One of my first days spent in San Francisco was on Fisherman's Wharf. It is defiantly a cool place, but totally has that tourist vibe. Oh well, it was my first week there, I'm allowed to act like a tourist, right? defiantly
Well the following story will definitely show how much I wasn't paying attention.
Fisherman's Wharf is like Navy Pier on crack, except everyone is either trying to sell you something, or asking for change. It is important to keep your guard up, although no one really bothers you, except for the bums.
At the north part of the Wharf, right by some chocolate factory, is a beach. Even in the summer, San Francisco is pretty chilly especially in the morning. Well it just so happened to be 9am and foggy. People are still out swimming, but they wear wet suits. Except for one guy. One crazy, crazy guy.
He climbed from the water wearing nothing but shorts and sun glasses. I should have noticed right away, but my guard was so high I completely ignored the actual thing I was looking for. He stopped by one of the beach showers and someone with a camera nicer than mine was shooting photos of him. I figured it was some kind of event, something like the Polar Plunge, except in June. Well it wasn't, and this guy was crazy. He murmured something to the guy, and he left. He then saw me walking past, and asked if I wanted to shoot some photos of his freezing ass.
"Sure", I said .
After we were done, he said he would give me his info so I could send the pictures along. I just so happened to have a card with me, so I offered it to him. He mentioned that he was obviously soaking wet, and he didn't bring a towel, so to give him a minute and he would grab his clothes. He motioned to right over by a concrete wall, and we began to chat.
"Yeah, I'm an airline pilot on vacation, I'm waiting for this girl from San Diego to meet me here", he said.
I asked him why the hell he didn't bring a towel, and he said that he left everything in his car. Except that when he walked over to his "clothes", it was clear he had all his stuff with him. In a stroller. This guy not only wasn't a pilot, but he was definitely a bum. I began to see the signs. Right after he mentioned he was also a boat captain.
He made his was to his stroller, and started pulling out several shirts, and pairs of pants. One by one, he struggled to put them on. It was almost painful to watch. After he was finished, I thought he looked crazy enough. I was wrong.
I forget if even told me his name, but I was so baffled I would have forgotten it anyhow. This guy was Egyptian, and had a pretty decent beard. I'm not the type of person to judge people by their looks, but if he WAS a pilot, chances are he would get searched every time he was on a plane, if you catch my drift. Then the dumbest possible thing he could do, he did. He took a tattered shit and started wrapping it around his head, not unlike a turban. He looked like a homeless Osama Bin Laden.
"People think I have a bomb in here", he said as he shook the box.
"Oh shit, this guy totally has a bomb", I thought.
As soon as I figured out he was crazy, I tried to ditch him. I didn't have much luck, until we started to cruise the piers, and I noticed there was an arcade museum, filled with maze like rows of old arcade machines. This was my chance. He was smoking a cigarette, and couldn't go in.
"Hey, man, I'm going to check this out real quick", I said.
"Okay, let me finish this", he said.
Before he could finish his sentence, I was in the door. I looked back, and noticed he was smoking in a hurry. I had to be quick. I ducked and dodged through the aisles looking for somewhere to hide. Then I noticed my miracle. A door on the opposite side.
Knowing he would be in there, I had to carefully plan my exit. Ducking and hiding behind the cabinets like a Terminator movie, I felt a rush of adrenaline. I ducked out, and hopped on my skateboard. I pushed as hard as I could.
A few piers later, it was pretty clear he wasn't catching up. I started noticing signs for Alcatraz tours, so I slowed down. I made my way down a little bit farther when something caught my eye.
Somewhere near where they docked the boats, some seals have taken over a few of the docks. Apparently they just hang out there, and they have never left. It is a pretty big tourist attratction, but I had to check this out. I only spent a few minutes there, and started making my way down the long hallway the connects the docks to the main pier. Then I heard an echo.
"SEAAAAAANNN"
I tried to ignore it, and hopped on my board, but it wasn't coming from behind me, it was coming from in front.
"SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNN"
I had no choice but to look, and sure enough, he was running TOWARDS me, with his stroller full of his "pilot tools and booze". Resistance was futile, so I figured I would have to legitimately part ways with this goofball.
As we walked more down the wharf, he started pointing out restaurants where he mentioned how "nice" the waitresses were, and how they would toss him free food from the back alley. Was this guy serious? Did he not realize how crazy he sounded? He just went from being a pilot to hanging out in back alleys waiting for people to toss him food. It didn't make any sense. I wanted to ditch him, but the Wharf is pretty much a straight shot down to The Embarcadero, so my only option was to drive deeper into the city. As San Francisco is pretty much all uphill, I decided I must do what I need to do.
After a while, I just decided to wander off, and made it uphill. He followed, but it was clear he couldn't make it up the hills with his stroller full of shit. He began to follow me down the parallel roads until we caught up again at Embarcadero.
Okay, that was it. The final straw. I had to use something I knew he didn't have. Money.
I made my way to the BART. BART stands for Bay Area Rapid Transit, which is almost like New York's subway, or my hometown Chicago's El. It's pretty shitty, but it would have to do.
The BART's esclators are almost always broken. I figured this would get him. It didn't. He pushed his cart down the stairs so gracefully it was clear he had done this before. He assumed we were going down there to get loaded. He was wrong.
The BART has gates that open and close as soon as each individual swipes their card. You can scam a ride, but you have to be quick. Really quick. Something this guy wasn't.
It was pretty clear he was going to try and follow me, so I had to time it pretty perfect. I had to stay outside long enough so that right as I passed through, the gate closed. Wait to long, and I screw myself.
I made it through almost perfectly, thinking he wouldn't even try it. Once again, I was wrong.
He was skinny, so he almost made it through, until the gate clamped down on his leg. Ouch. I almost felt sorry for him. Then I remembered all his lies and crazy shit, and I felt sorry for him no longer.
"Hey Sean", he squirmed. "Toss me your card"
"WHAT?!", I pretended not to hear him.
I could see this disappointment in his eyes. There was a train just about to leave, so I hopped on it. I didn't care where it was going. As the train left the station, I could see him standing there, looking like a confused puppy.
Still, thinking about that look makes me sad.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
There Is Nothing In the World Like A Southern California Night (Great American Road Trip Part Something)
As soon as we hit California, something in my changed. I knew this is what I had been waiting for, and I was excited. If for some reason I had to turn around and go back home, I still would have left happy.
Passing the boarder made Neil a bit worried, but I assured him we wouldn't even be stopped. We weren't, and we made out way into the Coachella Valley. I've had friends who live in Indio and Palm Desert, and it seemed like a blast. They have often invited me to Coachella Music Festivel but I never took them up on the offer. But fuck did I want to.
The pure bliss I experienced in Arizona was almost completely forgotten by the time we hit San Bernadino. It was once again time for us to stop for a Chicago Blackhawks game, but this time it was important. They were playing the LA Kings.
We were in enemy territory.
I didn't think to bring a shirt or a jersey, but we figured that Neil's Blackhawk's tattoo was enough. We were ready. Although not for disappointment, which is exactly what happened.
The first place we stopped was an Applebees. I'm not partial to them, in fact, I think they suck. But I was willing to make an exception. They were watching baseball, on every screen. Given that both of Southern Cali's teams suck, they couldn't be watching the Dodgers on EVERY screen, right? They were. They didn't even know what hockey was. Seriously.
Given that there team had won the Stanley Cup the year prior, certainly somewhere close had to be playing it. We asked, and the locals couldn't even think of a place. This wouldn't happen in Chicago. I used to give shit to fair weather fans, but I have a new grown appreciation for them. At least in Chicago, people are willing to support their teams even when they are losing. The Kings were doing rather well, and not one person gave a shit.
We couldn't find our default, Buffalo Wild Wings, anywhere, so we decided to take a chance on a TGI Friday's. We got lucky, they said, as there were some Kings fans already there. Well, one fan, as it were.
In Chicago, places like that would be packed. Every single one of them. Even a place like Friday's, you would see husbands pigeon necking around to watch the game and ignore their wives, if only for a second. Apparently not in LA.
We had some fun rapport with the ONE (lady) fan at Friday's, but no one else gave a shit. When we cheered, people stared at us. At least in Texas people knew why we were being ignorant. Not here. At least the bartender was nice enough to not cut us off for being crazy.
The game was pretty uneventful, the Hawks one, but our celebration was not as gnarly as we had hoped. We were hoping to get dirty looks from Kings fans, but we ended up just getting dirty looks from the random people enjoying their meal.
At least we had the drive up the coast and our destination within reach to look forward to.
We never did get the sweet girl we made friends with at Friday's name, but if she every reads this...
Haha, we won!
Passing the boarder made Neil a bit worried, but I assured him we wouldn't even be stopped. We weren't, and we made out way into the Coachella Valley. I've had friends who live in Indio and Palm Desert, and it seemed like a blast. They have often invited me to Coachella Music Festivel but I never took them up on the offer. But fuck did I want to.
The pure bliss I experienced in Arizona was almost completely forgotten by the time we hit San Bernadino. It was once again time for us to stop for a Chicago Blackhawks game, but this time it was important. They were playing the LA Kings.
We were in enemy territory.
I didn't think to bring a shirt or a jersey, but we figured that Neil's Blackhawk's tattoo was enough. We were ready. Although not for disappointment, which is exactly what happened.
The first place we stopped was an Applebees. I'm not partial to them, in fact, I think they suck. But I was willing to make an exception. They were watching baseball, on every screen. Given that both of Southern Cali's teams suck, they couldn't be watching the Dodgers on EVERY screen, right? They were. They didn't even know what hockey was. Seriously.
Given that there team had won the Stanley Cup the year prior, certainly somewhere close had to be playing it. We asked, and the locals couldn't even think of a place. This wouldn't happen in Chicago. I used to give shit to fair weather fans, but I have a new grown appreciation for them. At least in Chicago, people are willing to support their teams even when they are losing. The Kings were doing rather well, and not one person gave a shit.
We couldn't find our default, Buffalo Wild Wings, anywhere, so we decided to take a chance on a TGI Friday's. We got lucky, they said, as there were some Kings fans already there. Well, one fan, as it were.
In Chicago, places like that would be packed. Every single one of them. Even a place like Friday's, you would see husbands pigeon necking around to watch the game and ignore their wives, if only for a second. Apparently not in LA.
We had some fun rapport with the ONE (lady) fan at Friday's, but no one else gave a shit. When we cheered, people stared at us. At least in Texas people knew why we were being ignorant. Not here. At least the bartender was nice enough to not cut us off for being crazy.
The game was pretty uneventful, the Hawks one, but our celebration was not as gnarly as we had hoped. We were hoping to get dirty looks from Kings fans, but we ended up just getting dirty looks from the random people enjoying their meal.
At least we had the drive up the coast and our destination within reach to look forward to.
We never did get the sweet girl we made friends with at Friday's name, but if she every reads this...
Haha, we won!
California! We Made It!
The southwest is one of my favorite places in this country. I have family in the Pheonix area, and although I haven't been there in 10 years, I was really looking forward to it.
That was until we hit the coast.
From Pheonix to LA it was about 100 degrees. In a car with no air condition, it definately tested our limits. The drive was so beautiful, I almost didn't notice it. But when I did, holy shit. It was hot.
Really hot.
I had always heard two things about southern California. The weather and the traffic. My co-pilot had never seen LA, I thought it was pretty impaitive he saw a few sights LA had to offer. The Whiskey, The Roxy, and the Capitol Records tower are a must. The Hollywood is a sight to be seen.
We didn't have much time, so we had to just hit the 101 to make sure we saw as much as possible. I knew that we would see the Hollywood sign and the Capitol Records building, I just hoped we didn't hit traffic.
Through Coachella valley we hit some problems, but it was due to a rather nasty accident. After that it was smooth sailing. Although I'm sure a few people got pissed at the speed I was driving. Oh well, fuck em. They saw the license plates.
It was still hot as we drove through LA, but as soon as we hit Ventura it was like a breath of fresh air. Literally. The temprature dropped about 15 degrees, and as soon as we hit the coast we knew it was going to be a slow ride.
We made the decision to take the Pacific Coast Highway all the way up to the Bay Area. We knew it was going to take us a little longer. Fuck it, it was worth it.
We had timed it so we would hit the coast right as the sunset. It was blinding for a few minutes, but fuck it was worth it. This was what I was waiting for. Physically and spiritually. I had often dreamed about this moment. And now it was finally reality.
Unlike a band you love or a girl you had been wooing, the California coast did not disappoint. It was everything I had hoped it would be. I had thought my spiritual journey was over. Little did I know it was just beginning.
Holy fuck was it just beginning.
(From here on out, I will be switching between stories of emotional growth and spiritual enlightenment. I realize now the stories I've told aren't the greatest, although they felt like that at the time. The time I spent in southern California will forever remain one of the greatest experiences of my life, and I have plenty of stories to tell. This is just the beginning.)
That was until we hit the coast.
From Pheonix to LA it was about 100 degrees. In a car with no air condition, it definately tested our limits. The drive was so beautiful, I almost didn't notice it. But when I did, holy shit. It was hot.
Really hot.
I had always heard two things about southern California. The weather and the traffic. My co-pilot had never seen LA, I thought it was pretty impaitive he saw a few sights LA had to offer. The Whiskey, The Roxy, and the Capitol Records tower are a must. The Hollywood is a sight to be seen.
We didn't have much time, so we had to just hit the 101 to make sure we saw as much as possible. I knew that we would see the Hollywood sign and the Capitol Records building, I just hoped we didn't hit traffic.
Through Coachella valley we hit some problems, but it was due to a rather nasty accident. After that it was smooth sailing. Although I'm sure a few people got pissed at the speed I was driving. Oh well, fuck em. They saw the license plates.
It was still hot as we drove through LA, but as soon as we hit Ventura it was like a breath of fresh air. Literally. The temprature dropped about 15 degrees, and as soon as we hit the coast we knew it was going to be a slow ride.
We made the decision to take the Pacific Coast Highway all the way up to the Bay Area. We knew it was going to take us a little longer. Fuck it, it was worth it.
We had timed it so we would hit the coast right as the sunset. It was blinding for a few minutes, but fuck it was worth it. This was what I was waiting for. Physically and spiritually. I had often dreamed about this moment. And now it was finally reality.
Unlike a band you love or a girl you had been wooing, the California coast did not disappoint. It was everything I had hoped it would be. I had thought my spiritual journey was over. Little did I know it was just beginning.
Holy fuck was it just beginning.
(From here on out, I will be switching between stories of emotional growth and spiritual enlightenment. I realize now the stories I've told aren't the greatest, although they felt like that at the time. The time I spent in southern California will forever remain one of the greatest experiences of my life, and I have plenty of stories to tell. This is just the beginning.)
The Half Way Point
So I've been getting a lot of good responses for this blog. I'm happy about that.
I'll be writing more of the story shortly. In the mean time, I've been stranded here in Ashland, Oregon having a great time.
The mountains here are amazing. Only a short five minute walk brings me to one of the most amazing places I've ever been in my life. Streams so clean you can drink from them. Paths that aren't really paths, but more rock climbing expeditions.
San Francisco is fun, and I cannot wait to live there however, for the time being I am enjoying submerging myself into nature and climbing mountains.
For now, perhaps I'll go raging down the zip line a time or two.
I'll be writing more of the story shortly. In the mean time, I've been stranded here in Ashland, Oregon having a great time.
The mountains here are amazing. Only a short five minute walk brings me to one of the most amazing places I've ever been in my life. Streams so clean you can drink from them. Paths that aren't really paths, but more rock climbing expeditions.
San Francisco is fun, and I cannot wait to live there however, for the time being I am enjoying submerging myself into nature and climbing mountains.
For now, perhaps I'll go raging down the zip line a time or two.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Great American Road Trip, Part something... New Mexico and Arizona. The desert and tequila.
I was hung over. Very hung over.
The prior night's antics in Texas caught up with me. We met strippers and/or hookers, some crazy tweakers, and a comparably normal Republican couple at Buffalo Wild Wings.
With the exception of the tweakers, everyone was pretty nice. The strippers gave us some vodka since apparently everything in Texas closes at midnight. We hesitated, but it was worth it.
We slept from the time we checked in until check out. It was no Thursday. Neil had to be to work on Friday. It was pretty apparent even if we did make it, it wasn't going to be a pretty day.
"I think maybe I should call off", he said.
If he didn't call off, he wouldn't have to be to work until Wednesday, which meant we could stop and "see the sights". From Chicago to New Mexico is pretty boring anyhow, but the second you hit New Mexico, it becomes a different story.
The mountains and plateaus start off small, but you know you are in the desert. No cacti, but there are vultures. Big, scary vultures.
The road into Albuquerque is a lot cooler than the town of Albuquerque. Winding highways bring you through about 50 miles of mountains. Just as you start to think they will never end, you clear them and see a giant valley.
There isn't much in the town of ABQ, and unfortunately I missed out on their red and green chili. I was hung over and tired, so I gave myself a pass on that one. We did stop at a casino and spent a half hour registering for a player's card for a stupid cup souvenir. It was worth it. Free shit.
As we made it into Arizona, we debated stopping at my Aunt's in Phoenix. it was about 3 hours out of the way, but we made it in an hour and a half. Not exactly sure how that happened.
My Aunt was quiet accommodating. We were exhausted, and the night in a shitty Texas motel didn't do much good. With the anxiety of making it by Friday lifted, we were ready to party. Plus she had a pool.
By this point, any anxiety and worries I had were gone. We made it more than half way, and the comfort of seeing my Aunt helped. It almost felt like home.
We swam, drank, and ate. I got my first taste on In-n-Out. Although I was extremely nautius and hung over, but it was glorious. We spent 2 and a half days there. Much needed relaxation for some weary travelers.
It was mandatory for us to drink tequila in the desert. I'm not a big fan on it, but whats right is right. By the end, I was chugging it out of the bottle. I now love tequila.
I hope from here on out any time I drink tequila, I am reminded of the days I spent in the desert with my friend Neil, and my family. Thats how it should be.
The prior night's antics in Texas caught up with me. We met strippers and/or hookers, some crazy tweakers, and a comparably normal Republican couple at Buffalo Wild Wings.
With the exception of the tweakers, everyone was pretty nice. The strippers gave us some vodka since apparently everything in Texas closes at midnight. We hesitated, but it was worth it.
We slept from the time we checked in until check out. It was no Thursday. Neil had to be to work on Friday. It was pretty apparent even if we did make it, it wasn't going to be a pretty day.
"I think maybe I should call off", he said.
If he didn't call off, he wouldn't have to be to work until Wednesday, which meant we could stop and "see the sights". From Chicago to New Mexico is pretty boring anyhow, but the second you hit New Mexico, it becomes a different story.
The mountains and plateaus start off small, but you know you are in the desert. No cacti, but there are vultures. Big, scary vultures.
The road into Albuquerque is a lot cooler than the town of Albuquerque. Winding highways bring you through about 50 miles of mountains. Just as you start to think they will never end, you clear them and see a giant valley.
There isn't much in the town of ABQ, and unfortunately I missed out on their red and green chili. I was hung over and tired, so I gave myself a pass on that one. We did stop at a casino and spent a half hour registering for a player's card for a stupid cup souvenir. It was worth it. Free shit.
As we made it into Arizona, we debated stopping at my Aunt's in Phoenix. it was about 3 hours out of the way, but we made it in an hour and a half. Not exactly sure how that happened.
My Aunt was quiet accommodating. We were exhausted, and the night in a shitty Texas motel didn't do much good. With the anxiety of making it by Friday lifted, we were ready to party. Plus she had a pool.
By this point, any anxiety and worries I had were gone. We made it more than half way, and the comfort of seeing my Aunt helped. It almost felt like home.
We swam, drank, and ate. I got my first taste on In-n-Out. Although I was extremely nautius and hung over, but it was glorious. We spent 2 and a half days there. Much needed relaxation for some weary travelers.
It was mandatory for us to drink tequila in the desert. I'm not a big fan on it, but whats right is right. By the end, I was chugging it out of the bottle. I now love tequila.
I hope from here on out any time I drink tequila, I am reminded of the days I spent in the desert with my friend Neil, and my family. Thats how it should be.
It took me about half an hour to get this shot, but it was worth it. This is definitely the photo that best defines the road trip. It is my favorite, and hopefully yours too.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
The Great American Road Trip, Part 7. A Night in a Crappy Texas Motel Room.
We were definitely in the thick of it. We tried a few of the nicer places on the block, and it was clear our charm had been washed away with the booze. The only other option was the "Relax Inn", which was $35 a night...
I was surprised at the amount of accommodations off the highway in Amarillo, Texas. Maybe I've watched too many movies, but it seemed like there was more going on in that town than I had expected. I had expected a run down, shitty gas station, and maybe a crappy motel. While I was pretty disappointed in the abundance of domestication in that town, we picked the right place to stay.
The "Relax Inn" is the type of place you see in movies, or a TV show. Run down, the windows all had some kind of weird film caked over them. It was clear they weren't washed in months. In Chicago, it is pretty easy to spot the hooker motels, but since I had never been to Amarillo, Texas, I had no idea what to expect. The pool was half way filled with water and what looked like human feces. I appreciated the fact that the place was run down because it felt like it gave us the real road trip experience. The type of place people are murdered in.
I knew it couldn't be the best place, but we were drunk and exhausted. We each threw in $20, and we had a place to stay.
"Wait a minute", I thought. "Don't they cook a lot of meth in Texas?"
YESS!! The odds of this being a real life meth lab was well in the realm of possibility. I've never done meth, nor do I ever plan to, but it was exciting. There had to be at least a tweaker or two just hanging out.
Sure enough, we weren't even there for five minutes, and these two odd looking fellows turned the corner. One was small, wearing typical gangster attire. Fitted flat, oversized hat, off to the side with two braids on either side of his head, like Snoop Dogg. Dark skin, most likely Latino, and a matching basketball jersey. He was into some crooked shit. The other kid, who was white, looked rather normal, for a Texas tweaker, that is. Both of their jaws were going crazy. They were tweaking, thats for sure.
What I saw in the next 5 minutes depressed the hell out of me. It was pretty clear these two guys were stuck in Texas, to do nothing but crystal meth. They would most likely end up in prison in the next year or so, and hopefully not for the murder of two guys from Chicago.
Neil tried talking to them, seeing if they knew where a party was, but it was pretty obvious we didn't want to go to any party these cats were going to. It would be pretty hard to make the jump from doing shots at a Buffalo Wild Wings to hanging out with a bunch of crystal meth addicts. Not exactly what I would call a fun night.
But I could tell Neil wasn't serious, he just wanted to screw with these guys. I told him that probably wasn't the best idea, but he motioned to the tire iron on the floor, and that gave me an odd sense of safety.
It was pretty clear we couldn't have any kind of conversation with these weirdos. The gangster type was talking a mile a minute while the random ass white kid hung out in the back letting his jaw take over his entire face. It was like his teeth were trying to escape his mouth. Then his arm started to get the willies. He just kept saying "yeah, yeah, yeah!" over and over again, almost like Beavis.
As they do, the tweakers began to get really paranoid. They started asking us if we were cops, which would have been too late anyway since they basically describe their entire meth life story to us. Then they asked if we wanted to party.
"Nah, man. We just got back from a party. We're extremely tired, and we gotta hit the road in the morning", I said. Neil didn't have the same answer.
"Why, where you guys partying at?!", he said.
It was hard to understand, but I think what the gangster was saying was that he knew a girl staying at the same motel. Most likely a hooker, I thought. He was speaking far to fast for him to make a coherant sentance. The only thing I could clearly make out was "Lets go up to your room, yo!"
Shit...
While messing with these guys was fun and all, the last thing we wanted was them in our room. The most important fact is that they are crystal meth addicts and those aren't the type of people you let into your strange motel room in a strange town, unless you out number them. Even then, it isn't the brightest idea.
Neil and I tried getting a word in edge wise, but it is as if they weren't even listening to us. They probably weren't. While we were saying things like "Nah man", and "We don't want to fucking party, go the fuck home" they heard things like "Please follow us to our room while your friend next to you goes bat shit crazy".
As they kept following us, Neil and I looked at each other. We thought this might be another case of attempted robbery, although neither of us had anything worth stealing. Neil's guitars and my camera maybe, but they didn't see those. Neil secured the tire iron with out drawing too much attention to himself, and I gripped my skateboard pretty tightly.
We made our way up the stairs to the second floor, and they were right behind us, spouting off more babble that you only see on the show "Breaking Bad". We were in the thick of it, thats for sure. I kept thinking about how we might have to explain ourselves to the wonderful Amarillo, Texas police force what the reason was for us to beat up some tweakers. Although the more I thought about the circumstances, the more I figured they would probably understand, and think that we did them a favor.
As we reached our door, it became clear we would have wedge them out, or beat them up. I still couldn't figure out their motives. Maybe they just needed a place to do more crystal meth? Maybe they wanted to wear our skin as a hat. I wasn't willing to find out. Then, before I could even think something up, the situation dissolved itself.
We made it to the door, and Neil swiped his card. The red light beeped. The card didn't work. Genious, I thought! He must have given them the wrong room number, just in case. He swiped it again. Nothing. This made the tweakers very upset.
"C'mon man, open the fuckin' door. Are you a cop?!", the white guy asked.
I'm not sure exactly how not being able to open your motel room door makes you a cop, but I was willing to run with it. Neil swiped a few more times, and it didn't work. It was pretty obvious it wasn't going to, but the tweaker had to show us what was up anyway.
"Here man, gimmie that fuckin' thing. I'll show ya", he snagged the card and was so shaky he couldn't even get the card in position. He struggled to even flip the card over to the right side. Before he even made one attempt, he dropped the card.
"I don't know man that shit is fucked up I dunno what the fuck maybe you fuckin, I don't know fuckin' know it ain't fuckin working", he said.
The gangster tweaker offered to try, but before he could, the white guy had a change of heart. He exclaimed something along the lines of "We gotta go", and his emotions spiked, as they happened to do.
They ran off into the night, with out so much as a goodbye. And as quickly as they showed up, they were gone.
Due to exhaustion and the drinking, we woke up past check out time the next day. Luckily we had all of our stuff ready to go. We awoke to an Indian guy in our room telling us that we couldn't have two people in the room. I'm not sure why he bothered telling us, but perhaps he thought we were two gay dudes hiding from our wives. It was clear it was time to get the fuck out of Amarillo, Texas.
The Great American Road Trip, Part 6? Texas and the Pool.
The temperature begain to rise as we started driving through Texas. The fact the car had no air conditioning didn't matter much until this point. We made it to Amarillo, and Neil wanted to stop for the game.
I knew that although we were early, if we didn't stop now we would probably end up missing a small part of the game, which was NOT an option. The other issue is actually finding a place who would carry the game. Hockey isn't very big in Texas. After we found the central "hub" of the city, we decided to try and look for a place that would have the game. After a few minutes of searching and a gas station attendant who sent us in the wrong direction, we found a Buffalo Wild Wings. You can always count on them to have the game, whatever the hell that means. We confirmed that they would have the game, but we were a few hours early. Sure we could go sit in BWW, but that place is expensive and we were running low on funds. That is when Neil's brain kicked in.
"What this, let's go chill at the pool", he said.
Wait, what pool?! I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. There was a hotel in the same parking lot as the BWW, but surely he didn't mean that place, right?
As he started walking towards the hotel, I figured he was messing with me. "Maybe he got a room and is just fucking with me", I thought. Nope! After we casually strolled in with another group of people strung out from the road, we sat down in the lobby and told me his plan...
First off, this plan would take a little confidence, so I figured it would be best to leave it up to Neil, since I was positive this plan wouldn't work. First came the set up. He casually walked over to the front desk and asked the cute girl behind the counter what their address was, and the name of the hotel. He began to explain that our "parents" got stuck in the storm about 2 hours behind us, but they were on their way. He then proceeded to tell her that our parents had in fact booked a hotel room for the night.
"The reservation is under Johnson", he said. He barely passed it off.
"I don't have that name in the computer, but do they have a reservation number?", the girl behind the counter asked, trying to assist these two vagrants in any way possible. It was almost sad.
"Yeah but I've been trying to call them and they aren't answering", he said. Faking contempt for his fake parents that weren't on the road at all.
"Well as soon as they get here, it won't be a problem", she said.
"We wanted to watch the Blackhawks game, and we are tired and dirty. Is there anyway we can just use the pool til they get here?", he asked, practically begging her.
Before he could even finish the sentance, she had printed us a key card. I couldn't believe it.
"This will let you into the pool/patio area, as well as the gym where the game will be on. Just make sure to give the key back when you're done.", she said.
She knew. She had to know. We weren't with our parents. We were a couple of broke kids on a road trip just looking to hop in the pool for a few minutes.
We were all dressed and ready to hop in, but we had all our stuff with us. There was no way we would be in there for ten minutes before the manager came and had us arrested.
We scoped the pool area out, and there was no one in there, except for a few lonely beach balls. They must have been put there for us.
We were quiet and respectful of the people working out in the gym next to the pool, but it was hard to go a little crazy. We had just bullshitted our way into using a fairly expensive hotel's pool and hot tub. Not exactly Ocean's 11 material, but Neil was pretty proud of himself, as he should be.
We hung out in the pool for a couple of hours before we snuck out the back and headed over to the Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the game. I thought it was silly to hang out near the scene of the crime, what if the lobby girl came into BWW's for a drink after her shift? We should surely be arrested.
Completely content with himself, Neil ordered shots every time the Hawks scored, and they scored a lot that game. Between being up for 36 hours, being on the road, and the drinking, we were pretty blitzed by the time the game was over.
It was pretty clear we weren't going anywhere, much less driving through the rest of Texas and New Mexico.
I knew that although we were early, if we didn't stop now we would probably end up missing a small part of the game, which was NOT an option. The other issue is actually finding a place who would carry the game. Hockey isn't very big in Texas. After we found the central "hub" of the city, we decided to try and look for a place that would have the game. After a few minutes of searching and a gas station attendant who sent us in the wrong direction, we found a Buffalo Wild Wings. You can always count on them to have the game, whatever the hell that means. We confirmed that they would have the game, but we were a few hours early. Sure we could go sit in BWW, but that place is expensive and we were running low on funds. That is when Neil's brain kicked in.
"What this, let's go chill at the pool", he said.
Wait, what pool?! I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. There was a hotel in the same parking lot as the BWW, but surely he didn't mean that place, right?
As he started walking towards the hotel, I figured he was messing with me. "Maybe he got a room and is just fucking with me", I thought. Nope! After we casually strolled in with another group of people strung out from the road, we sat down in the lobby and told me his plan...
First off, this plan would take a little confidence, so I figured it would be best to leave it up to Neil, since I was positive this plan wouldn't work. First came the set up. He casually walked over to the front desk and asked the cute girl behind the counter what their address was, and the name of the hotel. He began to explain that our "parents" got stuck in the storm about 2 hours behind us, but they were on their way. He then proceeded to tell her that our parents had in fact booked a hotel room for the night.
"The reservation is under Johnson", he said. He barely passed it off.
"I don't have that name in the computer, but do they have a reservation number?", the girl behind the counter asked, trying to assist these two vagrants in any way possible. It was almost sad.
"Yeah but I've been trying to call them and they aren't answering", he said. Faking contempt for his fake parents that weren't on the road at all.
"Well as soon as they get here, it won't be a problem", she said.
"We wanted to watch the Blackhawks game, and we are tired and dirty. Is there anyway we can just use the pool til they get here?", he asked, practically begging her.
Before he could even finish the sentance, she had printed us a key card. I couldn't believe it.
"This will let you into the pool/patio area, as well as the gym where the game will be on. Just make sure to give the key back when you're done.", she said.
She knew. She had to know. We weren't with our parents. We were a couple of broke kids on a road trip just looking to hop in the pool for a few minutes.
We were all dressed and ready to hop in, but we had all our stuff with us. There was no way we would be in there for ten minutes before the manager came and had us arrested.
We scoped the pool area out, and there was no one in there, except for a few lonely beach balls. They must have been put there for us.
We were quiet and respectful of the people working out in the gym next to the pool, but it was hard to go a little crazy. We had just bullshitted our way into using a fairly expensive hotel's pool and hot tub. Not exactly Ocean's 11 material, but Neil was pretty proud of himself, as he should be.
We hung out in the pool for a couple of hours before we snuck out the back and headed over to the Buffalo Wild Wings to watch the game. I thought it was silly to hang out near the scene of the crime, what if the lobby girl came into BWW's for a drink after her shift? We should surely be arrested.
Completely content with himself, Neil ordered shots every time the Hawks scored, and they scored a lot that game. Between being up for 36 hours, being on the road, and the drinking, we were pretty blitzed by the time the game was over.
It was pretty clear we weren't going anywhere, much less driving through the rest of Texas and New Mexico.
The Great American Road Trip, Part 5 (The Boring Part)
After we spent a couple of hours in St. Louis, we had to make up some time. It was dark, and there isn't much to see in Northern Missouri anyhow. Neil fell asleep, so I spent a little time with myself.
The roads were barren, except for a few truckers. It was almost depressing, and had I not remembered the end result I may have decided to end the trip there. It was important that I kept the end goal fresh in my head at this point. The darkness seemed to reflect how I felt at this point.
What was I doing? Was I crazy? Driving across the country for esentially no reason? Alone with my thoughts, I really began to second guess myself. I hoped that once we got out of Missiouri, things would change.
Neil woke up after about a six hour nap, but I was still good to drive. Somehow I made it close to 10 hours without a problem. The sun started to rise, so I started to feel better. After Neil took over in the pilot's chair, it was my turn to nap. I was pretty tired, but it didn't last very long. Close to 24 hours in, the road had started to take its toll on us.
Neil began speaking of truck stops where you could take a shower. I didn't disagree, but an Oklahoma truck stop isn't exactly the kind of place you stop at to feel clean. Shower or no, I figured it would be a while before I felt comfortable.
We found what we thought was the truck stop, and it looked rather run down. Broken windows and old yellow stained walls that were a relic of the road trips of yesterday. I was not impressed.
Thankfully we were at the wrong place, and they only had bathrooms. I had just downed three Monster's, they were a welcome sight. I was very thankful they were not the place with showers, and we hopped back on the road.
We found the right place, and it was a complete turn around from what we had just witnessed. Clean and brand new, it seemed like the perfect place to take a shower. Clean and brand new, we paid our ten dollars and went to it.
After the shower and a nap, my mood improved greatly. I went from rapid changes in emotion to an overall feeling of wellness. We began to see big giant crosses that made you wonder who in the city allowed those monstrocities to be built. Then you remember that the speration of church and state doesn't really exist in the bible belt.
Between the bland flatness and churches, I wonder why the suicide rate doesn't surpass the rest of the country by leaps and bounds.
We passed through Tulsa and not much happened. An hour or so out of Oklahoma City, I was reminded of the terrible storms that had ripped through the area not even a month prior. The reason I was reminded because we were stuck in a very similar storm.
As we reached the middle of the day, the sky was once again creased in half. It began to get very, very windy. I was no driving, and I had to fight to keep control of the car. I thought about pulling over and waiting for the wind to die down, but since we could habe been there for hours I figured it would not be a wise choice.
As the storm grew closer, I realized it was not like the storm we passed in Illinois. This one was evil. I was in the left lane, not using it for passing as intended. In the right lane, also not following the rules, was a big semi-truck.
The wind began to pick up, and the truck began to swerve. Although I was already a car length or so behind him, I figured it would be best to lay off even more. My mind was put at ease at his rate of acceleration. But we were both making mistakes in putting our faith in his driving.
As we passed an over pass, there were a couple of cars parked underneith. "Scared people just waiting it out", I thought. Apparently everyone was scared, because the farther we went, the more difficult it became to pass the overwhelming amount of cars under the overpass. They had turned into one lane highway. And then I saw it.
Dirt was turned up in a strip that spanned across the entire horizon. It was clear a tornado had just run through Oklahoma.
For miles, semis were turned over on both sides of the high way, and then we passed the very truck I had seen just 20 miles earlier. It was in the middle of the highway, with the cab straight up in the air like it was pointing to the sky.
Had we been keeping up with that truck instead of slowing down, we may have ended up underneath their trailer.
I'm not exactly sure how we made it through Oklahoma as quick as we did, but I'm glad that we did. A pretty boring place, I can say with confidence I'll never go back unless forced.
It was important to Neil that we made it somewhere in order to watch the Blackhawks game. Thankfully we made the wise choice to stop in Amarillo, Texas for the game...
(continued in part 6)
The roads were barren, except for a few truckers. It was almost depressing, and had I not remembered the end result I may have decided to end the trip there. It was important that I kept the end goal fresh in my head at this point. The darkness seemed to reflect how I felt at this point.
What was I doing? Was I crazy? Driving across the country for esentially no reason? Alone with my thoughts, I really began to second guess myself. I hoped that once we got out of Missiouri, things would change.
Neil woke up after about a six hour nap, but I was still good to drive. Somehow I made it close to 10 hours without a problem. The sun started to rise, so I started to feel better. After Neil took over in the pilot's chair, it was my turn to nap. I was pretty tired, but it didn't last very long. Close to 24 hours in, the road had started to take its toll on us.
Neil began speaking of truck stops where you could take a shower. I didn't disagree, but an Oklahoma truck stop isn't exactly the kind of place you stop at to feel clean. Shower or no, I figured it would be a while before I felt comfortable.
We found what we thought was the truck stop, and it looked rather run down. Broken windows and old yellow stained walls that were a relic of the road trips of yesterday. I was not impressed.
Thankfully we were at the wrong place, and they only had bathrooms. I had just downed three Monster's, they were a welcome sight. I was very thankful they were not the place with showers, and we hopped back on the road.
We found the right place, and it was a complete turn around from what we had just witnessed. Clean and brand new, it seemed like the perfect place to take a shower. Clean and brand new, we paid our ten dollars and went to it.
After the shower and a nap, my mood improved greatly. I went from rapid changes in emotion to an overall feeling of wellness. We began to see big giant crosses that made you wonder who in the city allowed those monstrocities to be built. Then you remember that the speration of church and state doesn't really exist in the bible belt.
Between the bland flatness and churches, I wonder why the suicide rate doesn't surpass the rest of the country by leaps and bounds.
We passed through Tulsa and not much happened. An hour or so out of Oklahoma City, I was reminded of the terrible storms that had ripped through the area not even a month prior. The reason I was reminded because we were stuck in a very similar storm.
As we reached the middle of the day, the sky was once again creased in half. It began to get very, very windy. I was no driving, and I had to fight to keep control of the car. I thought about pulling over and waiting for the wind to die down, but since we could habe been there for hours I figured it would not be a wise choice.
As the storm grew closer, I realized it was not like the storm we passed in Illinois. This one was evil. I was in the left lane, not using it for passing as intended. In the right lane, also not following the rules, was a big semi-truck.
The wind began to pick up, and the truck began to swerve. Although I was already a car length or so behind him, I figured it would be best to lay off even more. My mind was put at ease at his rate of acceleration. But we were both making mistakes in putting our faith in his driving.
As we passed an over pass, there were a couple of cars parked underneith. "Scared people just waiting it out", I thought. Apparently everyone was scared, because the farther we went, the more difficult it became to pass the overwhelming amount of cars under the overpass. They had turned into one lane highway. And then I saw it.
Dirt was turned up in a strip that spanned across the entire horizon. It was clear a tornado had just run through Oklahoma.
For miles, semis were turned over on both sides of the high way, and then we passed the very truck I had seen just 20 miles earlier. It was in the middle of the highway, with the cab straight up in the air like it was pointing to the sky.
Had we been keeping up with that truck instead of slowing down, we may have ended up underneath their trailer.
I'm not exactly sure how we made it through Oklahoma as quick as we did, but I'm glad that we did. A pretty boring place, I can say with confidence I'll never go back unless forced.
It was important to Neil that we made it somewhere in order to watch the Blackhawks game. Thankfully we made the wise choice to stop in Amarillo, Texas for the game...
(continued in part 6)
St. Louis: Hustlas' Have to Make a Living, Too! (Part 2)
(St. Louis via I-55, while getting pulled over for expired tags)
The reason I have not posted any photos until this point is because there weren't any. Illinois for me is pretty boring, so I figured it would be the same for you. There wasn't anything cool, trust me.
After Tony "the tap dancing sailor" left, we thought the excitement was over.
We were wrong.
Not even 5 minutes later, another man approached us. He was wearing a pink beanie, but he wasn't gay.
A short, bald black man wearing sweat pants and a sweatshirt that matched. He wore dusty Air Jordan's, although they were most likely knock offs. This guy didn't look particularly interesting to us. We have them all over Chicago. They are called drug dealers.
Dealing with drug dealers in Chicago is pretty simple. Half of the time you just nod your head "No" or just keep walking. Looking around, acting sketchy and nervous, he definatly fit the profile of a west side drug dealer.
As he sat down, he said "Whats up?" fairly loudly, which means we could hear him pretty easily. We both exchanged greetings, and then he got quiet. He cupped his hand around his mouth and his voice dropped down to a whisper. If he was any quieter he would be completely silent. He began to mumble something completely inaudible. With his mouth over his mouth, it took us 5 tries to hear what he was saying. Was he asking us if we needed drugs? Or did he need them? Was he asking for change? Finally, we understood him.
"Arm Wrestle?", he asked Neil.
Although we heard him correctly, it was such an odd question we had him repeat himself one more time. After a few minutes, we were able to decipher the entire sentence. He wanted to arm wrestle for drinks. Ah HAH! He wasn't a drug dealer. He was a hustler, but not a very good one.
What good hustlers do is set up shop at a pool table or dart board, and play as if they have never played before. Going through the motions, sooner or later, someone will ask you to play for money. They play one or two games and lose. That is when they switch into hustler mode. They ask for a chance to win their money back, or play for WAY more than they were playing for, and then they smoke their opponent. If done correctly, they walk away with at least double the money they had in the first place.
Being a hustler takes patience, and it was pretty clear this guy had none. Although it was clear he was not a good one, you never go to a strange town and try to beat a hustler. Well apparently Neil didn't feel the same way.
"Sure!", Neil said and before they could exchange names, he was in position. The hustler was pretty shocked. Neil can be deciving. He isn't exactly small, but he isn't massive either. He is the most dangerous type of person because you cannot get a read on him at all. He could be a complete wuss, but unfortunately for Mr. Hustler, he isn't.
The table they were going to wrestle on wasn't exactly perfect for the sport. It wasn't level and the wood was rough so it could easily give you splinters. As they locked hands, Neil prepared as if he was in the movie "Over the Top" with Sylvester Stallone. Mr. Hustler's eyes showed a hint of fear, and he braced himself.
Before he knew what happened, Neil had him almost to the table. Neil started laughing, and pretended to struggle. He joked about something, but Mr. Hustler had to concentrate completely on losing. Although it was clear the fight was over, he didn't give up. Neil acted as if nothing much was happening. Neil finally decided to end his humilation, and brought him down to the table.
Their hands weren't even unlocked yet, and a tall man that looked like he could beat anyone in arm wrestling came over. It was clear he wasn't happy.
"HEY! We told you, you can do that here!", he yelled. It was clear he was a bouncer of some kind. Mr. Hustler knew the drill. He got up, showed his hands as if he were the police, and started mumbling again. The bouncer didn't exactly pick him up and throw him out, but he might as well have. It was clear this wasn't the first time he had tried to arm wrestle someone for drinks. What an odd thing to do.
I thought for sure we were on our way out as well, but the bouncer instead apologized to us. I tried to get more information about the mysterious arm wrestler, but he didn't give much up. Because of his pink hat, it was pretty easy to see him moving around outside through the cracks of the fence.
Behind our table, the fence stopped before it started again after about two feet. Definately enough room for someone to sneak through.
Sure enough, not even five minutes later, Mr. Hustler snuck through and sat down with us again. In one smooth motion, he slinked through the fence, put his first leg over the chair, and as if he was dancing, he sat down. He apologized, and we told him it wasn't a problem.
But we still wanted our drinks.
"Aww man, I can't even help you. I'm sorry.", he said.
He tried to cement the fact he had no money by showing us his wallet. We are smarter than that, and asked to see his front pockets.
"Lets see those bunny ears!, I asked.
"Bunny Ears", as they are called, is when you turn your pockets inside out so they hang floppy, like bunny ears. Before he could actually prove he had no money, the bouncer was back. We quickly acted as if we wanted nothing to do with him, and said he was annoying us. A sad look of betrayal came across his face.
He didn't even have enough time to say anything before the bouncer had him by the arm and was dragging him out. He no longer looked as slick as he did when he sat down.
After such an odd experience, we decided it was time to get the fuck out of St. Louis, but not before we got some food. We found a gas station about a mile south of the bar, and Neil spotted a "Rally's. "Rally's" is a place with pretty decent and cheap food. After we circled the block we ordered, and pulled up to the window.
The way the drive through was situated, we had a hill on the right side of the car. As we sat and waited for our food, I was something bright moving through the dark alley. It was a pink hat!
He must have followed us, although given the nights events I would have not been surprised it was cousincedence. He sat down on the hill so his face was lined up with ours, as if he was sitting in the car with us.
At this point I begin to think this was all apart of some long, stupid con to rob us. Although Neil motioned to the tire iron on the floor, and I prayed Mr. Hustler didn't try anything stupid. I was not in the mood to explain anything to the police about why we had to beat a local drunk to keep him away from out stuff.
"What's up, man?", he said.
"Not much man, what's up?", we replied, almost in unison.
"Nah man, I was just making sure you were alright", he said, for some reason being concerned.
"We're cool, man.", Neil said. I tried whispering to him to roll up with window. He didn't hear me, and thankfully he didn't so we could hear Mr. Hustler ask us if we wanted to arm wrestle for a cheese burger.
Thinking it was hilarious, Neil agreed and was about to get out of the car. That is when the lady who worked their handed us our food.
"HEY! WE TOLD YOU! YOU CAN'T TRY TO PULL THAT SHIT HERE. GO SOME WHERE ELSE!", she yelled.
It was amazing. Apparently, Mr. Hustler tried to set up games all over town, bars or not. Although he wasn't very subtle, and clearly not very good at his job. Maybe that is why he was so hungry.
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
The Great American Road Trip, Part 4. St. Louis and That Stupid Arch.
After telling this part of our journey several times, I feel as if I've got it down to an art. Some people don't find it that funny, but I find it hilarious. I guess maybe you had to be there? Oh well, I'm going to tell you anyway.
We made it to St. Louis with good time. The trip was going pretty well so far. We were only four hours in, but damn it felt right. We had already driven through a pretty nasty storm, so I felt as if the craziest thing had already happened to us. The sky was split in half. Light and dark. You could see where the storm ended as if it was crease in the sky. Like a cancer, it moved slowly across the horizon and it was pretty clear we were driving into it.
Following Facebook posts, it seemed that this awful storm was making its way via Oklahoma, which only two weeks prior had suffered from some pretty obliterating storms. I didn't remember this until we hit Oklahoma City, which is good because had I remembered earlier, I may not have gone on this trip.
If people from Chicago were worried and predicting that their power was going to be out, I felt it was a pretty silly idea to be driving directly into the storm. I wasn't behind the wheel, so I didn't have much of a say in the matter. Plus we were making such good time.
We ended up only seeing the storm from afar, and as the freeway curved out of the jet black clouds I realized that this was just one of those storms everyone hypes up. We were safe.
We started to see bits and pieces of St. Louis, so we were getting close to entering our second state. I get excited about stupid shit like that, but I tried to contain myself for Neil's sake. I figured I would spare him the yelling of "FUCK YEAH MISSOURI!! WE ARE FUCKING IN YOU!!!", and just keep that to myself.
As we started to clear the freeways, we began to see the Arch as well as a bit of their tiny skyline. Then I saw the lights.
Red and blue, almost blinding. I had been in that situation before. It never turned out good. The police officer came to the window and asked Neil for his registration and drivers license, pretty standard practice. He mentioned the reason he was pulling us over was because of expired tags on the plates.
"Well, I'm moving to California, so I figured I would just get it registered when I got there", Neil told him. He responded by telling us that "You can get pulled over in every state for not having correct tags", even though his plan was pretty fool proof. Why spend money on something that you will just have to spend more money on in three days? I didn't make much sense.
The cop took his time, and although Neil didn't have his license on him, he let us off pretty easy. You could tell he was a little hesitant to give us the ticket anyhow, seeing as Neil would most likely never be driving in the state of Illinois again. He knew he wasn't going to pay. He was just being a dick.
We were one mile from the border. We almost made it.
After discussing the conspiracy that cops sit right on the border and pretty much pull everyone over, we decided to stop in St. Louis for a drink and some food. A tradition that would follow us to every city and state, this was definitely the most memorable one.
We had decided on a place called the "Angry Beaver", but they were closed. There was a place right next door with a patio. It was warm out, so we hit it. Neil hit the bathroom right away, and I ordered a drink. They stopped serving food already.
"Damn", I thought, and proceeded to scope the place out. In the far back, there was a guy with an acoustic guitar playing some pretty bad covers. It was hard to tell if he was just drunk, or geniunely bad. People were dancing though, so I guess it doesn't take much in St. Louis to get people moving.
Neil took a bit longer than expected, and I began to get nervous. Social anxiety sets in pretty quickly for me. Not to mention being in a place I've never been before in a city I hadn't been to in years. I felt as if everyone was going to gang up on me.
Before they could, Neil returned from the bathroom and asked me a question. A question that would spark a debate for the rest of the night, even after we confirmed it to be untrue.
"Is this a gay bar?", he whispered, making sure no one heard him.
I had just scoped the place out and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. There were guy/girl couples, as well as women by themselves. A few of them seemed like young single ladies, but then I remembered about the term "fag hag" and began to second guess myself.
I did a second scan of the place. Still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Drunk people dancing to a cover band, a couple of lonely spinsters. Nothing crazy. Then I noticed the far left corner of the bar, almost tucked away as if they didn't want anyone to see. There were about ten of them, and they were definitely gay.
Now in Chicago it is not uncommon to run into large groups of gay men. We have Boystown and plenty of gay bars even in the smaller towns, so it is not an uncommon sight. Still, St. Louis doesn't strike me as a town with a giant gay population. I figured that every single gay guy was in that bar that night.
"No, I think there are gay people here, but this definitely isn't a gay bar", I responded. Pretty confident in my assessment of the whole situation. We decided to not worry about it, and we took a seat on the opposite corner away from everyone else. We figured as much fun as it would be to try and offend the St. Louis locals, we had better stay out of everyones way. There bouncer was on point, and we didn't want to spend the rest of the trip with stitches.
We hadn't even sat down for a minute. Out of no where, and definitely not from the corner pocket of gay guys, a tiny little Asian guy comes practically running towards us. He is wearing short shorts, and some kind of fluorescent pink tank top. I started to once again rethink my assessment.
While I was the closer of us, he completely ignored me. Now I began to get jealous. What the hell?!
You could tell he was nervous, which once again made me rethink everything.
"Pardon me, this might sound really weird, but are you gay?", the tiny little man-boy asked Neil.
Neil responded "No", and the Asian began speaking at an incredibly fast rate. He explained that him and his friends were from New York, here for a "show". One of this friends in the corner had fallen madly in love with Neil. You could tell the guy felt let down. He started backtracking and thinking of something to say. This wasn't the first time either of us had been hit on by a gay guy, so to us it wasn't that big of a deal.
Neil offered to meet him, shake his hand and give him a hug. Our little friend was shocked. Apparently they have never been to Chicago.
The guy who was smitten, Tony, came over and was extremely nervous. Neil seemed more comfortable talking about gay sex than he did. It was a pretty odd experience.
Neil is the type of person that feels comfortable talking to anyone. It is almost as if he doesn't even see or think about anything else than what the person is saying. It is pretty cool, I admire that. While I enjoy meeting and talking with as many people as I can, but I still have something in my brain that makes me think about the person themselves almost non stop.
What does this guy do when he is home alone? Has he ever done crystal meth? What about his parents? Are they still together? Should I not talk about Father's Day in front of him?
At this point, I almost blacked out from thinking about what I should say, and I noticed they were pretty much completely ignoring me. I tried to fit a few words in, but Tony didn't care. He was fixated on Neil, and Neil was trying to figure out a way to get free drinks out of this guy. He began asking about why he was here, where he was staying, and most importantly, what he was doing later.
Tony grabbed Neil's phone and punched in his number. Under "Tony the Tap Dancing Sailor", we began to find out that he was in town for a play. A hah, he was an actor from New York. Typical.
But as Neil pushed to learn more about our tap dancing friend, he clammed up. His friends were begging him to leave. He was torn. I've had that feeling before. It is your only chance to spend time with someone you just met, and although you will probably never see them again, it would be worth it.
...Although Neil is not gay so I doubt it would have been as romantic as he thought.
Tony ended up departing, and although he seemed a bit reserved while talking to Neil. He was most definitely NOT while texting Neil later that night.
We made it to St. Louis with good time. The trip was going pretty well so far. We were only four hours in, but damn it felt right. We had already driven through a pretty nasty storm, so I felt as if the craziest thing had already happened to us. The sky was split in half. Light and dark. You could see where the storm ended as if it was crease in the sky. Like a cancer, it moved slowly across the horizon and it was pretty clear we were driving into it.
Following Facebook posts, it seemed that this awful storm was making its way via Oklahoma, which only two weeks prior had suffered from some pretty obliterating storms. I didn't remember this until we hit Oklahoma City, which is good because had I remembered earlier, I may not have gone on this trip.
If people from Chicago were worried and predicting that their power was going to be out, I felt it was a pretty silly idea to be driving directly into the storm. I wasn't behind the wheel, so I didn't have much of a say in the matter. Plus we were making such good time.
We ended up only seeing the storm from afar, and as the freeway curved out of the jet black clouds I realized that this was just one of those storms everyone hypes up. We were safe.
We started to see bits and pieces of St. Louis, so we were getting close to entering our second state. I get excited about stupid shit like that, but I tried to contain myself for Neil's sake. I figured I would spare him the yelling of "FUCK YEAH MISSOURI!! WE ARE FUCKING IN YOU!!!", and just keep that to myself.
As we started to clear the freeways, we began to see the Arch as well as a bit of their tiny skyline. Then I saw the lights.
Red and blue, almost blinding. I had been in that situation before. It never turned out good. The police officer came to the window and asked Neil for his registration and drivers license, pretty standard practice. He mentioned the reason he was pulling us over was because of expired tags on the plates.
"Well, I'm moving to California, so I figured I would just get it registered when I got there", Neil told him. He responded by telling us that "You can get pulled over in every state for not having correct tags", even though his plan was pretty fool proof. Why spend money on something that you will just have to spend more money on in three days? I didn't make much sense.
The cop took his time, and although Neil didn't have his license on him, he let us off pretty easy. You could tell he was a little hesitant to give us the ticket anyhow, seeing as Neil would most likely never be driving in the state of Illinois again. He knew he wasn't going to pay. He was just being a dick.
We were one mile from the border. We almost made it.
After discussing the conspiracy that cops sit right on the border and pretty much pull everyone over, we decided to stop in St. Louis for a drink and some food. A tradition that would follow us to every city and state, this was definitely the most memorable one.
We had decided on a place called the "Angry Beaver", but they were closed. There was a place right next door with a patio. It was warm out, so we hit it. Neil hit the bathroom right away, and I ordered a drink. They stopped serving food already.
"Damn", I thought, and proceeded to scope the place out. In the far back, there was a guy with an acoustic guitar playing some pretty bad covers. It was hard to tell if he was just drunk, or geniunely bad. People were dancing though, so I guess it doesn't take much in St. Louis to get people moving.
Neil took a bit longer than expected, and I began to get nervous. Social anxiety sets in pretty quickly for me. Not to mention being in a place I've never been before in a city I hadn't been to in years. I felt as if everyone was going to gang up on me.
Before they could, Neil returned from the bathroom and asked me a question. A question that would spark a debate for the rest of the night, even after we confirmed it to be untrue.
"Is this a gay bar?", he whispered, making sure no one heard him.
I had just scoped the place out and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. There were guy/girl couples, as well as women by themselves. A few of them seemed like young single ladies, but then I remembered about the term "fag hag" and began to second guess myself.
I did a second scan of the place. Still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Drunk people dancing to a cover band, a couple of lonely spinsters. Nothing crazy. Then I noticed the far left corner of the bar, almost tucked away as if they didn't want anyone to see. There were about ten of them, and they were definitely gay.
Now in Chicago it is not uncommon to run into large groups of gay men. We have Boystown and plenty of gay bars even in the smaller towns, so it is not an uncommon sight. Still, St. Louis doesn't strike me as a town with a giant gay population. I figured that every single gay guy was in that bar that night.
"No, I think there are gay people here, but this definitely isn't a gay bar", I responded. Pretty confident in my assessment of the whole situation. We decided to not worry about it, and we took a seat on the opposite corner away from everyone else. We figured as much fun as it would be to try and offend the St. Louis locals, we had better stay out of everyones way. There bouncer was on point, and we didn't want to spend the rest of the trip with stitches.
We hadn't even sat down for a minute. Out of no where, and definitely not from the corner pocket of gay guys, a tiny little Asian guy comes practically running towards us. He is wearing short shorts, and some kind of fluorescent pink tank top. I started to once again rethink my assessment.
While I was the closer of us, he completely ignored me. Now I began to get jealous. What the hell?!
You could tell he was nervous, which once again made me rethink everything.
"Pardon me, this might sound really weird, but are you gay?", the tiny little man-boy asked Neil.
Neil responded "No", and the Asian began speaking at an incredibly fast rate. He explained that him and his friends were from New York, here for a "show". One of this friends in the corner had fallen madly in love with Neil. You could tell the guy felt let down. He started backtracking and thinking of something to say. This wasn't the first time either of us had been hit on by a gay guy, so to us it wasn't that big of a deal.
Neil offered to meet him, shake his hand and give him a hug. Our little friend was shocked. Apparently they have never been to Chicago.
The guy who was smitten, Tony, came over and was extremely nervous. Neil seemed more comfortable talking about gay sex than he did. It was a pretty odd experience.
Neil is the type of person that feels comfortable talking to anyone. It is almost as if he doesn't even see or think about anything else than what the person is saying. It is pretty cool, I admire that. While I enjoy meeting and talking with as many people as I can, but I still have something in my brain that makes me think about the person themselves almost non stop.
What does this guy do when he is home alone? Has he ever done crystal meth? What about his parents? Are they still together? Should I not talk about Father's Day in front of him?
At this point, I almost blacked out from thinking about what I should say, and I noticed they were pretty much completely ignoring me. I tried to fit a few words in, but Tony didn't care. He was fixated on Neil, and Neil was trying to figure out a way to get free drinks out of this guy. He began asking about why he was here, where he was staying, and most importantly, what he was doing later.
Tony grabbed Neil's phone and punched in his number. Under "Tony the Tap Dancing Sailor", we began to find out that he was in town for a play. A hah, he was an actor from New York. Typical.
But as Neil pushed to learn more about our tap dancing friend, he clammed up. His friends were begging him to leave. He was torn. I've had that feeling before. It is your only chance to spend time with someone you just met, and although you will probably never see them again, it would be worth it.
...Although Neil is not gay so I doubt it would have been as romantic as he thought.
Tony ended up departing, and although he seemed a bit reserved while talking to Neil. He was most definitely NOT while texting Neil later that night.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
The Great American Road Trip, Part 3. Dinosaur Neil and The Song.
"Dinosaur Neil" is the nickname a mutual friend of ours used all the time.
He was the only person I had ever heard call him that, so I'm not exactly sure you can even consider that a nickname. Oh well, I thought it was interesting and separated him from all the other, boring Neils in this world.
Nickname or not, Neil is one of the least boring people I know. I hadn't seen him in a few years, which made the idea of traveling across the country even less boring than I already could imagine. It didn't worry me, which was odd since things like that normally would. I don't trust people very easily. While that can be a worthwhile trait, sometimes it can leave you pretty lonely and make you seem like a dick.
"Fuck it", I thought, and got ready to jump in with both feet.
While waiting for him Tuesday afternoon, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. He had changed quite a bit since I had last seen him. The last time I can remember hanging out with him was when we got kicked out of a strip club and then stayed up until 6:30am just having a great ol' time. Since I had last seen him, he had become a message therapist. Maybe he had changed more than I thought? Not that strip clubs, drinking and partying are mutually exclusive from message therapy, but no one would let a crazy person rub them with oils, right?
I'll admit, I usually over think and make early judgment on people. It's a problem that I never think of consciously think about. As soon as I realize what I'm doing, I stop and remember that most people are pretty cool and just want to have as much fun in this life as possible. Especially Neil.
What kind of car would he be driving? What kind of clothes would he be wearing? Would he think my hat is stupid? What about my jeans? Is he going to tell me I packed to much? I literally had only my backpack and camera bag. I spent so much time over thinking what was about to go down I didn't even notice the time. 2:30pm.
We were supposed to leave around noon, so obviously something was up. I tried contacting him, and he didn't respond. Uh oh.
Either Neil got hit by a bus, or maybe he was just rethinking bringing me along on this stupid long road trip. If I was on the other side of this, I don't think I would have brought someone with who I hadn't seen in three years, either. Oh well. Even thought I was the most excited I had ever been in my life, maybe I could find someone closer to me to go on a road trip with.
Then the phone rang. As if I was waiting on a call from a girl in high school, I got nervous. I answered as quick as possible because I didn't want to give him time to rethink his decision. Besides, maybe he is calling to tell me the trip is off.
After talking for a few minutes, he explained that he had to tie up some loose ends before we left, and get his oil changed, so he was running a little late. He said we would be leaving in an hour or so.
Almost six hours later we were on our way. I tried to stop and take it all in. It was about to begin. What I was hoping would be the greatest decision I ever made was about to unfold. It was going to either be good or bad. There were no in betweens on this one. It was all or nothing.
The old Sean would have been so nervous he might have ran the first chance he got, after the realization of driving across the country over the next few days sunk in. I tried rationalizing it and telling myself it was only a couple of days, and if I didn't want to go any farther I could just simply get my stuff and go. I wasn't being held hostage.
I had gone on a much smaller road trip almost exactly ten years ago, and it was the worst experience of my life. With the exception of the time we rented mopeds and we bet someone to run across the parking lot and into the pool naked, I was pretty much miserable the entire time. I was excited before we left, but as soon as we got out of Illinois I had this feeling I'd never go home again. I had a similar feeling this time, but it was a good, happy feeling. I guess California does that to people sometimes.
Ten years ago, that would have been all I thought about. Yet, there I was, nothing but overly excited for what was about to happen. I still couldn't get the old Sean thoughts out of my head yet. I wasn't exactly thinking or feeling them, I was just constantly reminded that I used to think and feel that way all the time. A lots changed in eight years. I tried to think about how exactly I changed and why I wasn't feeling the way I had all those years ago. Maybe it was the people? Maybe our destination? I had started practicing yoga. Maybe that was it? My brain wouldn't shut off. I knew we had at least 14 hours before we would hit something I had never seen before, so I knew I was in for a night of over thinking and narcissism.
As we hit the freeway, Neil asked me a question. A simple question, but it was a question I knew that would not only define the trip, but basically set the tone of my thought process for hopefully the rest of my life.
"Do you like Everclear?"
Silly, right? To some people, I suppose so. But it meant much, much more to me.
Everclear is a band. They had a song called "Santa Monica". The song is simply about someone from a boring down, dreaming about moving to the west coast. Y'know, palm trees and sun shine. Beautiful women, all that sort of stuff. I often listened to it late at night, sometimes slightly intoxicated, and dreamt about driving out to California. Perhaps I obsessed a little too much about it, but I didn't care. When I was lonely, depressed, or upset, I would simply put that song on and dream of driving across the country to California.
I've never been one to believe in fate. Now it is a little hard for me to ignore the fact that sometimes, things are just meant to be.
For a long, long time I had wanted to move west, but never thought it would happen. For various reasons, some silly and some legitimate. I did know that if I ever DID move to California, that song would be the first one I put on. I had even brought a pair of head phones because I knew that as soon as we hit the PCH, I would have to listen to that song. Most of the time I just assume people don't like the same kind of music I like in specific situations. This being one of them.
I never once thought in a million years that I'd be sitting in a car, driving to California, with a person that wanted to listen to the same exact song I wanted to listen to.
Neil is one of a kind. A message therapist that wants to fight all the time. Drink beer, watch hockey and hit on girls, and then go help an older lady with her shoulder problems. After we made it to California, his day spa had a grand opening/open house free party. I didn't know a single person, so I sat in the corner drinking champaign, watching my friend help almost 50 people with their back and shoulder problems. I saw him help and care for people almost the way a mother cares for a child, or your soul mate cares for you. The people there were all talking about how amazing and gentle Neil was, and I watched his appointment book fill up with names, phone numbers, and appointments.
Then, to celebrate we went out for pizza and tequlia. Then all he wanted to do was find someone to fight.
He was the only person I had ever heard call him that, so I'm not exactly sure you can even consider that a nickname. Oh well, I thought it was interesting and separated him from all the other, boring Neils in this world.
Nickname or not, Neil is one of the least boring people I know. I hadn't seen him in a few years, which made the idea of traveling across the country even less boring than I already could imagine. It didn't worry me, which was odd since things like that normally would. I don't trust people very easily. While that can be a worthwhile trait, sometimes it can leave you pretty lonely and make you seem like a dick.
"Fuck it", I thought, and got ready to jump in with both feet.
While waiting for him Tuesday afternoon, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. He had changed quite a bit since I had last seen him. The last time I can remember hanging out with him was when we got kicked out of a strip club and then stayed up until 6:30am just having a great ol' time. Since I had last seen him, he had become a message therapist. Maybe he had changed more than I thought? Not that strip clubs, drinking and partying are mutually exclusive from message therapy, but no one would let a crazy person rub them with oils, right?
I'll admit, I usually over think and make early judgment on people. It's a problem that I never think of consciously think about. As soon as I realize what I'm doing, I stop and remember that most people are pretty cool and just want to have as much fun in this life as possible. Especially Neil.
What kind of car would he be driving? What kind of clothes would he be wearing? Would he think my hat is stupid? What about my jeans? Is he going to tell me I packed to much? I literally had only my backpack and camera bag. I spent so much time over thinking what was about to go down I didn't even notice the time. 2:30pm.
We were supposed to leave around noon, so obviously something was up. I tried contacting him, and he didn't respond. Uh oh.
Either Neil got hit by a bus, or maybe he was just rethinking bringing me along on this stupid long road trip. If I was on the other side of this, I don't think I would have brought someone with who I hadn't seen in three years, either. Oh well. Even thought I was the most excited I had ever been in my life, maybe I could find someone closer to me to go on a road trip with.
Then the phone rang. As if I was waiting on a call from a girl in high school, I got nervous. I answered as quick as possible because I didn't want to give him time to rethink his decision. Besides, maybe he is calling to tell me the trip is off.
After talking for a few minutes, he explained that he had to tie up some loose ends before we left, and get his oil changed, so he was running a little late. He said we would be leaving in an hour or so.
Almost six hours later we were on our way. I tried to stop and take it all in. It was about to begin. What I was hoping would be the greatest decision I ever made was about to unfold. It was going to either be good or bad. There were no in betweens on this one. It was all or nothing.
The old Sean would have been so nervous he might have ran the first chance he got, after the realization of driving across the country over the next few days sunk in. I tried rationalizing it and telling myself it was only a couple of days, and if I didn't want to go any farther I could just simply get my stuff and go. I wasn't being held hostage.
I had gone on a much smaller road trip almost exactly ten years ago, and it was the worst experience of my life. With the exception of the time we rented mopeds and we bet someone to run across the parking lot and into the pool naked, I was pretty much miserable the entire time. I was excited before we left, but as soon as we got out of Illinois I had this feeling I'd never go home again. I had a similar feeling this time, but it was a good, happy feeling. I guess California does that to people sometimes.
Ten years ago, that would have been all I thought about. Yet, there I was, nothing but overly excited for what was about to happen. I still couldn't get the old Sean thoughts out of my head yet. I wasn't exactly thinking or feeling them, I was just constantly reminded that I used to think and feel that way all the time. A lots changed in eight years. I tried to think about how exactly I changed and why I wasn't feeling the way I had all those years ago. Maybe it was the people? Maybe our destination? I had started practicing yoga. Maybe that was it? My brain wouldn't shut off. I knew we had at least 14 hours before we would hit something I had never seen before, so I knew I was in for a night of over thinking and narcissism.
As we hit the freeway, Neil asked me a question. A simple question, but it was a question I knew that would not only define the trip, but basically set the tone of my thought process for hopefully the rest of my life.
"Do you like Everclear?"
Silly, right? To some people, I suppose so. But it meant much, much more to me.
Everclear is a band. They had a song called "Santa Monica". The song is simply about someone from a boring down, dreaming about moving to the west coast. Y'know, palm trees and sun shine. Beautiful women, all that sort of stuff. I often listened to it late at night, sometimes slightly intoxicated, and dreamt about driving out to California. Perhaps I obsessed a little too much about it, but I didn't care. When I was lonely, depressed, or upset, I would simply put that song on and dream of driving across the country to California.
I've never been one to believe in fate. Now it is a little hard for me to ignore the fact that sometimes, things are just meant to be.
For a long, long time I had wanted to move west, but never thought it would happen. For various reasons, some silly and some legitimate. I did know that if I ever DID move to California, that song would be the first one I put on. I had even brought a pair of head phones because I knew that as soon as we hit the PCH, I would have to listen to that song. Most of the time I just assume people don't like the same kind of music I like in specific situations. This being one of them.
I never once thought in a million years that I'd be sitting in a car, driving to California, with a person that wanted to listen to the same exact song I wanted to listen to.
Neil is one of a kind. A message therapist that wants to fight all the time. Drink beer, watch hockey and hit on girls, and then go help an older lady with her shoulder problems. After we made it to California, his day spa had a grand opening/open house free party. I didn't know a single person, so I sat in the corner drinking champaign, watching my friend help almost 50 people with their back and shoulder problems. I saw him help and care for people almost the way a mother cares for a child, or your soul mate cares for you. The people there were all talking about how amazing and gentle Neil was, and I watched his appointment book fill up with names, phone numbers, and appointments.
Then, to celebrate we went out for pizza and tequlia. Then all he wanted to do was find someone to fight.
The Great American Road Trip, Part 2. The Phone Call
"Really?!", Neil said.
"Yeah, dude, really. I'm down. Lets do this." I responded. Trying to fake the enthiusasm I knew I would need for this trip.
Still shocked, Neil began to explain the situation. We would be leaving the next day, a Tuesday, to get there by Friday morning, when Neil had work.
I kept checking Google Maps, back and forth, for the different routes. Going north via i-80 is much shorter, but much more boring than going south. However, this wasn't my trip, so I figured I wouldn't have much say in the matter.
"Do you want to go north or south?", Neil asked.
I was surprised. It seemed like he didn't really have anything planned out. That frightened me a little bit. But maybe he was just keeping his options open.
South, I thought, knowing we would have much more fun driving through New Mexico, Arizona, and finally up through the beautiful state of California. Which would be much more fun than fucking Iowa and Idaho. I didn't say anything, however, knowing that if I tried taking the trip over he might hesitate and leave me outside with my bags already packed.
"I don't care man, what do you think?", I said, hoping that by saying this he would remember how relaxed and easy going I am. Relaxed and easy going is the type of person you need to make a road trip not suck.
"South, we will hit better cities.", he said. All of a sudden, I started to get excited.
We decided south is the best way, and we would be leaving Tuesday around 1pm. He said with 2 people switching off driving, we would have more time to stop and check stuff out.
I had not the faintest idea that planned 2 and a half day road trip would turn into a 5 day once in a lifetime experience.
"Yeah, dude, really. I'm down. Lets do this." I responded. Trying to fake the enthiusasm I knew I would need for this trip.
Still shocked, Neil began to explain the situation. We would be leaving the next day, a Tuesday, to get there by Friday morning, when Neil had work.
I kept checking Google Maps, back and forth, for the different routes. Going north via i-80 is much shorter, but much more boring than going south. However, this wasn't my trip, so I figured I wouldn't have much say in the matter.
"Do you want to go north or south?", Neil asked.
I was surprised. It seemed like he didn't really have anything planned out. That frightened me a little bit. But maybe he was just keeping his options open.
South, I thought, knowing we would have much more fun driving through New Mexico, Arizona, and finally up through the beautiful state of California. Which would be much more fun than fucking Iowa and Idaho. I didn't say anything, however, knowing that if I tried taking the trip over he might hesitate and leave me outside with my bags already packed.
"I don't care man, what do you think?", I said, hoping that by saying this he would remember how relaxed and easy going I am. Relaxed and easy going is the type of person you need to make a road trip not suck.
"South, we will hit better cities.", he said. All of a sudden, I started to get excited.
We decided south is the best way, and we would be leaving Tuesday around 1pm. He said with 2 people switching off driving, we would have more time to stop and check stuff out.
I had not the faintest idea that planned 2 and a half day road trip would turn into a 5 day once in a lifetime experience.
The Great American Road Trip, Part 1
So here is the story so far...
About a month ago, a friend posted on Facebook asking if anyone was up for driving across the country, from Chicago to San Francisco with him. He was leaving the next day. The idea of driving across the country is pretty scary itself, let alone only having 24 hours to do it.
Thats not the type of person I am. I've always enjoyed the IDEA of adventures, but nothing more. Actually executing the ideas scared the crap out of me. There was no way I could just hop in the car with him and leave, right?
Wrong.
I thought about it for a few minutes, and made a couple of phone calls. I secured an emergency flight back home if needed, and that eased my anxiety a bit. Anxiety I had for a trip I hadn't even confirmed yet. Could I really do this? I've seen short films and follow several people on youtube that do it all the time. Surely it can't be that scary, right?
Wrong.
Everything seemed to be pretty simple, all we would be doing is making it from point A to point B. The idea of travelling like this always interested me, but I thought it best to just live vicariously through other people. That is pretty easy to do these days. I wanted to take this trip so terribly bad, however I had a feeling as soon as we left, I would regret it. Yet something inside just kept telling me that I had to do this. I made one more phone call, to my mother.
Usually the voice of extreme reason, I knew if anyone could talk me out of it, she could. I knew I would need some support back home, setting up possible flights, train tickets, and places to stay. The only person I could ask for that sort of help would be my mother, and if she couldn't do it, the trip was over before it begain.
The mix of emotions I had right before she picked up was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I had always talked about doing something like this, but I thought I would actually DO it. Many late nights were spent talking with friends and discussing how amazing it would be to drive across the country. People would say I was crazy or insane, and that they could not believe I would actually try to do something like that.
Little did they know, I was lying.
Little did I know, I wasn't.
The phone kept ringing. I knew if she didn't answer, I would not be going and it would just be another pipe dream on the pile of already massive things I wished to accomplish in my life.
"Go for it", she said.
I could not believe my ears. My mother, the quiet, reserved and amazingly sweet lady that she is, was telling me to do the most insane and crazy thing I've ever thought up. She said she backed me 100%, and would help me in any way possible.
That was it. It was happening. Only it actually wasn't because I hadn't even contacted the person going on the trip yet.
Take a deep breath. Learn to swim.
Over the next few days/weeks, I will tell my story and the experinces I've had. I have only twice in my life used the phrase "life changing", and I can tell you those experiences were almost nothing in comparison to what was about to happen to me.
I invite you to read and hopefully enjoy my story. If I'm really lucky, I will inspire someone to do what I have done and change their life for the better.
Here we go. Buckle up.
About a month ago, a friend posted on Facebook asking if anyone was up for driving across the country, from Chicago to San Francisco with him. He was leaving the next day. The idea of driving across the country is pretty scary itself, let alone only having 24 hours to do it.
Thats not the type of person I am. I've always enjoyed the IDEA of adventures, but nothing more. Actually executing the ideas scared the crap out of me. There was no way I could just hop in the car with him and leave, right?
Wrong.
I thought about it for a few minutes, and made a couple of phone calls. I secured an emergency flight back home if needed, and that eased my anxiety a bit. Anxiety I had for a trip I hadn't even confirmed yet. Could I really do this? I've seen short films and follow several people on youtube that do it all the time. Surely it can't be that scary, right?
Wrong.
Everything seemed to be pretty simple, all we would be doing is making it from point A to point B. The idea of travelling like this always interested me, but I thought it best to just live vicariously through other people. That is pretty easy to do these days. I wanted to take this trip so terribly bad, however I had a feeling as soon as we left, I would regret it. Yet something inside just kept telling me that I had to do this. I made one more phone call, to my mother.
Usually the voice of extreme reason, I knew if anyone could talk me out of it, she could. I knew I would need some support back home, setting up possible flights, train tickets, and places to stay. The only person I could ask for that sort of help would be my mother, and if she couldn't do it, the trip was over before it begain.
The mix of emotions I had right before she picked up was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I had always talked about doing something like this, but I thought I would actually DO it. Many late nights were spent talking with friends and discussing how amazing it would be to drive across the country. People would say I was crazy or insane, and that they could not believe I would actually try to do something like that.
Little did they know, I was lying.
Little did I know, I wasn't.
The phone kept ringing. I knew if she didn't answer, I would not be going and it would just be another pipe dream on the pile of already massive things I wished to accomplish in my life.
"Go for it", she said.
I could not believe my ears. My mother, the quiet, reserved and amazingly sweet lady that she is, was telling me to do the most insane and crazy thing I've ever thought up. She said she backed me 100%, and would help me in any way possible.
That was it. It was happening. Only it actually wasn't because I hadn't even contacted the person going on the trip yet.
Take a deep breath. Learn to swim.
Over the next few days/weeks, I will tell my story and the experinces I've had. I have only twice in my life used the phrase "life changing", and I can tell you those experiences were almost nothing in comparison to what was about to happen to me.
I invite you to read and hopefully enjoy my story. If I'm really lucky, I will inspire someone to do what I have done and change their life for the better.
Here we go. Buckle up.
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