5/29/13: Limon, Liquor, & The Dirty Dog

The directional yo-yo ends, and the reset button is emphatically pushed, following a few nostalgic hours communing with ghosts...

6/23-6/24/12: Knoxville-Nashville, TN

-My hungover hitch across eastern Tennessee. Featuring an insightful gas station encounter with Nora, an idealistic young vagabond hitchhiking to the nearby Rainbow Gathering.

4/13: Bus, Bus, the Veggie Bus!

As I awoke Thursday, the realization that we were supposedly two days from leaving was becoming much more real. Chris and I had tried to hash out different options on our first leg of the trip, with an ultimate destination being Nashville, TN. Nashville had become a sort of vortex; a lot seemed to be happening there at the same time. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Kim last summer and looked forward to seeing her again, as well as the fact that Thursday was the day that my sister, Shelly, was going to let my father know that she was in contact with me.

Say... WHAT?

It’s a very long story, and one that is going to play a major role in this easterly phase of the trip. Briefly, I met my father in 2000, and have spent a grand 20- minutes with him in my “29”- years. I have only recently been in contact with Shelly as well… “meeting” her for the first time, via Facebook, in late February. I have another sister and two brothers that I have had no contact with whatsoever. I will explain this all in its time… but my father is leaving on vacation on 4/13: to Nashville. For a person who thrives on Synchronicity, you can see the draw!

As I was gulping my morning caffeine, I decided for the hell of it to take a gander at the rideshare section of the Santa Fe Craigslist. Lo and Behold, a post looking for riders to go thru Albuquerque, Amarillo, Oklahoma City, and… all together now… NASHVILLE.

They are taking a 34’ school bus that has been converted to run partially on vegetable oil that they obtain from restaurants. Devin called almost immediately, we negotiated a contribution we’d provide, which was LESS than the Dirty Dog to Tucumcari, and more significantly, we now had an obvious path. The bus was leaving New Mexico on Monday, 4/13… which added another two- days to our stay in Santa Fe.

This set into motion a flurry of thought. To Chris and I, this explained the lack of clarity that we have both experienced when it came to establishing a route out of Santa Fe, and for me personally it snapped me back into the mindset that I was in last year. Trying to remember to sit down, relax, and let life happen… rather than trying to control everything. That’s a very difficult concept for many to grasp. I’ll try to provide myself as the guinea pig as time goes on!

Impatience was now something to deal with, especially for Chris. By Thursday, he had been in Santa Fe for five days, and was obviously itching to get back on the road. We were having conversations about things laying out in front of us at their own pace, and this was, to me, an opportunity to see if it would again play itself out.

Saturday morning, the original departure- plan date, was REI’s annual “garage sale”. Since we were here, we decided to see what kids of bargains they had. Because of their liberal return policy, you can quite often find next- to- new items returned due to buyer’s remorse! I was hoping to find the OR bivy or a backpack, but instead found the shoes I had used last year, which are now discontinued, in my size… and they were ¼ the price I had paid for my Asolos, which I could now return of course! That is… a lot of money. I immediately snatched them up, along with some clothes that were insanely cheap.

I was a bit concerned that I had spent too much money, but not 4- hours after making these purchases, I received an email regarding a camera I had posted on Craigslist in February, and had given up on selling. The guy wanted it, was NOT haggling, and was willing to deal that night… if I drove to Albuquerque. Not wanting to mess around with another CL- flaker, I asked him to cover the gas and Chris and I were on our way. The selling price of the camera nearly doubled the money I had spent at REI that morning!

Ten minutes out of the driveway, my old buddy the Saturn had something go wrong with it. I’m no mechanic, but I know when your car makes odd noises, smokes, and has fluid gushing from the bottom, it is a good idea to get it home! That is exactly what I did. I still have no idea what’s wrong with it, but DO know that it died at the perfect time since after this weekend, it was going to sit indefinitely anyhow. We switched cars and completed our trip to Albuquerque.

The ride home was remarkable. There was a sense of joy that we all remember feeling as children, but for whatever reason, lose for the most part, as we grow up. A sense of excitement and knowing you are on the verge of discovery. I would love to elaborate on that, but the conversation ultimately led to the realization that we are in the audience watching the dramas of our own lives unfold.

Sunday was a wrap- up day, and as I type this, we are about to head out on this long- awaited journey. I’ve been encamped for seven months, and am ready to go. The typical pains of departure are still there, but I know I am on the right track. Right now, the “plan” is to ride to Nashville and see what happens. Kim’s roommate has suddenly decided she would rather not have company this week (after saying it was fine a month or two ago), but that’s par for the course! We’ll see what happens over the next day or two… I’ll let you know... and I still have NO idea what this draw to Oklahoma is!

8/18 Nashville- McCandless

Yet another day of unbearable excitement, the kind that makes for compelling travel- writing. I left Kim's house.

WooHoo!!

We transferred home- base from Kim's to Rich's place in Goodlettsville (NE of Nashville). They both had to work, so I hung out with McCarty and did more 'research' on Chris McCandless, looking for more detailed information that may indicate, as I've long suspected, that there is more (or less) to that story than that peddled by Jon Krakour. Always seems to be the case.

I did not realize it at the time, but it happened to be the day, August 18, that they estimate he died. Of simple starvation. There are aspects of this story that, when you think about them, simply do not add up.

It is quite suspicious that Krakour would fail to mention in the book that McCandless DID have a map, instead of cleverly saying "... if he had had a good map." Alternatively, Sean Penn failing to fully- disclose his employment history on the road. Penn conveniently omitted how long he actually worked at McDonald's in Bullhead City, AZ (not Burger King), and glossed over the fact that he worked with Westerberg long enough to earn $1,000 AFTER he'd met 'Ron Franz', and immediately before he set off for Alaska.

These are NOT minor details or meaningless omissions. McCandless has reached Anti- Capitalist Cult Status in no- small part because Krakour and Penn "took the liberty of bullshitting you.”

The fact strikes me that there are legions of kids whose ideas are coming from his "story". They are burning their money and social security cards, and chopping up their credit cards (not a bad thing). Then they are trying to live on dandelions because they are trying to emulate what amounts to a fairytale.

The full story would indicate that he failed at living sans- cash. Why else would he have worked so much, if as Emile Hirsh says in the movie, he "didn't need money"? Is making Quarter Pounders THAT satisfying? A question Penn chose not to address when he almost deleted one of the more interesting aspects of the book: Bullhead City. Did McCandless conclude that living without money was either impossible, or just not worth it?

I wonder if he experienced a bit of the frustration I did, and in the end concluded that it best to "invert" the system. Working just enough to provide necessities, while eliminating the 'illusory' necessities (comforts) as time went by.

Maybe he got to the point where he was frustrated by a lack of ability to be as self- sufficient as he would like, and decided Alaska was the place to go to get that knowledge. Or die trying.

Believe me, this is NOT just idle speculation for speculation's sake, although we obviously will never have any way of knowing. I have experienced similar thoughts and frustrations, and find it maddening that these 'entertainers' intentionally ignored them, needlessly corrupted a story that would have been just as remarkable on its own, then marketed it (Krakaur) as fact. Creating the mythical- superhero living out the Heroic Epic helps sales.

I doubt McCandless had any preconceived ideas about becoming a poster child for anything. He did what he did because he felt it was the thing for him. I have never seen the actual journal entries published-- anywhere, and know of no one who has. Why? What I do know is that, if my thoughts are correct, it could have served as a better example than propping the kid up as some sort of superhero, whose Kryptonite happened to be bad roots. This is why I've tried to include as much of the not- so- flattering reality as I could!

Hero worship and idolization is folly. For whatever reason, we seem to need examples of people who do amazing, almost impossible things. We need to look up to people who accomplish things we believe we could never do, then deify them as means to an excuse as to why WE should not even try. "Only ‘Saints & Superheroes' accomplish anything worthwhile."

Santa Clausification.

I've been guilty of this as much as anyone, but the more I learn about these prestigious pedestal- occupants, the more I see that, with few exceptions, they belong right down here with the rest of us. We all have doubts, faults, neuroses, hypocrisies, and skeletons in the closet. No one out there is superhuman. HOWEVER, if that is true, then we all have the SAME capacity to accomplish 'great things' anyone else has.

Why do we never hear about our idol's shortcomings? Struggles in the beginnings of whatever the endeavor of choice? Why are we so 'crushed' when we do? Why do we never hear about King's depression? Plagued by self- doubt and needing members of his staff to push and encourage him; remind him that he WAS indeed right? Martin Luther King Jr.? DOUBTED HIMSELF?? Wow.

I cannot get past this. Why? Is it because if we take away their perceived 'superpowers', we are left with the stark reality that we too are capable, and perhaps that injects uncomfortable senses of responsibility, to ourselves, that would be more comfortable to avoid?

Heroes are fabrications. In my not- so- humble opinion, we should view them as examples of ourselves, complete with OUR faults, but the ability to transcend them. I doubt that most even thought about transcending shortcomings. Most, I suspect, are driven by something they simply 'must' do. They probably had no choice but to follow it. Is that superhuman- courage? Or something else?

Who knows, but do me a favor? Consider pulling your heroes back from their pedestals. Try being your own.

That was pretty much my day. Not much for singing happy- songs, but interesting nonetheless!

I decided to go to a Tennessee Health Care Campaign meeting with Kim on Tuesday evening, so I would be staying until at least Wednesday. I really wanted to see what exactly was going on at a grassroots level, but not optimistic that I will come away happy. I hope there is something more than "progressive", idealistic chit- chat and something that resembles courage; or at least a little anger!

8/14/08 Nashville: Kim

Kim and I decided to tour a bit of downtown Nashville and have a beer while we caught up. She knew of a quiet little bar off the main- drag, and it was one of the few bars left anywhere where you can still smoke while you drink your damn beer! What a privilege!I gave her the quick, encapsulated version of what happened with the job in Santa Fe, and touched lightly on how everything tied into what I have been doing since May. Then it was her turn.

Many people have commented to me personally, including Kim, about my conversation with Ciel back in Idaho, and the talk I had with Pat in San Luis Obispo. These, so far, were the two people that have had the greatest effect on me on this trip. Kim is a powerful combination of the two. While her story isn’t as ’tragic’ or ‘dramatic’ on a personal level as Ciel’s, it is perhaps more intense to me because of the combination of factors; factors that not only make a person feel for her but, if you’re empathetic, will take you on an express trip to White Rage. It did me.

Kim and I first met in 1994 as classmates at Specs Howard School of Broadcast Arts, in Detroit. We were VERY different people. She has always been the type who refused to follow the crowd or to fake an effort to fit in. She was not ostracized by any means; rather her own separate little entity, peacefully coexisting next to the herd. I was a bit the same although, since I was still firmly entrenched within Camp Budweiser, and in the embryonic stages of figuring out who I was, I had my little circle to which I played to feed my need of approval.

Kim adamantly chose not to, and had a quiet, humble self- assurance about her. You could just tell that she was one of the more ‘solid’ people you would meet, and considering where I was in my own life and where I‘d ultimately go, that GREATLY appealed to me. We became good friends much to the amazement of our other friends. They just could not understand it.

Kim also was, and is still, a remarkably talented voice. Between the two of us, we swept the major class- awards as “Best Newscaster” (Kim) and “Most Entertaining Air Personality” (me). She has the best pure- voice of anyone in our class, and I was certain that SHE was going to be the one who went on to do something in radio, if anyone. I mean, in a perfect world she SHOULD have. Life has a funny way of getting in the way of our grandiose plans and visions. Fair is a quaint, outdated concept--- like religion.

The last time we saw each other was in Detroit in 1995, after I had worked one of my last games at old Tiger Stadium. We met at a bar with friends then sat in her parking lot until sunrise, just chatting-- and again-- much to the amazement of her roommate!

We quickly lost touch, as often happens, especially before the Internet Infestation, and didn’t talk again for 11 years when, in 2006, she found me on a networking site. We chatted off and on, and did the ‘we should get together’ stuff, but never did. She had told me that she had had some health problems, been divorced, and indicated that things had been challenging, but never really elaborated until

Thursday night. I am not a doctor, so I am going to use very simple terms to describe what I understand them to be. She was born with her heart literally reversed, so that the blood flow through her body is opposite of most people. The doctors scheduled her for heart surgery at 20 months or 20 pounds, whichever came first, in order to correct the blood flow. Life after that was normal. She went through her childhood and early adulthood like the rest of us. She went to school, got married in August of 2000, and was living a relatively normal life.

However, in May of 2003 at the age of 30, she began to develop problems with blood clots in her entire right leg. A massive clot, from hip to ankle, hospitalized her in Intensive Care for about 10 days. After using blood thinners and catheters to clear the immediate danger, the doctors performed surgery to insert stents that, hopefully, would prevent future clotting. This happened literally FIVE days after she and her husband had moved from Nashville, TN to Lexington, KY. She had left her job in mid- April in anticipation of the move, and was now left with COBRA. The hospital’s financial coordinators gave Kim a good indication of what was to come when, upon discharge, they demanded she expedite the process of initiating COBRA, i.e. “PAY COBRA,” so that the hospital knew they were going to be paid. “Glad you’re alive. Pay us.”

She had hoped that the move to Lexington, closer to her husband’s family, would help her marriage, but the move began with her spending six- weeks recovering from surgery at her in- law’s home. During this time, she obviously could not work, and was struggling to pay COBRA’s premium.

Eventually Kim was added to her husband’s insurance, and thankfully, the group- policy could not deny new- additions due to pre- existing conditions. Kim eventually got back to work in Lexington, a 6-week temporary job as an assistant in a dental office, followed by a permanent position doing the same thing in another office. Pearson & Justice, DMD. The irony would be rich… She was with this DMD for nearly two- years, and had been there for 21 months when the next major hospitalization occurred.

All along, since the initial surgery, she had been experiencing nearly constant pain and swelling in the leg. In June of 2005, Kim’s sister had a heart attack and she flew back to Michigan from Lexington to be with her family. The night she arrived, she went directly to hospital to see her sister, and went on to her parent’s house for the night. She had been experiencing greatly intensified pain for the 2-3 hours before arriving at her parent’s house, but had attributed it to the traveling. After relaxing off her feet for a couple of hours and realizing the pain had not relented, she realized that she had trouble. She called her primary doctor in Lexington at about 10pm, and he told her to get to the ER immediately. Her parents put her in the car, and took her to the same hospital in which her sister, their daughter, was recovering from a heart attack.

The diagnosis was not good for her leg. The stents had failed within the first six- months, and the surgery had weakened and damaged her veins to the point where further procedures would not be an option. Bypassing an area that large was out of the question, and since the scar tissue from the last surgery compounded the clotting, operating again would only make the situation worse. As things stand now, the only treatment is maintenance; blood thinners. They also told her that if the circulation problems and clotting continue, amputation was, and still is, a real possibility.
At the time of the trip back to Michigan, she was employed nearly two- years with the dentist in Lexington, and insured. The procedure in Michigan was covered; however, she had a $1,000 deductible. Kim was treated at a metro- Detroit hospital, Oakwood in Dearborn who, the morning after her admittance, ordered to stay OFF her feet while she was in the hospital. The stay would ultimately last 10- days, but the next morning and even though they knew she was insured, the financial people informed her if she could not pony- up the $1,000 deductible, she would have to LEAVE immediately and seek treatment at another facility. A facility that would treat life- threatening conditions regardless of ability to pay, unlike Oakwood, apparently.
Human Kapital.

Let’s see if we understand this, shall we? One minute the doctors forbid you to WALK due to concerns that these clots could break free and find their way to your heart or lungs, and the next morning the same medical facility’s Ministers of Finance tell you to leave, DESPITE THE DOCTOR’S DIAGNOSIS, and simply due to FINANCIAL CONCERNS? Really? Where do we live? Still think ‘you’ are a priority, beyond that portfolio?

Kim and her mother of course challenged them on that point, but their response was that ‘maybe the other hospital would send an ambulance’ for her. Luckily, her mother was able to cover the deductible, but was on a fixed income being retired. How many of ‘us’ have $1,000 lying around? If you do, let me know and I will set up a Pay Pal account.

Remember Dr. ‘Justice’ and Friends?

This is a small office in Lexington that employs LESS than fifty people. The Family Medical Leave Act does NOT protect their employees. The FMLA protects your job if you are hospitalized long- term. It also provides maternity- leave time for husbands, and protects family members who need to provide care for terminally- ill family members, among other things.

Yeah, pure Socialism.

She was, according to their- own reviews and "ambiguous" other little things like promotions and regular- raises, an exemplary employee prior to this surgery. However, when her doctor refused to provide a conjecture- driven date for her return to work, they began to conjure up stories about fading productivity, a deteriorating attitude over time… blah blah blah... It reminded me of the feces I was force- fed when I was read the Terms of My Termination last year. Find that loophole, Skippy…

They terminated her. With the job went her insurance. This was her Rubicon, although unlike Caesar, she did not choose to cross— they threw her. In addition, it was NOT cliche' boogie men like Wal Mart, AT&T, Comcast, even Halliburton, doing the tossing. She was tossed by a LOCAL, small business who simply wanted to be rid of her health issues and felt no guilt or obligation to protect her access to insurance, nor her income.

Human Kapital.

Hey Hippies… Pay more to buy local? Why is that again?

My dealings with and conversations about these idealistic, local, "small businesses" have been as bad as with any corporate entity. The problem, as it pertains to dealing with the Human Kapital phenomenon, is NOT just fighting corporatism; it is fighting Predatory Capitalism in general and being particularly fierce with those that disguise themselves as some throwback to a ‘better America”. Many want to throw us back to the time before Organized Labor .

So again Hippies, fill in the blanks: F_ _ K Y_ _!!

But, back to Kim.

The doctors discharged her after 10- days, and Kim returned to Lexington toward the end of May. Dr. "Justice" and friends immediately terminated her, and her insurance was history by the end of June. Six weeks later, she and her husband separated and she would file for divorce toward the beginning of ’06. With no job and her marriage ending, Kim returned to Michigan, and its wasteland of a job- market, at the end of July.

Luckily, she had family to fall back on, but the condition with her leg makes sitting, standing, or walking for long periods impossible. She needed to work, but imagine trying to find a job and telling the HR- drone that you cannot sit, stand, or walk for 8- hours. What exactly are you going to do? They, in theory, created “Disability” for exactly this!

When we reconnected in May of 2006, she was living in Michigan and working for a bank doling out mortgages. The pain in her legs, coupled with (I like to think anyway) that she has a soul led her to quit the bank in January of 2007, in favor or a serving job at Red Robin in Brighton. Serving appeared to be the most physically- tolerable option. Sitting all day with her leg bent is the absolute worst.

From January ’07 until July, things were going pretty well. She was working full- time, had moved out of her family’s place to her own apartment and finally felt like her life had restarted. Her divorce had become final in October of ’06 and she was single again. Life was good, except for the fact that Red Robin’s insurance did not take effect for six- months, and getting COBRA from her time with the bank would have cost $400 a month. She was uninsured. Uninsurable. She had made dozens of calls to independent insurance companies trying to get coverage, but they ALL refused-REFUSED- to cover her at all because of her medical history.

Things were fine, but that peace was obviously fragile. It was broken in July, when the clotting issues resumed. She went to the ER to discover that she had a newly- formed clot, and two of the former obstructions had recurred. Again, not much they could do. They kept her in the hospital for about two days while they administered some intense blood- thinning medication that could lead to bleeding.She got rather lucky this time, because the University of Michigan Health Care System has a charity fund set up that was able to defer the cost of the latest hospitalization.

On August 1, she finally got coverage through Red Robin, but after being off work with no disability coverage, she actually had to pay Red Robin’s insurance premiums out of her OWN POCKET. Because she was off work, and there was no institutional protection, there was no 'check' from which to draw money. Try to figure that one out.

After a month recovering, she tried to go back to work with the same workload, 40+ hours a week, but it was physically impossible. This forced Kim to cut back to 25 hours a week, losing the income, but keeping the insurance.
The loss of income of course led to the loss of other things. She could no longer afford her apartment and was on the brink of eviction when she gave it up and moved in once again with her brother. She was unable to keep car payments up to date, and had to give up her vehicle.

Recap:
- * Loss of ½ of her income
- * Loss of home
- * Loss of car

All having NOTHING to do with laziness or a refusal to work. Exactly why, in theory, they created "Disability."

Kim had tried to avoid filing Disability despite the fact that she appeared, on the surface, to be a case study on who SHOULD get it. She told me that she had a difficult time accepting the fact that she is literally unable to work the hours that it would take to be on her own. Eventually, after a lot of wrangling and discussions with family, she relented and filed in September 2007. Of course, the State contested and denied the Disability claim. Twice. She is on her third appeal now. She was put through the process of having to list EVERY job she had EVER had in an effort to calculate how much TAX REVENUE she had provided the State so as to determine whether or not she was ‘qualified’ to receive Disability. It seems as though they are solely concerned with how much you have fed The Pig, rather than how ‘disabled’ you are. The first questions they ask pertain to your work history; not your health.

Human Kapital.

Ultimately, Kim may lose her right leg. There is nothing more that the doctors can do for her. Surgery will now do more harm than good. Like Ciel, and like the Kim I knew in 1994, she is amazingly positive, although she admits that she has fought bouts with depression. Even with health coverage through the most expensive procedures, she has accumulated in the neighborhood of $100,000 just in medical debt, which comes complete with calls from collection agencies. Not only that, but consider the lost income, which has led to an inability to provide a home for herself, and until recently a car. She also has her old apartment complex coming at her trying to collect for her breaking the lease.

Health problems? Fuck you. Pay me.

She is a very gifted writer and still a tremendous public- speaker, so a Tennessee health- advocacy organization approached Kim about becoming a spokesperson. I have tried my best to encourage her to that, and her fighting spirit is refreshing, but the fact that the 'system' would like to throw her away boils my blood. I cannot express how much anger I was feeling while Kim was recounting her story at that bar, then again when I essentially interviewed her over the weekend. It was the kind of anger where even I was at a loss for words, which if you have read enough of these, you KNOW is nearly impossible; I have had suffcient time to recover.


*** RAND ADVISORY*** (Not Quite a Full Rant)

Still wonder if I’m just paranoid? Remember the phrase “Human Kapital.” This is YOUR system at its finest: Humanity with a Price Tag. Your WORTH as a dignified human being IS in direct correlation to the numbers on that pay- stub, right next to the word ’tax’.

However, what if you are 35 years- old and cannot work 50- hours a week?
Should we be content to be treated as a "peasant- class" while living in the richest country the world has ever known? Compliant while they presume to define us as the “Plebs of New Rome?” Passive while the economic, political, and social elite happily throw us to the streets to fight for the rats? What is our crime? Simply losing the ability to generate their wealth through our labor?

The poor and powerless have LONG since known the score, and the rules of the game. The difference is that today, the system is creating a greater number of plebeians. The "proletariat" is growing, and injustice is beginning to spread far beyond Blacks in the projects; Mexicans in the barrios… it is coming to your neighborhoods. Noticing the foreclosure signs multiplying in your neighborhoods? Rest assured, before long it will come to YOUR family too. God help you if it's you yourself.

The poor and powerless have long since known the score, and the rules of the game: Step into the “justice” system; do it with NO money. Try suing to get what is rightfully yours after you have been “loop- holed. “ No money for the lawyer? Fuck you! Don’t have the money to file the suit? Fuck you! Falsely arrested and need ADEQUATE representation? Fuck you; take what we give you, and be happy for it! Want REAL justice? Fuck you, get a REAL job!"

Am I paranoid? Just cynical? Lose your insurance & get sick. I dare you. Prove me wrong. Have some sweaty, greasy, little predator (henceforth known as ’Skippy’) find that loophole and fire you when your body makes it impossible to work.

Talk to Kim. Is she paranoid?

Talk to Pat. Is he just cynical?
Talk to my 70- year old mother.

Talk to any one of the millions just like them. Are they ALL paranoid? Or just... whiney?

Justice may be blind; that bitch sure can count.

*** END RANT ADVISORY *** Brought to you by Blue Cross/ Blue Shield

The Disability appeals process is still going on, and Kim relocated to Nashville early this year simply because she wanted to; she has had a bit of an awakening. Somewhere along the line, after all of the health problems, and fighting this ‘system’ to get what her taxes legitimately SHOULD have provided her in order to SURVIVE with a shred of dignity, she has realized what’s important. She has decided to ENJOY life. She wanted to live here, so she is.

Kim is doing her best to make the most of what she has. She has pointed out, and it is obvious, that she is one unlucky- hiccup away from being homeless. She was lucky to find a friend who lets her stay and works as much as she can, serving at Red Robin again, although working more than two days in a row is nearly impossible. These are not the only health problems that she has had, but this is enough for this space.

After a bit of reflection, everything has became a bit clearer. How EVERYTHING seems to be connecting. I’m beginning to see, and more importantly UNDERSTAND the patterns of these ‘coincidences’, inner- turmoil, disgust, the intense and long- term allergic reactions I have always felt toward illegitimate, assumed authority (both moral and otherwise) AND how these things seem to dovetail with some of the experiences I have had; the people I continue to meet and connect with. The conversations I continue to have with people who actually have something important to add to this tapestry.

Yes, I was indeed supposed to come here. I just do not have any clue as to what I am supposed to DO with all of this! I sense that it is all tying together; even the stuff I cannot talk about here. Rest assured, you will most definitely hear about THAT… eventually.

Later Thursday night we chatted over a few more drinks after we got to their place. It was amazing in that, as different as we may have been 14- years ago, how similar we have become and for completely different reasons. It seems to be truth: Though the rivers change course sometimes, they, ultimately, do reach the sea… if you are willing, or forced, to follow them.

8/12/08: Ken Again - Colorado to Oklahoma

Eric and I were up and on our way at 9:30, running all over the Denver metro basically tying up loose ends. We stopped at a Sprint store so I could get a car charger for my cell phone so as not to repeat the events in northern California with Eric & Marine. The damn thing cost me $25 and I knew I would live to regret buying it.

The work- day was uneventful, and I heard from Ken at about 2:00 letting me know that he was in Laramie, WY as we’d arranged the day before. Laramie is maybe 2 ½ hours from Denver, and now that I had a good idea of when he’d be in town, I could begin to plot a place to meet him.

I had hoped to be able to get to a convenient place on I-70, so he would only need to exit momentarily to pick me up, and then return immediately to his route. I was leery of that plan when, not knowing that part of Denver well, I couldn’t pinpoint locations that I was certain would be hassle- free. I decided on I-25 and 20th St., up the street from Coors Field, because it was maybe just ½ mile past the I-70 interchange, had a stop light, and he could just re-enter I-25.

Once that was set, I repacked again, foolishly eliminating food and rearranging the pack’s balance for the hike, via Light rail, to 20th St. Eric and I settled up on money, and much to my dismay I was forced to evaluate just how much money I had spent while in Denver. It isn’t a pretty picture. After the rain fly, I was leaving with significantly less money than I should have been. The beer wasn’t THAT good.

Eric and I said the goodbyes; I loaded the pack on my back, and set off. For the first time in nearly a month, I was traveling again. Officially back on the road. There was no euphoria this time; no excitement for the unknown. I KNEW what to expect. In that sense, this phase, Phase #3, felt MUCH different. I was no longer the adolescent exploring the woods. I knew what was in the woods, how to handle it, AND I knew how what I would see from the woods would effect me. The lack of that excitement was a disappointment, and the fact that I was not experiencing the same energy- lift I had at the tracks after the Rockies game was surprising. It felt like I had just woken up in the bushes somewhere and was resuming the trip.

Go figure.

I decided to forgo paying the $1.50 fare for the ride to Union Station, remembering Thoreau’s “get what advantage of her” line in Civil Disobedience. I felt like quite the Anarchist as I rode the familiar route downtown. I was in a bit of a hurry, having spent more time chatting with Eric than I’d planned to and concerned about missing Ken in case he was early.

I got to I-25 & 20th without issue and planted myself back in the old familiar spot: the ramp. I arrived at about 4 and as I waited, a panhandler returned with his handy little sign pronouncing his abstinence from both drugs and alcohol, saying he just needed “a little help“. Todd was skeptical. 

The bum was not pleased by my presence. I wasn’t hitching, holding a sign; just sitting there. He must have thought that made him look bad because after five minutes or so, he shouted across the exit, “Are you just sitting there for the hell of it or waiting for a ride?” I answered that I was waiting for a ride, but his demeanor and blatant stares were by now bugging me. He was acting as if his urine-soaked Jansport book bag marked his “turf.“ He apparently didn’t hear me, or was feeling belligerent, because he asked again. This time I replied, “I love the fucking views here, I might just have to stay all night. Is that OK with you?” 

Suddenly my presence seemed far less important. Funny how that works.

At 4:34, four minutes after he predicted, Ken pulled off I-25 to 20th St. Our plan had worked perfectly. As I climbed in the cab, I saw my new ‘friend’s’ look of utter amazement. Here was a guy who had just been sitting there now climbing into a semi. Not so astounding, I know. But HE seemed to think it was. I just waved as we drove off.

Ken and I shook hands, I explained the situation with Dufus, and we quickly settled back into our roles from last month. We got reacquainted as I settled in for the ride to Limon, where he was going to stop for the night since he’d been driving from Idaho since 5am.

Shortly after I got in the truck, the indecision concerning my destination was resolved. Ken has a friend in Chattanooga, TN who wanted a ride to Tampa. I could ride to Nashville and see Kim, and he could pick Jay up a couple hours down the road. Simple. Easy. Go with it Todd… go with it. I went with it.

We did stop at the Flying J on the far east end of Aurora, and the cashier asked Ken to take a box of urgently  needed fuel tickets with him to Limon, since they were running out, saying we’d get free dinner in exchange for the box occupying his floor. Quite a deal.


The ride to Limon was typical eastern Colorado. Not a lot to see save some dramatic storm clouds on the horizon that got more intense as we moved further southeast.

We arrived at about dusk and feasted on Steak and Salmon. The manager had apparently only intended to give us the soup n’ salad bar, but had neglected to tell Ken this before hand. That led to some mini-drama when we went to leave, but the acting manager handled it diplomatically.

We settled into the double bunked cab for the night and watched “10,000 BC” on his little DVD player while I wrote in my journal. The dominant themes as I reflected on the past couple of days were the ‘coincidences’ and the fact that I was feeling very little emotion about being back on the road. 

I also was encountering Che’s 'split moment' phenomenon; feeling slight melancholy about not returning home, and also fleeting, inconsistent excitement stemming from the recall of past experience; experiences that were precluded by similar circumstances and emotions. In short, I was having trouble unplugging from The Matrix, and reestablishing a solid connection with…you choose the term! It also dawned on me that today was the two month anniversary of leaving Santa Fe for Santa Barbara and I was heading even further away this time. Maybe #12 is lucky for me!

Ken and I set the alarms and got to bed ready for a day full of Oklahoma.

8/11/08: Denver V-Plans of Mice and Men

Monday morning and early afternoon was spent working and trying to figure out this next step. Eric offered to let me stay at his place for the night so I could catch the 10:30 am bus to Santa Fe on Tuesday, if need be.

Some people may be a bit confused, and with good reason. I had a plan (ha!) when I arrived in Denver from Idaho almost a month ago, but somewhere along the way, the inspiration and motivation to go to New York City and Maine left me, if it was really ever there at all. I have never been a big fan of NYC, and have already spent a small amount of time there, in Brooklyn during the anti-war march in 2003. I have no interest in enduring a “San Francisco on Steroids” experience. In retrospect the idea was probably a temporary sedative to allow me to focus on the real purpose of this interlude. I do want to see New Hampshire and Vermont, and I will. I just don’t feel a compelling urge to do it now.

So, on went the day. I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was returning to New Mexico for lack of a better plan, figuring that I could get to work on stashing money for this winter’s trip south.

The problem was that there was only ONE bus from Denver toward Albuquerque per day, when there used to be FOUR, and I‘d missed it. That meant I had to hang out at Eric’s, or in the woods, until morning. I tried to contact Greyhound to inquire about the AAU “Americanos Americana” line that they list on their website. It goes to Albuquerque, with a stop in Santa Fe, at 6:30 every evening. However, that route does NOT seem to offer the option of getting OFF the bus in Santa Fe! I got no answer during the entire 40-minutes I tried to contact them. This coupled with Greyhound’s blatant disdain for any other kind of customer service, and the fact that they were raising their fares and cutting routes …I became irritable. (Shocking. I know.) I used to enjoy Greyhound. Yeah. I seem to be the only one! Now it just seems like cattle car service.

I finally gave up and decided to try to call my trucker friends, Ken and Cesar, to see if by chance they were near, or would be near, Denver. I got a hold of Ken and was amazed, shocked, and floored by the fact that he was back in Idaho, and on his way back to Tampa. Through Denver. THE NEXT DAY. He told me that he was headed through Nashville to drop off a load, and that I could either ride there, or all the way to Tampa if I liked. I had no clue what to tell him; he said to get in the truck and decide on the way.

I was NOT returning to Santa Fe. This phase of the trip would continue.

The term coincidence was mentioned, and then brutally mocked. This made this Denver ‘experience’ feel like a longer, drawn out rerun of McCammon, and not just because it would again be Ken that I was leaving with. Denver was a bit of a struggle this time, mostly of my own cause. I spent the day stressing about ‘what I’m going to do’, and again, the solution presented itself in its own time. I didn’t talk a lot about this, but it occupied my mind for most of the night. A lesson I just can’t seem to learn.

Ken set into motion a strange, quick moving chain of events. I had already finished packing and arranging a ride with Eric to his house, then Chris and I devised a plan where I would serve as a Bivy Guinea Pig. For those that don’t know, a bivy is essentially a waterproof sleeping bag cover that also covers your head. They usually weigh about a third to a quarter that of a normal tent, and take MUCH less space. The downside is, of course, that you can’t sit up, nor can you place the pack INSIDE with you, meaning that a more elaborate rain cover system is needed to keep it from getting waterlogged in the inevitable downpour.

We walked down to REI and put an Outdoor Research ‘Alpine’ 4-season bivy on his credit card. REI’s got the best return policy. If you’re not satisfied, for any reason at any time, bring it back for a full exchange or refund. (I pity the price gouging ’local’ outdoor- store in Santa Fe when the REI finally gets built!) I could take the bivy east, get rained on, and if my review was satisfactory we would get another before South America. If it blows? Return it with no damage done. A fine plan indeed.

I had called & sent emails to two friends: Kim in Nashville and Nikki in Tampa. I had a pretty good indication of how this was going to go after I called Nikki and someone, who sounded an awful lot like her, answered but said that they weren't Nikki and didn't know who she was! I had left Kim a voicemail, and she returned the call on the walk back from REI. She said I could stay with her for a day or two on Nashville, and to just let her know if I decided to. Nikki emailed me back later claiming that her number had NOT changed, yet no one had called and she didn't know what I was talking about! O...K then.

Removing the tent made a huge difference. Suddenly the backpack was not only lighter, but suddenly cavernous! I could now downgrade the pack, but thought it better to have too much room than not enough. Also, I could add another pair of pants and STILL be lighter. As I was about to leave for Eric’s, we weighed the pack in at 43#. Considering I left Denver on May 20th with the same pack weighing 55#, I’m quite thrilled. I also discovered that, for the first time since high school, I was below 160# myself! I have dropped 45 pounds in the last 15 months, and 30 in the last four alone. Yes…I AM proud, thank you.

Chris and I said our goodbyes and it was off to Eric’s place after a trip to McDonald’s and to the Skylark Lounge on Broadway for some PBR and a final rantfest. This is in the neighborhood I lived in when we left Denver last summer, and it was nice to be back there hanging out. I love Capital Hill too, but it’s a bit ‘hip’ for me.

We got back to Eric’s place, and since Ken wasn’t going to be arriving until 4:30-ish the next day, I had one more day to work. I slept on his floor…and like a stone.