Going back: April 24-30

As much as I enjoyed Amberlee's company, by now my brain was so fried from the previous four days that all I wanted was to be back home. The allure of a cozy bed, a new girlfriend, and the knowledge that home held limited surprises proved too great a draw, and I spent the next day and a half looking for a ticket back. This endeavor of course, garnered nothing but endless jokes from Amberlee, but I knew that she understood my reasons as our conversations about her last boyfriend, Ari, let slip her true opinion of love.

Though I knew that I would again be running away from the experiences and ensuing drama needed to learn and to grow, my tail tucked sheepishly between my legs like a dog that just tore apart his owner's favorite slippers; for my sanity, going home was something I had to do.

With a flight booked for a week out, it turned out that my anticipated time catching up with my friend was to be shared in equal parts with an unanticipated guest, as Jenn's love of her roommate became painfully obvious in her puppy dog affinity for anything Amberlee. Though extremely sweet, the concept of space was something that seemingly never crossed Jenn's mind, and wherever we went, so did she. Through conversations I could tell that she was an intelligent girl, but her desire to be involved often trumps her common sense, even when aware that two friends long separated may want a minute or two of unaccompanied time.

It was later on in the week that I met another of Amberlee's disciples, her neighbor Will, the other curious stand in from the front door conversation the night of my arrival. At 30, Will's biggest claim to fame is something most people would be remiss to have as common knowledge, he has not had sex in a decade. Obviously intelligent, and not an ugly man, it is perhaps Will's chosen life path that does him in.

Choosing employment at a job normally reserved for pimply faced teenagers, his pizza delivery pay affords him no other luxury than residence in the garage of his parents' home. Though decked out in the latest of technologies, and an obviously comfortable, laid back room in which each visitor is given a marker and his or her own brick to create their own unique mark, nothing about living in such close proximity to one's parents shows a desire to change one's reality.

Through all of this, neither his lack of drive nor confidence has slowed his attempts at courtship of Amberlee. By the end of the week my jokes of "charity work" done by her on his behalf had worn as thin as hers about my sheepish return home.

Thankfully, during my stay, Amberlee had limited responsibilities, a rarity for a girl whose inability to say no is legendary. Over the week we passed the time watching bad Mexican soap operas, rock climbing and philosophizing about life, relationships, and our friendship. Knowing that she was about to embark on the draining experience of nursing school, and wanting a get away from all things Albuquerque for a short while before a self-imposed exile to focus on school, we planned a trip to Carlsbad Caverns, a destination she had visited as a child and desired to see again.

We left Saturday morning around noon, our goal the southernmost part of New Mexico. The drive was scenic - in as much as looking at open expanses of nothing but dead or dying brush and dirt can be considered scenic. Though the huge skies and dark, rain soaked clouds left over from the night's storms were beautiful, the biggest debate - and perhaps Amberlee's greatest gift - was the conversation about what constitutes life and therefore our interpretation of scenic beauty. For Amberlee, though dry and barren, the desert is alive with plant and animal life; for me, something with a hue other than brown has to actually block my view of the horizon before I can truly consider it beautiful and alive with life.

Through a seemingly endless desert, we arrived later that afternoon in Roswell, home to famed Area 51. Much larger and more modern than I would have ever guessed, with new buildings and strip malls housing all of the latest offerings popping up everywhere, Roswell took me by surprise. We stopped off just south of downtown for some food a mile or so away from the New Mexico Military Institute at a large wood and glass restaurant called Farleys. Farley's was a modern, messier version of Red Robin, perhaps due to its location in the middle of the New Mexico desert but probably more so for the massive boost of testosterone from the local base. Because the Military Institute made the guy to girl ratio in this part of town 10-1, I had a difficult time convincing Amberlee to leave, as a night of free drinking crossed her mind more than once.

After a meal of a huge, greasy cheeseburgers, interesting artwork, and great people watching, we again hopped in Bessie to finish our drive. Arriving at the northern gate to Carlsbad around six, we took note of a campground just outside of the Park's boundaries and headed up the road to the Park's entrance. On the drive up we realized why the campground was full as we noticed numerous signs banning overnight camping.

Both tired from a long day's drive and with a belly still full from a meal of greasy food, we decided to take a nap and woke just in time to see a ranger making his rounds through the parking lot. Pulling up next to Bessie the baby faced, blond headed ranger swung his legs out of his truck and made his way over to us. Young enough to look as though he just finished his Junior Ranger training a year ago, and knowing Amberlee would have much more luck avoiding any wrath, I left her alone to head him off and converse.

Through her wiles and charms, we found out his job was to kick us out for the night, but he was now rethinking this task. Seemingly smitten with Amberlee, he told us that if we stayed longer he would not "notice" if we slept there, though his warning of his boss' legendary tirades made us rethink the possibility. I tried to convince Amberlee that she could have as much success convincing a female ranger, but she seemed to think it would be a better idea not to try.

Driving back down in the dark to the campground we spied earlier, we decided on a dinner of tacos, chased down by SoCo and ginger ale. Later that evening, after cleaning up the spilled taco meat fat lost in a poorly executed balancing act, we decided on a walk through the Park and wandered lazily out to the road. On this moonless night, the sky looked as though someone had poked thousands of holes in a black canvas as we walked and talked about life and relationships.

It was during this conversation that my phone rang, Katie was calling to say hello and see how the drive was. Sensing that Katie may be wary of me spending the night alone with another woman, Amberlee grabbed the phone out of my hands and introduced herself with the ease of an old friend being reacquainted with a long lost best friend. Before I knew it they were already planning on hanging out in July during Amberlee's annual trek back to her beloved Corvallis for some tree hugging; the strangest part was they were going to hang out whether I was there or not.

Waking the next morning we arrived at the Park's headquarters to find out that the reason so many cars were still in the parking lot at dusk the night before was the nightly feeding of the thousands of Carlsbad's resident bats. Saddened by the missing of such a rare event, we checked in at the Park's counter and, with my National Park's Annual Pass, we covered our costs and strolled off towards the cave's entrance. On the way we were stopped by a female ranger no older than 20 whose job entailed reciting the same dry dialogue about the caves' rules over and over every day. Sheepishly holding my pack full of contraband tight to my back, we bee-lined it for the cave's mouth and made our way into its depths.

Words cannot adequately describe the wonderment of below, 754 feet of cave walls and formations formed in a blackness so profound that no amount of time would allow a human's eyes to ever adjust. Found by a teenage cowboy, Jim White, in 1898, Carlsbad Caverns have been explored by countless over the years. Lit up by recessed lighting, the formations, crevasses, and shelves create a picture of serene beauty; much like a sky's clouds, the walls and formations hold images unique to the eyes of every individual. The craziest part of the caverns were the bathrooms and concessions built into the rock walls at its extreme depth, bathrooms and even a concessions stand meet you before taking the elevator ride out as a means to avoid the long walk back up.

We left that afternoon on the long drive home, leaving ourselves just enough return time before her soccer game when Bessie started acting up, coughing and sputtering on the uphill portions of the drive, the load seemingly too great for her 67 horses. We arrived with minutes to spare and Amberlee rushed off to change. I chose to stay home and talk to Katie, a decision based upon a missing of her voice as well as Amberlee's stalwart no to my offer to come watch her play.

The next couple of days were rife with talk, wanders around town, and roommates until Thursday's flight. By now, I think Amberlee was needing a break from me and, with one last poke at my failed independence, I gave Amberlee a hug of thanks for the ride, as well as the hospitality, and made my way through an empty Albuquerque airport, longing for the next four hours to vanish rapidly so I could be home.