Note: This post is from August 30, 2008.

After a night in America's Best Value Inn, we kept moving. We didn't sleep well, because there was some kind of mildew monster occupying the window. At some point in the past, some water had leaked into the seal between the panes and set up shop, and now the air had all kinds of horrible things floating around in it. The window looked gross, and Christine woke in the middle of the night with a terrible coughing fit. I woke up too, because somebody in the room was coughing.

We drove through the lakes region of upstate New York, where classical place names like Rome and Troy and Syracuse mingle with Indian names like Chittenango and Oneonka, and where the miles and miles of corn give way for a brief period to grape vines and vineyards.

Nestled along the shore of Lake Erie sits Buffalo. I don't know much about Buffalo except it is where one of my favorite foods was invented. Christine and I went and ate Buffalo wings at the Anchor Bar, where the delicious spicy treats were invented (though a couple other bars also make the same claim). It felt like a pilgrimage. I've had pizza in Napoli, Guinness in Dublin, clam chowder in New England, a cheese-steak in Philly, and now wings in Buffalo. I don't know if there is anything left to do in my life!

I'm not going to give a review of the wings. I'm not going to tell you how perfectly crispily fried they were, or how the tangy hotness of the sauce melded exquisitely with the smooth coolness of the bleu cheese dressing. No, that would be like asking a devout Muslim to rate his stay in Mecca. It would be like asking a salmon how he felt upon arriving at the head of the river's upstream spawning ground, like asking Miles Standish how many stars he would give the first Thanksgiving. The important thing is I came, I saw, I ate.

Just a few miles from Buffalo, between a couple of those big lakes, there is a river. It's called the Niagara River, and it's not all that long or impressive by itself, but it happens to run over a HUGE cliff, pounding down in an ear-encompassing fall, sending spray in the air like a surfacing whale, eroding rocks at the rate of inches per year. Now that is impressive.

We stopped for two hours to see Niagara Falls. It is truly an amazing site. We rode the Maid of the Mist boat right out into the middle. The most fascinating thing to me is to think of all the random events that had to come together to make it happen. You need a big cliff right smack in the middle of the continent. And you need a big river with a big source of water behind it, and that river needs to just happen to flow over that cliff. The mist and the spray can be seen for miles down the road. I remarked to Christine, "I think there's a fire over there," as we were approaching, because it looked like smoke. It was just the mist. Generations of honeymooners have made the Falls their destination, and I can see why. Their power and beauty are awesome.

From there we continued towards the setting sun. In the evenings, the sun pours through the bug-soaked windshield into squinting eyes, making driving a challenge. But later on we were treated to one of the reddest sunsets I've ever seen. I don't know what it is about that part of northern Pennsylvania: pollution, lack of pollution, dust in the air, lack of dust, whatever, but it was beautiful.

We continued on through Ohio in the dark. Driving at night, you could be anywhere, on any stretch of highway. You don't see the sights or the landscape, you just move. It's relaxing. It gives you time to think. I was thinking about how much I love Buffalo wings.

We stopped for the night at a Motel 6 in Toledo, Ohio. There is bulletproof glass at the checkin counter. Not a good sign.