Day 5 - El Paso, TX to Mesa, AZ

MESA, Ariz. -- We're here.

We've unpacked the items we had ghetto-packed in the hour before we moved so that Martin's co-workers won't judge him, we've set up the Internet, we've toured the grounds, and we've had a few beers with limes picked fresh from the tree just outside Martin's front door.

Speaking of which, here's Martin's tour of his apartment complex, quoted almost exactly: "Here's my palm trees; here's my lemon tree; here's my lime tree; here's my pool, surrounded by my fountains; here's my clubhouse; here's my pool table, here's my racquetball court..."

So yeah, it's a pretty nice place, perhaps even nicer than my new place in Akron. Whatevs.

The point is: It's the end of a long day, which involved equal parts fun and driving. After waking up at the campsite, we drove down to the H&H Car Wash and Coffee Shop for an authentic Tex-Mex breakfast. The restaurant is an American Classic, so Martin was excited, and I was intrigued by the idea of a business that washes your car while you eat.

Martin couldn't understand the 80-year-old Mexican waitress, so I had to order the chorizo breakfast tacos for him, and I got the huevos rancheros. Both were incredibly good, and Martin stole my tortillas, which he claims not to know were mine because of the waitress' accent.

After that, we went into a local pawn shop. I've always wanted to go into one, but never bothered. I thought it would be like the cool ones you always see on Law & Order, but it turned out just to be a lame store with ugly jewelry, the Spanish version of Ferris Bueller (Un Experto en Diversions), and Paula Abdul on the radio. Pretty disappointing.

We made our way down to the Rio Grande, where we payed 35 cents to cross the border and headed into Ciudad Juarez, home of cheap stuff, poor infrastructure and Mexicans.

You know what you imagine when you imagine a Mexican border town? Well, unlike a pawn store, your imagination is exactly right this time. Immediately upon entering, you have cabbies fighting over your business, despite the fact that you've already told both of them that you aren't interested in their services.

Down the block, it's the vendors whose prices start with "Is $20, but for you, $17." They actually had some super-sweet NFL ponchos, but they did not have any with the Cleveland Browns, so I had to pass. He tried to sell me on the Denver Broncos instead. Apparently he hadn't heard about 1987. We ended up buying some Mexican wrestling masks as potential Halloween costumes and moved on.

We meandered past the section with consumer goods and into the grocery section, where they were selling Froot Loops by the pound out of a box as if they were a legitimate offering for a farmer's market like the poblano chiles right next to them.

We found an outfitter who provided me with a pretty sweet cowboy shirt, though I was not able to find a suitable hat or pair of boots. Martin bought some of those skull candies, which I was (am) pretty sure were actually just wax art.

Soon enough, Martin let us get sucked into a restaurant by a smooth-talking waiter. I wanted to hold off until we found a dicier-looking establishment, but Martin was afraid of diarrhea, so we ended up getting some tacos and Fanta at a reasonable price. Not a bad situation.

We went back toward the border and ended up in that first stretch of stands where we'd bought the masks and ended up buying about $40 worth of other stuff. Martin, whose superior negotiation skills I bow to, managed to get the world's largest hammock and a rug for $36, while I got a hammock chair for $15. It was a considerable markdown, and although I could have gotten the guy lower, it turns out I hate negotiating.

Once we had come back across the border, we saw another pawn shop, and I decided to give the industry another chance. It was completely worth it, as this was exactly the kind of store I always thought of. As Martin noted, it was all the things a man would want, and none of the things a woman would want. There were electric guitars. There were car stereos. There were knives. There were guns. It was perfect, but I didn't buy anything.

Next was a quick trip up to New Mexico State University, where one of Martin's co-workers went to school. We snapped some pictures and toured the facilities for a little bit. I wasn't excited about the stop, but the school was actually a really nice looking place, and I accidentally stole a postcard from the bookstore, so it was a good deal.

Then, it was back on the road for another many hours. As we approached Phoenix, we found prideful driver after prideful driver, all of whom refused to be passed by a U-Haul truck. It was a pretty annoying situation, but I ended up beating all of them.

Soon enough, we were in Mesa, where the roads are wide, the lanes are plentiful, the bridges are beautiful, and the apartments are surrounded by palm and lime trees. It's a pretty awesome place, and although I'm glad the driving part of this road trip is done, I'm not excited to unpack that truck tomorrow. In fact, I'd rather drive to San Diego.

Road Trip Round-Up: Five days, six states, two countries, four time zones, 2,676 miles.