Finally! I can finally tattle on Ben because HE had an “incident.” I’m not too concerned though because the “incident” didn’t last more than an hour. An incident that lasts an hour or less is a very minor, possibly category 2 (at most), incident, in my experience. A category 1-2 incident is mostly an inconvenience and not really worthy of reporting, especially if it had happened to me. But this is Ben, so just a couple of sidebars before we get to the meat of the potato… “the incident.”
First we have to recap the beginning of the day because I don’t want the whole beautiful day together to be JUST be about the incident.
We traveled all the way from Tucson to Las Cruces through the blast furnace of southern Arizona, and southern New Mexico, along good old I-10.
The highway in Arizona absolutely sucked, and we spent the first 200 miles of our journey today either gripping the steering wheel tight, or in my case gripping that “oh sh*t” handle by the passenger door. All while trying to ride the far far far side of the tracked out slow lane, while also contending with potholes, road debris, and cars and trucks broken down on the side of the road, mostly with tire issues. Waze was very helpful today (not sponsored).
We hit the New Mexico state line, and the road was like butter for 20-30 miles before showing a bit more wear after that, but still far better than Arizona.
Ben’s tiny bladder (Hey!) gave us an incredible opportunity to stop for “awesome gifts.” I’m always about awesome gifts and shopping. Ben hates shopping for anything that isn’t on Facebook Marketplace, isn’t in Lowe’s or at an auto parts store, but his bladder was screaming so badly that he was willing to let me look for 45 seconds. Plus we got this epic shot of our rig next to a real, yet fake teepee.
Ugh! Disappointment. The gifts were not awesome, despite the sign’s insistence to the awesomeness.
They had a bunch of “Handwoven in Mexico” signs on stuff that had “Made in Nepal” tags on it. It’s been a while since I took a geography class, but I don’t recall Nepal being anywhere near Mexico. They also had about $100,000 worth of dry, dusty fireworks in the back of the store by the bathroom, which is terrifying. New Mexico is so dry, if my thighs had rubbed together and created a spark in that store, we would have all been dead.
Walking quickly backwards out of there, we hopped back on the road.
Only 172 miles to the big pistachio! And in the WRONG direction from our route, AGAIN. Sigh. I feel like we’ve been circling this huge nut for our entire journey. Such a tease. They sure cast a wide net with their advertising out here. 🙄
And also… the advertising out here couldn’t be more truthful…
Four hours later, we rolled into Las Cruces, which had super cool craggly mountains, which we didn’t expect.
Since we had spent the majority of the day hanging on for dear life, we were both pretty tired and therefore dinner out sounded pretty nice. Apparently, there was a great Mexican place close by and according to the campground brochure they gave us, upon check-in, it was rated Top Ten in the entire USA! Well, it would be criminal to leave town and the Southwest without trying a top 10 Mexican restaurant. What could possibly go wrong as we spend the next few days driving around the remote desert?
We followed the handy GPS to the restaurant. We ended up in a huge parking lot, which was surrounded by all different kinds of buildings that weren’t the restaurant we were trying to find. It took us nearly five minutes to realize that the place we were standing in was a giant parking lot, with every space designated ONLY for the restaurant we were trying to find. The restaurant, itself, was still a block away from the parking lot. Oh dear. Ben hates eating at loud, crowded restaurants, so judging by the size of the parking lot, we may end up at drive through fast food restaurant, instead.
It turned out to be a very popular place and it was HUGE, which made the parking lot make way more sense. Apparently, dinner time is a little later in the Southwest and we had zero issues getting a table for the senior citizen hour of 5 o’clock. Once we got inside and got our food, we realized why it was so popular. First, it had a great setting with a 150 year old building made of adobe and log and lots of red brick. It was very colorful inside and very well decorated.
And the food was excellent! We even took a picture. That kind of good.
Although, as we were finishing, it was quickly getting louder and louder, as the crowds gathered (the only bummer of the place). We enjoyed the meal and we listened intently to the loud conversation of the teenagers at the table behind us. It’s hard to listen to teenagers talk these days. Not all, but many of today’s teenagers sound … not smart, to say it politely. We’re officially “old” and we have the “old people card” to prove it, so we can say this without guilt now.
And then came “the incident.” As we reached the end of the meal, Ben paused. Stopped chewing. Took a drink of tea. Said nothing. I asked if he was ok.
He said, “I think I’m in trouble.” That’s usually MY code for I need to find a bathroom FAST, category 5 type bathroom troubles.
Based on the look Ben was giving me and the sweat on his brow, he seemed convinced that this was a category 5 disaster about to take place. However, he wasn’t moving like I would, if it was a category 5 debacle.
You can’t fool me when it comes to incidents involving the G.I. tract. I’ve dealt with these issues my whole life. It’s zero fun. I don’t wish G.I. issues on anyone, especially my husband. When you have category 5 type issues on a daily basis, you spend your days constantly scanning every new location for a viable potty. I do not recommend. It adds an unwanted degree of spice to life.
But at the moment, it’s Ben’s turn. I have complete empathy for what he’s going through, but I can’t drive this truck and trailer, so he needs to be better and pronto.
We both had scanned for the bathroom on the way in, and we knew it was way back at the entrance to the restaurant.
Ben signaled for the check and we settled up five agonizing minutes later, and beelined for the front of the restaurant. This is also how I knew it was more of a category 1 to 2 incident. A category 4-5 incident would have the waiter thinking Ben skipped out on the bill. The fact that Ben patiently waited for the bill and signed it himself, had me confident in his ability to avoid a total pants disaster.
We won’t get into excruciating detail here, but the crisis was averted.
With a false sense of hope, we decided to stop at Walmart, on the way back to the campground, to grab groceries for a few days. We made it four items into my list when Ben said “Nope. Can’t do it. See you in a bit.” and boogied off toward the front of the store.
This type of incident, especially on the heels of the incident less than 15 minutes ago, gave me flashbacks to a time where I got myself trapped in a Cancun Walmart for almost two hours back in 2009. We had decided to go off campus from our resort and do some shopping when suddenly, I was hit with CATEGORY 99 trouble. By the time I left that Cancun Walmart, I was dripping with sweat, felt like I had run a marathon and was humiliated because they had to send in a full-time floor mopper because the awful plumbing kept overflowing in my stall. It wasn’t like I could get up and move to another stall. Stall 3 was my new home until I could leave. That is my Mercado Walmarto story and we use that experience as the high water mark of horrible things I have endured in the GI department.
So, while concerned and empathetic towards Ben, deep inside, I was so glad that we BOTH now have a Mercado Walmarto story!
We made it back to the camper and all is well and stable, for now.
Barring any changes, we are planning to visit White Sands National Park in the morning, as early as we can get going.
I’ll be sure to bring extra “going in the wild gear” with me now that Ben has joined the club!
TaterTotTales 