"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.
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