7 July, 1999

Wow. We did it!


(After a yellow cab to Kennedy and a big plane to Las Vegas...)

Armed with a map and to-the-letter specific directions from Godfrey, slathered in sunblock and hauling six gallons of water, Laurie and I set out on Highway 15 at 9:30 Thursday morning. Throughout the 90 minute drive, I amused myself by watching the GPS, seeing the reading get closer and closer to the coordinates we were seeking. Leaving Highway 15 and starting our 14-mile long haul down the dirt road leading to the Booth, our excitement built to an insane level. We squealed when we saw the black Aikens Mine signs, so familiar from the images on Godfrey's site... and we knew that once we saw the line of telephone poles we could be assured that we were on the right path. We started laughing like idiots when they finally came into view, and it was comforting to know that they were leading us directly to our destination. (Laurie was very amused to note that these telephone poles bore only three or four thin, thin wires.)

After a few more miles, we saw it: The booth, all by itself.

We were just screaming at this point, absolutely flipping out. And before the car had even come to a complete stop, we could hear the phone ringing with our first call! (We were more than a little relieved to know then that the thing actually worked.)


We'd gone out an hour earlier than anticipated, arriving at exactly 11:00 am, with the hope of getting some time alone before everyone else arrived and the phone would be ringing off the hook. I'm so glad we did, that we were able to get that view, the experience of being there with no one else present.

Calls kept coming, but there was enough time between them (unlike later in the day, when the phone would ring the instant the handset was back on the receiver) to wander around and take in the amazing scenery. Our first impulse was to get naked (go figure), so we took a number of calls wearing little more than sunblock and smiles!

I couldn't get enough of the view -- it was everything I'd imagined it would be and then some. The vast beauty, the hundreds and hundreds of spiky Joshua trees, the cinder cones and mountains looming in the distance... It felt so familiar and yet entirely new at the same time. Never in my life have I experienced such a completely open space. The sky was so big!


We soon found the old shoe mentioned on Godfrey's site, the circle of stones marked with cardhouse.com popsicle sticks, and not far from the booth was the word "PHONE" spelled out on the ground in 8-foot high letters accompanied by a huge arrow made of white quartz. (Naturally, that was Godfrey's doing, a project from one of his previous booth visits.)

Laurie was exploring the area surrounding the booth while I wandered out into the distance. She yelled to me, "I can't believe all of the shit out here!"

"What, phone booth shit?"

"No -- SHIT, shit. Everywhere!"

She was right. There were droppings all over the place, in all sizes, colors and states of desiccation.

The only animal we saw was one tiny lizard scurrying into the shade.


After more than a full hour of having our minds blown by the beauty of the desert, we received our 10th call. It was Godfrey, who'd just left the highway and wanted us to know that he'd be there in less than a half-hour. It was a good warning to put some clothes back on, despite the fact that we had a clear view of the only road leading to the booth.


We kept answering the constantly-ringing phone, and almost every single caller wanted to know how the heat was out there. We didn't know for sure, but Laurie guessed that we were topping 100 degrees. It was hot, very hot, but completely bearable thanks to a surprisingly cool, constant breeze. We weren't at all uncomfortable. One caller was kind enough to check the weather report for the Mojave and call us back with the information: It was 110 degrees, 9% humidity, with winds of 13 mph out of the southwest.


A cloud of dust finally appeared on the horizon of the long dirt road, and the anticipation built as a white van with ominously blacked-out windows roared up to us. While my mind was teased by images of secret government agents, and I tried to think of how far we might be from Area 51, I knew that it just had to be Godfrey! He'd rented the van to bring his own phone booth out to the desert, realizing a long-held dream of introducing his "living room booth" to the Mojave Desert Phone Booth.

I was waiting for him in the turnaround -- dancing around, waving my arms and laughing like a goon as he pulled up. He jumped out of the driver's seat and greeted Laurie and I with a huge hug -- I think that he was almost as happy as we were that Laurie and I got to be the first ones there and that we were able to get that "lone booth" experience.


It was only a short time and a few phone calls before the next vehicle came blowing down the dirt road. Chuck and Steve were expected to arrive any moment, and we were disappointed to learn that it was actually a reporter and cameraman hoping to do interviews and a story on our trip to the booth. (Their presence proved to be the most negative aspect of the whole booth trip. They were spectators, not participants, and ultimately detracted from the experience in more than a few ways.)

Three or four more cars followed in short order, one bearing Chuck and Steve, another with Molly (who arrived with a pint of ice cream not 10 minutes after I commented on how great it would be to have a little Ben & Jerry's right about then...), Dr. Cliff with the camera-rockets, and finally a Mystery Man who roared up in a red Miata convertible. That was Charles, who'd seen one or more of the sites about this trip and decided to drive out, unannounced, to check it out for himself. (When Charles returned home from his Mojave Adventure, his friends didn't believe him. So he went back out again the next day!)


By early afternoon, Laurie and I were beginning to feel the effect of the desert sun, and we couldn't drink enough water to stay hydrated. We probably guzzled a few gallons each and never had to, uh, go. The desert's got a rate of evaporation of something like 700%, so we were drying out just standing around. One of the LA guys brought a cooler full of beer and we couldn't imagine how they could possibly think of drinking alcohol out there. Just the idea of it made us both feel ill.


A quick comparison of GPS readings was done by Godfrey and I, the results being 35.17.137N and 115.41.086W on his, 35.16.53N and 115.41.21W on mine.


Calls kept coming in, but only a few of our friends or family were able to get through. Most of the callers had come from Godfrey's site, and they all asked for him by name. One highlight of the whole booth trip for me was when someone yelled out that I had a call from Australia. It was my dear, old friend Doug Boyd, now living in Sydney. I hadn't heard his voice in 10 years, and it was such a trip to be catching up with an old friend in such a bizarre context! If that's what it took to hear his voice after so long, the trip was completely worth it.


The news crew stayed with us for almost the entire afternoon and their presence divided the gathered group in an unfortunate way: Some people were completely wrapped up in talking with them on camera and having a media event of a day, while others of us just wished they'd leave us alone.

It was just weird.


Steve (who's a wonderful photographer, check out his work) spent some time out among the Joshua trees with Laurie and I, taking a sisterly, desert-ey portrait of us together.

By 3:00, Laurie and I needed to get going. As much as we would have loved to camp out with Godfrey & Co. for the night, we had to get back on the road: we had a 12-hour drive ahead of us. We hung around for another half-hour, watching the first of a few rocket-camera launches, passing out little gifts of NYC subway tokens to everyone, and presenting Steve with a few can't-beat-'em genuine NYC bagels.


We packed up our things, hugged everyone goodbye, and before we left, deposited a subway token into the change return of the Mojave Desert Phone Booth.



When I got back to NYC, this e-mail from Doug was waiting for me:

"The sun still hasn't broken the horizon, but is lighting up the eastern sky none-the-less. The same sun that is currently baking you and the small caravan of desert wanderers... odd, that sensation. I've never considered the magic of the telephone. I mean, REALLY considered the magic.

Transported me right away for a few minutes. Magic."



(go back up to the beginning of this section,
to the background -- a journal of thoughts leading up to the trip,
or go on to the log of calls we took.)