You must always clap over your head!... and other observations from the Best. Night. Ever.

Sarah and Steve went to see American Idol tonight. The following is taken from an emailed summary of their experience, written by Steve:

I apologize for the following exhaustive blow by blow, but there are just so many things to say about our experience with idol.

The gates for the show open at 3:30, but the ticket says fans start showing up two hours early, so we're there at 1:30, anticipating a huge line. And there is one! It stretches all the way around the block, and it's filled with people dressed to the nines. So we nearly run over three people rushing to park, fault ourselves for not spending more on our wardrobes, and speed walk our way to the back of the line. Except . . . it's for Dancing with the Stars. Oops. But there's another line, and that one's nearly as long. Wait. That one's for the dress rehearsal. We're directed to the line for the live show. There are twenty people there. Now we're like that guy who shows up to the premiere of Star Wars at midnight the night before, dressed like Darth Vader. But we don't care. We're definitely getting into the show.

I walk off to use the bathroom, and by the time I get back, Sarah's best friends with about seven girls from a local college. Nice work. We'll need someone to talk to so we can get through the three hours to showtime. I spend the next hour avoiding the cameras from Idol Tonight on the TV Guide channel. Believing that a federal judge might spot you while catching her weekly dose of Idol Tonight has to be the definition of paranoia.

Fast forward to 3:30, when we're led into the holding pen where you're sorted into categories by age, gender and hipness before being herded into the mosh pit. We're seated next to the teenagers and college kids and not the pot-bellied forty year-olds. High five! A guy with a fake mohawk hands out candy and then starts to tell us the rules. No gum. No bags. And when you clap, you have to clap over your head. That way the camera can see how excited you are. He makes us practice. How can you say no to a guy who just gave you candy? We clap over our heads like seals.

They let us into the studio and we file into the mosh pit, where we're placed in lines according to age, gender, height, and hipness. We're still standing next to college kids. Awesome. We look around the studio, which is smaller than you would think. I know they always say that about tv studios, but we're still kind of surprised. We spend some time looking for celebrities, and the best we can do is that guy with the creepy really high voice who got kicked off before the final 12. We're told to move up, and then to move back. And then to move up again. Production assistants like to take out their frustrations on the only people with less power than them. We oblige their requests like seals.

Then Carly shows up. I find this out when Sarah starts tugging on my arm and yelling, "It's Carly! It's Carly! It's Carly!" She says this the same say she shouted "Wow!" the first time we saw humpback whales. I love Sarah. Carly is sitting about five feet away from us. We're about three feet away from where Simon will sit. This was worth risking being caught on Idol Tonight.

A white guy who's clearly from a nice neighborhood in Connecticut but thinks he's KRS-One comes out to pump up the crowd. He makes a guy come on stage and dance suggestively. He makes two women come up on stage and dance suggestively. They all get itunes gift cards. And they get to keep some of their dignity. Some of it. He tells us again what to do. Boo when a judge says something mean. Cheer the rest of the time. Make sure to clap over your head. And sway during the slow songs. The acoustics in the place are godawful. We understand about every fifth word.

With five minutes to air time, the judges come out and here are my initial impressions. Simon is buffer than I would have thought and about as uncomfortable with adoring fans as you'd expect. He ends up winking at Sarah later. Some woman standing near her thinks he winked at her and says so. But Simons winks at Sarah again later. That woman is nowhere nearby. Take that, woman who thought Simon winked at her. Randy looks like he does on TV and loves to work the crowd. Paul shows up late and has her hair fluffed moments before Seacrest goes live. The head production woman tells us not to sway during slow songs. We all nod in unison. We will not sway.

The show itself is pretty odd, because the sound quality is terrible. You can tell the contestants are singing, but not really how good they are. This makes it seem really scripted when the judges give a detailed opinion about their songs. Especially when it follows the vaguely derogatory/mindlessly optimistic/scathingly honest pattern Randy, Paula, and Simon usually follow. Which I think the judges were doing sometimes. You can't really hear the judges either. If something sounds mean, we boo. Otherwise, we clap over our heads.

David Cook sings and sounds rockin, but we're not in much of a position to judge. S(a)yesha is buffer than you'd expect and pretty much kicks ass. Sarah thinks I liked it because she was writhing like a pole dancer. I can't say she's wrong. Castro is terrible in a way we can understand even on bad speakers. We let our arms rest up from clapping over our heads. When the judges sound mean, we don't even bother to boo. Archuleta enters the stage and people start clapping like he's Elvis handing out free doughnuts. He sings something about beautiful ladies and forty teenage girls collapse like they've been faith healed. There is no doubt he will be the next American Idol.

I spend a good portion of the second set watching Carly. When Syesha sings, Carly stands up and tries to make eye contact with her. She mouths encouraging words to Syesha. Syesha notices none of this. Later on, I eavesdrop on her talking to high pitched voice former contestant about where they're going to party later. I miss the part where they say where they're going. Damn.

Cook is rockin again. I think. The judges split regarding Syesha's second song. I can't tell who is right, but she cries, so that's touching. Some people start to sway their arms and Sarah tells them they're not supposed to. I still love Sarah. Castro forgets the words to a Bob Dylan song, but no one listens to Dylan for the words, right? Archuleta actually becomes Elvis. Teenage girls pass out in piles around the studio.

And then it ends. We walk out, Sarah claiming she'll never remove the American Idol entry sticker from her pants. We go home and watch the show. You can see Sarah's face four or five times. One time you can see the side of my head. It's right next to the college kids. High five.

Road Trip: Final Day

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It felt like this road trip would never end. There were long stretches in the Midwest where we wished it would, just as there were parts in the Southwest where we hoped it would go on forever. But in the end, the trip expired just where it was supposed to: Our destination.

We woke up Friday morning, wanting to wring every last second of our hotel stay in Flagstaff that we could. Not necessarily because we weren't looking forward to California, mind you. Rather, we were in need of some R&R and paid good money; we didn't want to check out a second earlier than noon. Besides, Weird Science was on the USA Network and we wanted to watch it.

So that's what we did. Thank you, Flagstaff Radisson.

I wish I could say packing up the ol' Versa was a more poignant experience, but we were just about ready to get to LA. We drove through Western Arizona listening to the final installments of the audio book on Australia, marveling at the parallels between that distant land and the country we were driving across at that moment.

"I was surrounded by an endless nullity," Bill Bryson said at one point, describing his thousands-plus miles road trip across Australia. He went on to talk about running out of gas in a place where help had no chance of reaching him, just as our own fuel light flickered on. Watching mile after mile of desert expanse pass by our windows, with nothing but a harsh landscape that is terribly unkind to life beyond that, we couldn't help but imagine Bryson hiding in the back somewhere, narrating our own journey. It was eerie, to say the least.

The difference, of course, is that Bryson was talking about a distant, unknown place where danger lurks behind every cactus. Here, in Arizona, the biggest danger is not having cell phone service. Which, of course, makes driving quite the chore. Here was one of the more exciting moments in our drive.


The monotony was broken up, for a moment at least, when we crossed the California state line. There was a checkpoint, and we panicked. I cannot tell you why we panicked. We had done nothing wrong. We were not smuggling in illegal immigrants, we didn't have drugs on us and we let that hitchhiker who was covered in blood out miles ago. But for some reason, we felt like we had something to hide. Finally, it was our turn and the inspector approached our car. We rolled down our window and held our breaths.


"Where you comin' from?" the inspector asked. He had aviators and a bushy mustache, and must have come directly from his night job at central casting.

"Philadelphia," Rhianwen answered. I could tell she was thinking up stories to defend herself against any number of crimes she could imagine she might be guilty of. I, meanwhile, was ready to burst from the passenger seat running at any moment. I don't know why, other than to say cops make me nervous.

"Do you have any apples, oranges, pears, peaches, papayas, parrots or ferrets?" the inspector asked in a sing-songy cadence that caught us both off guard.

"No," Rhianwen said with a slight grin.

"OK," he said, waving us through. "Enjoy California."

We breathed again. Thank God he didn't ask about chinchillas.

Entering California was a bit of a bright spot. The scenery was definitely an improvement.


Eventually, we started seeing signs for our destination. As "Los Angeles 350" gave way to "Los Angeles 300," which of course eventually gave way to "Los Angeles 50," the homesickness sprang up in a way we hadn't experienced since Road Trip Day 1. The harsh realities that we had somehow tricked ourselves into ignoring finally showed themselves: We weren't living in Philadelphia anymore. As soon as we parked the car that night, we were officially living in California, even if we didn't have our own apartment yet.

"Maybe we should go back," I told Rhianwen weakly. "It's only 3,000 miles back the other way." She entertained the thought seriously (and perhaps still is), but we concluded that we came out here for a reason and should probably give it a chance.

We pulled into Pasadena around 7:30pm, tired and scared and just a little bit hungry.


Turning into Rhianwen's sister Sarah's apartment building, we took a second to look back at our trip and be grateful: We sped across the whole country, never got a ticket and barely even saw a single police man. We drove through dark nights in areas where animals run wild, and we didn't hit one. We had seven stops to make, and somehow had free, comfy places to stay in all but two. We drove more than 3,000 miles spanning busy highways with crazy drivers, and never even came close to an accident or even an incident. We never got lost, defying the incredible odds and potential to do so. We saw more beauty (like the Grand Canyon), than boring (like Iowa). Perhaps most amazingly, we spent more than 52 hours in a small, cramped and crowded Nissan Versa together, and Rhianwen and I came out loving one another more than ever.

Truly, this was a blessed trip.

And speaking of blessings, when we parked our car and entered the apartment building we would call home for the next few weeks (or at least the floor of one of its units), who was there waiting to greet us? Sarah, of course. She came bounding up to us the moment we got off the elevator, threw her arms around Rhianwen and acted as the best one-woman-welcoming-party of all time.

From there, we sorted out our luggage and ate dinner, then caught up on DVR'd episodes of the Office and 30 Rock that we missed while driving (thank God we have the same taste in TV). Then they tried on ponchos.


Eventually we fell asleep on the world's most comfortable air bed, and that was officially the end of our Road Trip, I suppose.

Sarah's husband Steve, it should be noted, was away this weekend and will probably come home tomorrow night shocked to see how much our luggage, clothing, electronics and various other belongings have taken over his living room. If you're reading this Steve, well... I brought a Wii with me, so that should make up for it.

Road Trip Final Day Stats
Leaving From: Flagstaff, AZ
Going To: Los Angeles, CA
Google Maps Distance: 457 miles, 6 hours and 34 minutes
Actual Distance: Blurg
Total Distance Driven So Far: Double blurg
States Visited: Arizona, California
Lessons Learned: Arizona and Australia: Separated at creation of the Earth?; Road trips are long, but ultimately teach you things about yourself and life in general, and thus are worth it; I totally forget lessons really fast.

Road Trip: Day 8

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Rhi and I are exhausted. We just finished our drive tonight and didn't feel like typing up a long, wordy description of yesterday's events. So, here's a slideshow followed by a few choice comments. Please enjoy!



- We started the day in Santa Fe, NM and went from there to France's house in Albuquerque. It is such a unique, one-of-a-kind house. I asked her about how she designed it, and she said she just made it up as she went along without any blueprints or designs. We love France.

- Tuba City: Not as fun as it sounds.

- I (Benner) had never been to the Grand Canyon. I didn't know what to expect, other than it being big and all. It is one of the most amazing things I've ever seen on earth. I am planning to go back.

- That Flintstones campground thing at the end of the slideshow is one of the most horribly kitschy, stupid and awesome things I've seen. Not quite as good as the Grand Canyon, but it too may be worth a trip to Arizona by itself.

- Rhi and I saw 4 moose on our way from the Grand Canyon to Flagstaff, three females and one full-on giant male with huge antlers. Two were just hanging out on the side of the road, the other two were actually in the road. It was cool.

- It gets so dark at night in Arizona, it's almost scary. It is an enveloping, almost breathable darkness. Headlights help, but they too often felt like they would be overpowered by the inky blackness.

- Never go to the Rodeway Inn in Flagstaff. Never.

- We'll post the final installment of Road Trip tomorrow, when/if we have time. It was a long but nice day from Flagstaff to LA, and we're eager to talk about it along with other thoughts. Just too tired to type it up for now. Until then, friends.

Road Trip: Day 7

You gotta admire a town where, if you want to build something, they'll only let you do it as long as it complies with a style of architecture that dates back 4,000 years.


That's Santa Fe for you. Adobe everywhere you look, and I gotta say it makes for a very interesting city.


On Wednesday, Rhi and I walked around the Plaza of Santa Fe with France. It's basically just a bunch of touristy shops and countless art galleries and restaurants that charge 25 times more than they should for things, but the scenery is fantastic and there's a couple of neat places. The coolest part of the plaza is where Native Americans (Pueblo, Navajo and perhaps some Hopi) lay out blankets on the ground to showcase their own jewelry and other wares. We didn't take a picture because it can be perceived as disrespectful. You'll just have to go and see for yourself.






That's me standing in front of a donkey statue, located quite fittingly in a street called "Burro Alley."

So after that, France left Rhi and I to go visit El Castillo, the retirement home that Rhi's Nain (Welsh for grandmother) lived in for many years. Nain--who was a remarkably intelligent, loving and accomplished woman--passed away last year at the age of 92. (I cannot begin to describe how great she was in a simple blog post. I would need to write a book to even approach that task.) This was Rhi's first time back to El Castillo since Nain passed away, and it was a bit of an emotional time.

We also went to visit Mary and Chase, who live in El Castillo and knew Nain since she was a small child. They were very good friends their entire life, and moved from Colorado to El Castillo many years ago at the behest of Nain and Taid (Taid is Welsh for grandfather, and he passed away a little over a decade ago). It's really incredible to see 4 people who have been such good friends for almost 90 years.

Anyways, Chase is one hilarious guy, even at 94-years-old. He regaled us with long stories about his family, the army and, at one point, reiterated the entire plot of National Lampoon's Summer Vacation (his house in Colorado was used as a location). On the wall of their apartment hung a couple of paintings, one by Mary's mentor and another by Mary herself. I was quite impressed with Mary's skills, and thought she might have even surpassed her teacher.


We then went with France to the grocery store to gather ingredients for a special dinner we were cooking for the New Mexico posse (minus Rhi's uncle Tom-- Tio Thomas and his honey, Irene. Tom was out of the country.) Back at Barbara's, Rhi and I prepared a big dinner for everyone with a recipe taken out of a cookbook that Rachel and Jenn gave her before we left Philly. We made Caramelized Onion Chicken, which doesn't taste anything like it sounds (there's raspberries, soy sauce and ginger involved in the equation). It was quite delicious, if I do say so myself.

Perhaps it was the company that enhanced the meal, though, as it was great fun with wonderful conversation.


That's Charlie, Wyn's boyfriend. He leads quite the interesting life, or about as interesting as it gets as a blues guitar playin', harmonica blowin', traveling pharmacist who serves needy reservations all across the state. Which is to say, very interesting.


So that was our night. We ate good food, drank good wine, had good conversation and even popped some good champagne over some good dessert. Everyone cleaned up together before saying goodnight, and we climbed back into the comfortable bed for one last night before we got back on the road for the worst day of driving yet.

Sigh.

Road Trip: Day 6

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All apologies for the lateness in posting the past few days. We are still alive. We just haven't had access to a wireless Internet connection over the past few days in New Mexico.

And boy have you guys missed out. New Mexico is a gem of a place. We left Colorado Tuesday morning, happy to have only a 6-hour drive to Santa Fe ahead of us. For the uninitiated among you, Rhianwen was born and raised in New Mexico until she was 3-years-old. Though she and her family moved to Philadelphia, they left behind the Lewis side of the family and close friends. It still feels like home to her since she visits often, and I have to admit that it's beginning to feel like home to me. There's just something about the place.






The sky is bluer, the air crisper. Things are just better in this state. Anyways, we got into Santa Fe around 5pm and met immediately with Rhi's Aunt Wyn (known as Tia Wynnie), who took us out for a delicious dinner.


Wyn is a fabulous person, understanding, sweet and funny and entirely comfortable in her own skin in every situation it seems. It's always fun to talk with her, and the conversations are usually wide-ranging and always interesting. Even more so when they're had over some great Southwestern food, which for me is about 33 percent of New Mexico's allure I must say.

After dinner, we said goodbye to Tia Wynnie for the night and headed over to Barbara's house. Barbara is one of Rhianwen's mom's dear friends. She also a wonderfully laid back hostess and has a beautiful house. Rhi's godmother France drove up from Albuquerque to meet us there and took off of work so she could be with us our entire visit. We were thankful for the quality time. It was one giant slumber party.


These are two of the most dear people in our lives, and they've known Rhi since she was a little girl. France was even there when she was born, and took her on a month long tour of her native country France 13-years later. We spent a couple of hours talking about our lives with France and Barbara, and turned in early to one of the most comfy beds we've ever slept in. Perhaps it was only so comfy in comparison to the air mattress we slept on the two prior nights (no offense, Alec), but it was magical nonetheless.

Road Trip Day 4 Stats
Leaving From: Denver, CO
Going To: Santa Fe, NM
Google Maps Distance: 395 miles, 5 hours and 45 minutes
Actual Distance: I totally stopped keeping track of this
Total Distance Driven So Far: I'll let you know at the end of the trip
States Visited: Colorado, New Mexico
Lessons Learned: New Mexico is the Land of Enchantment; Mexican food is 100 times better in the Southwest; If you're looking for some rest, you can't do better than a nice, old-fashioned bed.