Zoned in the Zones

Route 10 from Phoenix
To Benson AZ

Although we have both said that we are in a real hurry to get home to our new little home—one we have lived in for a week and a half of the four months we’ve owned it—we are only going two and a half hours down the road today.

We’ll be stopping in Benson, AZ, on the border of New Mexico, at a strange little resort whose main attraction is its homemade planetarium. We stopped there a couple of years ago, and while staring at the stars is something I do regularly, the night of the star gazing was one of the most painfully boring I have ever experienced.

It had mainly to do with people’s politeness. Instead of lining up for a quick peek into the telescope, as we impatient New Yorkers would undoubtedly have done, these gentle folk remained seated, each in turn toddling up to the step stool, gingerly mounting it, putting an eye to the scope and observing the faraway constellations, all the while murmuring their awe and admiration in appropriately hushed tones. The little building wasn’t heated, and after the warm daytime sun, it was darned chilly. Each constellation took the group of 13—note the number—at least half an hour to view. And there were five to see that night.

And that doesn’t catalog the guy with the night blindness, who had to be escorted up and back from his seat, by his equally doddering wife. Oh the pain.

So hearing that Benson was our intended stopover, I sweetly asked why my dear husband was choosing to map such a short trip for the day—bearing in mind that, you know, we wanted to get home. Here’s what he said, knowing full well what a wonderful time I’d had the last time we were there.

“We need to take short trips when we change time zones, so our bodies will get used to the shift in time.”

Now that’s creative. That’s also ridiculous, given that each time change involves only an hour, but I have to give the guy credit. He’s nuts for astronomy and has been talking about going back to Benson since we were there, but he never would want to appear so selfish as to deny my need for speed and stop at a place I so volubly disliked.

Oh wait. Maybe he’s right. I’m feeling confused right now. Is it eleven o’clock? Ten? Twelve? Is it really Wednesday? Maybe It’s Thursday! If so, it’s my birthday. OMG, I wonder if this time zone thing can work for years too. Maybe I just got younger. Oh Calloo Callay, oh frabjous day, maybe I’ll be four years younger by the time we hit Florida. If that’s true, then Hello Benson! I’ll be staying here a few days longer.

I just love them stars.