Driving Ms. Winfrey

**This post has been updated. Part II continues below...**

Winslow, Arizona ~ Miles Traveled: 3924
I pulled into Sedona, Arizona Monday afternoon, and I was immediately overwhelmed by the positive energy and forces I felt swirling around me. Sedona is well known for being a center of spiritual and cosmic energy, as well as a strong magnetic vortex, and the energy is tangible the second you enter town. My chakras were instantly realigned, my karma was infused with positivity, and my aura was deeply cleansed. Or maybe it was the massive dump I took at the coffee shop when I first got into town. Whatever the case, I felt rejuvenated.

Sedona is a very pretty, artsy town in the middle of some scenic red rocks, and driving in on Highway 89 is a great little drive. You drop down through canyons and rocks and forest and creeks, and it has a nice mountain feel to it. After walking around town for a couple of hours, I drove back up 89 a little ways to stay at Manzanita Campground, a nice spot in the woods and next to a creek.

Tuesday morning I got up and strolled around town a little while longer; Sedona is known for it's jewelry and I was hoping to find a unique Star of David necklace. I found about three, and they were each unique to the tune of about $500, so I gave up. It was starting to get hot, so I headed for the water.

Slide Rock State Park is about 6 miles North of Sedona, and it's a natural creek/river that has smoothed the rocks a lot over time. There are little chutes in the rock, and because of the smoothness you can sit in the chutes and slide down the river. The water level was pretty low, though, so only one chute was worth it, and the place was packed with kids and families on extended Memorial Day vacations. It was a fun way to kill a couple of hours in the heat, and I hiked up the river about two miles to find some secluded swimming holes and hot chicks sunbathing. It was definitely worth the $10 park fee.

It was time to leave Sedona and head South, to where I wasn't exactly sure, but I figured I'd amble in the general direction of Phoenix. It was about 4pm as I was leaving town, and I passed a market called "New Frontier" that a lady had told me about yesterday. They're a kind of Whole Foods type place, overpriced good quality foods, so I decided to stop in and pick something up for the road. As I pulled into the parking lot, I see a film crew jump out of some cars and swarm around this African-American woman. I wasn't close enough to see who it was, but she was going into the market so I figured I'd soon find out. My mind was racing trying to think of the possibilities; was it Whitney Houston, doing that reality show that was on Bravo last year? It obviously wasn't some sort of scripted thing - the cameras were definitely following this woman as she did her thing, so I was sure it was some kind of reality show, I just didn't know which one. The second I walked into the market, however, I quickly found out. Because there was another woman I didn't see originally, also being followed by cameras, and she was Oprah Fucking Winfrey. In the middle of Sedona, Arizona, just doing some shopping.

Now, I'm not an autograph kind of guy, and growing up in L.A. I've had my fair share of celebrity encounters. Usually I just kind of sit and stare from the fringes, and that's exactly what I did this time. I kind of tailed her as she walked around the market, and mostly I was curious about what the hell she was doing. I asked some of the store clerks, but they were just as surprised by this as anyone, so there was obviously no plan here. The camera crew was shooting reaction of people reacting to Oprah shopping in a market, and it was all very surreal. Soon she checked out and left, and I got in the line she was just in. The checker was surprised and shocked - at first I thought because she was meeting me, the guy behind Random Ramblings, but it more because she was just filmed putting Oprah's groceries into a bag. She told me it was the second time she'd been on TV, and she didn't even own a television. The first time she was on Jimmy Kimmel, being interviewed coming out of a Phish show. Only in Sedona.

So Oprah leaves and I call my mom to tell her, and my mom asks the most obvious question: Did you take a picture? FUCK. No, I didn't even think about it. I even had my camera in my pocket. What the hell kind of blogger am I? So I hang up with her, and figure, you know what? Sedona's not that big a place. I'm going to drive around for a little bit, and if I spot her, I'll take a picture. Because at this point I have a semi-decent story for the blog, but it's nothing without the picture. So I drive around Sedona for about 15 minutes, talking to my friend Jen, and Oprah's nowhere to be found, vanished into a cloud of money I guess. So I head back out on 89 to leave, when suddenly there's Oprah in a parking lot, filming something. I yell at Jen "I found her!" and simultaneously hang up and flip a U-turn. I pull up, park, and by the time I get out, the whole entourage is getting back in their cars, no picture taking even a possibility. Fuck.

Now at this point, I figure, what else do I have to do? Why not just follow them around a little. She's bound to get out of the car again to look at some rocks or something, and then I'll be there and take my quick picture and be on my merry way. So I start to follow Oprah and her entourage. By now, I have a little more information, but it only creates more questions. Oprah is driving the lead car with the other lady as a passenger. There are three other cars following with assorted camera crews and bodyguards just waiting to kick the asses of people like me. Oprah is driving some kind of generic sedan, nothing fancy, like a Chevy or some other standard mid-size rental. Interesting.

Oprah makes a right to go onto Highway 170, which leads to the more upscale part of Sedona, so I figure she's going to the nice Spa or Hotel where's she's staying. Oprah passes through most of the town and out into the rocks, so I figure she's going to be filmed looking at the beautiful scenery. Oprah keeps driving, and now it's been about 15 minutes and we're in the middle of the desert, but hey, what else do I have to do, right? She'll get out of the car any minute and that will be that. But Oprah keeps driving. And driving. Now it's been about 25 minutes, and we hit Highway 17, which takes you north back to Flagstaff, which is where I came from to get to Sedona. Okay, I figure, I'll follow them a little more, and I'll stay the night at the KOA in Flagstaff, because I wanted to stay at the KOA anyway. 17 starts to go uphill, and if you were ever planning on becoming a paparazzi and chasing celebs down in a 1989 VW Camper Van, I'd strongly advise against it. Going up the hill, I lose them, and I figure, oh well. That was an interesting half-hour. But as I descend over the hill, guess whose entourage got caught behind some trucks? So I'm back in the hunt, and at this point I figure her security has to be all over me, because it's not like I'm an inconspicuous person driving a low profile car. So I stay enough behind to not worry them, and see Flagstaff coming up, so she's probably going to the airport to fly off to roll in some money, and that will be that. But she passes Flagstaff, and when we hit Highway 40, she heads East.

Now I'm really confused. She's not going to the Grand Canyon, because that would have been West on 40. The next major city is Albuquerque, and that's over 300 miles away. Now I'm totally out of the area I wanted to be in, so I figure I'll follow for a little bit more, because at this point I just want to figure out what's going on. Fast forward a little bit, and now I've been following Oprah for 100 miles since Sedona, and my mind is racing with questions, mainly about myself. Like "What the fuck am I doing following Oprah across Arizona for no reason? I don't really watch her show, I'm not really a fan, so what am I doing?" But the I had to find out the answers to my questions. Namely, what was Oprah doing driving herself in a car in the middle of nowhere for hundreds of miles? She could fly anywhere in the world at the drop of a hat. What the hell was going on? And quite frankly, did I have anything better to be doing? Not really. I had already come this far, and damnit, if I didn't get a picture, I'd really be a loser. I'd just be the guy who tells the story about how he followed Oprah for no reason for a hundred miles. And I don't give up...(to be continued - the battery on my computer is about to run out, and I have nowhere to charge it right now - sorry)

Part II
So now were at about 120 miles, and I’m talking on the phone to my parents, and they’re very amused by this whole thing. My dad is tracking my progress on a map at home, asking me to tell him every milestone I pass. At this point, I’ve about had it. Enough is enough, and the next campground or decent size city, I’m pulling off and ending this stupid adventure. I’m 120 miles out of the way for absolutely NO reason, so that’s it – I’m out. We pass a Wal-Mart, so I know I have a place to park for the night close by, when the whole caravan suddenly pulls of the Freeway. We’re in Winslow, Arizona, the middle of nowhere, and they’re pulling into a gas station attached to an Econolodge. I briefly debate not pulling off, but I know I have to at this point, and I follow their caravan off the freeway, and I pull around about a couple hundred yards from them. Now I’m debating in my head “Do I go talk to her? Of course you do! You just drove 126 miles, you better! But what do I say? I’m going to look like a freaking nutcase for following her for so long. And I’m not even a fan! Her bodyguards are going to recognize me from the market in Sedona and shoot me on site. But I’ve come this far – I have to have an ending to this story.” So I got out of the car, camera in hand.

I walk around the Econolodge foyer, and there sitting in the passenger side of the car with the door open and NO ONE around, is Oprah Winfrey. I walk up timidly, kind of like I’m approaching a lion that could turn and rip my head off, and I say “Ms. Winfrey?” She looks up at and says “Yes?” and I reply “I’ve been following you since Sedona, and my mom is a really big fan, and she would kill me if I didn’t get a picture. Would you mind?” She looks at me and says “You’ve been following me since Sedona? You’re crazy.” I find it hard to argue the validity of that statement, and she slowly gets out the car, visibly sore from traveling and driving. I’ve been there, and I know it can be a pain, but it looks like the last thing she wants to do in her tired state is entertain some semi-homeless looking bum like myself. Keep in mind that I haven’t changed out of my bathing suit since Rock Slide Park, I haven’t shaved in well over a week, and I’m wearing Birkenstocks and a stained black polo shirt. She looks me over, feels safe I’m not going to kill her, and agrees to the picture. “Well, if you’re mom would want a picture, I’ll take a picture.” I knew the mom line would make me seem less harmless, and it worked, even it was a little white lie. My mom works every day and doesn’t have time the time to watch Oprah even if she wanted to.

She gets out the car and just kind of stands there, and even though I wanted to take a picture with her, not of her, it seems by her body language she wants none of standing next to me. So I point the camera at her, click, and thank her, when she says “No, you’ve got take the picture with me.” I smile and thank her, and she calls over one of her entourage. “This guy’s been following us since Sedona,” she tells him as she hands him the camera, and he looks at me a little warily. I know he’s suspect of me, but if Oprah tells you take a picture, I guess you don’t question her. She comes over and puts her arm around me, I place mine gingerly on her back, and he takes the picture. No flash. It’s dusk, and he says we need another one. I already feel bad about infringing on her time, but Oprah graciously stays for another one. He takes it, again, no flash. But he says this one worked, and he’s either telling the truth or just wants to get me out of there. I thank her for being so kind, and start to walk away, when I realize there’s still some unfinished business.

As she’s getting back in the car, I turn and say “Do you mind? I just have to ask you one question. What are you doing? Why are you driving around in the middle of nowhere?” She laughs, and asks me my name. I tell her, and she says “Jason, do you remember the commercials ‘See The U-S-A, in a Chev-Ro-Let?’” I nod yes, and she says “That’s what I’m doing. I started with my friend, Gale, in Santa Barbara yesterday and drove to Vegas. From Vegas we drove to Sedona, and we’re going to New York.” So Oprah's doing the whole Thelma and Louise thing - nice. I was kind of hoping the story would be a little juicier, like she had embezzled a bunch of money and was running cocaine from Columbia, and Gale had just shot three state troopers and they needed to take me hostage, but whatever. I laughingly tell her that I’m on a road trip too, for four months. Hers is only ten days, and we keep talking for the next 10 minutes. Every time I sense I’ve taken enough of her time and turn to go, she keeps talking to me, and I don’t remember every word of the conversation, but it was very nice and she seemed genuinely interested in what I was doing. In Winslow, Arizona, I’m sitting in a gas station having a pleasant conversation with Oprah Winfrey, and it just doesn’t get much more surreal than that.

I finally turn to go, telling her I’ll look her up when I get to Chicago, and she laughs and says goodbye. I remember noting she made a point of using my name often, which is a standard interview technique to make the subject feel comfortable. The whole time I was talking to her, it was as if I was talking to any other normal person – there was no sense that she was the richest and most powerful woman in the country, if not the world. There wasn’t a hint of pretension or air of superiority. This woman could order a plane to land at the Econolodge and whisk her away if she wanted, but there was no sense of this. She was just really nice and friendly and approachable. Bizarre.

I walked back to my car and called my parents, and my dad immediately says “Did you give her a card?” I had business cards printed up with this website on it so that when I met people I could easily give them the web address and contact info. I told him no, I didn’t even think about it, and he and my mom say “Well go back and do it!” The whole entourage was still there, and they had pulled Oprah’s car around to gas it up. She was walking across to her car, at this point surrounded by the entire entourage and security, and as I get close the bodyguards spot me and start saying to each other “Behind, Behind! Approaching!” I hold up the card, saying I just wanted to give her this, and she spots me and waves me over. “Jason, come over here, meet my friend Gale King. Gale, Jason here is on a four month road trip.” Gale smiles politely at me, but I can tell she’s not really interested. “Ms Winfrey,” I say, “I just wanted to give you my card. You probably don’t care, but I’m chronicling my trip on the web, and the address is at the bottom if you ever get a chance to check it out.” She said okay, and the entourage at this point seemed annoyed by my presence, so I told her it was nice meeting her and took off back to my car.

This portion is addressed specifically to Oprah, so if you’re not her, stop reading: Ms Winfrey, it was nice meeting you. You’ll probably never look at this site, but if you do, I’m sorry I lied to you about my mom being a fan. I thought it would make me seem less stalker-ish, and I apologize. However, when you do get around to doing the show about roadtrips and seeing the USA, keep me in mind. I’ve got tons of pictures and stories (I tell this really good one about stalking you across Arizona), and I think I’d make a good guest for a segment. I’m unemployed, so I can be in Chicago whenever you need me. We could sit and reminisce about our meeting in Winslow, and your audience would get a kick out of it. And don’t worry; I clean up pretty good, so I can be presentable for television. Also, if you’re looking for talk show hosts for your new XM Radio channel, I’m available. While I’d rather be on the air, I’d also consider a producer gig. When it comes to radio, I know my stuff, and it’s been years since anyone has fired me for anything. Also, when I’m in Chicago, can I stay with you and Steadman? Thanks!

So suffice it to say, it’s been an interesting week. The trip is really kicking into high gear, so naturally something’s got to slow it down. While I was chasing Oprah, I noticed about every 15 minutes or so white smoke was coming out of Trudel’s tailpipe. I told my dad about this, and after doing some checking around, he determined that this is a very bad thing. I might have blown a head gasket, and every repair place we’ve talked to so far either doesn’t want to touch it, or wants to replace the whole engine. There’s one guy in Phoenix who might be able to repair rather than replace, but it might take a week or two and the cost to tow 200 miles will be in the $500 range. It might just be cheaper to ship the car home and have it fixed by a mechanic we know and trust. It would probably take less time, and rather than spend a bunch of money on hotels in Phoenix, I could hang for free. It kind of sucks, but it’s not really that far from L.A. to where I am now, so while I might lose a couple of days, I could be back in gear in no time. Right now I’m waiting at the Flying J truck stop in Winslow while my dad decides which option he feels most comfortable with. Maybe I should hitch a ride with Oprah and Gale…