I am here in gorgeous Albuquerque, New Mexico, for the National Poetry Slam. The slams have been exciting and fun. This is one lively, dorky crowd. Slammers like to PAR-TAY. Woo. I haven’t been too social this week, but I have been thoroughly entertained and inspired. Tonight is the finals in the competition, and it promises to be awesome.

Yesterday, my fellow road-trippers from Long Beach and I drove to the base of Sandia Peak to ride the world’s longest aerial tramway. The fantastic ride to the top included expansive views of the city of Albuquerque as well as of the mountain terrain below. We even spotted from the tram car the tiny speck of a bear struttin’ along in his wilderness.

At the top, we enjoyed the breathtaking view, cool temperatures and cloud mist. Ah. Nearby we spied a trailhead. As we embarked upon what we expected to be a mini-hikette, I glanced at the “map” of the trail, which indicated a loop. Perfect. We began casually walking, taking photos, enjoying the views. Soon I blazed ahead of my friends, ambitious to complete the loop. The trail got very rocky and downwardly steep, but I hiked on. It got mushy and damp, but I hiked on. After what seemed a long time, I began to wonder when the trail would curve. When it would, you know, loop. And also when it would head back UP toward the tram station. I encountered some people coming from the opposite direction, and they told me they had passed a fork not far back with a sign pointing the way to the upper tram station, so I forged on.

A few notes. Sadly, I was not dressed for much of a hike (although, thankfully, I had worn sneakers), and had no food or water. Blessedly, there was cell phone service on the mountain, and I was charged up. I called my friends to let them know I had gotten lost but was headed in the right direction now, and would be longer in getting back than planned. They had returned to the tram station and would wait.

Their wait would be longer than any of us imagined. I reached the fork the other hikers had mentioned. The sign read “2.8 miles to Upper Tram.” Ug. I had hiked quite far already. Since going back would involve what I estimated to be a similar distance, anyway (and UP the rocky slopes), I steered my feet as per the sign’s direction and forged on. The trail, however, kept going down. Down down down. And the cables of the tram-line were nowhere to be seen. Storm clouds rolled in. I didn’t encounter a soul in the way of other hikers. I thought about the bear.

I hiked on. After a long time, I encountered a new sign: “2.6 miles to Tramway Trail.” This went on. My friends talked to a ranger and gave me guidance by phone. I was clearly heading down the mountain to the LOWER tram station.

Anyway, I made it. I was sobbing and gagging, starving and dehydrated, but I made it. I went straight to my car, where I knew I had a gallon of water in the trunk. My next stop was the gift shop, where I bought a trail map to see where I had gone. I asked the cashier, how far of a hike from top tram station to bottom? Well, you already know the answer to that one.

I have to recognize my two travel companions, Noelle and Eitan, both of whom were stranded in boring tram stations with no way to get back to the poetry slam events for the many hours of my nitwitted exploration, and both of whom helped me by phone and then were such sights for sore eyes when I got back.

These travel companions are great car buddies, hotel room sharers and conversationalists. All of this on top of being two of the best poets I’ve known. We’re having a lot of laughs here in the high desert. And now is the part where I reveal on the Internet one secret about each that I’ve learned in rooming with them:

Eitan: Condition by Clairol 3-in-1 Extra Hold Mousse
Noelle: Pork rinds

And now I have to go tend to my incredibly aching muscles with an overdose of Ibuprofen. I’ll try to post some photos on bebo for those of you who have accounts. Meanwhile, take my advice. When the trail gets too rocky, do not hike on. Turn back, for the love of God.