Reconnection: Albuquerque - April 23

I spent last night more alone than any other on this trip as my usual telephone conversation was relegated to the blinking black letters staring back at me from a computer screen rather than through the compassionate, loving voice I had grown so accustomed to hearing. Surprised at my need to possess a phone that's operations expanded beyond emergency use, I quickly set about finding a T-mobile store to reconnect both my phone and my mind in Albuquerque.

Cresting over a hill, the scenery of desert and dead brush finally gave way to an expanse of concrete and metal rising out of the seemingly lifeless ground, as the city's skyline and freeways spread out before me. The long, lonely four lane interstate quickly became a spiderweb of red clay lanes as the city's roads struggled to keep up with the exploding population.

Though catchy, I had come to find that AT & T's slogan of "More Bars in More Places" is much more a marketing catchphrase than an actuality as their 3G network paid off only when near a city, the remainder of the time I was forced to wade through dial-up length downloads or no connection at all. Thankfully, being in Albuquerque, I was able to locate a local T-mobile store and bee-lined it north using the flow of cars as my speedometer.

Having spent so much time on the endless, open freeways, battling traffic was something I was unaccustomed to and I slowly went mad weaving my way in and out of all of the vehicles, eyes peeled in earnest for the purplish hue of a T-Mobile sign. Spying it on my left, I used Bessie's bulk to force my way into the turn lane and pulled into an all too common strip mall of concrete, steel, and glass and parked in a corner spot.

Excited to be so close to hearing Katie's voice again, yet weary from the past few days' turmoil, I exited Bessie and ambled slowly towards T-Mobile's front doors. Entering, I was surprised to see six employees milling about shooting the shit, the economy obviously taking a toll on customers but not factoring into managerial decisions.

A cute, dark haired girl, wearing glasses that spoke to either a possible college education expected of her age or just a stylistic need, broke away from the pack with a gait that spoke of pulling the short straw.

Listening with feigned interest to my tale of woe and need she immediately pulled out a prepaid phone and set about unnecessarily explaining its operation. It must have been something about my sarcastic questions surrounding dialing protocol that caught her on to the fact that I was telephone savvy as she finally rolled her eyes with a look somewhere between thanks and annoyance and walked me over to an unused store phone to connect me with the T-mobile.

I guess my assumption of competence out of T-mobile's service line was overzealous, as I spent the next twenty minutes trying to explain my phone's problems to a girl who obviously wasn't listening, as her ideas of a fix involved operations beyond the phone's current capabilities. Perplexed that I was unable to even access the menu, she walked me through an obvious corporate protocol designed to find fault in the phone's owner. Relying on patience and humor it was finally understood that the issues lay in the phone and decided that T-mobile would send me a replacement for a "nominal" shipping fee of $19.99.

With a promise of the phone's arrival within three days, I realized that I could get by using Amberlee's phone while in Albuquerque and set about finding the fashion conscious salesgirl. Chatting briefly with her, she promptly informed me that, once bought, nothing could be done about returning the prepaid phone, even though it was never used. Shaking my head in disbelief I left the store fighting back a desire to question the logic of a faceless corporation and hopped into Bessie to call Katie, a need to hear her voice ringing in my ears and guiding my steps.

Relaxed finally and pulling back into the throngs of traffic, a list of items forgotten in a hasty departure days ago flashed through my mind. Spying a poor traveler's beacon of hope, WalMart, a few blocks down the road, I pulled into the parking lot just as my ex's name and number flashed onto my replacement phone's screen.

Tired and frustrated from the past few days I answered, my voice ringing with frustration, and she quickly realized that talking to her was not high on my list of priorities. Apathetically, I told her I would call her back in the next few days, my lack of apology for my haste falling with a thud on the other end of the line and set about my shopping.

Finally feeling like Bessie was completely ready for travel, I made my way through the outskirts of Albuquerque and arrived a short while later at Amberlee's street, a nice residential area filled with trees and stucco houses. Rolling down the road I set about checking the fading addresses on the curb to find her house and edged past what I thought was an empty lot as the trees, vines and weeds covered all I could see. Noticing the faded address on the next drive I realized that I had rolled right past her home and backed up to a spot in front of her house.

Laughing to myself about her gardening skills, and knowing that she would not be back from work until nine, I planned on spending the next few hours killing time by giving Bessie a long overdue cleaning. My antisocial nature took over and left me feeling a little odd as my lack of a courtesy hello to either her housemate or neighbor - both of whom stood out front of her house chatting for a good 15 minutes hoping to coerce this recluse out of hiding in some form of assurance that I was not a complete creep - left me realizing the extent of my fatigue.

A couple of hours later, finally done cleaning and in need of a bathroom, I headed for the front door to introduce myself just as Amberlee's roommate, Jenn, a shorter, pudgy girl whose desire to fit in fell short of fitness but was apparent in her attempts at fashionable dress and hair styling, was leaving for a friend's house. We chatted for a short while and made our introductions, our conversation giving her hope that I was not a complete whack job, and I headed inside to use the facilities.

I was impressed at the house's size and cleanliness, something I was unsure of after seeing the overzealous nature of the vines climbing over the windows and walls. Making my way back out to Bessie, I was cleaning up from a dinner of tacos a short while later when I heard a gleeful voice yell my name and turned to see Amberlee joyously jumping into Bessie, her blond hair and pretty, white smile lighting up the darkness.

Immediately making herself at home, she plopped her skirted, athletic body down and we spent the next half hour talking and telling stories until her need to pee forced us inside to indoor plumbing - for some reason my offer to share my bottle did not sit too well.

We spent the evening catching up and planned the next few days. I fell asleep later that night happy to be in the company of friends, and happier still that I could actually hear Katie's voice.