyzx, finish our subs in Barstow, press onward to Los Angeles, listen to Tom Waits as we arrive at Archstone, celebrate.