A Year Of Wandering

And now for the “to be continued” to be continued.

My last entry found me at a gas station around 9 PM getting ready to look for a bridge to sleep under. I had very little luck with rides that day and night time had fallen. If you think people are wary of hitchhikers already then take that, shoot it up with buffalo steroids and you’ll have a glimpse of how they feel about picking up hitchers after dark. Corey Heart may have sung about wearing sunglasses at night, but the theme song in the heads of drivers when they see me after dusk falls along the lyrical lines of “that guy buries minivan drivers at night”.

As of yet I have not had to sleep outside, but the idea of it doesn’t bother me. I prefer not to have to strike up a tent at night because, unlike the blind Colonel Frank Slade who can put together a .45 while telling a woman she smells like peach seaweed, I’m short on practice with my ninja night tent assembly skills, and am still uncertain of the laws involving camping on the side of a highway.

“Ooooh ahhhh, that was a mouth full”

Mostly though, my hesitation could be catalogued under a wariness that somewhere in the tall grasses of the Southern US lurks a coral snake/alligator/brown bear/mosquito hybrid that threatens to poison, drown, devour and make me itchy till death do us part. Hence my desire to find a bridge that I could sleep under. Pre-made shelter far away from Nature’s unique science experiments.

Pictures of this beast are classified until someone explains why oreos are so addicting

The only thing that discouraged me was that it was night time and I had made it all of 25 miles on a trip that was 442. If my numbers were a movie star line up, Paris Hilton and Fran Drescher would be my headliners. As I walked out of the Burger King that shared its wall with a gas station, I stared up into the night sky and prepared myself for a long walk under the stars. I took a deep breath and began to walk forward when I noticed a man standing in front of a truck. He was looking at me. I turned and we locked eyes. As a hitcher you live for the locked eyes because it means there is a chance this person might help you.

The reason why Dracula was never an old souther black woman with one tooth and a book entitled Cigarette Seduction.

He then asked me where I was headed? My sense of hope began to raise its head and I told him Birmingham. Without a moments hesitation he said, “that’s where we’re going. Hop in.” I let out a huge sigh of relief. Birmingham was still about three hours away so this was a fantastic score. He went inside and came out with a bottle of water and handed it to me. “This is for you.” I graciously accepted and threw my bag in the back and said a silent thank you to the Universe and promised to come back as a smore it could eat over Christmas in my next life.

The Hungry Universe

Me As My Next Incarnation: Dessert

The man’s name was DR and he was driving back to Alabama with his grandfather. He was a wonderfully generous man and very good conversation for the three hour drive. It’s interesting. Being in the south, my brain has a tendency of assuming everyone is a red neck interested only in tractor pulls and mud rallies, so I am always curious when the conversations get going. I never know what to expect. I guess it’s the same kind of curious expectations people have when picking up a hitcher.

As we drove he told me I was fortunate because they weren’t originally planning on coming my direction. He didn’t realize I had turned on my lucky switch earlier that day. It wasn’t until later that I realized just how much my lucky switch was working.

He asked me where my next destination was and I told him Pensacola. Right after I said this he turns and says, “my grand dad is going down to Mobile tomorrow morning which is about an hour from Pensacola. You can drive down with him.” The jack pot sign was hitting all 7s and I was shooting fireworks silently out of my ass. This would save me so much time. The only thing I needed now was to find a place to sleep for the night. I originally had a place lined up with a guy from couch surfing, but being that I was getting in so late, he was going to be hours into counting sheep.

Once again, this problem was swiftly dealt with.

DR asks me where I was planning to sleep for the night. I told him I wasn’t certain yet and that I’d probably just find a place outside to sleep when we got to Birmingham. Staying in the same vein of amazing generosity he tells me, “why don’t you stay at my place and get a hot shower and some food in you.” If I was going to come back as an edible smore, than now I was going to have to bring some duck fat fries with me too.

I stayed the night at DR’s place. It was huge and caught me by surprise. He put me up in his living room and said “there’s food and drinks in the fridge. Help yourself.” That night I laid down with a big smile on my face not thinking of my sun scorched arms or my tired shoulders. I simply lay in a state of gratitude at the wonderful surprises life can bring you.

Sometimes when things aren’t seeming to go the way you want, you just have to have faith that every thing’s going to work out just as it’s supposed to. This was one of those instances. There was a reason I didn’t catch many rides. Getting to that Burger King when I did and having that conversation with the traveling couple positioned me exactly where I needed to be at the exact right time to meet DR. And meeting him helped my journey more than I anticipated.

DR

The following morning I woke up and was surprised to see DR approach me with a rather interesting gift.

“This was the survival knife they gave me when I was in the airforce. I want you to have it.”

I looked at it and thought, “that’s not a knife, that’s a fucking sword.” I was amazed by this gift as it made me rest assure that if I ever ran into sasquatch or needed to cut down a Redwood, I’d be ok. More than that, it gave me what I needed to get a leg up on the competition in the underground Lobster Knife Fighting circuit.

Dollar bills, dollar bills, dollar bills!!!

I drove down to Mobile with DR’s granddad who started the trip by buying me breakfast. He was a wonderful story teller who had worked as a state trooper. Interesting fact, he was at the scene when famous actress Jayne Mansfield died in an autowreck.

He filled in the details by saying when her car ran into the back of the truck it ripped off the top of her head, a detail wikipedia conveniently left out. Anyone wanting to know how to get inside the head of this gorgeous buxom actress needed only talk to this man.

We got into Mobile about one and parted ways. I found myself an on ramp and proceeded to make the final hump of my journey. The first spot was a bust so I walked a few miles in the hot Ala-bammer sun to another area. The neighborhoods I walked through were sketchy with a slight chance of lynching, so I debated with myself how quickly I could draw my new survival sword. When I got to my next destination, I was surprised to see the Matrix had been there and I had just missed it.

As I laid down my bag I repeated the mantra “there is no ride, there is no ride”

As I stood there trying to flag people down I saw a very curious site. A car was slowly driving behind some trees towards me. It was like a lion trying to stalk me hoping I didn’t notice it, inching bit by bit forward. It finally came to a stop and just stood there. I looked at the car and it looked right back at me. It seemed a show down between Wesley and the mystery car was about to take place. The muffler fight at the OK Corral.

After a few minutes a man popped out of the car and stood in the trees. He was looking in my direction, but only stood there. What the fuck was this guy doing I thought. He went into his trunk and came out with a bunch of orange traffic cones and proceeded to walk towards me. When he got within about ten feet I asked him what he was doing.

“I’m just surveying an accident.” Well that was a lot better than trying to pick up the main ingredient for white man meat loaf. He looked down at my sign and said, “I’m going to Pensacola after this. Want a ride?” I laughed. Wow. Travels complete.

It was my original plan to stay in Nashville all of three days, but by the end of my journey there, I had stayed there almost two weeks. It was a town that enchanted me and was hard to leave. My fantastic host Christine Wheatley definitely made it possible for me to extend my trip, but my journey called me onwards and I had to get down to Pensacola, FL.

I began this trip with the belief that everything I needed would come to me. As I journeyed onwards, I found this was a belief that was about to get tested.

I left Tuesday early in the morning, but before getting out of Dodge, I was treated to a lovely breakfast at one of my jewels of Nashville: Provence. They have been awarded best bread by their local paper and eating it I finally experienced why.

If you’ve ever had a Grandmother and didn’t spontaneoulsy pop out of a hole in the ground, than chances are you had one that made delicious homemade bread just like mine did. There is something amazing that happens when you throw together flour, water, eggs, salt, yeast and cat nip. For $3 at Provence, you can get shot put right back into such delicious childhood memories. Quite the deal.

After taking a long nap in my friend Shante’s car (who treated me to this lovely smorgasbord of culinary goodness), I hit the road once again making my way towards Pensacola to dj their first ever blues dance event. Because the distance was 442 miles, I planned on stopping part way in Birmingham, AL.

It was going to be I-65 most of the way since I didn’t have a flying Delorean that “doesn’t need roads” nor a wild haired uncle willing who made it capable of flying.

Now I suspected that my first experience hitching seemed to flow so smoothly that it was probably the exception and not the rule. When you’re gaining experience on the road you have to take things day by day and simply add them up until you have enough data to make a proper pie graph on the ratios of cars that stop to cars who see all hitchers as the scream killer.

Mmmm…tastes like corn syrup. Little do they understand that in the heat of the south, that uniform is just plain silly.

I began soliticing myself to local traffic around 1 PM and after a dismal hour with no luck and a hue of remorse for not showing more leg, I picked up my bag and started walking down the highway, thumb out. When I crossed this sign, I knew if I didn’t catch a ride I’d have a ways to walk.

Now hitching while walking on the highway went against the original suggestions given to me, but I soon found out you have to modifiy as you go in order for things to work. After a few miles of walking I was picked up by a musician whose car looked as if a grocery store had exploded in it. I didn’t care though. He was a musician and was kind enough to give me a ride for a few miles to a truck stop where my luck might improve.

When he dropped me off, he presented me with a tough choice that I had very little time to make a decision on. I could either keep trying to hitch into the wee hours of night, though the later it gets the harder it gets to catch a ride. Or, I could stay at his place and his wife would make us dinner and I could start again the following day. Being that it was late and never wanting to turn down free food, I was very tempted.

So…tempting…must…resist

I considered it seriously for a moment, but then said “Nay!” I had an event to get to, a deadline to meet and I was only about fifteen miles out of Nashville which was a dismal amount for being close to 6 PM. I thanked him and turned down his offer. Whether I was going to sleep under a roof with a bed or under a bridge with a troll I was going to forge ahead.

Walking along the highway is an interesting experience. When you’re out in the middle of nowhere, not knowing where you’ll be that night or what will happen, there is a sense of freedom that is quite tangible. A reality that sinks in that life is truly what you make it, and that there are more paths to take than meet the prescribed avenues society often lays out for us. Thinking on all of this, I got to take in the beauty of the local scenery, watching a sunset over the hills.

There is something so relatable to Forest Gump when I watch a sunset in the middle of nowhere.

After a few hours of walking, another car stopped and grabbed me. My next ride again only took me a few exits, however when we got there he took me to a Burger King and bought me dinner. A very kind and generous offer. Being that I aim to eat healthy I looked over the menu, my mind going “no, no, no, no, no, no” till finally landing on a chicken sandwich in the style of grilled.

While there, a couple overheard me talking about my travels. They were probably in their 50’s or 60’s and were incredibly friendly. They had been traveling for the past month, however their story was much different than mine. Their son had just died, and though they were very vague, I took from what they had said that he had committed suicide. Despite their good spirits and warmth towards me I could see the pain in their eyes and understood that being a parent is something very foreign to me.

What amazed me though was that here, in the middle of a Burger King in po-dunk nowhere, Tennessee, I had a heart felt moment with these wonderful people who I had just met. We hadn’t known each other for weeks, only a brief moment in time and yet here they were opening up their hearts to me and telling me what they were going through. It’s touching to feel what you can share with people you consider complete strangers. What can melt in just an instant.

We shook hands and they left with the wish that they could give me a ride. I decidely wanted that too, but we were heading in opposite directions. After I finished my sandwich and talked with the cashier who snuck me out a free Sprite which I thanked her for and then threw away because I don’t drink soda, I packed up my stuff and faced the truth: it was late and I was going to be sleeping out tonight.

I had prepared myself for this, and had to admit that traveling like I do, sometimes you catch a ride and sometimes you don’t. I walked out into the warm night, and looked at the highway wondering how long it would take me to find a bridge worth sleeping under that wasn’t infested with fairy tale trolls who have grievances about people klick-klacking over their homes.

Nothing like getting “was grounded into jelly” in your obituary notice and I unfortunately was short on my troll mace.

Being that I was short on brothers who were meatier and tastier than I, my selection was crucial. That’s when something very interesting happened that I did not expect. Something that changed the course of my journey that night.

Tune in next time to read about the rest of my travels to Pensacola.

A Year Of Wandering

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