Last week my family and I took a few days away from hot, blazing Las Vegas to see some friends in sunny but cooler Santa Rosa, California. Along this trip, I encountered a sad truth in today's society: small children tend to be discriminated against even now. So do desert drivers.
We got started on a Thursday afternoon (since we were not on a time crunch, we could leave at our leisure). It always seems like leaving Las Vegas is an impossibility in itself. If you look at the travel brochures, there are excellent airfare and hotel offers for people to come to Vegas, and the "black hole" does suck in many people to further suck out their money. I'd say, let the local Chamber of Commerce be honest, and instead of putting the pictures of showgirls on the signs and brochures, put Dracula, an aardvark, or a leech on the signs so long as they are all diamond-studded (we do have an image to keep here). For Vegas locals, the escape is not easy. Traveling from Vegas to another city usually takes more expensive airfare, and leaving by car is not easy, either, at least for us. Our daughter Natalie is the gravitational force holding us here. Even though California is just 50 miles away, her diaper and juice needs require sudden pull-offs from Interstate 15. Only after we get past Primm (motto: "Last chance to be sucked in") does she quiet down in dignified defeat.
Having lived in Nevada for nine years, I have done a lot of driving on desert highways, and I have to say now that it is truly for the birds...particularly vultures and buzzards! Seriously! Services are sparse and generally more expensive once one leaves the relatively cheaper confines of the Vegas Valley.
This is sadly true in the small village of Baker, California, a town seemingly designated to be no more than just a stop. It grants access to Death Valley, which is over 110 miles away via a 2-lane state highway. The gasoline prices are high in the center of town (about 70 to 80c per gallon higher than Vegas), though tend to lower as you drive west to meet up with I-15 once more. Restaurant prices are slightly higher at some places, also. Baker does boast the "World's Biggest Thermometer", one I hope is not used on me if I'm sick! There also used to be the presence of the Bun Boy restaurant and motel, which were advertised miles before town in either direction. Sadly, hard times forced the sale of the restaurant to Big Boy. I am not sure if the motel still functions, but I suspect the lack of cars in the lot on any given day indicates the negative view.
However, Baker does provide a stop for weary travelers. Driving through the desert is a drudgery (how's that for alliteration?) that only a good stock of beverages, snacks, and appropriate music can take care of. There are mountains, sure, but they tend to be just there without the majesty of other mountain chains. There are long straight stretches of road in the desert, and there is danger in that. Highway rest stops are needed for those who simply want to pull off and rest for a spell. Interstate 15 in California needs more stops like this. Currently there are only 2, and they are both within a half hour of Baker! Another stop in that first 100 miles would be good, as well as one between Barstow and Victorville! If one looks at I-15 in Utah, there tends to be a rest stop every 20-30 miles, aided by signs for the weary traveler to stop if they are indeed tired. That's what I call care for the traveler.
Let's see, we've passed Baker, with a poor choice of snack at a non-air-conditioned Dairy Queen, we've reached Barstow...ah, we are now on California route 58. This road makes my wife nervous because there are several 2-lane stretches for the first 40 miles, and it is indeed more desert to contend with for 70 miles. Once we pass Mojave, things change for the better drastically. 58 climbs gently into the southern foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, thereby blocking the sunlight in the evening. As we leave the Sierras 40 miles later, we are graced by a beautiful orange-tinted sun ready to set. Natalie thought it was the moon, but how can one argue with a 23-month old? We do not get this orange beauty in Vegas. I am guessing that the higher humidity levels in Bakersfield, coupled by the smoggy air quality, dim the harsh light. I do not know how many people find Bakersfield to be a place of beauty, and I certainly do not, but at that time of night, it was.
Unfortunately, our awe of natural wonders segued into a long nightmare. We had reserved a motel room at a national chain which I can't even rhyme an alias to but can give a subtle hint about (EoL), and expressed the need for a crib for Natalie. Well, we got there and there were none left! Apparently Bakersfield is such a happenin' place that one family decided to stay an extra night. Being the intelligent people with a backup plan that Vickie and I were, we decided to...see if Natalie would sleep in a bed. Unfortunately, our little girl was not going to be that accommodating (moreso than the motel, however), and refused to lay down. We ended up leaving EoL with them keeping our money at 4:00a.m!
In Fresno 105 miles later, a motel rhyming with Lambada was extremely accommodating with a very basic crib that Nattie could sleep in. We even stayed at a Lambada on the way home and got the same great treatment. My point here is that hotel cribs seem fairly cheap to invest in, and changing stations easy to install. If these national businesses want to present themselves as family-friendly, they need to include all family members, especially the ones wearing diapers. I hate it when people give you a sour or disapproving look when you change your child's diaper at the booth or table in the restaurant. I already have back problems from changing her in the car at times, so these disapproving old biddies need to write to Congress to make a law so that I don't disrupt their meal because their wandering eyes just can't help but look!
Ok, ok, the shower gel is back on the shelf. With a huge lack of sleep, we trudged the next day to Santa Rosa. After a few days of watching toddlers play and talking old times, we headed back. The return trip was fairly uneventful, and my wife even let me play my iPod for part of the way home. The Lambada Inn in Bakersfield was good, we got home the next day safe and sound, and life was good, and we got Nattie to the changing station, er table on time.
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