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November 28 2011

So, the day before we left for Phoenix, I realized something:L.A. is 6 hours away, not 4.A 12 hour round trip makes for a much longer day trip and no fun.We didn’t go.Sorry, DiploDouglas, I talked it up just to let you down.  Instead, my parents took us on a day trip to Jerome. My mom called it “an artist colony hidden in mountain grotto” and we took the 3 hour scenic route. Tuned out the “scene” was squiggly mountain roads that I couldn’t take my eyes off as my dad was driving. I am a nervous backseat driver as it turns out, control issues and fears of plunging death or mountainside stranding.My mom forgot to mention that Jerome boasts being both mile high and the “America’s most vertical city.”  It turned out to be an old copper mining town. The seedy red light district (block) had been converted into kitchy tourist shops, you know, the kind that sell jade jewelry, clay pots, and Georgia O’Keeffe wannabes. And lots of skull-shaped things, like it was the town symbol or something. But!They have their very own post office and there was a place to throw pennies into toilets. To be honest that was probably the redeeming moment of the trip.Apparently it’s the site of a burned down hotel. For whatever reason there are toilets and outhouses at the bottom to aim for.I could’ve done it for hours.(Picture courtesy of Journeys and Wanderings) When it came time for lunch, we considered going to the Mile High Grill, but then we saw the sign advertising the new menu and I couldn’t stomach it. Instead we went to the Haunted Hamburger where the ghosts apparently have a fetish for stealing (and then conspicuously returning) hammers.It seems Jerome has a thing for ghosts, too.I feel like the owners should have worked more with the play between hammer and hamburger for the name, or maybe they should also have a hardware store that may or may not have hammers in stock depending on the mood of the ghosts. Fortunately we took the highway home.Oh, Jerome. I kept singing the Lykke Li song in my head. 

So, the day before we left for Phoenix, I realized something:
L.A. is 6 hours away, not 4.
A 12 hour round trip makes for a much longer day trip and no fun.
We didn’t go.
Sorry, DiploDouglas, I talked it up just to let you down. 

Instead, my parents took us on a day trip to Jerome. 
My mom called it “an artist colony hidden in mountain grotto” and we took the 3 hour scenic route. 
Tuned out the “scene” was squiggly mountain roads that I couldn’t take my eyes off as my dad was driving. I am a nervous backseat driver as it turns out, control issues and fears of plunging death or mountainside stranding.
My mom forgot to mention that Jerome boasts being both mile high and the “America’s most vertical city.” 

It turned out to be an old copper mining town. The seedy red light district (block) had been converted into kitchy tourist shops, you know, the kind that sell jade jewelry, clay pots, and Georgia O’Keeffe wannabes. And lots of skull-shaped things, like it was the town symbol or something.

But!
They have their very own post office and there was a place to throw pennies into toilets. To be honest that was probably the redeeming moment of the trip.
Apparently it’s the site of a burned down hotel. For whatever reason there are toilets and outhouses at the bottom to aim for.
I could’ve done it for hours.

(Picture courtesy of Journeys and Wanderings)

When it came time for lunch, we considered going to the Mile High Grill, but then we saw the sign advertising the new menu and I couldn’t stomach it.

Instead we went to the Haunted Hamburger where the ghosts apparently have a fetish for stealing (and then conspicuously returning) hammers.
It seems Jerome has a thing for ghosts, too.
I feel like the owners should have worked more with the play between hammer and hamburger for the name, or maybe they should also have a hardware store that may or may not have hammers in stock depending on the mood of the ghosts.

Fortunately we took the highway home.
Oh, Jerome.
I kept singing the Lykke Li song in my head.