Stranded in Asatak ("don't be fuelish!")

With gas prices at an all-time, choke-inducing, budget-destroying high, now more than ever the average (ignorant) American is finding ways to cut back gas. ' "Don't be fuelish!" says the little fairy!' also known as a local gas-hog-attacking awareness campaign at my office. It's become a staple in my day-to-day vernacular, because, seriously, its about time people stepped up and joined the frugal and conservationist-minded...if it takes threats on quality-of-life, so be it.

I may not carpool to work as the campaign desires (listen. I can't, I "Direct!"), but I cut my gallivanting in town down to a sheer minimum, encourage week-night sleepovers whenever possible, and host cocktail hours at home rather than rounding everyone out to the bar. I'm doing my part.

But seriously...

Now watch and listen as I transform myself into a monumental hypocrite.

So...we went away for the weekend. My friends and I hopped in cars and sped down the Parks to our destination of choice...and ended up in a whole new location altogether. We planned to run a race and celebrate the midnight sun (both of which we did) and return to life as normal, life uninterrupted, life as we know it.

The problem with planning too much, as I've stated before (specifically seen in: " 'Reflecting a theme of withdrawal from the world', or 'don't let your boat become a house' ") is that the act of planning far surpasses the execution of the plan itself. You can't just plan the thing to death and expect it to go, well, "as planned". Life will be interrupted. Life becomes something we don't know all-too-well.

Exhibit A: Solstice road trip 2008. Sans actual race itself, the weekend was less than impressive. There were illnesses, unexpected departures, smelly apartment floors for sleeping, race day blues, and a weekend's-worth of bad weather. At the conclusion of the excursion we were glad to hop into gasoline-guzzling "fuelish" cars if but only for the sake of getting back to our own god-forsaken town....where we could see blue skies embracing the endless hours of sunlight in the distance.

En route however, despite the desperate measures to make up for a weekend of crumbs and gruel with games of grab-ass and camp songs in the car, as it turns out, we unexpectedly got stranded in Asatak. It's in the panhandle. And it's hell.