The Odyssey is dead! Long live the Odyssey! Two months have passed, now, since that fateful day we parked Otto in front of our basement apartment in Seattle, ending the Odyssey at the doors to our subterranean hovel. Two months of reflection and consideration; two months of perspective gained and illusions lost. Two months, not coincidentally, without an epilogue. "How," you might ask, "can it possibly take two months to write a freaking epilogue when you were pumping out three pages of gibberish a day for almost three months? What's wrong with you, gyros-breath?"
Ignoring, for the moment, your oddly combative tone, let me just say that an epilogue is a scary thing to write. There's a daunting finality to the whole business; putting a period to rest with a couple well-chosen lines, some pithy anecdotes, perhaps even the odd bit of insight. These are not easy things to come by, particularly for one whose literary stock in trade tends toward bathroom humor, bad puns, and obscure pop culture references. Nonetheless, we bring to the battle what arms we can muster -- should they prove unequal to the task, then so be it. At least we shall not dwell with those shadowy souls who know neither victory nor defeat...
So, let's start. Let's take both hands, make a circle, and hug everybody tight. Let's put up a big-top tent and invite the whole town to the circus. Let's strike up the band, play a merry march, and wipe the cotton candy from our hands -- the Epilogue is here! The Epilogue is here!
Well, if you've read this feature at all, you already know what an Office Odyssey is -- it's Extreme Telecommuting. It's the rat race, except without the other rats. It's laptop computers, AC inverters, and a big cellular phone bill. It's cans of tuna, foot powder in an aerosol can, and 15 compact discs that you will never, ever, ever want to hear again. It's sleep apnea up close and network access from afar, Ruffles on your left and Doritos on your right. It's catching three trout in the morning on a beadhead sparkle pupa nymph, writing a passage on how to use an Asynchronous Transfer Mode Traffic Generator in the afternoon, and spending the evening with friends in San Francisco.
Okay, so it was only that last one once -- what, you're gonna start checking my facts now all of a sudden?
As for the why, perhaps a more appropriate question is why not? Communications technology has evolved to the point where it is no longer necessary for certain types of employees (say, technical writers) to be in an office to remain productive members of the corporate workforce. Telecommuting works: I'd been doing it fulltime for two years, working for my company in Menlo Park, California from my home in Tacoma, Washington, when we struck upon the idea of the Odyssey -- working as a fulltime employee from the road. We wanted to see if it could be done. Could the available technology sustain my job from the road? Would our relationship survive the close quarters? Could I maintain the focus necessary to get my job done under strange circumstances? Would we be able to get Red Sox tickets when the Mariners would be in Fenway?
You pretty much know the answers to these questions if you've been a regular reader -- yes, we could work successfully from the road, though at times it wasn't easy (see Working in Otto for details). Yes, the wedding is still on, though we did have our share of minor road-weary tiffs. And, no, we didn't get tickets for the Mariners, so we settled for the A's. Such are the hardships of an Office Odyssey. Let the Extreme Telecommuter beware!
If an Odyssey can be judged simply on the pleasure it produced, then I would call our particular foray into Extreme Telecommuting an unalloyed success. Start to finish, it was truly a blast. Sure, there were some bad times (Jackson Hole comes to mind), but those are to be expected. Traveling tends to heighten sensations, so that your good times are much better (square dancing to country music in a bar in New York City at four in the morning), your bad times are much worse (camping out next to the Swiss Family Manson in 100% humidity in the Florida panhandle), and there just isn't much time spent in-between. You're pretty much either really happy or really miserable. And the good thing about the really miserable times is that they inevitably produce the best stories later on (like how your refrigerator broke down in Yellowstone, stranding you in the parking lot of the IMAX theater for an entire day).
From the Extreme Telecommuting perspective, the Odyssey was a qualified success. Yes, I was able to do my work and remain gainfully employed after the end of the summer. However, there were some glitches along the way. Once the initial thrill of hijacking dial-up network access from hotels, banks, and Kinko's began to fade, we were left with the stark necessity of a dial-up connection at least once a day and preferably twice. This proved difficult and ended up occupying a considerable portion of our time. A satellite phone would've solved this problem in a trice, as would the Teledesic project currently under proposal by Bill Gates, Craig McCaw, and Boeing (the Teledesic project proposes building a constellation of low-Earth-orbit satellites to provide fiber-fast access to telecommunications services, including the Internet). Once these options become readily available (and affordable), Extreme Telecommuting will be a snap.
Lest you get the wrong idea, though, let us assure you that our ceaseless quest for dial-up connections did not diminish the Odyssey's Total Pleasure Quotient (TPQ) one iota. We spent our summer travelling the United States and Canada, seeing national parks, famous museums, and the lay of the land. We spent priceless times with far-flung family, kept long-distance friendships strong, and made new acquaintances everywhere we went. We did all that while working a regular job and without going into debt -- in fact, our monthly budget on the road was almost exactly the same as it was at home. With all that in mind, the Odyssey was definitely a success -- a big, fat, honking success.
| Music has its Grammies, and theater its Tonys; television (except for Susan Lucci) has its Emmys and film its Oscars. Here at the Odyssey, though, we have the Bobs. Named in honor of our favorite RV mechanic, our awards pay homage to a man who can spot a dust bugger at fifty paces. A man who can stand up to the Evil Chipmunks of the world. Thanks, Bob. Our beer would have been warm without you. |  |
What follows, then, is an official compendium of the best and worst of the Odyssey. What we liked the most and what we abhorred. Our favorite campsite, meal, place, flavor of tabasco -- it's all here, as chosen by us, the Extreme Telecommuters. For the folks who followed us all summer, we hope that the following sparks a little smile of recognition for you. For newcomers, perhaps the Bobs will make you want to go back and read some installments from the blazing saga that was the Odyssey. So, without further ado.....the Bobs!
Sid -- Well, my favorite national park is Olympic National Park in the northwest corner of Washington State. However, since we technically didn't visit that park during the Odyssey, Kristanne has insisted that I choose another. So, I'm giving my Bob to Grand Teton National Park.
Kristanne -- Kristanne loves hoodoos, so she bestows her Bob on Bryce Canyon National Park.
Kristanne -- Flagstaff, Arizona. Folks in this town like to think of the speed limit as some theoretical sci-fi limit that their earthbound cars could never possibly approach. "25 miles an hour? What, you think ole Bessie here is capable of time travel, or something?" If cars in this town ever do collide, they probably just bounce off one another.
Sid -- Chicago, Illinois. If I drove in this town for more than a single day I would end up a drooling psychotic, lining up for weapons permits so that I could take out a few of the tollbooths that clutter the public roadways, clamoring for their 45 cents at half-mile intervals. That Chicago drivers don't end up this way is testimony to their phenomenal mental strength.
Sid & Kristanne -- El Paso, Texas. No question on who gets the Bob here -- the good people of El Paso outdid themselves in their complete rejection of anything resembling a traffic law or convention. Crosswalks? Who needs 'em? Yellow lines on the roadway? Purty, ain't they? One way streets? Those are for chumps. That four-lane interstate there? Shoot, if there ain't a crosswalk, just run right across it. They'll probably stop for you.
Sid & Kristanne -- Well, the Odyssey is all about romance -- it's what we do. Still, the afternoon we spent rowing around a lake in NYC's Central Park stands out as a particularly mushy moment. I would've enjoyed it even more had I not been sweating so dang much -- next time Kristanne is helping out with the rowing.
Sid & Kristanne -- The Bob goes to the infamous Floating Jacek Head.
This is a tough one. We each had a number of favorites, so we're going to hand out multiple Bobs. Hey, if you don't like it, do your own dang awards.
Kristanne -- Kristanne's runner-up Bob goes to the Lost Coast of California. Her full-fledged, no-fooling, king-hell Bob, though, goes to Rock Creek in Montana.
Sid -- The Green Head flies bit and the mosquitoes sucked but the weather was warm and the surf was unbelievable -- my runner up Bob goes to North Carolina's Outer Banks. The Big Boy Bob, though, goes to the Black Mining Hills of South Dakota. Beautiful site, great fishing, and good weather. All that and mercifully Harley-free in the midst of the Sturgis rally. Hallelujah!
Again, with so many to choose from, we each had to name two. We're reluctant experts on the subject of crappy campgrounds.
Kristanne -- Runner-up goes to North Carolina's Outer Banks. Yep, the same ones Sid picked as one of his favorites. The Bob goes to the KOA in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Nothing like being woken up by a little girl on the swingset bouncing off the side of your van. Ah, nature!
Sid -- Runner-up goes to the KOA in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. The coveted Bad Bob goes to Grayton Beach, Florida, humid home to loud children, palmetto bugs, and sleepless nights. (And, if you happen to click on the link and see that beautiful oceanside picture -- that's not the campsite. Oh, no. That's the bizarro world evil twin of the campsite we stayed in.)
Well, we wish the web had advanced to the point where we could bring you a taste of what we're talking about here, but for your own safety, it's probably better that we can't.
Kristanne -- The malodorous Bob goes to Sid's Tuna, Leftover Corn, and Tabasco Casserole (patents pending).
Sid -- The olfactory offense Bob goes to Sid's sandals from roundabout the second week of July on. Hooooweeee!! There's some things foot powder just can't cure.
Sid & Kristanne -- No contest here -- it has to be New York City for both of us. What a fantastic place!
Kristanne -- Kristanne couldn't take the suburban sprawl of Calgary and its rolling hills of cookie-cutter houses with ambitious names like, "Spring Vista Ridge," and "Chelsea Manor Downs."
Sid -- Listen, I like the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar as much as the next person, but I just couldn't take Jackson Hole, Wyoming's high prices and relentless sea of high-end consumer crap. They do have a nice new post office, though. It's really big and spacious. Well-lit, too.
Kristanne -- I'm not sure we can really name any single day for Kristanne. Her borderline wacko driving behavior on the Odyssey is well-documented throughout. Choose your own!
Sid -- That would have to be the drive from the Outer Banks to Easton, Maryland, which Sid passed by singing the "Flaming Piece of Poop in the Sky," song, alternating it with seizure-like fits of laughter. Frightening, but nothing a few more Diet Cokes wouldn't cure.
Sid & Kristanne -- Well, when you start your day in eastern Pennsylvania and end it on the outskirts of Chicago, you've got a pretty long day. Throw in visits to the Amish country, the Gettysburg National Monument, and Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece, Fallingwater, and you've got yourself a goldarn marathon. Yup, it's July 31st, 1997. Relive the magic!
Kristanne -- Boston, Massachusetts! They rock! I love to drive there! Everybody goes fast, takes chances, uses their car as a weapon. Sucks to be a pedestrian, but man, if you're driving, it's the bee's knees.
Sid -- Since I'm trying to be a part of Kristanne's cure, I don't want to say anything that could be construed as glorifying her sickness -- unsafe, wild-ass driving. It's just wrong. It's wrong, and you need help, honey.
Sid & Kristanne -- The Rolling Driverside Switch. Definitely not for beginners, this move requires coordination, concentration, and a healthy dose of audacity. Cruise control helps, as does a straight road. If you've got all that, this Extreme Technique can really pay dividends when you've got a long road in front of you and you don't want to waste time pulling over to switch drivers. We still must caution, though -- attempt this maneuver at your own peril. We can't be responsible if your hubris leads you to hamartia.
Kristanne -- Kristanne's Bob goes to the World's Most Hypothetical Historical Site -- Fort Raleigh. For a mound of dirt bulldozed up a couple years ago, though, I thought it was pretty cool.
Sid -- My Bob for most disappointing sight would have go to the trickle that is Georgia's Amicalola Falls. Trust me -- it's somewhere just shy of divinely inspirational.
Kristanne -- Defying traditional definitions of "meal," Kristanne bestows her Bob on the cafe au lait and beignets at New Orleans' Cafe du Monde.
Sid -- Sid's Bob goes to the truly wonderful lobster of Maine. Two pounders for all my friends!
Kristanne -- Kristanne gives her Bob to "that day we ate nothing but Salsa and Cream Cheese flavor Baked Tostitos and drank nothing but Diet Cokes." Though, I'm somewhat amazed that she is able to pinpoint only a single day where that was the case, I must respect her vote. Bring on the Bob!
Sid -- For our first two-Bob winner, this one goes to Sid's Tuna, Leftover Corn, and Tabasco Casserole (patents still pending).
Kristanne -- Kristanne's Bob goes to a pod of dolphins who went bounding through the gentle waves of Florida's Gulf Coast as we ran pell-mell down the beach following them.
Sid -- Sid's Bob goes to the wily old brook trout he fooled in a tiny spring creek in the Black Hills. Here's hoping he's still swimming around up there, fat and happy.
Kristanne -- Ah, the strangely beautiful aspen of the Manti-Lasal National Forest in the mountains above Moab get Kristanne's Scenic Bob.
Sid -- Sid's Scenic Bob goes to the amazing fjord-like lakes of British Columbia, abutted by the towns of Nelson and Revelstoke, among others.
Kristanne -- Sitting on the floor of the van, staring at a picture of our cats back home in Tacoma for hours on end, finally crying out, "I miss the cats!"
Sid -- Rigging up my fly gear and fishing a rain-swollen, flood-stage Madison River just to be able to say, "I've fished the Madison." Either that, or fishing the drainage ditch the day before since that was the only thing in Montana not threatening to overflow its banks. Sad, sad, sad.
Kristanne -- Kristanne's Bob for All Time Extreme Moment of the Odyssey goes to Mighty Mike Demore and the Holiday Inn in El Paso. Using nothing but her sweet talk, Kristanne managed to get us dial-up access to the net from the Holiday Inn's switchboard. Bravo!
Sid -- I have to give the Bob to the good folks at the Holiday Inn in West Yellowstone, Montana, who didn't kick us out from behind their lobby desk when they discovered us connected to the internet.
Well, this is the most dangerous Bob we have to award, so we've saved it for last -- the most annoying habit exhibited by your partner during the Odyssey. The thing that drove you the most crazy. Hold on to your hats...
Kristanne -- Kristanne awards her Bob to my habit of turning everything I see into a song, which I then sing incessantly for the next several hours. Apparently, she did not care for the "Billboards of El Paso, Don't Pass Me By" waltz, nor did she particularly appreciate my stirring rendition of, "Hey, Mr. Roadkill, Whatchya Doin' Just Lying There?" Some people just have no taste for the arts.
Sid -- I would have to give my Bob in this category to Kristanne's allergies. Apparently, there is something in Kristanne's constitution that renders her allergic to the entire continent of North America, save the greater Bay Area. Honestly, she sneezed and sniffled for the first three weeks of the trip until we hit San Francisco. We were cool, then, until we hit the outskirts of Fresno and then, boom, red eyes, itchy nose, snuffles everywhere -- it's all back with a vengeance. So, I guess I know where we're moving once Kristanne gets her Ph.D....
And that's the Bobs -- the best and the worst of the Odyssey. Got any votes of your own? Send 'em in -- if we get enough, maybe we'll publish 'em.
Since parking Otto in Seattle, the last two months have seen us gradually acclimatize to life off the road, outside the van, back inside the normal parameters within which we all typically operate -- house, job, traffic, tv, movies, microwave ovens. Predictably, this has positives and negatives. While it is nice to live someplace that isn't always rolling, I do miss the everyday drama that informed our existence on the road. Every day on the Odyssey brought something new -- when you woke up, you didn't really know where you were going or what would happen, but you knew it would be different. You knew you might see some things you hadn't seen before. Do some things you hadn't done before. Live your life just a little more fully than you might have otherwise. It's this kind of atmosphere that removes the "in-between" times from your life. The times when things aren't good and they aren't bad -- they just are. Those are the times I have trouble dealing with. Those are the times that just suck the life right out of you.
Happily, though, I think those times are eminently avoidable, and not just by travel either. It's a question of finding something to give those in-between times meaning, to move them out of the mundane and into the divine. And I say divine advisedly, for I think there is a real spiritual element to this search for meaning, to finding what fills up the spaces in your life. So, with the benefit of two months of perspective, I start to think about what really made the Odyssey such a success for me, what it was that took away those in-between times, and I see that it really wasn't the traveling, the fishing, or the telecommuting that did it, though all those things were important. No. The best part of the Odyssey, the one element that really made it work, was the time I was able to spend together with my best friend, Kristanne. That's where I find my meaning. That's what fills up my in-between times. And that's why, in a sense, the Odyssey will never really end.
"Yeah," you say, "but who let Deepak Chopra in here? All that namby-pamby, panty-waisted nonsense about self-realization, brotherly love, and that feeling you get when you look to the west is fine for the pudding-headed cheese-squeezers in their ivory towers, but I want the data, buddy-boy. The facts, man! I crave info! The straight skinny! The scoop on the poop!"
For you, sir, we provide the following list of random statistics, addlepated minutiae, and mind-numbing detail. We also provide you with an admonition to lay off the kool-aid before bedtime, lest you find yourself actually understanding a Dennis Miller monologue. Watch it.
Total Miles for 6/1 -- 8/31 = 22,642 (or so)
Total States for 6/1 -- 8/31 = 36
Total Provinces for 6/1 -- 8/31 = 2
Total Evil Chipmunks for 6/1 -- 8/31 = 1
Total Refrigerator Failures for 6/1 -- 8/31 = 1
Total Mechanical Problems with VW for 6/1 -- 8/31 = 0
Total Tabasco Consumption for 6/1 -- 8/31 = Two 2 ounce jars of the red. Two five ounce jars of the green.