Vegas Vacation 2: Wolf Creek Pass  − 25 March, 1995

I am both giddy with excitement and a nervous wreck.  A week or so ago, I asked my girlfriend if she'd like to take a road trip to Las Vegas with me for Spring Break.

She said yes.  Woo-hoo!

Up to this point, we've only been on one over-night trip together.  Sure, we live about 50 feet away from each other in the dorms, but that doesn't really count.  Being constantly surrounded by hundreds of other victims of the Institute of USAFA tends to dampen the romance.

Today we started off driving (in my big-ass Mercury Cougar) down through the San Luis Valley -- my old stomping grounds.  First stop: the Great Sand Dunes.  I was excited to show her where I used to spend many weekends growing up.

It was deserted.

That could be because it was fucking cold and there was a gale-force wind whipping the sand around.  We parked anyway and ran out for a quick photo-op.  Real quick.  Standing out there in that wind was like being sand-blasted.  I could feel the skin being scoured from my face, and I almost got knocked on my ass by a tumbleweed going mach 2.

Drove on through the valley and did a little drive-through of Monte Vista.  I pointed out where I lived, went to school, and hung out.  It really didn't seem to have changed much in all these years.  Well, Home Lake dried up, so there's some progress.

After the (not so) grand tour of Monte Vista, we continued on.  Our route was taking us over Wolf Creek pass and on to Durango.  At the bottom of the pass, the signs were out indicated that all cars must either have snow tires or chains beyond that point.

Seriously?  There wasn't any snow to be seen anywhere!  The road was completely bone dry.  I was not going to put on chains.  Surely some lazy git just forgot to take down the signs from the snowy season.  Besides, I didn't have any chains.

On we went, though I could tell my girlfriend was not entirely comfortable with my decision.

Further up the pass, it started snowing.  Lightly at first.

My girlfriend asked if we should turn back and find a place to buy chains.

"Nah, this is nothing.  Look, the road is still dry."

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

In another hundred yards, the light snow turned into a raging blizzard.  I could not see past the front of the car.  Shit, I couldn't even see the front of the car.

I kept creeping along, knowing that if we stopped, we were screwed.  My girlfriend offered to get out and walk in front of the car so we would at least know if we were even on the fucking road.

"Don't bother...  I wouldn't be able to see you."

A few minutes later, we saw the glowing red tail-lights of a car in front of us.  Sweet holy fuck, we're saved!

We followed the tail-lights, assuming the driver knew what they were doing.  For a while, we were going along quite well, if slow; then the tail-lights just disappeared.

Oh, shit.

Fortunately, only a minute or two later the snow quickly cleared up and we could once again see the road.  We had made it over the pass.  Strange, we didn't see another vehicle anywhere in sight.  We have no idea what happened to that other car.

My girlfriend is convinced it was an angel: "God looks out for fools and children."

Yeah, but I wouldn't call myself a fool -- after that, I would call myself a complete fucking dumbass.

A short while later, we rolled into Durango.  We decided to find a hotel and stay the night; don't think our nerves could handle any more driving today.

I pointed out a sign for a restaurant, "Hey, look, we can eat at the Village Inn Pancake House."

My girlfriend collapsed into a fit of hysterical laughter.  "It's just called 'Village Inn' genius."

"The sign says 'Village Inn Pancake House'."

I just didn't see the humor, but she wouldn't stop laughing.  [And as I write this over 12 years later, she still gives me shit about it.]

Finally got to a hotel and settled in for the night.  This still being a fairly young relationship, I felt naughty spending the night with my girlfriend.  In the same bed.  I don't know if that was due to being raised Catholic ("guilt is our specialty"), or my inherent awkwardness around the opposite sex.

Maybe it was the fact that her dad is an avid gun collector.