Champagne Problems & Cornfields: A Cross-Country Memoir
After months of planning (and re-planning) my grand escape to New York, the big day finally arrived—and I was… well, as ready as I was ever going to be. While I couldn’t wait to start this next chapter, reality hit hard when my alarm went off at 5:00 a.m. and I realized I’d be spending the next nine days driving cross-country to uproot my life entirely. Casual.
But with a cappuccino (extra shot, obviously) in hand and a playlist queued up, it was officially go time for me and Ruckus.
Day 1: Vegas, Baby!
What better way to kick off a cross-country move than with skyline views and a champagne toast? I said goodbye to California the only way I know how—by pretending I wasn’t low-key panicking about the 2,800 miles ahead.
Now, I’ve done the drive to Vegas before and let me just say… it’s not giving. By the time I rolled through Bakersfield for gas and snacks, I was so ready to be done. Thankfully, my night-shift bestie Adele just happened to be driving home and kept me company over the phone. (Pro tip: phone catch-ups became a near-daily highlight of this trip and sometimes, the only thing that got me through the long drives.)
If I was going to stay in Vegas, I was going to do Vegas—so naturally, I booked The Cosmopolitan. Thanks to my trusty Marriott Platinum Elite status (bless you, work travel), I was upgraded to a fountain suite overlooking the Bellagio. An iconic start.
Dinner was at Cathédrale at Aria—chosen purely for the drama of their signature cocktail, The Quaternary, served in a carved ice block. It was extravagant, fabulous, and completely unnecessary—exactly what I needed.
As tempting as it was to continue the evening out, I knew this was only Stop 1 of a long adventure. So I took myself back to my suite, poured a glass of champagne, and watched the Bellagio fountain show in a robe. Très Bonne Vivante.
🥂 Champagne Problem: The hotel upgraded me to a suite… but forgot the chilled champagne. A lawsuit? Maybe.
Day 2: Zion Park
Luckily, today was a short drive—but somewhere between leaving the bright lights of Vegas and arriving in small-town Utah, the reality of this move really hit me. I was deep in unfamiliar territory, both literally and emotionally.
Swapping a luxury suite for a rustic “glamping” cabin with a skylight over the bed, I was ready for a night of nature and solitude. What I didn’t realize? That said cabin came with no electricity or running water. Surprise! But there’s nothing this Bonne Vivante can’t handle.
After a quick stop at a local store for provisions, I whipped up a humble meal on a propane stove and watched the sun dip behind the Utah mountains in a truly breathtaking display. And then… things got interesting.
The generator wouldn’t turn on, there were no flashlights, and once the sun set, it was pitch black. Like, “where-am-I-and-why-can’t-I-see-my-own-hand” black. I fumbled around with my phone flashlight, prepped for the next day as best I could, and surrendered to the silence. And let me tell you—silence like that is not for the faint of heart.
But once I crawled into bed and looked up? Pure magic. The stars were unreal—a glittering show through the skylight that felt like my own private planetarium. I laid there and eventually drifted to sleep under the night sky.
The next morning, I was up early (again) for a sunrise hike through Zion. There’s only one trail in the park that allows pups—Pa’rus Trail, a peaceful 3.5-mile walk along Virgin River. And honestly? Watching the towering cliffs go from deep shadow to glowing amber as the sun rose was nothing short of magical. It was the kind of moment that makes you forget your generator woes. Almost.
After that serene start to the day, it was time to hit the road again—next stop: Denver. A casual 9-hour drive away. Sips coffee aggressively.
🥂 Champagne Problem: Booked a dreamy stargazing cabin… forgot to check if it had actual lights. Nature: 1, Bonne Vivante: 0.
Day 3: Denver
We’re keeping this one short and sweet—because, truthfully, I didn’t get to enjoy much of the Mile High City. Let’s just say... the road to Denver was not giving carefree road trip vibes.
After hours of winding through Utah’s rocky, dramatic landscape, I was saved by a fabulous phone catch-up with my dear friend Danielle—someone I hardly get to connect with these days. Thank you for keeping me company, babe!
And then… welcome to Colorado! Just in time for a full-blown snowstorm in the Rockies. A rite of passage? Perhaps. A nerve-wracking experience? Absolutely.
By the time I finally reached Denver, I was mentally and physically exhausted. My original plan was to stay with a friend and catch up over cocktails, but the weather delays threw off my timing. Instead, I pivoted and booked a budget-friendly, pet-friendly hotel (aka La Quinta) just to regroup and rest. Glamorous? Not exactly. Necessary? One hundred percent.
Thankfully, I managed to squeeze in a quick brunch with a girlfriend the next morning before heading off to my next... exciting destination: Kearney, Nebraska. Yep. That’s where we’re headed next. Buckle up.
🥂 Champagne Problem: I planned for a chic city stay and got blizzard survival mode instead. Cute.
Day 4–5: Kearney & Des Moines
We’re grouping these two days together because, truthfully, they kind of blend into one big Midwestern blur. Think five-hour drives through America’s finest farmland, punctuated by the occasional coffee stop, a walk for Ruckus, and a hunt for something edible.
Kearney was quiet—I opted for takeout in my hotel room while watching The White Lotus, which honestly felt like the right vibe after the past few chaotic days. In Des Moines, I rallied just enough energy for a proper night out and treated myself to a cozy dinner and wine at Mulberry Street Tavern. Solo date energy? Still undefeated.
Highlight reel:
– Tried Runza in Kearney. Not my favorite meal ever, but hey—when in Nebraska.
– Discovered Scotcheroos in Des Moines. Peanut butter, chocolate, and butterscotch in one chewy bar? Obsessed. Consider me converted.
🥂 Champagne Problem: I drove 10 hours for a fast-food meat pocket and a Midwest dessert bar. No notes.
Day 6: Chicago — Finally, a City Again!
After what felt like years of driving through farmland (okay, fine, just a few days), I caught a second wind—I was ready for a night out on the town. Chi-town, to be exact.
I checked into our accommodations for the night: a lovely riverside hotel, Club Quarters, which—hot tip—doesn’t charge extra for dogs. If you like to travel with your furbaby, take note!
After a quick change, I was off for a little city adventure. It was cold and starting to rain, so I kept it close to home and headed to Ocean Prime, conveniently located inside the LondonHouse Hotel right next door. One chili-blue cheese stuffed olive martini later, and this Bonne Vivante was feeling like herself again.
I spent the evening chatting with new bar friends, savoring a perfectly cooked steak dinner, and ending the night with a cocktail at the LH Rooftop, soaking in the city skyline between raindrops.
Ruckus, on the other hand, was not having it. Between the rain and the lack of greenery, my poor guy was clearly over this road trip. I did my best to shower him with love and reassure him that our new home was just around the corner… while secretly praying he wouldn’t hate Brooklyn as much as he hated rainy Chicago.
🥂 Champagne Problem:.I was finally back in a bustling city... but my dog demanded to know where the grass went.
Day 7–8: Cleveland & Harrisburg
Another couple of days that kind of blurred together—but not because either city lacked charm. Honestly? I was just done with suitcase life. Even before this road trip began, I had already spent a month bouncing between work travel and my parents’ place after moving out of my Oakland apartment. So by this point, I was five weeks deep in a single suitcase situation, while the rest of my life sat packed neatly in the back of a rental car. I WAS OVER IT.
Cleveland looked like a cute little big city, but I opted to keep things low key with dinner at the hotel restaurant and a bit of work catch-up. The real win? I actually got up early the next morning to hit the gym. Proud to say I stuck to my regular 5–6 days a week workout routine during this whole wild ride. (A win for my sanity, truly.)
By the time I reached Harrisburg, I was feeling restless and so ready to be settled. But I rallied—threw on something cute and took myself to Cork & Fork for one last proper meal on the road. I wish I’d had more energy to explore, but after years of travel I’ve learned: don’t force it when you’re running on empty. Rest is part of the adventure too.
The next morning? THE BIG DAY.
Brooklyn, we’re (finally) coming for you…
🥂 Champagne Problem: Somewhere between city number six and suitcase meltdown, I officially hit my travel limit. A Bonne Vivante may thrive on adventure… but even she has her “I just want my own bed and a real closet” moments. Glamour fatigue is real.
Day 9: Brooklyn, I’m Home!
I woke up with a mix of excitement and anxiety—because today was the day. The one I had dreamed about for months. The start of my New York life. The drive from Harrisburg may have been one of the shortest, but it felt like one of the longest… mostly because my patience was officially on E.
And then, out of nowhere, I saw it: that gorgeous New York skyline. The one I had imagined so many times. The one that meant this was it. Cue the waterworks—clearly captured in the reel I posted about Part II of the journey. It hit me all at once that I had done it. Crossed the country. Said yes to change. And was officially starting over.
Now, I promised honesty on this page, so let me keep it real: I may have been ready for my glamorous New York life, but… my new apartment was not ready for me. There was definitely an initial shock walking in and realizing it looked nothing like the photos online—mainly because it wasn’t nearly as clean as I’d hoped.
So, I did the only logical thing a Bonne Vivante could do: I opened a bottle of wine and headed to the neighborhood pizzeria, Saraghina (highly recommend, by the way). With a calmer mind—and, okay, a slight buzz—I took stock of the situation. I called the landlord, who agreed to fix some of the issues (broken blinds, missing kitchen items… love that for me), and I got to cleaning.
And somewhere between scrubbing and sipping, I remembered who I was. This may be a temporary place before I am ready to find my New York home, but I will make it fabulous. With a little Bonne Vivante flair and a lot of red lipstick, this space will reflect me in no time.
🥂 Champagne Problem: I made it all the way to my dream life in New York… only to be greeted by dust bunnies and broken blinds. But we’re not new to pivoting—we’re true to it.
Nine days and a grand total of 49 hours of driving later, I did it. I made it to Brooklyn—with a suitcase full of dreams (and about four full of shoes).
From West Coast to… Best Coast?
TBD—but I’m so excited for what’s ahead: scoping out fabulous bars in Manhattan, hunting down the best slice of pizza, and discovering all the little gems Brooklyn has to offer.
I’m happy to say I survived the journey… but I can’t say I’d do it again. Especially with only Ruckus as company. I have nothing against farmland, but let’s be honest—I moved to New York for a reason. I am a city or beach girl through and through.
Now that I’ve landed, I’m looking forward to sharing all my cheeky New York adventures, travels (and naturally, plenty more Champagne Problems).
But for now—tell me: have you ever done a cross-country road trip? What was your biggest takeaway? Or need a few tips? I’ve got you.
(Oh! And if you’re wondering how Ruckus is doing—we’ve already found two off-leash dog parks just minutes away, complete with an abundance of squirrels to chase. So let’s just say… he’s adjusting very well.)
Et voilà—this Bonne Vivante is officially ready to begin her new life.
