New Jersey

As we left the scrubby outer suburbs of Philadelphia for the Garden State, I couldn’t help but think that we had neglected to give this large and historic city its dues. But like so often in life, it was the passage of time rather then the exploration of desire that dictated the future, and we had to leave.

It was whilst we crossed the border on Highway 30 that a decision was made. We would confront the Atlantic Ocean for the first time at Atlantic City. Why? Well this was the setting for Scorsese’s ‘Boardwalk Empire’, a HBO television series that had become a guilty pleasure for both of us when staying in motels cross country, so it seemed like an appropriate and relevant place for us to end to this first phase of our journey. So with thoughts of 1920’s grandeur, and an in-suppressible desire to catch our first glimpse of the ocean since California, we ventured on.

As we approached Atlantic City, the demise and decay of its various facades became increasingly obvious. Above us thick fluffy clouds hid the sun and cast deep shadows on all that we could see. Around us the tallest buildings stood like defiant structures that had recently survived a bomb explosion; each standing in a state of disrepair, each separated by wasteland and each seemingly inhabited by a community seemingly forgotten by a struggling economy. This is not what we were expecting.

Soon enough we could not travel any further east. We had made it. We had driven coast to coast and regardless of whatever happened next, nobody could take that away from us. This felt satisfying.

Point that we hit the Atlantic

After a very short celebratory walk past a collection of dishevelled fisherman who speculatively cast their lines into the bleak ocean from an unsafe boardwalk, we returned to the Beast. We then turned right and started the next phase of our journey toward the southern most tip of mainland USA, and Key West.

This route immediately took us through the current centre of this tired old city, which only appears to exist in order to remove the meagre contents of people’s wallets via its countless ugly casino’s. Honestly, all I can say about this place is that if Reno is Las Vegas’s tired older cousin, then Atlantic City is its drunk, clapped out, and now incontinent great grandmother. It really is such a shame considering its notorious and swinging past.

Atlantic City Boardwalk

Our route south then took us along the coast toward the southern most tip of New Jerseys' peninsular. Here we would eventually catch a ferry across to Delaware after a short stay in a motel, in which I would try a little experiment.

Upon checking in, I casually mentioned that I was a travel journalist writing a book about America. This was of course a lie, but it did provoke an entertaining reaction…

Immediately, the hotelier (motelier?) called two elderly people who I can only guess were his parents. He then proceeded to send them up to our motel room. Then, with a very genuine and concerned look on his face, he asked me to sit in my car for 10 minutes, just so that our room could be “double checked”.

Eventually, and with a little trepidation I was granted access. The room had obviously just been cleaned, a fact that just goes to show the fake reality that some of these establishments construct for visiting journalists.

Next time I am fearful of cleanliness, I will have to try this again.


© All Images By Paul

Pennsylvania

Upon arrival in the state where modern America was born, we immediately set out for Gettysburg, the site where in its infancy, it nearly committed suicide. Naively, we set out to find some reasonably priced lodging close by, but this being one of the most famous tourist sites in the US, this soon proved impossible. So, sick of evil hoteliers inflating their room rates, we headed out of town to find something cheaper. 15 miles out of town we found the Nesbit Motel. Here the rooms were a third of the price, so feeling slightly smug, we checked in and unlocked our room….

On the face of it, the room seemed fine enough. The bed was clean, the walls weren’t stained, and the faint murmur of dodgy activity in the adjoining rooms wasn’t too overbearing. I was relieved, and so quickly prepared myself for bed. Then, just as I was beginning to get comfortable lying on my back in front of an old television set, Rebecca pulled back the curtains.

Immediately, she stumbled back and with a face flushed of blood, she looked over.

‘What is it?’ I enquired. ‘Look’ she responded.

Hesitantly, I did.

Never before have I seen so many beetles in an inside space. Dozens of them clung to the fabric of the curtain, creeping over each other and generally looking sinister and frightening. Shit. We had both driven too far and it was far too late to find somewhere else to sleep, so there was only one thing for it. I would have to wrap each of these horrendous little beasts in tissue paper and dispose of them myself.

Now I don’t want to sound like a brave hero here, because I generally hate being anywhere near an animal smaller then a mouse, especially if it has more legs then I have limbs. But we had no choice, so with the same facial expression that a child pulls when they are forced to eat liver, I approached the beetles.

The following morning I was exhausted, unable as I was to sleep the nigh before, fearful of some kind of revenge attack. So after a quick breakfast at a petrol station, Rebecca guided the Beast back toward Gettysburg and some much needed fresh air.

There is something interesting about the violence that took place on this site, for it represents the high water mark of the Confederate advance north, and the beginning of the end of the American Civil war. Now, each battalion that fought on both sides is tastefully commemorated on this wide rolling and perfectly maintained memorial park on which most people drive between countless plaques and statues. Confused by everyone else’s laziness, we decided to walk.

Judging from the maintained segregation in this monument, and the merchandise available in the countless souvenir shops in the pretty adjoining town, people appeared to flock here for two main reasons; to either celebrate or commiserate what has past. You see for some (indeed for most), Gettysburg is a place of triumph where Lincoln addressed a solidifying union. However, for others it is a sad place, heavy with lost opportunity, where the reluctant end to an alternative vision of America first had to be comprehended.

For me, if there is one place that represents the division in modern America, it is here.




That night we made a push for the home of the Fresh Prince, and the Liberty Bell... Philadelphia, where under the cover of darkness we explored the last city that we would see prior to our arrival on the east coast and the end to the first chapter of our journey.

Philadelphia

© All Images By Paul